Pagan Passions Read online

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Now," Forrester said gaily, "let's see if your God has all the namesright, shall we?"

  The seven girls seated around him in a half-circle on the grass giggled.One of them simpered.

  "Hmm," Forrester said. He pointed a finger. "Dorothy," he said. Thefinger moved. "Judy. Uh--Bette. Millicent. Jayne." He winked at the lasttwo. They had been his closest companions on the march down. "Beverly,"he said, "and Kathy. Right?"

  The girls laughed, nodding their heads. "You can call me Millie,"Millicent said.

  "All right, Millie." For some reason this drew another big laugh.Forrester didn't know why, but then, he didn't much care, either."That's fine," he said. "Just fine."

  He gave all the girls a big, wide grin. It looked perfectly convincingto them, he was sure, but there was one person it didn't convince:Forrester. He knew just how far from a grin he felt.

  As a matter of fact, he told himself, he was in something of a quandary.

  He was not exactly inexperienced in the art of making love to beautifulyoung women. After the last few months, he was about as experienced ashe could stand being. But his education had, it now appeared, missed onevital little factor.

  He was used to making love to a beautiful girl all alone, just the twoof them locked quietly away from prying eyes. True, it had turned outthat a lot of his experiences had been judged by Venus and any other Godwho felt like looking in, but Forrester hadn't known that at the timeand, in any case, the spectators had been invisible and thus ignorable.

  Now, however, he was on the greensward of Central Park, within full viewof a couple of thousand drunken revelers, all of whom, if not otherwiseoccupied, asked for nothing better than a good view of their God inaction. And whichever girl he chose would leave six others eagerlyawaiting their turns, watching his every move with appreciative eyes.

  And on top of that, there was Gerda, close by. He was trying to keep aneye on her. But was she keeping an eye on him, too?

  It didn't seem to matter much that she couldn't recognize him as WilliamForrester. She could still see him in action with the seven lusciousmaidens. The idea was appalling.

  All afternoon, he had put off the inevitable by every method he couldthink of. He had danced with each of the girls in turn for entirelyimprobable lengths of time. He had performed high-jumps, leaps,barrel-rolls, Immelmann turns and other feats showing off his Godlikeprowess to anyone interested. He had made a display of himself until hewas sick of the whole business. He had consumed staggering amounts offerment and distillate, and he had forced the stuff on the girlsthemselves, in the hope that, what with the liquor and the exertion,they would lie down on the grass and quietly pass out.

  Unfortunately, none of these plans had worked. Dancing and acrobaticshad to come to an end sometime, and as for the girls, what they wantedto do was lie down, not pass out--at least not from liquor.

  The Chosen Maidens had been imbued, temporarily, with extraordinarystaying powers by the Priests of the various temples, working with thedelegated powers of the various Gods. After all, an ordinary girlcouldn't be expected to keep up with Dionysus during a revel, could she?A God reveling was more than any ordinary mortal could take for long--aswitness the ancient legend concerned the false Norse God, Thor.

  But these girls were still raring to go, and the sun had set, and he wasrunning out of opportunities for delay. He tried to think of some moreexcuses, and he couldn't think of one. Vaguely, he wished that the realDionysus would show up. He would gladly give the God not only thecredit, he told himself wearily, but the entire game.

  He glanced out into the growing dimness. Gerda was out there still, withher brother and the oaf--whose name, Forrester had discovered, was AlvinSherdlap. It was not a probable name, but Alvin did not look like aprobable human being.

  Now and again during the long afternoon, Forrester had got Ed Symes totoss up more rocks as targets, just to keep his hand in and to help himin keeping an eye on Gerda and her oaf, Alvin. It was a boring business,exploding rocks in mid-air, but after a while Symes apparently got tolike it, and thought of it as a singular honor. After all, he had beenpicked for a unique position: target-tosser for the great God Dionysus.Who else could make that statement?

