Chapter Thirty-Two

Tarot Cards are strange things. Normally they are decorated with the most colorful but rudimentary of images.  It is only when they are studied, in a quiet place with a quiet mind that the details begin to emerge.  Such was the case with the last paintings done by one World Famous Artiste otherwise known as Calla Jackson a/k/a Queen of the Olympians and Ruler of Altair Ain.  Daniel had to admit he hadn’t paid much attention to her paintings lately, especially not the ones for the show.  Other than enjoying being surprised by what he saw hanging on the walls of the museum the night of the big event, he’d been very busy the weeks before and hadn’t stopped to pay them any mind.  Now he sort of wished he had. 

One by one Nicholas went through the paintings which were in the process of being crated up for transport and laid out the ones his Mother once told him were her Tarot Series though she hadn’t marked them that way. Perhaps she just hadn’t had the time to do before her stroke.  He smiled a sad little smile as he haphazardly hung them from the hooks still dangling around the museum and thought of the day she’d said that. Nick hadn’t been around much either, he preferred being offworld at that time as it allowed him not to deal with what was happening to her.  It made him feel busy and useful but all he was really doing was digging a great big hole in the pit of Denial Land.  He’d been home one day and she’d seen him from her balcony and called him up to her.  He couldn’t say no even though he sort of wanted to. Nick hated seeing her like that, all old and hunched over.  Being a good Son he gave her a few moments of his time and when he arrived in the bedroom she was still on the balcony with three of these paintings. She asked him if he thought she could put all of them in the show or if that would be too much as she had two others she was already certain of.  Nick stepped back and eyed them, he was not art critic and she was his Mother so to him her work was always perfect but these gave him a chill. At the time he thought it was just the breeze but he didn’t think that any more as he hung up the last one.  She crinkled her face that day as she looked at them, said she didn’t like them and didn’t want them around.  “Don’t you think they look like Tarot Cards?” She said half-amused but the other half puzzled by it. “Who will ever buy them?”

“With your name on them?” He said happily, “the whole world will want them.”  Then he made up some excuse and said he would see her later but he didn’t.  When Nick went offworld again it was without saying good-bye to his Mother.

“What do you think?” David asked as he stared from one to the other.  David also had to confess to not paying much attention to her paintings. It was just something she did in her free time, what little there was of it, and lately on the days she was feeling good. He was always happy to see her sitting at her easel either on the balcony or down in her studio but he hardly ever ventured peeks as he thought that was considered the height of rudeness in the artsy-fartsy world these paintings belonged in.  Funny, how easy it was to forget that the small lady who poured so much of her heart and soul into the growing village around her was also an artiste of great renown.  It wasn’t a world he was ever going to be comfortable with though, once a year, he did enjoy getting a little schnockered with them and watching them trip over themselves and over her.

 It was the painting of the desert which first caught all of their attention.  Well, upon first glance it looked like the sands of a long winding desert against a clear blue sky.  On closer inspection one saw there were little shells in the sand in the foreground, a little starfish and a little lobster in the mid-ground and in the back were large rocks with long flat tops which undoubtedly at one time were islands.  Just to the right of center of the photograph in the foreground was an ominous shadow with nothing projecting it.  Most certainly it was the shadow of a large very horse.  They looked at the title though none of them actually had to read it; No Ocean, No Horse stared back at them in Calla’s neat script along with the year which was the year before.  The colors were bold yet soft, some of them didn’t quite belong; the lobster for instance was an interesting shade of green rather than red. The brushstrokes were also bold and fevered one might say. Looking at this closely Daniel knew she’d painted it in one of her dazes. Unlike ‘Self-Portrait’ which crept up on you and slowly embraced you until there was nothing but it, these paintings clobbered you over the head and demanded you see them, look at them, pay attention to them! When you did, when you surrendered to their power, it was then that you could see all of the little details. The last one of which in this painting was the very, almost unnoticeable, silhouette of a rather tall and broad man on the farthest horizon, he seemed to be walking away from it all. As though he were leaving it behind off in search of something new to fill his life.

