Jason D. and Medusa's Secret

Heroes Come and Gone

‘Dee? DEE!’

‘I’m over here!’

‘I can’t see you!’

‘We’re at the bottom of the hill, beside the stone altar!’

‘Dee! Oh my God…Decker?’

‘Don’t look, D’Amore. You know how you get.’

‘Is he…’

‘I think so. Are you alright? I was certain you were dead.’

‘I’m okay.’

‘And the stone?’

‘Taken.’

‘And…the others?’

‘I…they’re…’

‘No…’

‘You’re bleeding.’

‘It’s mostly Decker’s, but, yes, I had a run-in with a few talons.’

‘I knew this was a bad idea.’

‘At least our efforts weren’t in vain.’

‘Not in vain? Everyone is dead! I’ve told you a hundred times that we should never, under any circumstances, ever travel as a group. What did I say? If we ever got caught all together, it could be a massacre—the end of the Altors. Now look at us!’

‘What’s done is done. We move on—we find the stone. If that means by ourselves, then so be it. You know better than to argue with the Fates.’

‘We can’t just leave Decker’s body here! Don’t you realize what’s out there?’

‘Yes! Of course I realize! Who do you think just hit us? What choice do we have? We can’t jump back with him like this.’

‘I’m sorry. I was simply thinking of his wife. His children…’

‘I know. We knew the risks that being Altors would bring us. We’ve all planned ahead in case of such a disaster, and now that it’s happened, we need to act accordingly.’

‘How are we supposed to act with four of us gone? It’s hopeless. We won’t last a week by ourselves.’

‘You say it as though we’ve already lost. We’ve been in worse situations before, just never with such a devastating result. Here, help me move him over to that burrow.’

‘I’m not giving up, if that’s what you’re implying. I just don’t like feeling this vulnerable, that’s all. Watch his head.’

‘There. That should at least keep him sheltered from the elements, and keep him out of the sight of predators. Let’s do the same with the others.’

‘That’s not going to be easy. Decker was…the most whole.’

‘I see.’

‘Wait! They’re coming back. We need to get out of here!’

‘Let’s jump back and get some more supplies for the hunt. If we’re quick, the stone might still be there.’

‘It’s a hopeless task. We’re no closer to finding that wretched stone than we were before the Pythia told us about it.’

‘Then we just find more hope.’

Starting Over Again

I’m no mutant, though sometimes I can’t help but feel like one since losing my arm. And I’m not simply a boy with no friends who’s been home-schooled for the last two years because he couldn’t cope with his disability.

I’m an Altor.

Two months ago my primary goal was to see how many movies I could go to during the summer holidays. I wanted to break my old record of 17.

I got to 2.

That’s because one month ago my primary goal suddenly became trying not to get myself and my new friend killed while traveling through the perilous desert country of the myth realm, eluding a murderous shape-shifter, infiltrating a hostile island inhabited by cranky centaurs, and climbing to the top of Mt. Olympus.

A pretty standard summer so far.

My friend’s name is Ed. He’s an Altor as well, and if not for him, I’d most likely be dead. Actually, if not for either of us, we’d probably both be dead. Being an Altor isn’t like being in a gang or club that gives out cool nicknames to its members. We’re different, special, amazing. We can see things other people can’t, and can use those items in a manner ordinary people wouldn’t be able to.

Each of us has his own unique power or talent that can come in very handy in sticky situations. Ed’s, for example, is his keen sense of his surroundings and instantly knowing whether or not anyone’s near us. That, coupled with his persistent protective instincts and indestructible coat, makes him a great ally and sometimes a super pain-in-the-butt. In addition, he has a special ring that can conjure up his own doppelganger, which saved my life.

Before I became an Altor—before the accident that cost me my arm—my talent was being able to swim faster than anyone my age. My father, who died in the same accident, never missed the chance to remind me about it, and how I’d make it to the Olympics some day.

The night of the accident seems so long ago, like a dream I had, elusive and fictitious. The trouble is, since becoming an Altor, I haven’t yet realized my own special gift. I was given some unique relics, passed down to me from my great-grandfather, who was himself an Altor once, but they can be used by any Altor with the same results.

I still feel like the same kid I’ve always been, minus the arm.

