Gods & Wanderers

The strobe lights aligned against the pitch-black backdrop before slicing through the dancefloor. Music pounded with a fevered intensity that shook the ribcage and thrummed the ear bones. It had just gone midnight, and the crowds were still being filtered in. Having waited outside for the better part of an hour they sought to drown out the concerns of there lives through the all-consuming build and release beats played without pause. That wasn’t the only hook the club offered, the lure was more than simply extortionate drinks and amorous strangers. Unbeknownst to their customers what they offered was a glimpse at an ancient relic from a world of gods and monsters.

That monster sat in a dressing room, her reflection showed a young woman brow creased and mouth pierced. She smiled to the mirror, making a conscious effort to lift her eyebrows. She re-applied her lipstick, black as to fit the club’s ascetic and shook out her spiralling curly hair. The choker around her neck constricted, not enough to hurt just enough to remind her it was there.

“Ready to go back out, Harp?” Rachel asked.

She held up her hand.

“Five minutes? Sure.”

Rachel disappeared through the dressing room curtain. A spike of irritation shot down her spine. Harp, she hated that name, Rachel wasn’t to know but Harp was short for harpy a name she had been branded with after she had let Odysseus pass by her after his victory at Troy. Rachel, or anyone living had never known her for what she was. A siren.

Odysseus’s cheap trick, plugging his men’s ears with beeswax and tying himself to his ships mast. An act of low cunning rather than any true strength of will had condemned her to this life. When Circe, sorceress daughter of the sun god Helios had learned of her failure to lure the adventurer to his death, she had commanded her to throw herself into the sea along with her sisters. After seeing their bodies writhe under the waves before going limp, she couldn’t bring herself to join them. She was a failure and a coward. So, she lived.

The feathers of her wings wilted and fell along with the muscle and bone that had graced her with flight. Even deprived of these things she had been a source of wonder to all men who laid eyes on her. Through the ages, despite every offer, promise and threat made by holy men, king’s and emperors, she had remained silent. Her song left unsung for so long even her own memory of it began to fade as did the interest of the humans who thought themselves powerful and worthy of the wisdom it offered. She stood, gave the grip of her heels another check and tossed her lipstick in her bag.

Leaving behind the harsh fluorescents of the dressing room Harp stepped into the dark anonymity of the club. She threw her shoulders back and strode with a purpose, her first line of defence, walk with confidence. One of the bouncers, Dave gave her a smile before opening the cage door. She stepped in giving him a light touch on the shoulder. He closed it behind her and she nodded. He held up his index finger and made a twirling motion.

At his command the cage lifted off the floor and Harp began to dance. Beginning with a slow sway before her limbs were taken by the rhythm. A bird in a cage, some would call it cruel. The reality was she was safer and happier in here than down below. Suspended above the mesmerized clubbers she could almost be flying again, twirling and diving with her sisters as sailors and warriors lost all sense of duty and reason before crashing against the rocks. No more singing though, never singing.

The darkness, blended music and sheer thrill of dancing caused Harp to lose all sense of time. For an immortal being this was a blessed relief, it was what she had been made to do, caught in the music’s tide, the face of the man who’d doomed her sisters and the image of them plunging into the sea gave way to joy.

After what could have been minutes or hours the house lights rose, her cage began to descend, shaking Harp from her rapture. When she reached head height, Dave grabbed hold of the cage, keeping it steady until it touched the floor. She stepped out to the crowd. The music had lost its influence, now it was Harp who held their fixation.

Their captivation could almost be flattering, through centuries of faces, behind eyes she had seen before, she knew their stares held nothing but desire, fear and rage. She felt a twisting pain in the wings she’d lost, a feeling she dreaded.

The gods had abandoned her after she failed to take her own life. Even Circe, the one who had tasked her and her sisters with the slaying of Odysseus. She told herself the pain was a reminder of her failure. In moments of weakness, she had broken down and silently begged for her forgiveness and guidance. Nothing ever came.

“Sing for him,” Circe’s words still rang in her ears. “Sing for the king of Ithaca, Achaea’s pride and glory! Let honey pour from your lips and bewitch him with your sweetness before his body is broken against rock!”