  He would probably grow in the estimation of his friends, Forresterthought, and that was a picture that wouldn't stand much thinking about.As a stupefying boor, Symes was bad enough. Adding insufferablesnobbishness to his present personality was piling Pelion on Ossa. Andonly a God, Forrester reminded himself wryly, could possibly do that.

  Now, Forrester discovered, Symes and Alvin Sherdlap and Gerda were allsitting around a large keg of beer which Symes had somehow managed toappropriate from some other part of the grounds. He and Alvin wereguzzling happily, and Gerda was just sitting there, whiling away thetime, apparently, by thinking. Forrester wondered if she was thinking ofhim, and the notion made him feel sad and poetic.

  Gerda couldn't see him any longer, he knew. The darkness of night hadcome down and there was no moon. The only illumination was the glowrising from the rest of the city, since the lights of the park wouldstay out throughout the night. To an ordinary mortal, the remaininglight was not enough to see anything more than a few feet away. But toForrester's Godlike, abnormally perceptive vision, the park seemed nodarker than it had at dusk, an hour or so before. Though the Symes triocould not possibly see him, he could still watch over them with noeffort at all.

  He intended to continue doing so.

  But now, with darkness putting a cloak over his activities, and his mindcompletely empty of excuses, was the time to begin the task at hand.

  He cleared his throat and spoke very softly.

  "Well," he said. "Well."

  There had to be something to follow that, but for a minute he couldn'tthink of what.

  Millicent giggled unexpectedly. "Oh, Lord Dionysus! I feel so_honored_!"

  "Er," Forrester said. Finally he found words. "Oh, that's all right," hesaid, wondering exactly what he meant. "Perfectly all right, Millicent."

  "Call me Millie."

  "Of course, Millie."

  "You can call me Bets, if you want to," Bette chimed in. Bette was ablonde with short, curly hair and a startling figure. "It's kind of apet name. You know."

  "Sure," Forrester said. "Uh--would you mind keeping your voices down alittle?"

  "Why?" Millicent asked.

  Forrester passed a hand over his forehead. "Well," he said at last,thinking about Gerda, only a few feet away, "I thought it might be nicerif we were quiet. Sort of private and romantic."

  "Oh," Bette said.

  Kathy spoke up. "You mean we have to whisper? As if we were doingsomething secret?"

  Forrester tightened his lips. He felt the beginnings of a strongdistaste for Kathy. Why couldn't she leave well enough alone? But heonly said: "Well, yes. I thought it might be fun. Let's try it, girls."

  "Of course, Lord Dionysus," Kathy said demurely.

  He disliked her, he decided, intensely.

  There was a little silence.

  "Well," Forrester said. "You're all such beautiful girls that I hardlyknow how to--ah--proceed from here."

  Millicent tittered. So did one of the others--Judy, Forrester thought.

  "I wouldn't want any of you to feel disappointed, or think you were anylower in my estimation than--than any other one of you." The sentenceseemed to have got lost somewhere, Forrester thought, but he hadstraightened it out. "That wouldn't be fair," he went on, "and we Godsare always fair."

  The sentence didn't ring quite true in Forrester's mind, and he thoughthe heard one of the girls snicker, but he ignored it and went bravelyon.

  "So," he said, "we're going to have a little game."

  Millicent said: "Game?"

  "Sure," Forrester said, trying his best to sound enthusiastic. "We alllike games, don't we? I mean, what's an orgy--I mean, what's arevel--but a great big game? Isn't that right?"

  "Well," Bette said doubtfully, "I guess so
. Sure, Lord Dionysus, if yousay so."

  "Well, sure it is!" Forrester said. "Fun and games! So we'll play alittle game. Ha-ha."

  Kathy looked up at him brightly. "What kind of game, Lord Dionysus?" sheasked in an innocent tone. She was an extravagantly pretty brunette withbright brown eyes, and she had been one of the two he had held in hisarms during the Procession back from the uptown end of the park.Thinking it over now, Forrester wasn't entirely sure whether he hadchosen her or she had chosen him, but it didn't really seem to matter,after all.

