![]() ![]() Either she wished to defend me (unlikely), or she was not a fan of the name Nanette. And please call me Nanette.”Ĭalypso charged. “Our master will be delighted to have you in custody. She grabbed my forearm with the strength of a weightlifter. “Don’t be modest!” The woman tossed her phone and purse aside. “Madam,” I said, “I’m afraid you have mistaken me-” What if they erected a statue of me in my present form-a giant golden Lester in the center of their city? The other gods would never let me hear the end of it! The idea that the Indianans might recognize me despite my tangled hair, acne, and flab was both insulting and terrifying. I looked nothing like my former glorious self. They would immediately begin constructing a new temple.īut as Lester Papadopoulos, I did not warrant such treatment. They would sing and dance and throw flowers. ![]() Of course the locals would rush to welcome me. In the old days, I would have expected to be recognized as soon as I arrived in a town. “It’s him, all right,” she said into the phone. The screen glowed as if a call were already in progress. “You can’t go yet, dear! We haven’t welcomed you to Indiana!” From her purse, she drew a smartphone. ![]() “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a suitcase to repair and my friend is in dire need of a pair of pants.” “Madam,” I said, “we are not children.” I could have added that I was over four thousand years old, and Calypso was even older, but I decided not to get into that. I wondered if she was getting enough oxygen to her brain. Her lipstick and eye shadow were both a violent shade of purple. “Oh, my!” She gripped her purse with both hands. If she ever tipped over, I doubted she could easily get back up. With her spindly arms and legs, she reminded me of some sort of giant beetle. Her chest and belly protruded in a lumpy mass, as if she’d stuffed a sack of mangos down the front of her dress. Her shoulders were too wide for her head. She wasn’t particularly large, but something about her proportions seemed off. She strolled forward and planted herself in front of us. To me, the message was clear enough: I see you, puny mortal now run along. I gave her a little parade wave-the sort of gesture I used to give my worshippers when they came to grovel at my altar. It was in fact a miserable morning-cold and cloudy with a smell of impending snow-but I felt it would be rude to ignore her completely. Either that or lots of ladies in Indianapolis wore purple-and-yellow honeysuckle-pattern dresses and had 1950s bouffant hairstyles. The woman in the flowery dress had returned. Then, from the direction of the sidewalk, a voice called, “Hello!” Maxx, Leo in boxer shorts and melted sneakers, rolling a bronze suitcase behind him. “Also, if we see a men’s clothing store, that might be good.” “Twelve hours? Fifteen?” He pushed a button on the side of the suitcase. “And if we find such a shop, how long will it take to repair Festus?” Her pink ski jacket glistened with condensation from our flight through the clouds. Guess we’re stuck here until I can find a machine shop.”Ĭalypso grimaced. “Man…I thought I fixed his gyro-capacitor. That should have been physically impossible, of course, but like any decent god, demigod, or engineer, Leo Valdez refused to be stopped by the laws of physics. In a matter of seconds, our robotic friend had been reduced to a large bronze suitcase. His wings, limbs, neck, and tail contracted into his body, his bronze plates overlapping and folding inward. Leo lunged and flipped the lever behind the dragon’s left foreleg. When the flames dissipated, Leo stood before us wearing nothing but his asbestos boxer shorts, his magical tool belt, and a pair of smoking, partially melted sneakers. ![]() If he were caught by surprise, however, it didn’t always work. From what Leo had told me, he could generally prevent his outfits from burning up simply by concentrating. “Hey, buddy, it’s fine! I’m just going to switch you off for a while, okay? A little downtime to-”įestus projectile-vomited a column of flames that engulfed Leo. Leo ran in front of Festus and held out his arms in a classic dragon-wrangler’s stance. From inside his chest came a noise like a loose bicycle chain. “Perhaps-”įestus stumbled, shaking like a wet dog. “We should get out of the public eye,” I suggested. Their dazed smiles reminded me of ancient Athenians just before the Dionysus Festival-everyone in a good mood, distracted, thinking about the drunken riots and debauchery to come. Something about these locals bothered me. Still, I did not think heavy Mist was the problem here. ![]()
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