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“Ech!” Nick spat at the sight of the couple. He turned to Chiron. “How’d you get here so fast?”
“Curtain,” said Chiron.
“Mooooom.”
Nick turned to face her. She was just a normal mom, home after her boring job. How could this sweet lady—just four-feet-five inches tall, her hair in a Sixties updo—have possibly . . . mated . . . with that-that . . . thing?
Mom cleared her throat.
“I wanted to tell you, Sweetie,” she said. “There never seemed to be a good time. And with all the stress you’re under—”
“You didn’t bother to tell me that my dad is half horse?” Nick yelled. “You just said he lived abroad.”
“Yeah,” Mom conceded, slicing up some Greek olives. Nick had to admit that their smell was practically driving him wild. After all, he’d only had hay for dinner . . .
“Oh, God!” Nick yelled, putting his head on the kitchen counter.
“It’s gods,” said Chiron. “And you mustn’t blame your mother.”
Nick gave her a look of horror.
“Sweetie, it’s not what you think. Your father just swept me off my feet. Then, when he became a man—well, he was dreamy. Just look at him.”
Nick did. Beneath his toga, that guy had some serious muscles. Even so . . .
“Ew,” said Nick, spitting into the sink. “Is this-this ‘relationship’ even legal?”
“Not here,” said Chiron, “but in Mýthos, it’s quite common.”
“Especially when there’s wine,” said Mom.
Nick felt disgust roll through him—which quickly turned to anger.
“So,” he spat at Chiron, “if you are my dad, thanks for showing up. It’s only been seventeen years.”
Despite his resolve, Nick found himself fighting tears.
“I apologize, Nikólaos, but, if I don’t have a purpose, I am forbidden to come.”
“Hmm. What’s your big purpose now? Taking credit for Bird Babe?”
Chiron chuckled.
“In fact, it was I who sent the Siren.”
Mom started.
“Chiron!”
“It’s all right, Penelope. I made sure our son was immune.”
“Huh?” Nick asked. “Does she spread some kind of virus?”
“Let us,” said his self-proclaimed dad, “return to why I’m here.” Nick grabbed a handful of olives. “Nikólaos, you’ve at least heard of the Greek heroes: Theseus, Perseus, Heracles?”
“Hercules?”
“Heracles.” Chiron crossed his arms over his massive chest. “They were born to do great things. As were you.”
“LOL,” said Nick. “All I do is study and run—track, and away from bullies.”
“Now, Nicky,” said Mom.
“Enough!” Chiron thundered, causing hummus to shake in its bowl. “Nothing so mundane; so utterly . . . mortal.” He spat out the last word. “I myself am the son of a Titan; hence, immortal. But you are to be a great hero. That is why your mother crossed over.”
Mom looked as confused as he felt.
“Beyond the curtain, to Mýthos! Zeus has created a world with the best Greece has to offer. The Oracle of Delphi foretold that in this year, the Father of Monsters will rise. He grows tired of whippings in Tartarus and lets us know from his prison.”
“‘Father of Monsters’?” asked Nick. “Is that from Game of Thrones?”
“This is no game!” roared Chiron. “No Olympic events with prizes.”
Not knowing what else to do, Nick popped the olives in his mouth.
“Once,” said Chiron, “Zeus defeated the Father of Monsters and put him below the earth—deeper, even, than Hades. This Titan, called Typhon, is the most horrible creature to ever curse our world.”
“And they have Medusa,” said Mom.
“But how,” Nick asked, “do you know he’s back? Did he send an owl to Zeus?”
“We have Hermes for that,” Chiron growled. “No, Mount Etna in Sicily rumbles. The smoke and vapor are signs of Typhon’s rage.”
“No way,” said Nick. “Mom, you don’t believe that stuff?”
Biting her lip, she nodded.
“Sweetie, I’ve seen it. And so have you, with the Siren. Plus—” She pointed to Chiron “—he showed you his real self?”
Nick crossed his own comparatively puny arms. Though he’d had proof twice that day, he still refused to believe.
“Let’s say,” he said to Chiron, “I pretend your story is true. What do you want me to do?”
“Kill the children of Typhon.”
“But . . . you said . . . he’s the ‘Father of Monsters.’ Who are his kids? Godzilla and King Kong?”
“No,” said Chiron, “but his offspring are indeed terrible. They must be killed again so as not to come to his aid.”
“Again?” Nick asked. “You’re saying they’re immortal?”
“Yes,” said Chiron, “and extremely nasty. They will do all they can to prevent the Twelfth Labor.”
“Wait,” said Nick. “I know this. Didn’t Hercules have twelve labors? I once saw a cartoon—"
“He did,” said Chiron sadly, “and suffered a painful death.”
“Bro, what?”
“He was poisoned, then burned alive.”
“Ouch.”
But,” said Chiron, “Zeus made him a god. He might do the same for you.”
“I’m not having it!” Nick cried, his appetite gone. “I’m not doing any labors, I’m not some kind of a hero, and you are not my father!”
“Very well,” Chiron sighed, removing something from his toga and handing it to Nick. “This is my gift to you: the Pelian spear of ash once wielded by Achilles. It means death to foes in battle.”
“What battle?”
“And here is my second gift.”
Nick watched as Chiron faced him and spread his hands apart. It was then that Nick felt a swelling which started in his gut, then travelled upward, ballooning his arms and shoulders!
Nick stared beneath his ripped T-shirt. What he saw were muscles: huge, inflated, and looking pretty darned silly on his thin runner’s legs!
“What have you done?” Nick yelled. “I demand you change me back!”
His Aladdin and the Genie bit fell on deaf centaur ears.
“Since you refuse to come with me,” said Chiron, “you must decide on your own.” He turned to Nick’s mom with tenderness. “Penelope. I hope we meet again soon.”
“Me too,” she smiled.
How can this be? Nick wondered, his mind in a daze. Here he was, Hulked out, and his mom was making eyes at a guy who ate oats for breakfast!
“Wait!” Nick yelled, but Chiron didn’t listen: after giving his mom a kiss, he must have gone back to Mythland, since the floor tiles shook and the toaster fell over. Plus, he was gone.
“Mom,” cried Nick. “Look at me. I’m-I’m a specimen!”
“It’s not all bad, Sweetie. Maybe now, you can fight those bullies who keep giving you these.”
She pointed to his black eye.
Nick laughed, and he thought he sounded unhinged.
“You think I can go back to school looking like Jason Momoa?”
“Girls love muscles,” said Mom.
“But how do I explain them? Say I’ve found a new drug?”
“Maybe . . .?”
Mom shrugged helplessly.
“This isn’t fair!” Nick yelled. “You go and hook up with the winner at Santa Anita, and I turn into a freak!”
“Sweetie—”
Nick couldn’t stay there—not with the image of Chiron so fresh. He reached for his default mode, running back to the barn. Man, it was tough. He was now so top-heavy he felt like Dolly Parton!
“Johnny,” Nick gasped, greeting his old friend. He knew the horse wouldn’t judge him or laugh like those dweebs at school. In fact, all the horses were glad to see him, bobbing their heads and neighing.
Nick sunk onto a hay bale, vowing never to leave. In his situation, he’d be forced to stay there forever.