  "Well, now," he said, "it's going to be a game of pure chance. Chanceand nothing more."

  "Like luck," Bette contributed.

  "That's right--uh--Bets," Forrester said. "Like luck. And I promise notto use my powers to affect the outcome. Fair enough, isn't it?"

  "Certainly," Kathy said demurely. There was really no reason for him tobe irritated by the girl, so long as she was agreeing with him sonicely. Nevertheless, he wasn't quite sure that she was speaking hermind.

  "Oh," Millicent said. "Sure."

  Bette nodded. "Uh-huh. I mean, yes, Lord Dionysus."

  Forrester waved a hand. "No need for formality," he said, and felt likean ass. But none of the girls seemed to notice. Agreement with his ideabecame general. "Well, let's see."

  His eyes wandered over the surrounding scenery in quiet thought. SeveralMyrmidons were scattered about twenty feet away, and they were standingwith their backs to the group as a matter of formality. If they hadturned around, they couldn't have seen a thing in the darkness. But theyhad to remain at their stations, to make sure no unauthorized persons,souvenir-hunters, musicians, special-pleaders or just plain lost soulsintruded upon great Dionysus while he was occupied.

  The Myrmidons were the only living souls within that radius, except forForrester himself and his bevy--and the Symes trio.

  His gaze settled on them. Ed Symes, he noticed with quiet satisfaction,was now out cold. Forrester thought that the little spell he had cast onthe beer might have had something to do with that, and he felt ratherpleased with his efforts, at least in that direction. Symes was lyingflat on his back, snoring loudly enough to drown out all but a few notesfrom the steam calliope, which was singing itself loudly to sleepsomewhere in the distance. Near the prone figure, Gerda was trying tofend off the advances of good old Alvin Sherdlap, but it was obviousthat the sheer passage of time, plus the amount of liquor she hadconsumed, were weakening her resistance.

  Forrester pointed a finger at the man. The one thing he really wanted todo was to give Alvin the rock treatment. One little _zap_ would do it,and Alvin Sherdlap would encumber the Earth no more. And it wasn't as ifAlvin would be missed, Forrester told himself. It was clear from onelook at the lout that no one, anywhere, for any reason, would miss Alvinif he were exploded into dust.

  The temptation was very nearly irresistible, but somehow Forrestermanaged to resist it. He had been told that he had to be extremelycareful in the use of his powers, and he had a pretty good idea that hewouldn't be able to justify blasting Alvin. Viewed objectively, therewas nothing wrong with what the oaf was doing. He was merely followinghis religion as he understood it, and the religion was a very simpleone: when at an orgy, have an orgy.

  Gerda didn't have to give in if she didn't want to, Forrester thought.He tried very hard to make himself believe that.

  But his finger was still pointed at the man. He didn't stop his powersentirely; he merely throttled them down so that only a tiny fraction ofthe neural energy at his command came into play. The energy that camefrom the tip of his finger made no noise and cast no light. It was not akilling blow.

  Invisibly, it leaped across the intervening space and hit Alvin Sherdlapsquarely on the nose.

  The results were eminently satisfactory. Alvin uttered a sharp cry, letgo of Gerda and fell over backward. His legs stood up straight in theair for a second, and then came down to hit the ground. He was silent.Gerda stared down at him, too tired and confused to make any coherentpicture out of what was going on.

  Forrester sighed happily to himself. _That_, he thought, _ought to takecare of Alvin for a while_.

  "Lord Dionysus," Kathy asked in that same innocent tone, "what are youpointing at out there?"

  The girl was decidedly irritating, Forrester thought. "Pointing?" hesaid. "Ah, yes." He thought fast. "My target-tosser. I fear that hisreligious fervor has led to his being overcome."

  The girls all turned round to look but, of course, Forrester thought,they could see nothing at all in the darkness.

  "My goodness," Bette said.

