Athens Greece
“Karl, hey look at this old shit man. You’re the archaeology geek, so what is all this, and isn’t she hot? Butt ugly face though but her-“
“Shut the fuck up, Mike. I may be a geek, but you’re a cultural philistine. That mural is thousands of years old. The symbolic meaning of this moved great thinkers and pioneers in the fields of psychology and anthropology: think Freud, Jung and Joseph Campbell!” Karl Tiaras, a student on exchange with several of the guys and girls on loan from Boston University protested as he raised his hand for silence. “Did you hear anything then?”
“Na, you’re flipp'n' out, man. Sorry about the jibe but… wow, that looks great!”
“Must be imagining things, okay, let’s roll it… digital enhancement and wide pan set?”
“Yup, you got it, dude… boy that is a fantastic mural, I gotta say it’s awesome. Mind if I use this for the cover of Sounds like Magazine?”
“Be my guest, I’m surprised you are showing this place respect. Put those empty beer cans in the bag and the Canola bar wrappers, got to leave this place as we found it. If the Greek Department of Antiquity gets any inkling the site has been tampered with, we’re toast!” he cautioned with a frown, brushing the sandy hair out of his eyes.
Leonie thought he looked so cool under the moonlight, like a kind of cute Indiana Jones. She smiled as she and Marta got into position.
“Marta, honey, come over here and hold this a moment. I thought I saw something shining under that slab,” Karl said, as the blonde sauntered over, giggling at something Mike had said under his breath. Karl thought it might have been a sexual innuendo or something. That butt head wasn’t going to ruin this night with his usual bullshit.
The moon was full. The creatures of the night bearing witness to a young archaeologist’s triumph, as he created the most vivid of sketches for the campus archaeological club magazine. He also intended to make a little money on the side for the footage and slideshow he planned to use on a lecture tour. The images would also feature on the upcoming concerts performed by Beryl Canoga and Dark Empress Butterfly performing live at this hallowed venue. He was excited and his friends: Mike, Marta, Christine, Leonie, Rochelle and Dan seated on truncated pillars, rocks or smoking on the perimeter keeping an eye out just in case of trouble. This place was dead, well, almost.
“Look, it is a light. It’s coming from underneath that slab. Somebody’s down there!” Mike joked. He had to admit, the light was strange. It didn’t look natural. He was a little drunk, thought it a trick of the moonlight. He closed his eyes, and swallowed the rest of the can of beer before reaching for another.
“Help me with this will you…”
“Crowbar might help,” a faery-faced girl with coppery gold hair almost danced over towards Karl brandishing said implement. She stood before him, smiling. She was cute he thought as he took in the tanned legs, knee-length denim skirt and the canary-yellow halter-neck top she wore that clung to sizable breasts he observed, and looked down. Rochelle looked so like that sexy warrior princess, Xena, but for the blond hair. He could almost see her in that skimpy get up. He checked himself, and accepted the proffered instrument.
She looked down at her white sandals before his eyes met hers again and they each smiled at one another.
“Thanks honey. I appreciate that.”
She blushed, pushed a strand of gold out of her eyes, and tucked it behind her ear. ”You’re always welcome, Karl.”
Mike groaned and moved towards his friends and helped Karl move the ancient stone.
“If anybody lives down there, they’d have a lot of trouble staying alive without fresh food and water that is unless they’ve set up an underground excavation to steal whatever is down there,” Rochelle speculated as Dan nodded and puffed on his pipe once more, considering the matter.
“Yeah and what if they’re grave robbers or worse, murderers, international terrorists or underworld crims!” Mike spoke up, as he reset the tripod and Leonie zoomed in with her digital movie cam.
“The light isn’t artificial. It is like nothing I’ve ever seen. Bring the camera over I want to film this, got that night setting right, here…”
---
Beryl was tired. She had a bath and soaked in it for forty-five minutes. She felt that if she stayed in the water much longer, she would shrivel like a prune. Grimacing with the thought, she stood, and posed like Venus De Milo; the water cascading off her curvaceous bronzed form, her red ponytail falling over her left breast to her hip.
She winked at her reflection and smiled, admiring the way the light bounced off her naked form; nipples erect. Nodding her approval, she stepped out like a dainty princess, reached for her towel and began to dry herself off.
She sighed as her cell began to ring to the sounds of Sisters of Mercy, a nineties Gothic Rock Band she loved.
