Dawn announced its arrival by filling the forest with crepuscular light that seemed to penetrate even the deepest shadows. Without a doubt, dawn is my favorite part of the day when the sky shaded over to that particular gray-blue that was not possible at any other time. All pearls and softness at the same time. Eli exited the tent before me. I crawled out and found him facing the dawn like he did every morning for at least four thousand years. His loose hair billowed in the breeze as it caught the first rays of the sun. His naked body glowed with dawn’s light. He is morning. He is sunrise. In those moments, Eli vanished and Helios, the god of the sun, stood in his place. I never intruded on his commune with the sun because I understood it was a part of his being. Only when he turned toward me did I speak to him. “You look beautiful this morning,” I told him.

“I am supposed to say that to you.” He walked toward our tent and reached in to remove his discarded clothing. I saw him shiver right before he announced, “It’s chilly this morning.” He pulled on his pants, a flannel shirt, and his own warm sweater.

“Chilly? It is cold. I can feel it even with my leathers on,” I countered. I had dressed in the tent because I knew the wind would be cold outside. Our little yellow tent flapped furiously all night long.

“Then, you get the fire going,” he said.

Forcing my eyes away from him took effort. When would I stop acting like a smitten teenager? Even after six hundred years, I couldn’t get enough of him and I certainly never tired of looking at him. I turned to the task at hand. Enough wood remained to get a roaring fire going in a few minutes. I made coffee next. Eli drank it because I did, but he didn’t have the passion for it that I did. I could drink it any way possible. Sometimes I liked it just black and strong. Sometimes I added milk or sugar or both. Today, I drank it hot and black. Coffee made over a campfire seems to taste better than any other way it’s made. A French press is close, but the added hint of wood smoke is something you never get in a kitchen.

Ares arrived while we were eating our sausages and cold biscuits. “Ah, Ares, would you join us for breakfast?” Eli saw him before I did, so I jumped to my feet and spun around to meet the dark, dark eyes. Ares had black hair that was so black it was almost blue. It was the same color as Zeus’s hair, except where Zeus had straight hair, Ares’s tended to curl. But, I had never seen Ares wear his hair any longer than what could fit under a helmet. The man before me had hair to his waist and looked more like Zeus than any other ever had. Only the eyes could distinguish Zeus from Ares. Zeus had eyes the color of a summer sky and Ares’s were black as night, black as sin, black as the evil that dwelt inside him. They were so dark, that it was difficult to distinguish the pupil from the iris.

He wore faded blue jeans that had a rip in one thigh and a hole in the opposite knee. His jacket was leather and very worn. His hand carried a gun—a shotgun. He didn’t quite have it at the ready, but it would only take him a fraction of a second to do so.

“You are not surprised to see me,” Ares said to Eli.

“Not at all,” Eli responded.

“So tell me why you are here,” Ares said in that voice that few had the strength to ignore.

“Have you been away from others for so long that you have forgotten how to observe a few courtesies?” Eli asked.

“We are not at court, Cousin. I don’t have to observe courtesies. Olympus has fallen to dust as surely as we have.”

“Is that what troubles you? The fact of Olympus’s demise?”

“It troubles me that you are on my mountain without invitation.”

“Then, allow us to make amends for the slight. Sit. Eat with us. There is plenty.”

The exchange between the two men was in the ancient language of our people. Ares turned his eyes fully toward me and said, “She is going to have to ask me to stay.”

I swallowed nervously. I felt it and I know Ares saw it. His eyes widened just a bit and if you weren’t watching for it, you likely wouldn’t have seen it. But, I did.

“Please, join us Ares, son of my Father,” I said, formally.

“My sister, who is my enemy, asks me formally to join you. How can I resist such an invitation? Even if it is just out of curiosity.” He leaned his gun against a tree and sat on the log.

Ares smelled of wood smoke, the blood of a recent kill, and sweat. His hair was oily from the lack of care. He turned toward me and asked, “Do I offend your delicate sensibilities?” He was thoroughly amused. “If I had known I was having company, I would have cleaned up.”

“We arrived last evening. I am certain you knew we were here, then,” I told him, my voice as icy as the morning air.

“Quite the contrary. I was hunting and away from my cabin. I have only returned this very morning and was drawn to your camp by the scent of cooking sausages and coffee. Of course, I hurried down here to find out your reasons for visiting. It is not often that anyone seeks Ares.”