It just occurred to me recently, while I was in the hospital recovering from our little jaunt up to the summit of Mt. Olympus, maybe each Altor’s birthday played a special role in the development of their respective gifts. It was the only explanation I could come up with, seeing how both Ed and I had taken the blood oath when we opened our respective bloodwills, but only he had celebrated his birthday—July 7th.

Mine isn’t until December 12th, which means I need to try and be patient about it and not feel jealous or envious. Problem is I’ve always been envious of boys with both their arms, never mind those with extraordinary powers.

The goods news, as I see it, is that the third Jason D. will be having his birthday this month—August 8th, as Ed and I predicted—and would hopefully acquire his own unique powers to aid us on our next quest, whatever that turns out to be.

But that isn’t going to happen for another week, and the fact is Ed and I don’t need to go hunting for him until the time is right. The less jumping from one location to another, never mind to the actual myth realm itself, the more time we’ll have to process the events of last month, and what it all means.

And what about Drake? Maybe he’s the next Jason D. and has been right under my nose the whole time. That scar on his thumb I saw in the hospital the other night was unmistakable. Ed and I both carry the same kind of scar on our thumbs—the results of breaking the special seals on our Bloodwills. Ed also shares the same feeling as I do about approaching Drake regarding his true identity.

Wait until August 8th and find out.

Today I was set on patching things up with my grandpa Fran, who’s been nothing but the best, most generous and kind hearted grandpa any boy could ever have. And as a token of my appreciation for everything he’s done for me these past three years, I basically lied right to his face for the last month. But the alternative seemed worse.

Was I supposed to reveal to him that he was in fact the grandfather of an Altor? And that his father before him was one, too? Was I supposed to casually mention that I’d met Hermes and other fantastic creatures in the myth realm? He’d check me into a mental institution.

The explanations for my absences were going to have to be explained eventually, one way or another. The only way to do that was either by lying to him some more, or by actually dragging him into the myth realm myself and showing him that the paintings my great-grandfather decorated the mansion with were actually places within the myth realm he’d traveled to.

Good luck.

It’s been two days since returning to the mansion from the hospital, and Grandpa and I still haven’t spoken more than twelve words to each other. Grandpa wasn’t the only one angry with me, though. Mom was furious with me too. She thinks that my injuries happened as a result of a stupid stunt Ed and I had pulled off of the second story balcony of the mansion.

Ed’s bright idea. But still better than telling her that I’d crashed into the side of Mt. Olympus in a hot-air balloon being pulled by Pegasus, and was later poisoned by some weird gas that a maniacal bald guy had placed at the top of the mountain to kill any and all Altors who came looking for Zeus.

Good thing for me she had to head back to Portland for the grand opening of her first clothing line the very next day, leaving me with only my grandpa to deal with. But in a way, confronting him is going to be much harder than facing the wrath of my mom. I’d been exposed to her outbursts so many times during the last two years that I had become desensitized to her bark.

The nice thing was we had already worked out a deal for me to stay with my grandpa in his newly acquired mansion while she tried to find us a new place to live and sort out her career. That worked perfectly for me, seeing as everything relating me to the Altors seemed to be located at the mansion. Now jumping back and forth between realms was a hundred times easier because I had easy access to my globe transport whenever I needed it.

Today is the day for confrontation, but the good kind, if there is such a thing. Waiting neatly for me at the kitchen table, like a white surrender flag, was a plate complete with stainless steel cover, and a glass of cold OJ.

I peeked under the cover and found two perfect eggs, sunny side up, four strips of bacon, and two buttered toasts. My deliberate avoidance of my grandpa certainly wasn’t to gain any favors from him, but this gesture suggested that a line had been drawn in the sand and that I’d better take advantage of this act of affection.

I placed the cover back on the plate and headed for the first place I thought he’d be. As I crossed the large foyer and floor mosaic of the great mythological centaur, Chiron, I knew from the sound of dry wood crackling in the fireplace that Grandpa was indeed in the den.

I took a deep breath and psyched myself up before strolling in. The room was sweltering, and a glance at the amount of ash at the base of the fire told me that he had been in here for quite awhile already.