The second, again in bold strokes and colors, seemed quite simple and almost innocent enough.  Against a shimmering light blue background four hands were stacked on the flat of a woman’s stomach judging from the sensual curve which gave the painting the merest hint of sexuality.  She floated there as though she were suspended in mid-air or perhaps floating on the water the blue did shimmer with smaller lighter blue wavy lines. Or perhaps…yes, perhaps. Daniel thought it looked like the event horizon of the Stargate. The hands were decidedly male, one of which was extremely large though not overdone and slightly darker than the rest.  It was clearly Ares’ hand on the bottom of the pile. On top of it was a smaller but still strong and well-defined hand which belonged to Daniel and the only reason anyone knew that was they could see part of the ring glittering on his finger in the painting. The next hand, larger than the one below it, must belong to Nicholas and the final one, the one resting on top with no ring was David’s.  A very fine chain filled with a wide assortment of gemstones was draped over their hands, binding them together loosely, and it hung over the flat of the woman’s stomach, which wasn’t really her stomach upon closer inspection, but the bare triangular place between her legs.  Over the hands and under the back there were small wavy lines either meant to represent energy or maybe heat…possibly even motion. As though, perhaps, they’d moved down her body from a place, say, somewhere near her heart. The small card next to it had Calla’s writing on it;   Lay Your Hands On Me it read. She gave an actual date which just happened to be a little over a month ago. Standing here looking at it now with Nick and David, Daniel couldn’t help but feel the suggestion in this painting and that the laying of hands was only the beginning.  After a not too unpleasant image of the five of them sharing a bed scampered through Daniel’s mind he took note of the chain binding the hands.  It bound not just the hands but her body was well as it looped over her waist.  The thing must be at least five feet long, Daniel thought.  He counted the glittered jewels he saw and figured the chain must contain all of the gems in all of the necklaces on his list.  “Make them one,” he muttered and hardly noticed when David and Nick turned to look at him with puzzled expressions.

“What?” Ares asked as he entered the museum.  All he wanted was to go to bed, to fall asleep in his own bed and not dream a single goddamn dream!  This night had been too long already.

“Nice of you to join us.” David remarked from over his shoulder.

“I had some business to finish up.” Ares swiped a hand across the bridge of his nose.

Daniel took note of the redness in the big man’s eyes.  “Have you…” he stopped mid-sentence thinking it rude to ask if Ares had been crying.  “…got any idea about these?” He finished. The original question no longer needed to be asked, as Ares neared it was clear to his eyes were red and swollen and not just from the punch David delivered earlier.  Daniel wondered what happened in the fifteen minutes or so Ares remained in the Underworld. Worst of all, Ares who normally was the epitome of health and fitness looked weary. He looked as old and as absolutely worn out as Calla did up there in their bed.

“What the hell do I know about Art, Jackson?” Ares grumbled and took a place next to the other three to stare at the paintings Calla so casually mentioned.