I said, “We need your help,” at the same time Eli said, “Let’s eat breakfast first.”

Ares looked from me to Eli. “As urgent as that? Now, I am intrigued.” He reached out and accepted a cup of coffee from Eli. He breathed the aroma deeply before closing his eyes and taking a sip. “It has been years... but, the palate never forgets.” He took another sip of coffee. “Now, tell me Athena. Why have you come?”

“Do you know how to find Phobos?”

There was something in Ares’s eyes that I found difficult to read. “So, it is not me you sought to find on this crisp morning, but rather my son.” He took a deep breath. “If you want to find Phobos, you will have to search the darkness.”

“We know that,” Eli said. “Can you be more specific?”

“Why is it necessary for you, god of the sun and morning light, to seek such as Phobos?”

“He has become dangerous.”

“No, he hasn’t,” Ares countered. “He has always been dangerous. He was dangerous before his birth. He almost killed Aphrodite, his mother, while in the womb. At birth, he ripped his way out of her womb, and had she been mortal, she would not have survived.” A haunted look clouded Ares’s eyes for a moment. Again, I almost missed it. There were deep emotions roiling inside him that he was desperately trying to hide.

“He is killing humans.”

“Again, this is nothing new. He has always delighted in blood. He has always delighted in killing humans. Phobos is the reason humans fear venturing beyond the security of their campfires at night. His very name means fear. So, tell me. Why do you seek Phobos?”

I took a deep breath and began. I told him the story of Bill Townsend and the nine people that had died, mysteriously, and the argument with Bill in my apartment. Ares listened, nodded occasionally, and then stood. “You don’t need me.” He started to walk away.

I rose and quickly put a hand on his arm. “Ares, wait. We do need you. We have to find Phobos...”

“You don’t even know if Phobos is responsible. You are doing this to retain or regain the friendship of a human. Humans are fickle and worse, they die. It has never been a good idea to cultivate friendships with them.” Ares took several more steps toward the forest.

“Ares, please...” I said

“Please, what?” he asked, his voice holding an irritating quality.

“Don’t just walk away. We need you.”

“Actually, you don’t.”

Eli intervened. “Ares, we seek your good counsel, if nothing more. We are not at war and you and I have rarely been at odds.”

Ares gave Helios a dark look. “Except for the time when you helped Hephaestus find Aphrodite and me together while in the throes of passion.”

“Yes, and I had to endure Aphrodite’s wrath because of it. My wife cast me aside and my children have disowned me because of that debacle. It has only been the past few hundred years that I have found and kept a love.” Eli gave me one of his fond looks. He continued. “She cursed not only me but my family. All of my children. They have not forgiven me.”

Ares nodded and said, “Aphrodite was thoroughly pissed off because Zeus forced her to marry Hephaestus. Heph knew she didn’t love him, but he wanted her, nonetheless.”

“Court politics. I certainly don’t miss any of that,” Eli said. “And you Ares. Why did you never seek revenge?”

“Revenge is a waste of time,” Ares said, simply. “She still hates you, does my beautiful Aphrodite. If she finds out that you and I are even talking, she will be displeased.”

Eli nodded but said nothing. He didn’t regret his decision to tell Hephaestus of Aphrodite and Ares. Ares took it all in stride because the shame was Aphrodite’s to endure. Even in the twenty-first century, people tended to look down on women who cheat on their husbands much more so than men who cheat on their wives. And at the time of the indiscretion, Ares wasn’t married to anybody.

“But, you and Aphrodite aren’t together, any longer,” I said, trying to understand Ares.

“No, we aren’t. But, she has a very long memory. I bear you no malice, Helios Sun God.” Ares turned to leave us, once again.

“Ares War God, please. We need you.” Eli extended his hand toward the dark-eyed man. He held it, waiting for a response from Ares. Ares could either openly refuse to clasp Eli’s hand or he could take it in friendship. I waited, without breathing, to find out which he would choose.

Slowly, Ares extended his own hand and grasped Eli’s wrist. Eli visibly relaxed and smiled. “Please, have some more coffee.”

Ares nodded and returned to his log. Once again, I sat beside him. We finished the sausages and biscuits and I made more coffee.

