being who could probably give her turn by turn directions to Paititi if it were real.
“So, the gold in Paititi belongs to the sun god?”
“Um-hum.”
“Would that be Apollo?”
“Same god, different name. In Peru, the sun god is called Inti.”
“You know a lot about mythology, huh?”
“I’m a night nurse at an old folks home,” she said deadpan, rolling her eyes playfully at the thought. “The job is beyond boring. I need a way to escape more than most. The nights fly by for me when I read mythology.” She gave an unapologetic shrug.
“You use it as a way to escape,” my face twisted into what must have been an odd smile. She nodded.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Oh, my aunt does the same thing. But she always dreams about the Sidhe.”
“Irish fairies! I’ve read of them.”
“They don’t really like that word,” I giggled, slightly nervous about the next question that was waiting on my tongue. “So, have you ever heard of the forgotten gods?”
Rhea’s face went slack with shock, her soft brown eyes bulging to twice their normal size.
“How do you know about the forgotten gods?”
“My friend took a mythology class this semester. I’d never really heard the stories before.”
“And you probably won’t hear them again.” She shook her head, pursing her lips into a line. “Those stories were wiped from the history books.”
“Then how do you know about them?”
“My great-great grandmother was from Greece. I found an ancient book in her stuff when I was a girl. Almost too faded to read and in Greek. But I studied it day and night until I could make out the stories.”
“So do you think the forgotten gods are real?”
“Hard to say what’s real. Zeus forbade their names from being uttered. The book was written as nothing more than a story because those who worshipped the forgotten ones were cursed. But if you research the facts and cross-reference them with what we do know, there is little doubt of their existence.”
“Um... Do you know much about a child of Hera and Hades, a daughter born of fire who had the power of Zeus’ lightening bolts?” I twirled a curl in my fingers, hoping I was acting nonchalant about my question, even though my heart began pounding.
“Seraph.” Rhea nodded as she said the name, knowing exactly who I was talking about. The sound of her voice echoed in my ears.
“Seraph,” I said her name aloud and nodded, feeling the base of my spine ignite.
Rhea’s eyes danced like a little kid’s obviously seeing I was just as enamored with the gods as she was.
A loud voice boomed over the intercom, interrupting our conversation. I caught a word of Spanish here and there, but didn’t understand much else.
“Better tighten your seat belt!” Rhea said when the intercom clicked off, and she bent to the task of tightening her own lap belt. “We’re almost to Cusco and landing at an airport between two mountain ranges will make this bumpy flight look like a walk in the park!”
Chapter Eleven
Sacrifice
The sun sat fat and low in the western sky, a flaming orange orb, seemingly a hundred times its normal size. Was it being closer to it on top of these mountains that made it look so large, or the fact that it held my destiny so firmly in its portentous hands?
I couldn’t be sure.
What I did know was that I had already risked my life once by the time I entered Machu Picchu. It would have taken a week I didn’t have to hike to the sacred city the way the Incas used to do it. Instead, I opted for a rattletrap bus ride through hairpin turns and great gully washed ravines all the way to the top of the 8,000 foot mountain. After forty-five minutes on a bus that wouldn’t have been deemed fit for live stock back home, I arrived, stepping from the bus on weak knees and all but kissing the ground.
Exhausted as I was, seeing Machu Picchu for the first time was nothing if not spiritual, just as Rhea had said.
“So, the gold in Paititi belongs to the sun god?”
“Um-hum.”
“Would that be Apollo?”
“Same god, different name. In Peru, the sun god is called Inti.”
“You know a lot about mythology, huh?”
“I’m a night nurse at an old folks home,” she said deadpan, rolling her eyes playfully at the thought. “The job is beyond boring. I need a way to escape more than most. The nights fly by for me when I read mythology.” She gave an unapologetic shrug.
“You use it as a way to escape,” my face twisted into what must have been an odd smile. She nodded.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Oh, my aunt does the same thing. But she always dreams about the Sidhe.”
“Irish fairies! I’ve read of them.”
“They don’t really like that word,” I giggled, slightly nervous about the next question that was waiting on my tongue. “So, have you ever heard of the forgotten gods?”
Rhea’s face went slack with shock, her soft brown eyes bulging to twice their normal size.
“How do you know about the forgotten gods?”
“My friend took a mythology class this semester. I’d never really heard the stories before.”
“And you probably won’t hear them again.” She shook her head, pursing her lips into a line. “Those stories were wiped from the history books.”
“Then how do you know about them?”
“My great-great grandmother was from Greece. I found an ancient book in her stuff when I was a girl. Almost too faded to read and in Greek. But I studied it day and night until I could make out the stories.”
“So do you think the forgotten gods are real?”
“Hard to say what’s real. Zeus forbade their names from being uttered. The book was written as nothing more than a story because those who worshipped the forgotten ones were cursed. But if you research the facts and cross-reference them with what we do know, there is little doubt of their existence.”
“Um... Do you know much about a child of Hera and Hades, a daughter born of fire who had the power of Zeus’ lightening bolts?” I twirled a curl in my fingers, hoping I was acting nonchalant about my question, even though my heart began pounding.
“Seraph.” Rhea nodded as she said the name, knowing exactly who I was talking about. The sound of her voice echoed in my ears.
“Seraph,” I said her name aloud and nodded, feeling the base of my spine ignite.
Rhea’s eyes danced like a little kid’s obviously seeing I was just as enamored with the gods as she was.
A loud voice boomed over the intercom, interrupting our conversation. I caught a word of Spanish here and there, but didn’t understand much else.
“Better tighten your seat belt!” Rhea said when the intercom clicked off, and she bent to the task of tightening her own lap belt. “We’re almost to Cusco and landing at an airport between two mountain ranges will make this bumpy flight look like a walk in the park!”
Chapter Eleven
Sacrifice
The sun sat fat and low in the western sky, a flaming orange orb, seemingly a hundred times its normal size. Was it being closer to it on top of these mountains that made it look so large, or the fact that it held my destiny so firmly in its portentous hands?
I couldn’t be sure.
What I did know was that I had already risked my life once by the time I entered Machu Picchu. It would have taken a week I didn’t have to hike to the sacred city the way the Incas used to do it. Instead, I opted for a rattletrap bus ride through hairpin turns and great gully washed ravines all the way to the top of the 8,000 foot mountain. After forty-five minutes on a bus that wouldn’t have been deemed fit for live stock back home, I arrived, stepping from the bus on weak knees and all but kissing the ground.
Exhausted as I was, seeing Machu Picchu for the first time was nothing if not spiritual, just as Rhea had said.
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