The third and probably one of those most macabre pictures in the series was the same painting which fetched one million gold pieces, so bid on and paid for by the man in the Rasputin costume. Calla was well known for her strange paintings and praised for them to high heaven. The art world was always so impressed with the way she could paint so delicately and created the softest images which drew you in like a lover on a rainy Saturday afternoon and then turn around and create some of the most terrifying pieces imaginable.  At first glance the painting entitled; Demonic Decisions, looked innocent enough.  But it was far from that.  In the center was the young man, someone just on the verge of manhood with long flowing dark hair and dark skin. He stood in the middle of a very lush garden, half of which was in full living color and in full bloom, the other half of which was almost black and white with only the slightest hints of color. The plants there grew just as rapidly as their more colorful cousins but the thorns on the rose bushes here were much larger and sharper. The vines of the morning glories looked like talons. Here, on the sepia side he held a flaming sword out in front of him with one hand. In its glow an eerie thing was brought to light. This side of his face was skeletal and ever so slightly red almost as though flesh still clung to it in some morbid way.  On the color side there was a dove perched in the hand.  Its eyes were emerald green and its head nuzzled against the colored side of his face, which was quite handsome and unmarred.  Behind him as Altair Ain also half color and half sepia, above him the sky was red and thickening with thunderheads.  Off to the left hand side near the mid-ground between the garden and the village a wolf stood watching him with flaming eyes.  There he was, Calla’s D-Man, her Kajo, painted in one of those fits of artistic fury and undoubtedly from a nightmare she’d had but couldn’t quite remember upon waking.  Daniel stepped back and looked at it or more particularly the black and gray wolf lurking in the background.  Maybe Wolfgar wasn’t the Kajo after all, not completely anyway.  Perhaps, just perhaps, Ares was the Cujo needed to defeat Wolfgar.  Who better to take on a rabid dog than a rabid wolf?  He looked back to No Ocean, No Horse.  Nick was part of the solution to defeating his own Son. How Nick might truly feel about that Daniel had yet to ask and wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Blood—Ichor—or not, the boy was a stranger, an outsider and that was that as far Daniel was concerned.  Nick might feel a little different and certainly on some level Calla did.  Could she talk she’d be the first one pleading mercy for the D-Man and to talk to him.  Looking at the man/boy in the painting Daniel knew there was no diplomatic solution here; one couldn’t talk to or negotiate with him.  The tight set of his jaw and the look in his eye, when Calla painted this Wolfgar might have been on the cusp still but Daniel had the feeling that time passed and Wolfgar was no longer in the middle as depicted here.

Something about that man/boy in the middle of the painting just called to Daniel and walked right up to it, almost put his nose against it and got a real good look.  “He was here.”  This time it was no mumble but a clear statement.

“Come again, Danny?” David asked.

“He was dressed as Czar Nicholas but that’s him.” Daniel marveled.  There was more, what was it?  The night had been crazy and the place filled with people and all Daniel had wanted to do was get the hell out of there. Think! He closed his blue eyes and took a breath.  “Rasputin, he with Rasputin and Rasputin bought this painting.”

“Where’s it being sent?” Ares wanted to know.

Nicholas checked the invoice.  “Russia. Siberia.”

“Get in touch with Jack, have him run that information through all the databases and see what comes back.” Daniel advised. “Look through the applications, I’ll do that, they’re probably in her office.  Rasputin said,” Daniel thought for another second, “Ivan, that’s what he called the kid, Ivan. Said Ivan applied to Calla’s art college she’d invited him here personally.” He shivered quite noticeably. The thought of Calla having had actual contact with either of those men made him want to start breaking shit.  “What’s next?”

He stepped back and the little line of men moved two steps to the right in order to view the next painting.

Another innocent painting and you could almost hear the collective sigh of relief as they stood there looking at it. On the canvas before them stood a tree or rather the trunk of a very large tree in near silhouette as behind it far off to the right and way in the distance was the last of the blazing sun.  The sky was done in those bold furious strokes in shades of orange, red, purple and blue.  In the foreground the ground was covered with snow from which a single branch with a single brown leaf jutted. The branches of the ancient tree were completely bare. Between the tree with its roots embedded in the cold and the last of the glorious sun was a deep blue ocean.  Far off on the horizon so far one might not notice it as blended so well with the purple lingering there was an island.  The card next to it read; Good-Bye Sun.

“Where do you suppose that island is?” David asked.

“What island?” Nick now.  David pointed, not wanting to touch the painting. He was no patron of the arts but he’d been around Calla long enough to know that one did not touch an oil painting---or photograph or watercolor or whathaveyou—with bare hands as it left oils behind which could seep in and ruin the art.  “Your eyes are good.” Nick complimented as he leaned in closer to look at it.  “It looks like Avalon.”

It could be.  Those small, teeny things sticking up could be spires. Maybe the brush just slipped and she didn’t notice. Unlikely but possible all the same.

