The Mark of Athena

the words NARCISSUS + LAIEA written up and down her arms in black marker. “He’s like the best! And he’s in my territory.”

“Oh, stop it, Laiea,” her friend said. “I’m the pond nymph. You’re just the rock nymph.”

“Well, I’m the grass nymph,” another protested.

“No, he obviously came here because he likes the wildflowers!” another said. “Those are mine!”

The whole mob began arguing while Narcissus stared at the lake, ignoring them.

“Hold it!” Leo yelled. “Ladies, hold it! I need to ask Narcissus something.”

Slowly the nymphs settled down and went back to taking pictures.

Leo knelt next to the handsome dude. “So, Narcissus. What’s up?”

“Could you move?” Narcissus asked distractedly. “You’re ruining the view.”

Leo looked in the water. His own reflection rippled next to Narcissus’s on the surface of the submerged bronze. Leo didn’t have any desire to stare at himself. Compared to Narcissus, he looked like an undergrown troll. But there was no doubt the metal was a sheet of hammered Celestial bronze, roughly circular, about five feet in diameter.

What it was doing in this pond, Leo wasn’t sure. Celestial bronze fell to earth in odd places. He’d heard that most pieces were cast off from his dad’s various workshops. Hephaestus would lose his temper when projects didn’t work out, and he’d toss his scraps into the mortal world. This piece looked like it might have been meant as a shield for a god, but it hadn’t turned out properly. If Leo could get it back to the ship, it would be just enough bronze for his repairs.

“Right, great view,” Leo said. “Happy to move, but if you’re not using it, could I just take that sheet of bronze?”

“No,” Narcissus said. “I love him. He’s so gorgeous.”

Leo looked around to see if the nymphs were laughing. This had to be a huge joke. But they were swooning and nodding in agreement. Only Hazel seemed appalled. She wrinkled her nose as if she’d come to the conclusion that Narcissus smelled worse than he looked.

“Man,” Leo said to Narcissus. “You do realize that you’re looking at yourself in the water, right?”

“I am so great,” Narcissus sighed. He stretched out a hand longingly to touch the water, but held back. “No, I can’t make ripples. That ruins the image. Wow…I am so great.”

“Yeah,” Leo muttered. “But if I took the bronze, you could still see yourself in the water. Or here…” He reached in his tool belt and pulled out a simple mirror the size of a monocle. “I’ll trade you.”

Narcissus took the mirror, reluctantly, and admired himself. “Even you carry a picture of me? I don’t blame you. I am gorgeous. Thank you.” He set the mirror down and returned his attention to the pond. “But I already have a much better image. The color flatters me, don’t you think?”

“Oh, gods, yes!” a nymph screamed. “Marry me, Narcissus!”

“No, me!” another cried. “Would you sign my poster?”

“No, sign my shirt!”

“No, sign my forehead!”

“No, sign my—”

“Stop it!” Hazel snapped.

“Stop it,” Echo agreed.

Leo had lost sight of Echo again, but now he realized she was kneeling on the other side of Narcissus, waving her hand in front of his face as if trying to break his concentration. Narcissus didn’t even blink.

The nymph fan club tried to shove Hazel out of the way, but she drew her cavalry sword and forced them back. “Snap out of it!” she yelled.

“He won’t sign your sword,” the poster nymph complained.

“He won’t marry you,” said the iPhone girl. “And you can’t take his bronze mirror! That’s what keeps him here!”

“You’re all ridiculous,” Hazel said. “He’s so full of himself! How can you possibly like him?”

“Like him,” Echo sighed, still waving her hand in front of his face.

The others sighed along with her.

“I am so hot,” Narcissus said sympathetically.

“Narcissus, listen.” Hazel kept her sword at the ready. “Echo brought us here to help you. Didn’t you, Echo?”

“Echo,” said Echo.

“Who?” Narcissus said.

“The only girl who cares what happens to you, apparently,” Hazel said. “Do you remember dying?”

Narcissus frowned. “I…no. That can’t be right. I am much too important to die.”

“You died staring at yourself,” Hazel insisted. “I remember the story now. Nemesis was the goddess who