“The One and Only” Ch. 10

By the time they left the diner it was already noon and the shadows of the leaves in the woods were at their deepest. The parking lot between the diner and the road next to the wood was beginning to warm in earnest, and when they opened the door a wave of heated air hit them.

They had talked little in the time after Dionysus's story. He had simply contented himself with eating his pancakes, Patricia buzzing with questions that she wasn't going to ask. Whatever she could call the state the old god was in, it was at its best delicate, and so she did her best not to aggravate it. Instead, she simply thought on her child. About the family she had lost so short a time ago.

Had he done it on purpose? Or at least for another reason than to protect her family?

She knew he was a fiend. She had no delusions about that. When he claimed to be immeasurably cruel she believed him, and had to work hard to not imagine all the terrible things he had done.

But had he meant to hurt her?

Was that what he did, under the veil of goodwill?

Humanity had done nothing to help protect the gods they had worshiped. And even if he didn't blame humanity for that, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that a god so petty as to destroy an entire kingdom would be more than willing to expose humanity to his pain.

She tried to dismiss those thoughts, but how could she honestly trust him?

Typhon had shown no desire to attack her. She simply took Dionysus at his word and that was that. She knew Dionysus believed it, but should she?

As they crossed the parking lot, she turned her head and looked at him. He looked older in the clear light of the afternoon. Older than he probably should. And he was probably just as terrible as he said. But so was Typhon. And at the end of the day he at least bought breakfast. He was at worst an threat she could keep her eye on.

The woods seemed thicker than when they had exited them in the morning, and she found herself stumbling more than once.

They traveled for a half an hour, and she could not for the life of her figure out where or why. At last she broke the silence herself.

“Alright. Where are we going? What is the plan?"

He stopped and looked at her, staring at her as if he hadn't seen her in months.

“I may have a plan. But I am not sure. It may not work at all. And I don't think it's a place I can take you."

She paused for a few moments, waiting for him to continue.

”And that is?" she asked at last.

”Are you aware of the story of Achilles?" he asked grimly.

She didn't like the look he used to frame the question. “A little bit I suppose. He was pretty much invulnerable right? Except his heel."

“That's right," he affirmed. “His mother dipped him in the river Styx, making his only weak point being the spot where she had held him. So, theoretically..."

“If you were to dip yourself in the river Styx it could render you invulnerable as well." She found herself genuinely astonished at the simplicity of the plan. And slightly irritated he had taken so long to think of it.

He nodded, looking off as if in a daze, before heading off in a direction.

Patricia followed, but stopped in place as a flood of anxiety hit her. When she was younger she dismissed such feelings. She had been a cop for years now.

Now she knew better.

Dionysus didn't notice though. He didn't stop until he heard her muffled scream.

He quickly turned around, fear and rage flooding him as he watched the tall man with his hat drawn low lifting Patricia in the air by her neck. Patricia struggled, the pressure on her neck settling a deep panic on her rapidly fading vision. Instinctively she reached for her belt, drew out her gun, and emptied the clip into the monsters face.

Bullets tore through his head and hat, knocking it to the ground. Underneath the hat was a gray, pruney skinned fiend, his eyes the color of blood and his teeth like needles. Stringy, gray hair hung loosely against his face, blood from the open wounds stopping as his sinews began to knit their way back together again. His clothes tore from his body as his flesh expanded and began to grow.

Blindly, Dionysus hoisted the scythe and drove it deep into Typhon's arm. The arm held, as Patricia began to strike with her fists and feet in an attempt to break free.

Dionysus drew the scythe back to strike again, only to be struck, sending him careening off into the wood. He did not drop the weapon, and quickly got to his feet, charging in as fast as he could, the scythe drawn back and his muscles taut.

And then Typhon dropped Patricia.

Dionysus stopped mid stride, his brain giving him conflicting messages as he dropped the blade and rushed over to her. He listened for her pulse, tried to drag some life from her body. But she remained still. Her lungs refused to fill under their own accord. And her heart stopped.

Dionysus couldn't bring himself to look at her. He simply reached out and grabbed her hand, sitting down on the damp earth, the sun framing the trees and the enormous form of the monster, sitting in a similar manner.

“What did you think was going to happen?"

Dionysus couldn't respond. He struggled to think or feel anything. He reached into his bag to retrieve a bottle, but left it where it lay.

”All you bring close to you will die. And I am tired of waiting."

Dionysus looked up, confusion mixed with tears.

”You will find a way to kill yourself," Typhon said firmly, ”or I will kill every living thing on this earth until you are convinced to do so."

Dionysus gritted his teeth as Typhon stood up and began to walk away, only to turn around after a few steps.

“Do as I ask or her child will die first."

With that Typhon turned back and began to walk, ignoring the god completely.

Dionysus stood up, opening his mouth to yell. To scream. Anything. But instead he simply fumed and watched as Typhon made his way through the woods, the branches snapping as they tried to resist his form.

He was alone again.

Dionysus had spent years alone. Centuries. He had grown to appreciate it. It was a just punishment for his failures. But now that he was back where we was before, the weight of time had only increased, the silence and absence deeper. Dionysus turned, aware there was only one direction he could go. And so he began to walk. And he remembered the sea again.

He remembered the last time he had felt this small. This scared. And though often he returned to the memory as one would a grand tale, showing his power as a god over men, this time he remembered as it really happened. He remembered being captured at an age well before now, on a day full of clouds, the sea a restless bed of foam.