She felt clammy fingers on her back then something sharp streak downward. Shuddering, she whipped round. A bleary-eyed twentysomething staggered back putting a hand up. She stared at him as he tried to stop his drink from spilling. He giggled and reached out with his hand. Her throat constricted before the choker dug at the flesh of her neck. She clenched her jaw and slapped his hand away. A loud “oooooh” came from the other men who had formed a semicircle around her. Like a red rag to a bull Dave shoved his way through the crowd grabbing the man by his shoulder. He was all smiles until he met the eyes of the colossal bouncer. His neck shrank into his collar.

“Do me a fuckin’ favour, mate.” Dave growled.

The young man quickly departed. Once he’d slipped away the crowd turned their attention elsewhere. Harp was invisible again. She mothed a thank you to Dave who nodded and led her backstage. Once she was safe, he turned back to the departing club goers.

Harp could still feel the line the young man traced on her back, a burning sensation that caused her to worry. She strode through to the dressing room, some of the newer dancers looked up at her, their eyes bright. They wanted to know how she had the crowd so awe-struck. Harp had no patience for them tonight. She stood with her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder. Twin red stripes ran down either side of her spine.

Has he cut me with something? Her mind went to a needle. She was never in any danger of any human disease or drug but if he did it to her so boldly, would he do it to another girl? She put on her jacket and went in search of Dave. One of the new dancers, Kelly caught her at the door.

“Harp, we need to talk. I mean I know you don’t but…”

Harp shook her head.

She left Kelly and headed to the dance floor trying the remember what the young man looked like. A lightly coloured shirt and dark hair, she knew that but his features she barely registered. She stood up on a podium, but it was no use, there was no sign of any high-vis jacket. Dave must be at the entrance.

“Harp!” Her name was shouted but barely audible above the crowd. She turned to see Kelly, stood staring up at her.

“A woman came in and spoke to me. Says she needs to speak with you, outside.”

Harp gave her a confused look.

“Tall, auburn hair, wearing a green dress. It was beautiful you should see it.”

Harp had no idea why someone would want to talk with her. Everyone knew she never said a word, they only spoke at her. Either way the woman in the green dress would have to wait. She pushed through the crowd making sure to get a good look at each man’s face. If he was still in the club he’d have to leave through the entry corridor. Above a sea of heads Dave stood at the entrance watching the stream of club goers leave. Harp’s limbs screamed from exhaustion, but she ran the length of the corridor, waiving. When the huge bouncer spotted her, she crossed her arms in an X shape.

Dave halted the leaving crowd. Some of them began to shout in protest before seeing the cause of the holdup and falling silent. Harp wrestled through them and slid off her jacket, turning to show him the twin scars down her back. For a moment he said nothing, then a flicker of realisation crossed his eyes.

“The handsy dude?”

Harp nodded and Dave turned up his headset.

“All staff be aware an assault on an employee has taken place. Control, review footage on four, over.”

Harp looked over the faces of every man leaving the club, some looked elated others, ashamed but none of them were the man that had scratched her. At least there had been no other reports of girls being harmed. Harp wondered if he’d try again elsewhere.

“Anything?” Dave asked as the last of them filtered out. Harp shook her head.

“Footage might get a face depending on the light. Should call the police.”

Harp’s chest tightened, police meant questions she couldn’t answer. Her I.D, cheap and fake would be spotted a mile off. She shook her head at him again.

“We need to Harp. Those scars are huge.”

“Dave, call back.” His headset crackled.

“Go ahead control.”

“Got nothing on the footage. People are looking at her, Harp turns around, nobody touches her.”

“What do you mean? I saw it myself.” Dave said.

“We’ve got nothing up here.”

Dave’s headset went quiet. A split second of relief until confusion washed over her. At least half a dozen people had seen him touch her. How could the cameras have picked up nothing? A burning sensation ran down either side of her spine.

“Cops will shrug their shoulders at us without footage.” Dave grumbled, “Want to get it checked out?”

Harp shook her head, she wanted a shower and to fall asleep in front of the T.V. Sitting in hospital waiting room would be torture, especially 4am on a Saturday.

