Greek Revival: Chapter 13

XIII.

The first words out of Damian’s mouth after Ari woke up, tucked into the guest bed of the little white house, were, “I can’t fucking believe they were magic birds.”

“Told you so,” Ari mumbled, their voice scratchy. “What happened?”

“Did you see him turn into fuckin’ Birdman?”

“Yeah. That’s the last thing I remember.”

“Well, he said a bunch of shit in Greek that I didn’t understand, but all the PGM guys just looked absolutely wrecked by it. Started grabbing their heads, crying, babbling, all sorts of creepy shit. Like something out of Lovecraft. Once they were all on the ground sobbing, Birdman says – and I don’t know how I understood this, but I did – Birdman tells them that they’ve been hoarding the light of knowledge for too long, and that any attempt on the part of any Proper Greek Man to harm you will fail and they’ll die, because apparently, you’re under his protection for as long as you keep spreading the knowledge of the Papyri to the world.”

“Holy cow. Or – holy bird, I guess.”

“You think so?”

“I mean, that sounds a lot like Thoth to me,” Ari said. “Big guy with the head of an ibis talking about knowledge, right? You said you knew stuff about Egyptian religion.”

Damian nodded. “It makes a lot of sense. I just don’t like the idea that there’s been a god hanging out in my brother’s house for the past six months and it still didn’t do a damn thing to save Nico. I mean, if that was Thoth, he literally deus-ex-machina’d you and just let Nico die.”

Ari grimaced. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“I know you did your best, kid. I just… he’s dead. My brother’s dead.”

“It’s awful. I don’t know what to say.”

Damian shook his head like a dog shaking off water and said, “Anyway, I know it sounds dumb, but after that all the PGM guys just kind of left. They carried away the ones that couldn’t move and got the fuck out of there.”

“Where’s Nico’s body?”

“Down at the morgue.” Despite the heaviness in his face, Damian cracked a smile. “I was gonna take him home with me, bury him in the backyard, but I’m sure as hell not about to be a murder suspect on top of being the town crazy guy. I loaded you up in the car and called the cops from that old payphone by the gas station. Went to the professor’s house and got Penny out of that freezing spell you put her in. She seemed out of it, but better. She didn’t know where she was or why, and she let me take her back here. She’s asleep in the other bedroom, actually. They called me down to the police station to ID Nico’s body first thing this morning. Turns out those motherfuckers were in such a rush to get out of there that they left that big scary iron knife behind, with their fingerprints all over it. Last I heard Gilbert Applewhite is under arrest and they’re starting a statewide manhunt for Eddie Pryor.”

“Not that they’ll find him,” Ari said. The image of Dr. Pryor sinking into the river rose in their mind. He’ll be down there until someone dredges him up. Folks going fishing, maybe, or river patrol. But maybe he’ll stay down there until the silt buries him, and one day his body will get dug up by a team of archaeologists. “At least not for a long time.”

“Immortal and frozen at the bottom of a river forever.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s not quite as bad as that fucker deserves, but it’s a start.”

Ari looked up at Damian, sitting on the edge of the bed, his bright hazel eye watching them with concern and deep sadness. “I’m sorry about Nico,” they said. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, kid. I’m not mad at you. You did everything you could. I’m just… god, I’m gonna miss him.”

“I know.”

“Penny’s gonna be devastated when she finds out.”

Ari nodded. “I bet. But at least she’s herself.”

“Small victories.” Damian paused. “Hey, kid, are you feeling well enough to go home? It’s just – the house is kind of a mess right now, and I know that makes you itchy, and… I could really use some time to myself. And with Penny. Just to… deal with this, I guess. Not that I don’t wanna have you around, but – you didn’t know Nico. Y’know?”

“Yeah, of course, of course, yes,” Ari said, swinging their legs out of bed. “Please take care of yourself, okay? Don’t – don’t do anything… I don’t know.”

“I won’t. I wouldn’t. I’ll text you and check in.”

“Great. Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”

Damian showed them to the door, and as they stepped out, they turned back and kissed Damian on the cheek. Then, they said, “Out of curiosity, what happened to the rest of the ibises?”

“Flew away down the river. Guess they decided their work here was done,” he said with a bitter shrug. “I didn’t see where the white one went. Thoth. But if he’s a god I bet he can just appear and disappear whenever he wants.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll see you around. Love you.”

Damian half-smiled. “Love you too, kid.”