  "But if he's unconscious," Kathy put in, "why were you pointing at him?"

  Forrester told himself that the next time the Sabbatical Bacchanal washeld, he would see to it that an intelligence test was given to everycandidate for Dionysian Escort, and anyone who scored as high on it asKathy would be automatically disqualified.

  He had to think of some excuse for looking at the man. And then he hadit--the game he had planned. It was really quite a nice little idea.

  "I hate to see the poor mortal miss out on the rest of the evening,"Forrester said, "even if he is asleep now. And I think we may have a usefor him."

  He gestured gently with one hand.

  Gerda and Alvin Sherdlap didn't even notice what was happening. Theywere much too busy arguing, Alvin claiming that somebody had slapped himon the nose--"and pretty hard, too, let me tell you!"--and Gerdaswearing she hadn't done it. The fact that Ed Symes's snores were fadingquietly into the distance dawned on neither of them.

  But Ed was in flight. He rose five feet above the ground, stillunconscious and snoring, and sped unerringly across the air, like alarge, fat arrow shot from a bow, in the direction of Forrester and thecircle of girls.

  He appeared overhead suddenly, and Forrester controlled him so that hedrifted downward as delicately as an overweight snowflake, eddying inthe slight breeze while the girls gaped at him. Forrester allowed thebody to drop the last six inches out of control, so that Ed Symes landedwith a heavy thump in the center of the circle. But no harm was done. Edwas very far gone indeed; he merely snored on.

  "There," Forrester said.

  Millicent blinked. "Where?" she said. "Him?"

  "Certainly," Forrester said in a pleased tone. "He's a good deal toonoisy, though, don't you think?"

  "He snores a lot," Judy offered in a tentative voice, "if that's whatyou mean, Lord Dionysus."

  "Exactly. And I don't see any reason to put up with it. Instead, welljust put him in stasis for a little while, and that'll keep him quiet."Again he waved one hand, almost carelessly. Ed Symes's snores vanishedimmediately, leaving the world a cleaner, purer, quieter place to livein, and his body became as rigid as if he were a statue.

  "There," Forrester said again with satisfaction.

  "Now what?" Kathy asked.

  "Now we straighten him out."

  One more pass, and Ed Symes's arms were at his sides, his legs stretchedstraight out. Only his stomach projected above the rigid lines of hisbody. Forrester thought he had never seen a more pleasing sight.

  Dorothy gasped. "Is he--is he dead?"

  Forrester looked at her reprovingly. "Dead? Now what would I do thatfor, after he's been so helpful and all?"

  "I don't know," she muttered.

  "Well," Forrester said, "he's not dead. He's just in stasis--in a stateof totally suspended animation. As soon as I take the spell off, he'llbe all right. But I don't think I'll take it off just yet. I've gotplans for my little target-tosser."

  He reached over and touched the stiff body. It seemed to rise a fractionof an inch, floating on the tips of the grass. The wind stirred it alittle, but it didn't float away.

  "I took some of his weight off," Forrester explained, "so he'll be alittle easier to handle."

  Now Ed Symes was behaving as if he were a statue carved out of cork.With a quick flip, Forrester turned the statue over. The effect wasexactly what he wanted. Ed did not touch the grass at any point except
one: the point where his protuberant stomach most protruded. Fore andaft, the rest of him was balanced stiffly in the air.

  Forrester gazed at the sight, feeling fulfilled. "Now," he said with anote of decision in his voice, "we are going to play Spin-the-Bottle!"

  The girls giggled and laughed.

  "You mean with him?" Bette said.

  Forrester sighed. "That's right," he said patiently. "With him."

  He got into position and looked up at the girls. "This one's just forpractice, so we can all see how it works." He gave Symes's extended foota little push.

  _Whee!_ he thought. Round and round the gentleman went, spinningquietly on his stomach, revolving in a merry fashion while the girls andForrester watched silently. At last he slowed and stopped, his nosepointing at Bette and his toes at Dorothy.