“Should I have left that off?” she asked herself in a rhetorical monotone as she sighed and darted into her bedroom, a trail of wet footprints in her wake upon the polished floorboards. “Hello?” then she felt as if she was sinking into a pit of quicksand, as sounds were issuing from her mouth, but these were not her words. “Death courts its maiden, the blood drips from the rose…” a menacing disembodied voice recited as if a parody on Shakespeare.
“Beryl, what the fuck?”
The vision of a pink rose, dripping with blood, young blood; it was happening again. These hideous visions were becoming more frequent and frightening. Only the day before, while at the ancient site rehearsing for the new songs they’d recorded for the music DVD, she found herself assailed by the most frightening vision yet. She had taken a break, set down her electric guitar and stood by an eerie rock carving.
Suddenly, the freakiest thing had happened. Medusa, the centerpiece of the rock carving had stepped out of the marble slab and stood before Beryl in all her terrifying glory; stone serpents in the Gorgon’s hair hissing and lunging at her. The creature’s eyes burning with bright red light as the stone emissary sneered at Beryl, cradling a pink rose, blood dripping onto the white vision of horror before her as it spoke one word, “Darkness!”
She blinked and the lucid visage was gone. She had felt suddenly cold, her hands pale, her fingers cramped with the otherworldly chill. She thought she was coming down with something and shrugged it off, but now she was getting scared.
“Beryl, you okay?”
“Yeah, I just had a fade out. I’m fine. Sorry, must have had too little sleep.”
“You’re not on amphetamines or anything like that are you?”
“Fuck Kunz, what the hell do you take me for? I’m a rock star yeah, but I am not a fucking stereotypical idiot who impales themselves on a needle or shit like that. I get a little drunk… okay, very drunk, but only until I can’t count my drinks and I stop – it’s not like you to give me crap like that!”
“Sorry Beryl babe, but you sounded so weird, you were reciting lines like some Gothic version of Macbeth, blood dripping from roses, your voice sounded male…as if you were possessed or something!”
“What! I didn’t did I?” she gasped, shaking her head to clear it. “Look Kunz, darling, I just need to relax, and the pre-tour party will do the trick.”
“All right, you sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be fine, really; see you tonight.”
---
The flame of a scented candle flickered in the gentle breeze within the dark of Beryl’s hotel suite in downtown Athens. Its pale light highlighting the ruby gleam of long wavy red hair spilling over sculpted shoulders and down her back, the light also revealing the soft features of a beautiful young woman sound asleep at her writing desk. Her arms folded, supporting her head.
The room lay in a state of preternatural enchantment; the restless winds and billowing curtains the only sound, precursor to an impending storm; the gentle rumblings of thunder in the distance setting the mood.
Beryl, still dreaming, was completely unaware of the strange glowing figure on the threshold connecting her bedroom to the balcony.
She was alone. Kunzite was not staying with Beryl that night. He was in fact, otherwise occupied with a young blonde calling herself, Minako. The girl, earlier that week, had successfully auditioned for the new position of backing vocalist for the band. What pleased Beryl and Kunzite most about her was the fact she could play the saxophone as well, and play like a pro. On the strength of this, Minako was taken on tour. Beryl liked her and thought she would fit seamlessly into the line-up. Beryl wouldn’t be at all pleased with her new recruit if she knew Kunz was screwing the blonde stupid in his hotel room that night.
---
Giving into lust, Kunzite shrugged off the sense of guilt. Was it only lust, or was it something else? He wasn’t sure. One thing he did know though, Beryl would be hurt and kick his ass. She was that drunk he didn’t think she’d even remember and so he had left her to her friends and fellow band members and slinked off into the night with the leggy blonde. He would deal with his guilt and break the news and likely Beryl’s heart after returning to Tokyo following the mini-tour. He knew he was an asshole.
Beryl, for her part, was way too tired – alcohol not withstanding - to care whether her man was there or not. She was totally out of it: too much booze, too little sleep. She needed her rest for the gig the following afternoon and some relief from the terrifying visions that literally drove her to start her binge drinking.
She stirred and mumbled something under her breath and sat up, yawning. The tall lean figure, lurking in shadow grew more distinct as she attempted to focus on the visage before her. Was she dreaming? The man and he was a fine specimen of a man, she thought, though shrouded in as much mystery as luminous mist intrigued her. What she was seeing seemed ridiculous, incongruent and fanciful.
He bore a set of magnificent wings; these partially hidden in darkness.
She took all this in at a glance as his eyes met her bloodshot ones.