***

The first snow of the season fell the day before Thanksgiving. Ari and Greg were the last ones at Full English. Sammy had gotten the afternoon off to drive back to Pennsylvania and spent the holiday with her family. Teddy had left in the morning for Concord, where he was in the process of opening a second location. According to Greg, Teddy had intimated that on days when he was in Concord, Greg was “completely, totally, iron-fist-level in charge.” Luckily for Ari, Greg had mostly been using that power to insist they take longer breaks and not work themself to death. Ari rung out the final customer of the day, flipped the sign on the door to CLOSED, and joined Greg at the dish pit to help him wash up.

“You’re still invited over for dinner tomorrow,” Greg said, bumping Ari’s hip with his own. “It’ll be weird, obviously, because the family farm is out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere, but my folks are mostly pretty cool, and you’ll love the goats.”

“I appreciate it,” Ari said. “It’s pretty late, though, now, isn’t it? I don’t want to mess up anyone’s plans.”

“My aunt makes about sixty extra servings every time she cooks, and the neighbors always end up rolling up to watch football anyway. I don’t think she’d even notice an extra person.”

“Fair enough. Can I get back to you? I have to make sure I’m not already committed to dinner with a couple of my neighbors.”

“Yeah, no worries. Door’s always open for you, Ari.” Greg grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “In more ways than one.”

“Hey, hey, not here!” Ari said with a laugh as Greg swooped in for a kiss on the cheek. He’d been getting more openly flirtatious the past few months, and though Ari wasn’t yet at the point of reciprocating, they weren’t about to stop him, either. Greg was so normal, and Ari still replayed the vision of Dr. Pryor sinking into the river every night when they closed their eyes. Normal felt amazing.

“Any news on grad school?” Greg asked.

“Yeah, I got a couple acceptances last week, but today’s the big day,” Ari said. “Almost all the really good programs have said today is their notification deadline, so cross your fingers for when I check my email tonight.”

“Don’t need to. You’ve got this in the bag. Tweed jacket and pipe, here you come.”

“Hah, yeah, I guess.”

“Oh, hey, big news,” Greg said. “I can’t believe I didn’t mention it. I quit smoking.”

“Oh, dang, for real? Greg, that’s amazing! Congratulations!”

He shrugged, a little bashfully, and turned off the water. He pushed up his sleeve to show Ari a nicotine patch stuck to his dark, muscular shoulder. “Yeah, well, someone told me those things would kill me someday. About time I finally listened, huh?”

“And who would take over the bakery while Teddy’s down in Concord if you died of lung cancer?”

“That sounded suspiciously like a threat,” Greg teased.

“No way, I couldn’t handle this place on my own.”

“Well, not to try to steal you away from a life of boring, stuffy academia, but if you decide to stick around a while longer – maybe become a full-time baker – you’ll always be my second-in-command, Ari.”

“Promise?” Ari asked, grinning and batting their eyelashes.

Greg burst out laughing. “Promise. Can you imagine me giving up the opportunity to boss you around?”

The snow was falling thicker as Ari drove home, and they took the bridge slow, inching their tires across the slick surface. They had to cross from New Hampshire to Vermont twice a day at least, and they stared straight ahead every time. Ari did what they could to avoid looking at the Connecticut River now.

Penny answered the door at the little white house. From somewhere deeper inside, a Green Day song was blaring.

“Hey, Ari!” she said, folding Ari into a tight hug as soon as the door was open enough for her to see who it was. “Come on in. Damian’s just making dinner.”

The interior of the house was largely the same as it had been months earlier, save for the absence of spell ingredients and ibises. There were still four neat Snake Protection charms hanging up on one wall: one for Damian, one for Penny, one for Ari, and one, never taken down, for Nico. Ari walked past them into the kitchen, where Damian was stirring something in a pot on the stove. They wrapped their arms around his middle from behind, and he turned around with a grin and kissed them on the forehead.

“Hey, kid! Good to see you. Taste this for me, would ya?”

He stuck out a wooden spoon dripping with a thick turmeric-yellow sauce. Ari accepted the spoon: curry. They savored it for a moment, then handed the spoon back and said, “There’s peanut butter in that, right? I think it could use a little more.”

“Told ya!” called Penny from the kitchen doorway.

“You’re both crazy,” Damien insisted. “More spice is what it needs.”

“Ooh, I’ll zip downstairs and grab a bottle of wine,” Penny said. “It’s a celebratory occasion, right? Ari’s big grad school d-day?”