  "Oh, my!" Dorothy said. "He's pointing at me!"

  "He is not!" Bette said decisively. "His head points my way!"

  "But he--"

  "Temper, temper," Forrester said. "No arguments. That one didn't count,anyhow--it was just to see how he worked. And I do think he works verynicely, don't you?"

  "Oh, yes, Lord Dionysus," Kathy said. There was the same undertone inher voice, as if she were silently laughing at everything. She was, hetold himself, an extremely unlikable young woman.

  The other girls agreed in a chorus. They were still studying the stiffbody of Ed Symes. His stomach had made a little depression in the grassas he whirled, and he was now nicely bedded down for a real spin.Forrester rubbed his hands together.

  "Fine," he said. "Now, all of you are going to be judges."

  "Me, too?" Bette asked.

  Forrester nodded. "The head will be the determining factor. If ourlittle Mr. Bottle's head points to any one of you, that is the one I'llchoose first."

  "See?" Bette said. "I told you it was his head."

  "Well, I couldn't tell before anybody said so," Dorothy said. "Andanyhow, I--"

  "Now, now, girls," Forrester said, feeling momentarily like a Girl Scouttroop leader. "Let's listen to the rules, shall we? And then we can getdown to playing the game." He took a deep breath. "Isn't this fun?"

  The girls giggled.

  "Good," Forrester said. "If Mr. Bottle's head ends up between two ofyou, then the other five girls will have to decide which girl the head'snearer to. The two girls involved will remain absolutely quiet duringthe judging, and if the other five can't come to a unanimous agreement,we'll spin Mr. Bottle again. Understand?"

  "You mean if the head points at me, I get picked," Bette said. "And ifthe head goes in between me and somebody else, all the other girls haveto decide who gets picked."

  It was a masterly summation.

  "Right," Forrester said. "I'm going to give Mr. Bottle a spin. This onecounts. We'll have the second spin, and the rest of them, later."

  "Gee!" Millicent whispered. "Isn't this _exciting_?"

  Forrester ignored the comment. "And remember, I give you my word as aGod that I will not interfere in any way with the workings of chance. Isthat clearly understood?"

  The girls murmured agreement.

  "Now," Forrester said, "all you girls get into a nice circle. I'll standoutside."

  The girls took a minute or two arranging themselves in a circle, arguingabout who was going to sit next to whom, and whose very proximity wasbound to bring bad luck. The argument gave Forrester a chance to checkon Gerda again. She was whispering softly to Alvin, but they weren'ttouching each other. Forrester turned up his hearing to get a betteridea of what was going on.

  They had progressed, in the usual manner, from argument to life-history.Gerda was telling Alvin all about her past.

  "... but don't misunderstand me, Alvin. It's just that I was in lovewith a very fine young man. An Athenan, he was. A wonderful man, reallywonderful. But he--he was killed in a subway accident some months ago."

  "Gosh," Alvin said. "I'm sorry."

  "I--I have to tell you this, Alvin, so you'll understand. I still lovehim. He was wonderful. And until I get over it, I simply can't ..."

  Feeling both ashamed of himself and pleased, as well as sorry for thepoor girl, Forrester quit listening. The Gods had arranged his simulateddeath, which, of course, had been a necessity. His disappearance had tobe explained somehow. But he didn't like the idea of Gerda having tosuffer so much.

  _My God!_ Forrester thought. _She still loves me!_

  It was the first time he had ever heard her say so, flatly, right out inthe open. He wanted to bound and leap and cavort--but he couldn't. Hehad to go back to his seven beautiful girls.

  He had never felt less like it in his life.

  But at least, he consoled himself, Gerda was keeping Alvin at arm'slength. She was being faithful to his memory.

  Faithful--because she loved him.

  Grimly, he turned back to the girls. "Well, are we all ready now?"

  Kathy looked up at him brightly. "Lord Dionysus, it's so dark I can'teven see for sure what's going on. How can we do any judging, if wecan't see?"