After earlier passing out and falling asleep on the desk, she seriously doubted the evidence of her eyes.
The last thing she remembered was Alice sitting on her lap, whispering unrequited endearments into her ear, making her ill. She put up with it. She was exhausted. Alice all but pouring wine into her mouth – much of it trickling between her breasts and that too was annoying, but Alice was fascinated, no, obsessed with her. She kept saying how sexy and gorgeous Beryl was, resting a hand on her knee while leaning over to grab a platter of finger food and feeding Beryl as if she were her lover, which she definitely was not.
“What I’d give to run my hands over your firm-“
“Alice! Cut it out, give me that platter and shut the fuck up woman, I’m not on the menu, K? Now, behave!” she admonished, in the manner of Austin Powers. ”Go feel somebody else’s thigh or knee. On second thought, don’t, I don’t want you getting your pretty lights punched out, and the girls in the band will, I promise you…,” she laughed, shoving her admirer unceremoniously onto the floor. Beryl, reaching for a towelette, wiped the wine as inconspicuous as she could manage off her chest and jumped to her feet, looking down at the pouting, leggy girl sitting at her feet. Beryl shook her head. She laughed.
“Bitch!” Alice spat back as a couple of the roadies helped the disheveled vixen up and she slinked off to the bar for another drink.
Although she knew Alice would never make a 'real' pass at her, the slinky raven-haired girl did the next best thing, teased her new friend incessantly. Beryl gave in and allowed her to have her fun for a time. But as Alice got more drunk, not as drunk as Beryl was at the time, her harmless flirtations were getting a little out of hand - or hands - and becoming more than innocuous teasing.
Stumbling back towards Beryl, shot glass in hand.
Alice began to pout and whine, “You’re no fun, Beryl,” she said, and this won Alice a whack on the ass with a damp tea towel. “That hurt!”
“Good…it was meant to, now hands off the fucking merchandize sweetheart, or I will do something we’ll both regret!”
“Oooh promises; you’re quite feisty when you’re tanked.”
Beryl sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Alice, go and get those party pies will yer,” Molly said, pulling the scantily clad woman away from Beryl. “Makoto is waiting and Andrew needs a hand at the bar. Go now and don’t pass go. Do not collect 200 dollars and, just move your ass girl!” she giggled and threw Beryl a sympathetic smile, "I'll be right back," she said in a whisper as she all but frog-marched a protesting Alice away towards the kitchen. Beryl gave Molly a look of gratitude, as she made sure the muttering young woman clad in a tiny black silk party dress made it to the kitchen without collapsing into a pile of goo.
Molly soon returned with some more seafood pâté and herb bread on a platter with tasty cheese, nuts and dried fruit, which Beryl began to devour with relish.
“Knock yourself out girl!” Molly giggled, munching on a cheese and asparagus vole au vent.
“Thanks, I was too stuffed to do that,” she smiled her gratitude.
“Yeah, I know,” she is harmless and a cute kid. But a bit of a handful, er, you know what I mean,” she blushed, realizing the double entendre in the last part of her statement.
Beryl giggled, and Molly soon did as well. “The English language will be the death of us both I am sure!” Beryl put in as Neph leaned over and plucked a vole au vent from the center of the huge platter.
“Hi girls, got something special coming up, so be ready!” he beamed and returned to the others on the balcony.
She sighed and poured herself another drink. She had invited and paid for her classmates in Lady Usagi's course to come to Athens with her and the band for the duration of the lightning tour for Dark Empress Butterfly’s spectacular, performed in the ancient amphitheater of the residing gods to be made into a holo-pod music feature. Naturally, they were thrilled to bits and had accepted.
Beryl spent the next ten minutes talking to Umino and the American girl, Molly, avoiding the rabid Alice for the rest of the party. The last she saw of her, Alice was talking with a dark skinned Greek beauty in an outfit almost too risqué for even Beryl’s tastes. Olive skinned, hair long and dark falling to her ass, Alice was besotted – all curves, all tassels and lace. Beryl smiled her thanks to the smoldering native of Greece, by the name of Penelope, or something like that, and lifted her glass to her by way of thanks for taking her over exuberant friend off her hands, or in this case, off her lap. She then decided to hang out with Neph, Zoë, Jad and the girls for the rest of the night.
Beryl decided to stop drinking; she began to wonder where Kunzite was. Thinking he had gone onto another party, she shrugged and for the moment anyway, forgot about him and let herself enjoy what was left of the evening.