A mostly empty cup of tea sat on the edge of the coffee table with a pile of newspapers crowding a fat teapot. Grandpa lay sprawled out across his couch with his glasses halfway down his nose, sound asleep. I briefly thought about making a getaway while I still had the chance, but figured I’d better not delay the inevitable.

I slipped past him and popped open the nearest window to help circulate some fresh air into the sauna-like room. The squeak of the window twisting open lurched Grandpa back to consciousness, and I quickly rounded back towards him and sat down in the adjacent loveseat.

‘My Heavens, I must have dozed off again,’ he said, struggling to sit up.

I jumped out of the loveseat and steadied the eighty-five year old man until he was in an upright position.

‘Sorry to wake you, Grandpa,’ I said, sitting back down across from him. ‘And thanks for the breakfast, but I wanted to come and talk first before digging in.’

The truth was I never got hungry anymore. Neither did Ed. I think it’s an Altor thing. Ever since we both opened our Bloodwills and became Altors, the need to eat had simply disappeared. I never quite figured out why, but for all I knew, it was a convenience, or perk bestowed on every Altor. The constant jumping between realms and the need to travel lightly necessitated the quality, I suppose.

‘Oh, don’t mention it, my boy. And don’t ever apologize for waking me. You know how much I cherish our little talks we have from time to time, as scarce as they may be.’

I shifted uncomfortably in the loveseat. ‘I do, too, Grandpa, that’s why I’m here. Before you say anything, I just want to sincerely apologize for the way I treated you in the last month. I feel like a complete idiot. After everything you’ve done for me, I—’

‘Now hold on a minute, son!’ Grandpa barked. ‘Don’t feel guilty about me for any reason, ever. You’ve never asked for one thing the whole time I’ve known you. You were the victim of a sad, tragic circumstance, and I did what any loving, rational man would do to someone in distress.’

His forceful tone caught me by surprise as I tried to continue. ‘But I lied to you about the Y.A.S. meetings, and about what I was doing. I just want to say I’m sorry.’

Grandpa sat up straighter and pushed his wire rimmed glasses back up his nose. The inquisitive stare he gave me signaled trouble.

‘But…’ he said in a wry voice.

‘But…’ I didn’t know how to approach it. For one brief millisecond I considered spilling my guts and telling him everything, but I quickly came back to reality and refocused.

‘But…the truth of the matter is…I can’t promise I won’t lie to you again. And it kills me. Just understand that my intentions are never to hurt you, Grandpa.’

That was as close as I could come to telling him the truth without lying, and he seemed to take it well.

‘That’s a clever bit of false honesty there, my boy. You have more of your great-grandfather in you than you know.’

I swallowed hard and chuckled uncomfortably. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’

‘Jason, please don’t interpret my silence with you these last couple days as punishment for anything you’ve done. I know you’re keeping quiet for your own reasons. Sometimes an old coot like me, when he sees pain and unhappiness, just wishes he was able to do more.’

‘Grandpa, you’ve done more than anyone has ever done for me. I love you enough to not trouble you anymore with any stupid problems I might still be having. Just know that I’m being as safe and responsible as I can be.’

I couldn’t help lying about the safety part. But with the addition of each future Altor, hopefully the danger in my new life would diminish.

Grandpa slid himself to the edge of the couch, pulled his glasses below the bridge of his nose, and put a gaze on me that could crack any hardened criminal.

‘Are you doing anything illegal?’

‘What? Grandpa…’ I said with a laugh.

He wasn’t laughing.

‘Are you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Are you cheating or stealing?’

‘No.’

‘Is anyone being taken advantage of, or getting hurt in any manner?’

‘Never.’

‘Do you trust your friend?’

‘Ed? Completely.’

‘Is anyone threatening you or any loved ones?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Though not directly, I couldn’t prove if this was in fact true or not.

Grandpa released me from his stare and slumped back into the soft couch. ‘Very well, my boy. I need not hear any more. Just promise me that if you need any assistance in any way, no matter how insignificant it may seem, you will at least consider asking me. An old man likes to feel useful from time to time.’

‘Grandpa, you’re always useful.’

‘Just promise me,’ he pressed.

‘Okay, I promise.’

Grandpa extended his hand from the couch, and I got up and shook it.