  Forrester cursed Kathy for pointing out the flaw in his arrangements.Then, making a nice impartial job of it, he cursed himself forforgetting that what was perfectly visible to him was dark night tomortals.

  "We can clear that up," he said quickly. "As a matter of fact, I wasjust getting around to it. We will now proceed to shed a little light onthe subject--said subject being our old friend Mr. Bottle."

  The trick had been taught to him by Venus, but he'd never had a chanceto practice it. This was his first real experience with it, and he couldonly hope that it went off as it was supposed to.

  He stepped into the middle of the circle, near Ed Symes's stiff body andheld his right hand above his head, thumb and forefinger spread an inchapart and the other three fingers folded into his palm.

  Then he concentrated.

  A long second ticked by, while Forrester tried to apply even more neuralpressure. Then ...

  A small ball of light appeared between his thumb and forefinger, ayellow, cold sphere of fire that shed its radiance over the whole group.Carefully, he withdrew his hand, not daring to breathe. The ball ofyellow fire remained in position, hanging in mid-air.

  The muffled gasp from the circle of girls was, Forrester told himself, adefinite tribute.

  "Now don't worry about it, girls," he said. "That light's only visibleto the eight of us. Nobody else can see it."

  There was another little series of gasps.

  Forrester grinned. "Can everybody see each other?"

  A murmur of agreement.

  "Can everybody see Mr. Bottle here?"

  Another murmur.

  "In that case, let's go." He stepped outside the circle of girls,reached in again for Ed Symes's foot, and set the gentleman spinningonce more.

  Symes spun with a blinding speed, making a low, whistling noise.Forrester watched the body spin dizzily, just as anxious as the girlswere to find out who the first winner was going to be. He thought ofMillicent, who chewed gum and made it pop. He thought of Bette, theinveterate explainer and double-take expert. He tried to think ofDorothy and Jayne and Beverly and Judy, but the thought of Kathy,irritating and uncomfortable and too damned bright for her own good, gotannoyingly in the way.

  He was rather glad he had promised not to use his powers on the spinningfigure. He was not at all sure which one of the girls he would havepicked for Number One.

  And he had, after all, given his word as a God. True, he wasn't quite aGod, only a demi-Deity. But he did feel that Dionysus might object tohis name being used in vain. A promise, he told himself sternly andwith some relief, was a promise.

  After some time, Mr. Ed (Bottle) Symes began to slow perceptibly. Thewhistling died as Symes began rotating about his abdominal axis at amore and more leisurely rate. Seconds passed. Symes faced Bette ...Millicent ... Kathy ... Judy ... Bette again ...

  Forrester watched, fascinated.

  Finally, Symes came to a halt. All the elaborate instructions in casethe B
ottle ended up pointing between two girls had been, Forrester saw,totally unnecessary. Symes's head was pointing at one girl, and one girlalone.

  She gave a little squeal of delight. The others began chorusing theircongratulations at once, looking no more convincing than the runners-upin any beauty contest. Their smiles appeared to have been glued onloosely, and their voices lacked a certain something. Possibly it wassincerity.

  "All right, that's it for now." Forrester turned to the winner. "Mycongratulations," he said, wondering just what he was supposed to say.Not finding any appropriate words, he turned back to the group of sixlosers. "The rest of you girls can do me a big favor. Go get a couple ofthe Myrmidons to protect you, hunt around for the nearest wine barreland confiscate it for me. It's been a thirsty day."

  "Gee," Jayne said. "Sure we will, Lord Dionysus."

  "Now take your time," Forrester said, and the losers all giggled atonce, like a trained chorus. Forrester grimaced. "Don't come back tillyou find a barrel. Then we'll play the game again."

  In a disappointed fashion, the six of them trooped off into the darknessand vanished to mortal eyes. Forrester watched them go and then turnedto the winner, feeling just a little uncertain.

