Two minutes before nine in the morning, Alex waited in a small alcove inside the stadium for his duel with Ares to begin. He could hear the roar of the mythological crowd above him, eager to see what this contest would bring. Tension mounted in his shoulders and neck, and he tried—unsuccessfully—not to think about how half-baked and desperate his plan really was.
“I think you’ve got a good shot at this,” Jessica said, massaging his shoulders. “But you’ve got to loosen up. You freeze out there, and you’re dead.”
“Right now I’m giving my odds of success at about seven hundred and twenty-five to one,” he admitted.
Jessica slipped around to his front, keeping her hands on him as she did. “Everything like we practiced, yes? Think of it like any other performance you’ve done. You’ll be fine.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am and you’ll see.” She hugged him tight. “When this is done and you’re even more famous than before, don’t forget me, okay?”
“I’ve never forgotten you.”
“Me either,” she said, tightening her embrace. She held it for a couple heartbeats longer than he’d have guessed. When she finally pulled away, her eyes had a sheen to them. “I mean it, though. I’d like to see you again before another decade or two passes. Since I can’t exactly come visit you at your new house with your new wife, you’re going to have to come see me, you know?”
“I’ll be looking forward to it. I promise.”
A loud voice, muffled but strong, carried over the crowd’s noise, and their energy grew tenfold. Jessica sighed longingly. “Your wife’s a lucky girl,” she said before kissing him lightly on the cheek. “Not many would willingly face a god for someone they’ve known only a short while. Now go, before I keep you for myself.”
Alex laughed and slipped free of her grasp. Though her tone was playful, he wondered if he detected a hint of seriousness to what she said, and then wondered if it wasn’t her, but him, that wanted what she said to be true. Before he could will himself to pursue the topic, trumpets blasted. “I guess we’re starting,” he said. “Any last-second words of advice?”
“Yeah, look good for the camera,” she said, holding up her Nikon. “Might as well finish this adventure of yours with drama and style.”
“Will do.”
With that, Alex dashed out of the alcove and into the center of the Olympians’ arena, his helm in one hand and a small sack in the other. The sun was bright, the weather perfect, and the stadium was filled. Most of the spectators kept their conversations to themselves, but a few offered the occasional jeer or bit of encouragement to Alex for undertaking such a risky endeavor.
“So, this is it then,” Alex said loudly enough for both the crowd and his opponent to hear. “If I win, I get my bride and scepter back, and you leave us alone. If you win, then I surrender to whatever terms you offer and admit to wrongdoing at the Olympic games.”
Ares, who stood a dozen paces away, thumped his bare chest. “I agree to your terms, Alex,” he said. “You are brave, more so than my sister, who hides behind her legions and plays games on boards. It will be a shame to destroy you.”
“I’ll hate to be destroyed,” said Alex.
“How do you want to mark the victor?” Ares asked. “First blood?”
Alex shook his head. “How about first killing blow? For a mortal that is. We both seem to be able to take a little more punishment than normal.”
“It’s not my fault I am the strongest and toughest,” said Ares. “Why should I handicap myself?”
Alex shrugged nonchalantly. “I figured you were skilled enough to not need the extra help.”
Ares’ eyes narrowed. “Fine,” he said. “Whoever scores the first blow that would kill a mortal shall win.”
“Are you ready?” asked Alex. He loosened the string that kept his sack tied, pulled out his pineapple, and gave it a small toss in his hand for good measure. It was a little heavier than he had expected, weighing perhaps a pound, give or take.
Ares pointed at him with his spear. “What is that in your hand? What manner of trickery have you brought?”
Alex tried to look as innocent as possible. “No trickery. It’s a pineapple, as I said.”
“I know what a pineapple is, and that is not one.”
“What else would it be?” Alex said. Though he felt like his nerves were under control, he hoped his voice did not betray him. Using an old pianist trick, he tried to picture his opponent naked. Sadly, Ares seemed as scary naked as he did dressed in a loincloth.
Ares extended an open hand. “It looks more like a rock than a fruit. Let me see it.”
“It is more like a rock than a fruit; a painted rock at that.” Alex hid the pineapple behind his back and took a deep breath. Confidence. “I’m not about to let you play with it. You’ll probably break it and then where will I be?”
“Dead.”
“Yes, dead,” Alex said. “And despite what you say it is, where I come from, we call these rocks, pineapples. So let’s begin, or are you scared of rocks now?”
Ares glared. “Your people are strange, indeed.”
Alex shrugged.
Ares charged, the point of his spear leading the way.
It was a half-hearted attempt, even Alex could see that, but it was more than enough to send Alex scrambling. Whether Ares’ motive was to probe his reactions or to simply toy with him, Alex wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he would not survive a real attack. He needed to stall. He needed distance. “That was fun.”
Ares bounced on his feet and twirled the spear over his head. “Your reflexes are sharp,” he said. “With some training, you would make a fine warrior.”
“Seems like I already have to be.” Alex took a few steps back. Hephaestus had mentioned that he should be at least ten paces away, preferably fifteen or twenty. That, above everything else, was paramount. Alex wasn’t about to test otherwise.
Again, Ares charged, and again, his actions seemingly had no other purpose than to send Alex running. The God of War took a break from his assault and rested his spear on his shoulder. “You run like a frightened rabbit. Are you going to cower all day? For my sake, at least, put some sport into this.”