Then a series of w00ts and cheers went up as Makoto, Ami, Rei and Hotaru gathered in the center of the room. Soon the other girls joined them. Haruka unleashed a loud wolf whistle to gain the attention of the audience. Michiru started playing her cello, and Setsuna sang a haunting Celtic love song. Next, Jad started on his base as Rei joined in and an impromptu concert began.
Beryl harmonized, but was happy leaving the lead vocals to Setsuna. The new girl, Minako, was gone, but then again so was Kunz – funny that – she thought.
At around eleven, all had said their goodbyes. Jolyon, offering a warm smile, embarrassing Beryl in front of everyone by taking her hand and kissing the back of it, offered her a freshly cut blood-red rose before slipping away. Breathless, blushing, as everyone smiled, she felt like a princess meeting her prince for the first time and falling in love.
The departing guests hadn’t made a fuss at the unexpected gesture; it was as if she were inducted into an ancient fraternity. Perhaps she had. The obligatory pecks on the cheek soon followed in quick succession as did the waves and so on, these dispatched with alacrity.
Finally, as the last of the stragglers filed out, she leaned against the back of the door, taking in her surroundings and sighed at the sight of all the party litter.
Five minutes later, she had cleared the superficial mess away, leaving the rest of it till morning to clean up before practicing her riffs on her new black electric guitar and singing her new songs before moving onto the ancient site for their official rehearsals.
She sat at her desk, suddenly struck with inspiration, and spent the next hour writing. The lyrics of this song, in the strangest way demanding, refused to leave her alone, even in sleep.
After writing these down, cleaning her teeth and throwing on her black chemise, she lit a candle and read over her words.
~/~
I shall seek you out,
I turn to stone,
As the stare of the night possesses me,
Medusa fire,
Medusa fire,
My heart is as stone as are my limbs,
You took my love and life away,
And I, the lifeless one,
Since she took my lover away,
Medusa fire,
Medusa fire,
She burns,
She destroys,
She claims the hearth and steels his heart,
Medusa fire,
Medusa fire…
~/~
She scribbled these lyrics in her well-scripted hand, the candle wax kissing the corner of her pink thick notepad. Its pages perfumed with the distinctive fragrance of Tea Roses.
She had labored long into the night, and had fallen asleep.
Something stirred, was it a shadow, a cat making its way into her room, or something else she had heard. She moaned, lifting her heavy head, her eyes upturned. She took in the visage of the silhouette standing against the vault of night, the moon highlighting the tall lean form. Then, what she thought wings, unfurled like those of a falcon or hawk, moving with grace, almost imperceptible. Then the figure stepped forth out of shadow. She knew him.
“Jolyon! By the gods, what, or should I ask, I Mean, who are you?”
“I am a friend, a messenger, but above all I am your guide and guardian,” he gave as his cryptic answer.
She knew who he was, or who she thought he was. This she hadn’t in her wildest dreams would have ever expected, no matter how much she had to drink; it was too ridiculous to be real.
“But what are you, part bird and part man? What the fuck. Did somebody slip crack into my system last night at the party, is this even real?” she asked herself, rather than the dark clad angelic being, or birdman standing before her.
He offered her a sardonic smile and bowed. “I am a sky dweller. I have revealed myself to you as time is growing short, a great darkness has made itself manifest in your world once more and you will need my help to fight and defeat it, Beryl.”
“Please tell me I am suffering a nervous breakdown, or had my drink spiked, something terrestrial, anything but…this!” she said, disbelieving the evidence of her eyes as she continued to stare at the enigmatic, otherworldly, sexy Jolyon Night. “Fuck off, Jolyon, or whoever, or whatever you are, figment of my drunken imagination or whatever. Now, I am going to stand up, stumble into my bedroom, fall on the bed in a heap and get some sleep before the concert tomorrow and wake up and laugh at this weird dream, nightmare I am having and tell your real self all about it over coffee on campus when I get back to Tokyo.”
“Beryl, it’s no dream, and I am as real as you are and you’re, not drunk or otherwise hallucinating,” he said, chuckling and arching an eyebrow.
“Yeah right, and I’m Hilary Clinton. Come on. Do you really expect me to believe this etheric shit? Am I that kind of girl?”
Jolyon smiled wryly and sighed, “Well, it seems you’ll require a little convincing. So allow me to tell you your story and then I shall tell you mine. Deal?”
With more than a little Reluctance, she nodded and after realizing that this wasn’t a dream after all, she pushed her long red locks from her eyes and listened to her winged protector’s tale.
