Part 90

"Is Demo home. I need to talk to him."

Metaneira's eyes held a question? "He's out back with Rough. Is something wrong?"

"I . . . I like Demo. I really wouldn't hurt him for the world. I am sorry, I . . . . Please, I can't marry him. Metaneira, I am sorry. There is another. Oh, what can I say, what shall I do!"

"Theresa, don't cry. Perhaps all will work out for the best. But, yes, you should tell him. He is a brave lad. I'm sure he will take it like a man. Why don't you wipe your eyes, then go out back and talk to him. Be brave, girl!"

As Theresa went out the back door Metaneira looked up, shook her fist. "Athena, you are a conniver. Who have you sent to poor Theresa? I should have known. Oh, well, you may make a delightful daughter-in-law."

She shook her head, looked out the back door.

Theresa and Demo were standing quietly, his arms around her.

"It's all right, little sister. You see, I think it's always been this way. I've always felt toward you like a big brother. I don't think I could really have been anything else." Demo spoke quietly.

He liked Theresa, always had. Not as a lover. No, more as the little girl next door than as an attractive and mature young lady. Even now he could not see her other than as the little girl.

"Who is he, Theresa? Are you sure?"

"You know him. Randy. He is so strange and wonderful and I knew when we first met."

He smiled, placing his hand under her chin he lifted it up. "If he ever mistreats you, you let me know. And tell him big brother will beat him to a pulp if he isn't nice to you. Understand?"

She half sobbed, half laughed.

"Yes, big brother."

She hugged him, her arms around his neck, then kissed him on the lips, pressing against him. For a moment they stood thus.

"You know, big brother, I think I could have made you love me - another way. I'm very glad I didn't. I'll always need a big brother."

"I'll be here."

21. Dream Shadows

In sleep reality is dreams, dreams reality. And Demo knew not whether he slept, and all was but a dream. Or, whether, waking, his mind did dream of dreams.

It had started - as had all his recent adventures - with a summons from Zeus. And when Zeus spoke Demo felt that, perhaps, he had indulged in too much of Olympic nectar.

"Boy, the world is not what it seems. Look around you. What do you see?"

The question, of course, was purely rhetorical. Zeus went on with no hesitation.

"You see Olympus, of course. And, if you had my powers, you might look down and see earth. Or even let your gaze penetrate to the nether kingdom of my brother, Pluto. With a little more effort Tartarus comes in view. And that, think you, is the universe. Ah, and that is where you err."

Zeus was plainly morose. He had a problem that bothered him. And rather than attacking the problem head-on, he was talking his way around it.

"Ah, indeed, Sire! Just the other day I was telling my mother . . . ."

"Yes, yes, but what I mean is, there is also the unseen. The world in transition. It was, and now is not. Yet, in a strange sort of way, it is. Understand? (More rhetorical questions.) It will be, eventually; it hasn't become, yet. It's a world in . . . well, it's a world in transition. And during the transition, it isn't. Hmmm, very simple, actually. Must make a note of that, - A world in transition - should go over well at the club."

He reached above his head, unrolled a long papyrus, and jotted a few notes on the bottom. As he let go the papyrus rewound, disappearing when the last page was snugly wrapped. Zeus smiled, took a slight bow, and tossed his pen into the air. It, too, disappeared. But, not, unfortunately, before several drops of ink splattered the divine face. With a growl Zeus reached up and a white towel appeared. He started to wipe away the ink.

"Drop that! Not with my clean towel!"