“It’s Delphi.” Ares said flatly.

“How can you tell that?” Daniel replied.

“Look.” Ares pointed to the island in the same spot David had pointed. “Can’t you see it?” Now that he could see it he couldn’t stop seeing it. “For…there must be a magnifying glass around here somewhere,” he put his big hands on his hips and turned the waist to survey the room, “those artists types are never without them.”  Finding what he was looking for over with the other crates and invoices Ares put out his hand and the round magnifying glass in its simple black frame floated over to the painting and hovered over the island.  Delphi, in impossibly infinite detail, was clearly visible to all gazing.  She’d gotten every little thing right from the way the stones lay on the ground and the moss growing on them to the way the grass that had overgrown the carefully laid road all the way up to the high cliffs—those turned out to be the things sticking up and not spires after all— and the running stream before Pythia’s cave. That little realization made the last painting all the more horrifying somehow.   Still Daniel and the others couldn’t help but be impressed by Calla’s talent and her painstaking care to get everything just right.  He wondered how small the tip of that brush had been and how long she’d stared through a magnifying glass putting everything together until it was just right, and all for what? Certainly not for the benefit of the naked eye of the casual observer.

Then came the last painting, quite simply, to those gazing, it was a painting of nothing…more or less. On what at first appeared to be an empty canvas stood four fairly thick brownish pink lines, two above tilted toward each other and the two below did the same.  That was it.  On second glance one might notice that the canvas wasn’t blank at all but it was painted in the palest pink any of them had ever seen.  On third glance might one notice the very small black dot right in the center of those diamond-shaped lines, upon that glance one might even try to brush it away as though it were no more than an annoying speck of dust.  It was a very carefully placed single dot of black paint. The card beside it read; Ǻ Ώ Ǻ Daniel just stared at it for the longest time trying to remember when he’d ever seen her write anything in Greek. The answer was never.  There it was Alpha Omega Alpha; from the beginning to the end and back again.

“Something told me I’d find you guys in here.”  A sleepy and slightly irritated voice said from behind them. The men turned to see Colleen standing there, her auburn hair a mess on top of her drowsy head and wearing her bathrobe and slippers.

“The final conspirator consents to join us.”

“Nice to see you too, Umpa.”  Coley said with an annoyed grin. “What’s going on? I had a weird dream…”

Nick was gone so often and so was Daniel, Coley was the closest one to her Mother lately especially where matters of art were concerned since they both shared that passionate love affair.  “What do you know what these?” Daniel asked and held his arm out to her. Colleen came and stood by his side, slipped under the warmth of his waiting arm and rubbed the sleepy seeds out of her pretty blue eyes.

“They’re sold?” She asked coyly.

“Other than that.”

“And hey, what did you mean by ‘conspirator’?” She asked accusingly as she turned to look at her Grandfather.  He didn’t answer her at first and it seemed to Coley that they were waiting for an answer to her Father’s question before going on. “What do you want me to tell you? That they’re fantastic? Ok they’re fantastic. That she’s one-talented lady? You got that too.”

“So you don’t know the story behind any of these?” David asked.

“Story? What story?”

“Nothing.” Daniel said and kissed the side of her head.  “Your turn.” He said to Ares.

Although he didn’t like the idea and he knew Colleen was going to like it even less, Ares laid out Hades plan for saving Calla’s immortal soul should they be unable to save her life.

“I don’t wanna be Queen.” Coley said in a small rush of air and suddenly felt a huge weight come crashing down on her.  “And Mom…oh Gods, she’ll hate this!” Now she was angry. “You know she will!  You’re going to make her feel even worse than she already does if you try and convince her she’s not fit to rule anymore. She doesn’t need that.”

“But she isn’t.” Ares said as softly as he could.  It needed to be said just so they all heard the words and the truth in them. Any other world leader would have had to step down by now at least temporarily and let someone else take over.  Yet Calla remained Queen of Altair Ain in spite of her lack of ability to maintain that position.  “We cannot tell her the truth in the plan because, I’m afraid, she’ll object to that just as vehemently.  She’ll consider it….”