“I haven’t checked my email yet,” Ari said. “I might’ve gotten rejected from everywhere.”

“Well if you did then you’ll definitely need wine,” Penny said, already opening the cellar door. “Be right back!”

The door clicked shut behind her, and Damian went back to stirring the curry, churning up potatoes and greens and onions and garlic. Ari glanced at the kitchen table and its chairs but opted to perch themself on the counter next to Damian instead. They sat on his blind side, watching his lips pressed together in concentration as he stirred, finding their gaze drawn back to the mottled pink patch where his eye used to be.

“Hey,” Ari said, “are you sure you don’t want me to try to fix your eye? I still have that heal-an-eye-disease spell Hermes left me with. It seems pretty simple – grocery store stuff. Couldn’t hurt to try, right?”

Damian shook his head vehemently. “Nope. Mind’s made up, kid. It’s something to remember Nico by. And to prove all that shit actually happened. Some days Penny gets a little… out of it. And I don’t blame her. It’s good to have something to point to. Something real.”

“Okay. Well, if you change your mind…”

“I won’t. But thanks.”

Ari swallowed. Something hung in the air between them, thick as the smell of curry, but Ari wasn’t sure what it was.

“Sorry I haven’t been around much since the funeral,” Damian said suddenly. “It’s been busy. Penny’s doing way better than I could’ve ever asked for, but it’s still been a heavy fuckin’ load to bear. And the organic farm’s been keeping me busy.”

“I totally get it,” Ari said. “Is that where all the produce is from?”

Damian beamed proudly. “Yep! You wouldn’t believe how much we get to take home. It feels damn good to be working with my hands again. No offense, but if I never read another Greek letter it’ll be too soon.”

“What happened to learning Greek when it was all over?”

With a snort, Damian said, “Yeah fuckin’ right, kid. The only thing that’s really helped me – well, besides therapy, not that I can talk about the whole magic angle there – and also besides a hell of a lot of drugs, to be honest – so not actually the only thing that’s helped me. Anyway. One of the things that helps is moving the hell on. Besides, I don’t need to know Greek, not when you’re gonna be tearing those fuckers up from the inside out.”

Ari raised an eyebrow. “I am?”

“Well, yeah, that’s still the plan, right? That’s what Thoth saved you for or whatever? Take the Papyri to grad school with you and dismantle the whole fuckin’ system with their own magic?”

“I mean, I guess so, yeah. If I end up in a program run by one of those PGM guys, I can’t imagine just letting him be. After everything.”

“Exactly. And I’ll be behind you every step of the way, no questions asked. Making out with you while you burn the world down, or whatever.”

“My second-in-command.”

Damian grinned, raising his eyebrows, a goofy puppy tagging along at Ari’s heels. “You know it, kid.”

Penny emerged from the basement, clutching a bottle of wine. “Ari, you’re coming over for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, right?”

“I don’t know. I’d really like to, but my coworker Greg also invited me to his family’s goat farm, and I don’t want to be rude. Is it okay if I get back to you later tonight?”

“Fine by me,” Penny said.

“Hey,” Damian groused, “I’m the one cooking.”

“And is it fine by you?” Penny asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Do what you gotta do, kid. Just know you’ll be missing out on acorn squash from the organic farm if you ditch us.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Penny said, “it’s really good squash.”

Ari smiled. “I bet. You guys enjoy dinner and the wine – I’d better be getting home. But I’ll see you soon, if not tomorrow.”

“Bye!” Penny said. Damian waved his spoon at them.

Ari’s apartment was just how they’d left it. They turned on all the lights and swept their hands through every empty space – nothing invisible, no shadow people. They opened all their drawers and closets and bent down to check under the furniture. No iron rings on the ground. No spells tucked away in any dark corners. Despite their alleged protection by a god, they still completed this thorough search of the apartment every time they came home. Like a ritual.

Satisfied that nothing magical was afoot, Ari stuck a container of chicken arroz caldo in the microwave, two minutes on high, and settled on the couch to check their email. They opened their laptop and saw six new email notifications.

Cambridge. Harvard. Oxford. Princeton. Brown. Yale.

Six programs headed by members of the PGM.

Six acceptance letters.

Something caught the corner of Ari’s gaze, and they turned their head to see, sitting next to them on the couch, a white ibis that had decidedly not been there before.

“Seriously?” Ari demanded. “You save my life, disappear for months, and show up now?”

The ibis stared placidly at them.