  "Well, Kathy," he started. "I--"

  She flung herself on him with the avid girlishness of a Bengal tiger."I have dreamed of this night since I was but a child! At last I am inyour arms! I love you! Take me! I am yours, all yours!"

  "That's nice," Forrester said, taken far aback by the girl's suddenonslaught. His immediate impulse was to unwind Kathy and set her back onher own feet, some little distance away, after which he could startagain on a more leisurely basis. After all, he told himself, peopleought to spend more time getting to know each other.

  But he remembered, just in time, that he was Dionysus. He conquered hisfirst impulse and put his arms around her. As he did so, he discoveredthat his face was being covered with kisses. Kathy was murmuring littleindistinct terms of endearment into his ear every time she reached it enroute from one side of his face to the other.

  Forrester swallowed hard, tightened his grip and planted his lips firmlyon Kathy's. A blaze of startling heat shot through him.

  In a small corner at the back of his mind, a scroll unrolled. On it waswritten what Vulcan had told him about his mental attitude changingafter Investiture. When he had been plain William Forrester, an attacklike the one Kathy was making on him had pretty much chilled him for awhile. But now he found himself definitely rising to the occasion.

  There was a passion to her kiss that he had never felt before, a risingtide of flame that threatened to char him. The movement of her mouth onhis sent new fires burning throughout his body, and as her hands movedon him he was awakened to a new world, a world of consuming desires.

  He wished his own clothing away, and fumbled for a second at the twofastenings that held Kathy's _chiton_ in place. Then it was gone andthere was nothing between them. They met, flesh to flesh, in a fieryembrace that grew as he forced her down and she responded eagerly,wildly, to his every motion. His lips traveled over her; her entirebody was drowning him once and for all in an unbelievable red haze,unlike anything he had ever before experienced ... a great wave ofpassion that went on and on, rising to a peak he had never dreamed ofuntil his body shivered with the sensations, and he pressed on, risingstill higher in an ecstasy beyond measure....

  His last spasm of tension turned out the God-light.

  * * * * *

  She lay in his arms on the grass, holding him almost as tightly as heheld her. He felt exhausted, but he knew perfectly well that he wasn't.A God was a God, after all, and Kathy was only the hors d'oeuvres of aseven-course dinner.

  "You're wonderful," Kathy said in a soft whisper at his ear. "Absolutelywonderful. More wonderful than I could ever dream. I--"

  She was interrupted by a strange, harsh voice that bellowed fromsomewhere nearby.

  "All right, bitch!" it said. "Get the hell up from there! And you too,buster!"

  Forrester jerked his head up in astonishment and froze. Kathy looked up,fright written all over her face.

  The man standing over them in the darkness looked like a prize-fighter,one who had taken a number of beatings, but always given better than hehad received. His arms were akimbo, his feet planted as firmly as if hewere a particularly stubborn brand of tree. He glared down at them, hisface expressive of anger, hatred--and, Forrester thought dully, acomplete lack of respect for his God.

  The man barked: "You heard what I said! On your feet, buster! If I haveto kick your teeth in, I want to do it when you're standing up!"

  Forrester's jaw dropped. Then, as the initial shock left him, angerboiled in to take its place. He toyed with the idea of blasting thismortal who showed such disrespect to a God. He sprang to his feet,ready to move, and then stopped.

  Maybe the man was crazy. Maybe he was just some poor soul who wasn'tresponsible for his own actions. It would be merciful, Forresterthought, to find out first, and blast the intruder afterward.

  He looked around. Twenty yards away, the encircling Myrmidons stillstood, their backs to the scene, as if nothing at all were going on.

  Forrester blinked. "How'd you get in here, anyway?"

  The man barked a laugh. "None of your business." He turned to Kathy, whohad devoted the previous few seconds to getting her _chiton_ on again.Hurriedly, Forrester wished back his own costume. Kathy got up, staringstraight back at the intruder. Fear was gone from her face, and a kindof calmness that Forrester had never seen before possessed her now.

