Kevin was chilled. He glanced at Penelope. Her facef was pale. 'You would have killed the babies?'
'Maenads, as we have always advocated, need to be! eradicated. Only then will the threat of the gods' return bej ended. We haven't always been able to manage it, ofj course, but when we can ...' His attention returned to the; screen. 'We got Ariadne. And her children when they grew up.'
'What about me?' Penelope demanded angrily. 'Do Ij need to be 'eradicated' too?' She grabbed the back of his| chair, swung it around until he was facing her.
He shook his head. 'Of course not. You're more us! than them. And as long as you don't procreate--'
She backed away from him.
'No, no. I'm not saying that we would automatically have to kill your child--'
'Shut up,' Kevin told him. 'Just shut your fucking mouth.' He put an arm around Penelope, drew her close to him. Her body was stiff, her muscles tense, but she allowed herself to be maneuvered.
They were silent for a while, Holbrook reading the information on his computer screen, Kevin holding Penelope.
'So what about your buddies?' Kevin asked. 'Are they flying in to help us?'
'No.'
'No? I thought you said--'
'They don't know anything's wrong. I didn't have time to warn them before communications were cut off. They may figure it out on their own, but it might take a while.' He paused. 'It might be too late then.'
'Are there any Ovidians in Napa?' Kevin asked. 'You guys are spread out all over the world, but is there anybody here in the valley besides you?'
'Of course. This is one of the locations we've been monitoring.'
'Then what are. we doing here? Get off your lazy ass and find them.'
'They're dead.'
'How do you know?'
'We were supposed to meet here if anything happened. It's been two days.
No one's showed.'
'They might've--'
'They're dead.'
The flat certainty of the statement cut off Kevin in mid sentence, hanging heavily in the air between them.
'So what's your plan?' Kevin asked finally. 'What are we going to do now? How are we going to get out of this?'
'We'll have to think of something.'
'You'll have to think of something?' Penelope said, her voice rising.
Kevin glared at him. 'You mean to tell me that your little group's been around for centuries and your sole purpose is to put a stop to this--and you never came up with a plan?'
'We have ideas--'
'Ideas? Shit! You should have plan A, B, C, D, all the way to fucking Z!
You've certainly had enough time to think about it. Did you think that just knowing it was going to happen was enough? You'd just wing it from there?'
Holbrook was not on the defensive. 'Actually, we had planned to prevent the resurrection from occurring.'
'Well, you totally failed at that. Did you think that asking Penelope for a bottle of wine was an attempt to stop it?'
'You're right. I should've killed her mothers years ago, when I first found out.'
Penelope sucked in her breath.
'I should have killed Dion the first day of class.'
Penelope whirled around, strode out of the basement, stomped up the stairs. Kevin hurried after her, only a second or two behind.
Downstairs, at his desk, Holbrook laughed.
The two of diem stopped in the living room, unsure of where to go or what to do.
'I always knew Holbrook was an asshole,' Kevin said. 'But I never knew he was so ...'
'Weird?' Penelope said.
'Crazy.'
She nodded. 'You don't think about what teachers are like in their real lives, what they do at home, on the weekends, with their families.'
Kevin gestured back toward the basement. 'Now we know.'
Penelope shivered. 'I think we should leave. I think we'd be better off on our own.'
Kevin nodded toward the shotgun, still leaning against the wall next to the door. 'He's better armed than we are.'
'That won't mean shit.'
'Then what do you suggest we do?'
'I don't know.'
'He knows more than we do,' Kevin said. 'Maybe he can figure something out.'
Penelope snorted. 'Yeah.'
'The basement's a good hiding place.'
She shook her head. 'You don't understand ...'
'What don't I understand?' Kevin said.
She sighed. 'It doesn't matter.'
'I think we should stay here. At least for now. Until we figure out a plan. It's better than being out there on the streets.'
Penelope sat down heavily on the couch. 'Whatever,' she said.
The earth rumbled beneath their feet, a low, sustained vibration that was more than a sonic boom but less than an earthquake. Downstairs, Holbrook cried out as something crashed.
'What was that?' Kevin asked, frightened.
'Power.' Penelope's mouth was set in a thin, grim line. 'The power of the gods.'
He dreamed of Penelope.
They were in school, the two of them, in a classroom, though the teacher and the other students were vague, misty figures and he could not see them. He saw only Penelope. She was talking to him about a movie she'd seen on television the night before, and he was listening happily, glad merely to be there with her, to be able to enjoy these simple everyday pleasures with her.
Dionysus awoke, tears streaming down his face.
What was wrong with him?
Hangover.
That had to be it, although he had never gotten hangovers in the old days. That physiological inconvenience had been reserved for humans. He had been immune.
Not anymore, apparently.
He wiped his eyes. One of his maenads one of Penelope's mothers --was sleeping between his legs, her hands wrapped around his organ. He thought of pissing on her, but he knew that she'd like that, so he pulled up his leg and kicked her hard in the midsection. She went flying across the grass, landing on an old couple entwined with a goat. He was gratified to hear screams, to hear the crack of old bones.
He stood, strode over the strewn bodies on the grass, and jumped into the river. The cold water felt good, refreshing, 'and he washed off the grape stains, washed off the blood. He bent down, dunked his head, let the water clean the tears from his eyes, then stretched to his full height, shaking out his hair.
He looked down at his body. He was smaller than he should be, closer to a human than a god. Before, he had been bigger.
But this new skin was tight, confining. Even his brain felt small. He ran a hand through his hair, looked up into the overcast sky. His thoughts too were confined. He seemed unable to think clearly.
And he was not himself.