“You’re not even gonna talk?”

The ibis kept staring. Ari’s computer dinged: a new download. Ari glanced at the screen, and a PDF pulled itself up. The entirety of the Greek Magical Papyri, all in the original language, scanned and waiting for Ari’s attention. They turned back to the ibis.

“I get it. Pick a PhD program, learn the spells, share them with the other students, write a dissertation on the Papyri that blows everyone away, spread the knowledge to the world, destroy the PGM forever, right? Just like Damian said.”

The ibis bobbed its head. In the kitchen, the microwave began to beep.

“So you’re actually Thoth.”

The ibis bobbed its head again.

“Why me, though?”

Blank stare.

“I mean, like, I get that I just happened to be in the right place at the right time when Damian was freaking out, unless that was, like, divinely pre-ordained, but why do I have to be the one to do this? Just because I got wrapped up in the whole Nico thing? I… I mean, I know this makes me sound like a spoiled little kid, but I don’t want to. Magic is awful. It’s incredibly cool, and someone should study it, but also… it’s brutal. I don’t want everyone to start drowning lizards to make rings and murdering each other for immortality. And I really don’t want to make that the rest of my life. Can’t I just not? Please?”

The ibis clacked its beak at Ari and puffed its feathers, visibly annoyed.

“Well, if you’re not going to be helpful,” Ari said, pushing themself off the couch and retrieving their dinner from the microwave.

When they returned, Thoth was sitting on their couch, typing on their laptop. Ari gaped at him. It was one thing to see an ibis transform into a god when they were already in a terrifying, dreamlike, life-or-death situation. It was quite another to see a god hanging out in their living room.

“Someone has to do it,” Thoth said in English.

“You know English?” Ari demanded.

Despite the beak, Thoth almost seemed to smile. “If you choose to reject this calling forever, you will no longer have my protection.”

“Will the PGM know that?”

“Not unless you tell them. But I imagine they will find out eventually. They can be… persistent.”

“What if I just reject it for a little while?”

Thoth’s impossible smile grew wider. He tapped a few more keys on Ari’s laptop.

When Ari blinked, their laptop was sitting on the couch, still open, and Thoth was gone. The Papyri were still open. Ari closed them, navigated to their recent downloads, and dragged the icon for the PDF of the Papyri towards the trash.

I just want someone to hand the portal to me instead of another old white guy.

Ari sighed and left the PDF on their desktop instead.

When they switched back to their email to re-read the acceptance letters, they had another unread message, this one from an Archaeological Institute of America mailing list they’d signed up for years earlier and never bothered to unsubscribe themself from. The email advertised yearlong post-baccalaureate archaeological residencies at dig sites throughout the Mediterranean. Photos of happy, sweaty twenty-somethings posing next to their finds – pottery shards, beads, stone foundations – littered the email, along with several splashy links inviting Ari to apply NOW (with several exclamation points) because the deadline was Friday.

“Thanks, Thoth,” Ari said to the empty apartment. They switched to a new tab, looked up how to defer PhD program acceptance by a year. Then, they sent two texts, informing two different men that they were very sorry, but they’d have to pass on Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. They had other plans.

Ari ate their food and enjoyed the clean, empty silence of their apartment. Things would be messy again later, surely. But at least for the moment, everything was exactly where it should be.

They carefully washed and dried their bowl and cutlery, putting everything back in the cabinets when it had been thoroughly toweled off. Then Ari sat back down, opened a new tab, and began drafting an application essay.

The End.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading! I know I am not the only classicist here, and if Greek Revival gave even one of you war flashbacks to composition exercises, I consider my mission a success.

We will once again be taking a one-week break, and then it’s time for Come Down, the novel I started working on at the same time this newsletter started! I finished the first draft back in April, but it’s been through some edits since then. It’s definitely a very different vibe than these previous two — it’s got a much stronger voice and a much more plausible premise (not to mention much more sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll) than either Alternates or Greek Revival. It’s loosely inspired by the Faust story, so if that’s exciting to you, read on! But be warned, I would put Come Down solidly at an R rating for drug use and depictions of sexuality, so if you don’t want to read about those things (or if you just don’t want to read me, specifically, writing about those things), no hard feelings if you give this one a pass.

Either way, please tell me all of your thoughts about Greek Revival, and to those brave souls among you who are sticking around for Novel #3, I’ll see you in two weeks!

Might Makes Write and all the writing shared herein are licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0.