  "So!" the intruder bellowed. "The minute my back is turned, off you go!By the Stars and Galaxy, I--I don't know what to call you! You're worsethan your predecessor! Can't turn anything down! You--"

  "Now wait!" Forrester bellowed in his most Godlike voice. "Just holdstill there! Do you know who you're talking to? How dare you--"

  And Kathy interrupted him. Forrester stood mute as she stripped thestranger with a voice like scalding acid. "Listen, you," she said,pointing a finger at the man. "Who do you think you are--my husband?"

  "By the Stars--" the stranger began.

  "Don't bother trying to scare me with your big mouth," Kathy went onimperturbably. "You don't mean a thing to me and you can't order mearound. What's more, you know it. You're not my husband, you bigthug--and you're never going to be. I'll sleep with whomever I please,and whenever I please, and wherever I please, and that's the way thingsare going to be. After all, lard-head, it's my job, isn't it? Got anyquestions?"

  Her _job_?

  Forrester began to wonder just what he had managed to walk into now. Butthat was a detail. The important thing was that his Godhood had beengrossly, unbelievably insulted--and at a damned inconvenient time, too!

  He stepped between Kathy and the intruder, his eyes flashing fire. "Doyou know who I am? Do you know that--"

  "Of course he knows," Kathy put in abruptly. "And if you don't want toget hurt, I'd advise you to stay out of this little quarrel."

  Forrester turned and stared at her.

  What the everlasting bloody hell was going _on_?

  But there wasn't any time to think. The intruder put his face up nearForrester's and glared at him. "Sure I know who you are, buster," hesaid. "You're a wise guy. You're a Johnny-come-lately. And I know what Iought to do with you, too--take you apart, limb by limb!"

  That did it. Forrester, seeing several shades of red, decided that noGod could possibly object if this ugly blasphemer were blasted off theface of the Earth. He raised a hand.

  And Kathy grabbed it. "_Don't!_" she said in a frightened tone.

  The intruder grinned wolfishly at him. "Pay no attention to Little MissSacktime over there, Forrester. You go right ahead and try it! All Ineed is an excuse to vaporize you. Just one tiny little excuse--and I'lldo the job so damn quick, your head won't even have time to startswimming." He set himself. "Go on. Let's see your stuff, Forrester."

  Forrester's arm came down, wit
hout his being aware of it. There was onlyroom in his mind for one thought.

  The intruder had called him Forrester.

  Where had he gotten the name?

  And, for that matter, how had he seen the two of them in the darkness?

  While the questions were still spinning in Forrester's mind, Kathy threwherself forward between him and the stranger. "Ares!" she screamed. "Youstupid, jealous idiot! Get some sense into that battle-scarred brain ofyours! Are you completely crazy?"

  "Now you listen to me--" the stranger began.

  "Listen, nothing! If you want to pick a fight, do it with me--I canfight back! But if you lay a hand on Forrester, we'll never findanother--"

  The stranger reached out casually and clamped one huge paw over hermouth. "Shut up," he said, almost quietly. He glanced at Forrester andwent on, in the same tone: "Don't give away everything you've got,chum."

  A second passed and then he took the hand away. Kathy said nothing atall for a moment, and then she nodded.

  "All right," she said. "You're right. We shouldn't be losing our tempersjust now. But I didn't start--"

  "Didn't you?" the stranger said.

  Kathy shrugged. "Well, never mind it now." She turned to Forrester. "Youknow who we are now, don't you?"

  Forrester nodded very slowly. How else could the man have come throughthe cordon of Myrmidons and seen them in the darkness? How else would hehave dared to face up to Dionysus--confident that he could beat him? Andhow else could all this argument have gone on without anyone hearing it?

  For that matter, why else would the argument have begun--unless thestranger and Kathy were--

  "Sure," he said, as if he had known it all along. "You're Mars andVenus."

  He could feel cold death approaching.