The club was empty but for the closing staff, back in the dressing room Harp checked her back in the mirror once more. The twin red stripes seemed bolder than they had been and were now tingling just under the skin.

“Hey Harp?”

Harp jumped, wrapping her jacket round her shoulders. In the mirror she saw a very concerned Kelly. She turned to look at her.

“That woman is still asking about you, she won’t leave.”

The woman in the green dress, Harp had forgotten all about her in the chaos. She was used to being propositioned as she was leaving the club, Dave was usually happy to send them on their way. She used her hands to make a D shape.

“Can’t find him, he’s not answering his headset.”

Harp could see Kelly’s hand shaking by her side, she stood up and took hold of it. Her shaking calmed but the concern in her eyes was deep. Harp pointed to the exit and mothed the words “go home.” Kelly shook her head as a tear ran down her face. A fist of dread punched Harp straight in the gut. Kelly seemed rooted to the spot. Harp had to steer her to the dressing room table. Taking slow, steady steps Kelly was breathing hard by the time she got her to sit down. Harp squatted down at eye level with Kelly and breathed in deep, held it for five seconds and breathed out. Kelly copied, after a few breaths some colour returned to her face. She gave Harp a nod and gripped the side of the dresser. Harp reached into her bag and slipped a retractable baton she used for protection into her jacket pocket.

“She won’t leave until she speaks with you.” Kelly stammered out.

Harp stayed with Kelly a while longer, she wouldn’t say anything more about the woman only that she wouldn’t leave. When she felt the worst of Kelly’s panic attack had passed, she gestured her to move to the exit. Kelly sat firm and began to shake again. Fear coiled up in her belly, images of her sisters plunging into the depths of the Grey sea forced its way to the forefront of her mind. She grabbed Kelly’s arm hard and yanked her out of her seat. Kelly tried to free herself, pleading with Harp to see the woman but Harp was intent on leaving. She had no idea what this woman had said to put Kelly in this state, nor did she want to find out.

She managed to wrestle Kelly to the fire door before she wriggled herself free. Kelly landed in a heap on the hard tiles and began to weep.

Just leave her.

The survivor inside her begged to forget about Kelly and leave. Leave town and start over yet again. It had always been so easy before, leaving a life behind was like changing a uniform. Tonight was different, she was always protective of the girls she worked with, but this felt perilous. Fresh emotions and ancient memories were awakening inside of her. She left the fire escape and helped Kelly to her feet.

“You’ll see her?” Kelly asked, terrified.

Harp nodded and Kelly’s face broke into a relieved smile. New tears ran down her cheeks, streaking her mascara. Harp did her best to wipe it clean only succeeding in smudging it. Kelly laughed, Harp smiled, catching herself before she laughed with her.

She left her on the couch in the dressing room and headed to the dancefloor. Stood in the centre was the woman in the green dress, shadow covered her face. When she noticed Harp, she stepped into the light. She was a severe looking woman, her downward gaze made Harp feel childish.

“Leucosia, I thought I would have to chase you, but you surprised me.”

The name struck Harp somewhere deep. Leucosia, it felt archaic and personal. Harp’s head swam with agitated emotions. The air was thick and humid, still carrying the sour tang of alcohol masked with sugar and stale sweat. The woman’s eyes, carved from emeralds, unyielding whilst Harp’s insides began to crumble. She slipped her hand into her jacket, curling her fingers round her batons grip.

“Tell me, do you regret your decision to not join your sisters?”

Harp’s choker seized the skin on her neck as she opened her mouth. The blood in her head was pounding, she didn’t know how much longer she could stay standing. She left the question unanswered. The humid club grew cold.

“I am content to leave you silent and wandering until the worlds end Leucosia. However history is repeating itself, you should know that as well as me by now. Have your wings begun to return?”

Everything about this woman’s presence spoke of peril. She looked around for signs they weren’t alone. Finding nothing she unhooked the choker, breathed deep and wet her lips.

“Circe?”

The name came out as a strangled whisper.

“An aspect of her. She has not seen fit to sought you out after your failure.”

“Too proud… to ask for help?”

Her throat seized, unused for centuries it flared painfully with the effort.

“Odysseus has returned from the deadlands. The choice is yours, destroy him or wander forever.”