Alex hopped backward and wriggled his nose. He wasn’t sure how convincing of a part he played, but with some luck, the theatrics would mask his intentional retreat. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find a carrot or two?” he asked as he put two more steps between himself and the god. “I’m a touch hungry.”
“You should eat before battle,” Ares replied, stepping forward. Ares shifted his grip on his spear. It didn’t mean much to Alex on its own, but when the god lowered his stance, he suspected that playtime was about to end.
“There’s one thing you should know before you come at me,” Alex said.
“What would that be?”
“This!” he shouted as he sprang into action. With one swift motion, he pulled a small, metal ring from the top of his pineapple and gave the weapon a heave. It sailed through the air, landing with a dull thud and making a quaint impact crater in the sand.
Ares picked up the missile and snorted. “Your aim is abysmal.”
Alex, who had been counting in his head, dropped to the ground and covered his head. A split second later, the mark two fragmentation grenade, affectionately known as a pineapple by those who once threw them, exploded in Ares’ face.
* * *
Ares decided that having a 20th century hand grenade detonate in his face was a disagreeable experience. Moreover, Ares felt torn from it all. On the one hand, he thought that Alex had been deceitful and should be ripped limb from limb several times over. But on the other, Ares had to admit that there was an underlying bit of fun in seeing something so small explode with such force. And if tossing these sorts of pineapples back and forth was how man now waged war, he could see the appeal.
Ares also decided that he would have to wait for another time to give the notion some more thought. At this moment, there were more pressing matters. Ares was lying on Aphrodite’s bed, arms crossed over his chest while the goddess leaned over him, picking pieces of shrapnel out of his face. It was a painful, bloody affair that would have ruined any normal pair of sheets, but Aphrodite’s stainless bed set had been tailor-made to accommodate her eclectic sex life.
“Fruit, a mighty foe.” Ares balled his fists as Aphrodite dug into his right cheek. “How is such power trapped in such a tiny thing?”
Aphrodite stroked his cheek. “That wasn’t a real pineapple, my love. Not in the fruit sense, at least.”
“Yes, I know.” He winced as another metal fragment came free. “When we get done here, I will shatter the mortal’s body time and again. I will make him tell me all he knows about these pineapples and from whence they grow. And when I tire of hearing his cries, I’ll have him push a boulder for eternity. No, I’ll strap him to a wheel of fire. Or better yet, torture him with insatiable thirst and hunger.”
Aphrodite kissed his forehead and dabbed his wounds with a wet cloth. “All of those have been done before. Do try and be original.”
“Fine. I’ll do all three.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” she snapped. Her voice was as sharp as the shrapnel in his face. “We’re in enough trouble with you losing that duel. How could you do something so stupid?”
“Do not lecture me.” Ares pushed her hands away from his face and sat up. “And what nonsense is this ‘we’ you speak of?”
“We yearn for the same pleasure. Or have you forgotten?”
“The punishment of Alex?”
Aphrodite scowled, pushed Ares back down on the bed and began cleaning his wounds once more. “No, my dear.” Her voice dripped with impatience. “Alex is a play toy, nothing more. We both yearn for Athena’s humiliation and the restoration of my honor. Have you forgotten these things already?”
“Alex is more than a play thing,” Ares said. “Twice now he has cheated me out of my rightful victory. I may have to return his wife, but that doesn’t mean I can’t torment him until time’s end.”
Aphrodite, to his surprise, leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. “You needn’t return his bride. We’re far from beaten.”
Ares’ brow furrowed. As much as he tried to understand why she said what she did, he could not follow. “The contest was binding. I must.”
Aphrodite pulled the last fragment out of his face and placed it in a clay bowl with the others. “I think I have a way around that, love,” she said, running her fingers along the sides of his face. “That is, of course, if you are willing to do me a tiny favor.”
Ares rolled over, locked his eyes with hers and flashed a wry grin. “If I am blessed with your company tonight, I am yours to command.”
Aphrodite placed her fingers on his lips. “Quiet,” she said. “Work first and then play. You only have to return Alex’s bride if the contest stands. But, if someone were to have it annulled…”
Ares shook his head. “Father is the only one who can make that judgment, and he’s not likely to grant me such a kindness while Alex has so many other gods favor him.”
“Ye of little faith,” Aphrodite said. “Go to Father and tell him how Alex is both a liar and deceiver, and that the weapons you agreed to for the duel are not the weapons he brought to battle. Throw a tantrum if you must—you’re good at that—but don’t let up until Father agrees the contest was unfair. Mother caught him with a maiden again and she’s been relentless. I promise he’s in no mood to argue over a human.”
Ares raised a clenched fist in the air. “Then I can tear him limb from limb.”
“Yes, my love,” Aphrodite said as she stroked his hair. “But do not wipe him out. I only want you to send him running, licking painful wounds.”
“To what end?”
“To the end that Alex must leave his wife when he feels he will never beat you,” she instructed. “He must not fall while he fights for Euryale, lest he be an icon of tragic romance.”
“I care not for such silly things.”
“I do!” she snapped. “I swore by the River Styx his life and freedom would not be harmed while he was tested. Even if I hadn’t, Athena would gloat to the Fates and back if her one and only pet project ended in such fashion.”
“Fine, I shall do as you wish,” Ares said, capitulating to his lover’s desire. He did so, partly because he understood what she was driving at, but mostly because he wanted to spend the night with her and figured it was a good way to get in her dress.