“Cheating.” Daniel finished with a tinge of disgust.

“I have a life,” Coley began to protest, “a husband, a home, a daughter, a career!”

“You’ve already agreed to do this if and when the time came. It is here, now.” Ares reminded her and gave Nick a sideways glance.

“Let Dad do it! He’s the King!” She waved a hand dismissively towards her Father.

“But I wasn’t born an Olympian and you were.” Daniel said thoughtfully. “I know it’s a lot to ask, pumpkin, I know you’re scared and you don’t want to do it,” he looked back at the paintings, “but if we can’t do this you’re going to have to be prepared to be Queen.”  The least they could do was save Calla’s soul if they were unable to save her body.

“It’s Mom’s place.” Coley muttered and slouched against her Father’s side.

“I know, Runt, but….”

“Oh shut up!” Coley railed without much strength, “big bully. You’re supposed to be next in line, not me.”

Nick let out a long sigh and then walked up behind his Sister and put his arms around her waist. “Can’t have two Kings, Cole, if I step up, Dad has to step down too.  Just do it that far and Dad will take care of everything else, won’t you Dad?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.” Daniel assured her.  Colleen was a feisty woman but a gentle soul like her Mother and Daniel knew she wanted no part of being responsible for an entire country.  Hell, neither did he but that didn’t stop him from becoming King.  “You just make the decree.”

“Can it be temporary? You know, so when you guys find a way to cure her she can take the throne again?” What if they did too soon? What if Mom got better and was fit to rule? What if she wanted her old job back one day?

Ares shook his head.

“I can just be a figure head, right? Until Athena’s ready to take over?”  Coley bit down on her bottom lip and looked down at her feet. Daniel couldn’t help but smile, she looked so much like her Mother.

“Sure, pumpkin.” Daniel agreed and reached out to stroke her upper arm as she leaned against her Brother.  “That’s fine.”

“One of you has to tell Mom. You have to tell her that this is not my idea.”

Just when it looked like the tension of the moment passed, David spoke up. “Got a nice side benefit for you, don’t it, big guy?”

Ares looked at him narrowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. Sunshine steps down, she steps up, makes this decree and wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am your immortal soul is saved too.”

There was another man who would have made a great strategist or greasy politician if only Fate had willed it so.  The truth was Ares hadn’t thought about that angle at all. “It will only be for Calla.”

“It cain’t just be for Sunshine,” David said with a grin and twinkle in his eyes. The old dog wasn’t going to pull the wool of his blue eyes.  “Mr. Seed of Democracy.” He snickered. “Ain’t that right?” David taunted a bit knowing full well that the ancient Greeks claimed themselves the first democratic society.  “It’s got to apply to everyone or it doesn’t apply to anyone, right? So, how ‘bout dat? You’ll get to spend some vacation time in the Elysian Fields too and get you a nice new shiny soul when all is said and done. Let’s hope you make better use of it than you did the last one.” David snorted.

Now the anger started to build up in the God of War. “They deserved to die,” he seethed through gritted teeth. “They stood against her and I killed them for it. I’ve never denied it and I knew what the consequence would be.  I’d do it again in a second. I do not expect to get, as you put it, a new shiny soul.” No, he didn’t, not at all.  Deep down Ares didn’t want it. Ares did know full well what he was doing when he poisoned five Olympians for not supporting Callestah when she was a little girl and he felt fully justified in his action. If the price was eternity in the Seventh Level of Tartarus then so be it.  “I only want this for her not for myself.”

“Whatever, I guess you got the bonus package, Umpa.” Nick said and hugged Coley tight.  “You can do this,” he whispered to her, “I know you can.”

End of Chapter Thirty-Two of
Golden Years
by Moon Mistress
a/k/a Lisa Beth Darling
Go to
Chapter Thirty-Three