‘Before you head out, your mother called early this morning and asked that you call her back sometime today.’

‘Okay, Grandpa, I will. And thanks for being so awesome.’

‘Oh, go on, now.’

I left the den with a renewed sense of hope. I now had carte blanche to do whatever, whenever I needed to, and not worry about my grandpa as long as I made myself available to him from time to time. And seeing as we were in the first week of August, getting together with Ed as soon as possible and hashing out our next move needed to happen sooner rather than later.

But not until I phoned Mom back.

I made my way back into the sweeping foyer, and headed towards the back of the house. Just as I was about to slide open my phone, the text message tone beeped.

It was Ed.

I’m upstairs in the globe room. Meet up here when you can. Ed.

My pace quickened as I climbed the back stairs up towards the rear corridor that led to the observatory. My favorite room in the whole mansion, which also doubled as my bedroom, was still and empty. Except for the dozens of medieval artifacts and weaponry glowing blue within several book shelves, everything appeared normal.

I clicked on Mom’s number in Portland and dialed out.

‘Hello?’ Mom answered, as I headed to the back of the room where my bed was.

‘Hi, Mom. Grandpa just told me you called earlier.’

‘Hi, sweetie. How are things? How’s the arm?’

I looked down at my bandaged stump with a shudder, as if I’d just realized it had been injured. ‘Fine. Doesn’t hurt anymore.’

‘Good. How’s Grandpa?’

‘He’s good. Actually, we just had a nice talk. Things are better now.’

‘I’m glad to hear that, honey. Listen, I wanted to talk about your new school.’

‘Olympia Academy? What about?’

‘When I was talking to the principal about your enrollment and a bit about your past, she strongly recommended we meet with her to discuss…things.’

I didn’t like where this was going.

‘What kind of things?’ I asked.

‘Well, she just wants to make sure that you’re in the right frame of mind, and are ready for inclusion into a high school atmosphere, especially to an academic school.’

There was a long pause, telling me that Mom didn’t want to let the cat out of the bag too soon.

‘What else, Mom?’

‘I just want you to know that it wasn’t my idea in the first place, okay? I know you’re a smart guy, but Mrs. Fitzgerald was insistent that you go through an intermediate knowledge assessment test—I think that’s what she called it.’

‘An I.Q. test?’ I protested.

‘No, an assessment,’ Mom quietly answered.

‘No, Mom, it’s an I.Q. test. And what? If I don’t pass I don’t get to attend? Just because of my arm, they think I’m stupid or something?’

‘No, no, honey. It has nothing to do with that. Since you’ve been home-schooled for the last couple years, they just wanted to see if you had progressed enough to warrant such a drastic jump up.’

I couldn’t help feeling like a two year old.

‘Can’t you just hand in my scores we recorded?’

‘I asked her that, and let’s just say that Mrs. Fitzgerald isn’t a big supporter of home-schooling.’

‘She thinks it’s for losers,’ I barked.

‘No, she doesn’t. And don’t start to alienate yourself from school already. She’s not out to get you. I’m sure she’s just concerned, that’s all.’

Sure she was.

‘Alright, when are we supposed to meet,’ I asked half-heartedly.

‘Her timetable is a bit crazy right now, but she did confirm that it would be sometime next week. She’ll call me to set up a time.’

I sighed deeply as I reached my bed and pulled it out from against the back wall to reveal a half-sized door.

‘Fine. I’ll make sure I wear my thinking cap when we go.’

‘Okay, Jason. Just make sure you leave the sarcasm at home. Bye, sweetie, I’ll talk to you later. And say hi to Grandpa for me.’

‘Okay, I will. Bye, Mom.’

I clicked my phone off and opened the small door behind the headboard of my bed that revealed a rickety staircase that led up into the globe room.

Last month I needed to devise a safety mechanism in case Grandpa ever walked in and noticed the hidden door in the wall. So I attached a long piece of thin rope to the leg of my bed and slid it under the door so I could pull it back up against the wall once I was inside.

I stepped in through the door, closed it behind me, and pulled the rope until I heard my bed nudge up against the door.

‘Ed?’ I called, turning to head up the stairs.

‘Up here,’ he answered.

I stepped quickly up the stairs, and met him beside the table that held my globe. I felt almost relieved to see Ed again. Even though it had only been two days, I couldn’t help but feel as though Ed might think twice about returning—like he’d have better luck without his one-armed buddy.

‘Good to see you again, Jason,’ Ed said grabbing my hand and shaking it firmly.

‘Hey, Ed. What’s up?’

He pushed past me excitedly and planted himself down in one of the two chairs I had set up around the table.

‘I’ve got something here, but I’m not sure what it is,’ he said, reaching into his knapsack. ‘I can’t believe I overlooked it before.’

Curious, I sat down beside him as he pulled out his newfound treasure.

‘I found it in my father’s garage. It’s like all our other artifacts, except not.’

I watched in anticipation as Ed pulled out the glowing object. But he was right; it was different from the others. Rather than the usual blue, this object shone a pale white.

‘It’s a rusty old sickle,’ I said, grasping it in my hand. The curved blade was jagged and chipped, and the handle was wrapped in brown, frayed leather. But despite its brittle appearance and delicate feel, I knew that this sickle had to possess some value.

‘It was hanging on the wall the whole time, just like the tortoise shell, but the sun always shone on it during the day, so it was difficult to notice the white glow. What do you suppose the glow means?’

I reached for my satchel that lay on the table beside us, and stuffed the sickle inside it.

‘I haven’t got a clue, but I know who might.’

‘It’ll have to wait until tomorrow,’ Ed said. ‘When my parents get back home, we’re heading into town for the day. Hold on to the sickle in the meantime and meet me back at the barn tomorrow night.’

Half of a Whole

Aside from not eating, I don’t sleep either. Another Altor perk, I guess, as Ed has been going through the exact same thing, too. Normally, being deprived of sleep and food means trouble—if not death—for anyone experiencing it, but not us.

It’s not like we aren’t eating anything—we are, but not for the same reasons regular people do. We don’t need to eat to sustain life anymore. It’s more out of habit and for taste. And the fact that we don’t need to sleep allows us the freedom to jump into the myth realm at any time of the day without worrying about ever resting.

Even though it’s still early into the month of August, Ed and I figured it was time to call upon the Frail Hailer again. I remembered when I first met the tiny man for the first time in July; had it already been a month?

Aside from being one of the wisest, as well as one of the oldest beings in the myth realm, he had become something of an adviser to me and Ed. Hopefully he’d have an answer for us about the sickle and what qualities it possessed.

I had texted Ed earlier today about meeting him at his place in Italy, and about jumping over into the myth realm later to see the Hailer. He told me that if he wasn’t there in time, to just wait up in the barn until he showed.

After saying goodnight to Grandpa and waiting up until I was certain he was asleep for the night, I rushed back up into the globe room and prepared for my jump. My Veloxire whistle and satchel were slung over one side my desk chair, with Hermes’ lyre hanging over the other side.

I grabbed the whistle off the chair, put my head through the chain, and tucked it inside my shirt. Seeing as it was the only way to get back home should we ever get lost or trapped, I had to keep the whistle as close to me as possible. Next, I awkwardly slipped my satchel over one shoulder and managed to get Hermes’ lyre over the other. Having an actual god as an ally didn’t hurt either, and with one strum of the lyre, he’d be at my side in a flash.

After the wild and unexpected finish during the last couple of days in July, I hadn’t had a chance to take a good look at my globe. Every Altor has his own unique globe—it’s the means by which an Altor can jump from one part of the world to another, as well as into the myth realm. Almost like a living, breathing map that teleports an Altor to wherever he needs to go. To my surprise, I noticed a new blue shining spot that wasn’t there prior to our Zeus quest from last month.

It was for Mt. Olympus. Along with this fourth spot was one for Mt. Pelion—the home to the centaur Chlorin, the Acclamo—where the Hailer resided, and Ed’s place in Italy. I hesitated a moment before touching the dot over Italy, double checking for any signs of another new spot. When I didn’t see one, I finally tapped the glowing spot for Ed’s place.

I vanished instantly.

I had almost forgotten about the nine hours difference between Olympia, Washington and Pisa, Italy, and when I noticed the dull light from the sunrise over the sprawling country horizon, I panicked,