Suddenly, Ares began to speak. “If you listen to the legends about vampires, then you’ll have a general idea of the way that Phobos lives. Humans cannot live on just blood, although as Phobos’s followers, they try. A diet of just blood does strange things to the digestive system, including iron overdose and bloody stools. Even humans who start slowly and try to build up to drinking even as little as a half-pint will experience nausea and vomiting. But, with the recent Hollywood love affair with vampirism, there are more than enough people willing to try it. On the one hand, Hollywood hasn’t done humans any favors at all by convincing them that vampires are sexy. Until the past two dozen years or so, vampires were portrayed as evil creatures to be feared. They were associated with death, dying, demons, and all the dark things that crawl through the night. That darkness is what you will be dealing with if you confront Phobos. He is not a sexy vampire, but a demon.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Our Ares wasn’t as far removed from society as he had let us believe. He was aware of the latest trends in movies, at least. I nodded. I understood completely what he was talking about. With the advent of movies and fiction that portrays vampires as hunky men and gorgeous women who stayed eternally young and alluring, it was a powerful draw for many. Phobos could live many thousands of lifetimes, but his human followers never would. Phobos committed a far higher crime than simply just delighting in human blood. He once again allowed himself to be worshiped.

Ares continued, “Now, Phobos has a fertile ground to play in. He is more popular than ever before. How can humans count vampires as anything other than sadistic criminals?”

“Strange to hear this coming from you,” Eli commented.

“Cousin, I was the god of war, which is about strategy. War is a game of chess. I am talking about the war where armies meet on a field of battle and not like today’s war where everything is neat and done from afar. You kill your enemy with a rifle, you don’t get the full impact of the deed. You don’t look in their eyes and see their imminent demise reflected back. You miss the reasons for avoiding war when you bomb a village.”

“Can this be Ares War God?” Eli asked. “Can this be the one who championed so many battles of old?”

“My attitude has never changed in this, Helios. You simply never bothered to listen to what I have to say on the subject.”

Eli looked at the ground for long moments then back to Ares, “You are absolutely correct. Many apologies, Cousin Ares.” I could hear the contriteness in his voice.

Ares explained, “Making war is a chess game for me. I move the pieces in an effort to win.” He paused for a long time and then added, “What Phobos has done, is doing, is far more personal. He, like Vlad the Impaler, Erzabet Bathory, Blue Beard, Rasputin, and others, is simply a criminal. A serial killer. Phobos has been allowed to get away with too much for too long.”

My heart jumped in my chest and I asked. “Does that mean you will help us find him?”

Ares’s brows knitted together and then he asked me, “What will you do when you find him? He is very difficult to kill. He is as able to quickly regenerate as the rest of us.”

“Zeus could kill him,” I said.

“Zeus has had more than one opportunity, but he is highly principled and will not execute Phobos.”

“We are not immortal and you know it, Ares. We can destroy Phobos,” Eli replied.

“Would you, Helios, take Phobos’s head or his heart and chop them into tiny pieces, while he screams his agony? Would you burn his body while he still screams? Would you scatter the ashes from here to the North Star and risk hearing those screams in your dreams for eternity?”

“I don’t know if I can do it. I know we have to try.”

Apparently, that was the correct answer because Ares replied, “All right, then. I am engaged. I will spirit myself away to my cabin and will return soon. Tell me, do I have time for another cup of coffee, first?”

I smiled at my brother and nodded. “Athena,” Ares said. “You are here with Helios instead of at Zeus’s right hand, where you sat for so many years. That was the bane of Hera’s existence, I have no doubt, but she was wise enough to leave you alone rather than risk Zeus’s wrath.”

“I left Zeus’s side many hundreds of years ago. Like you, I'm tired of court politics,” I told him. “But, the question I have for you, Ares, is why did you leave off making war?” I did something that was not entirely ethical and not fair. I asked the question that would set his mind on the answer and even if he didn’t answer aloud, I would know what was in his mind.

Ares’s anger flared hot and bright. “Athena! That was basely done. You act with all the decorum your position has afforded you, yet you try to steal memories from my head.” He had risen to his feet and whirled around to watch me, cowering on the log before him. I was reminded why armies quaked when Ares spoke.

“She is curious,” Eli said mildly.

“Curious? She invades my privacy with her curiosity. Without my permission.”

“It is partly my fault because I gave her some hints, but not the story,” Eli said to Ares. Ares flashed him a look of anger.

I stood to face my brother. “Ares, you are not the person I remember. Something terrible has happened to bring about this change and I wanted to know what it is. Yes, it was curiosity, but it was also out of concern. Ares, you and I have been at odds often, but you are my brother and that means something to me.”

“You claim family fealty as a reason to invade my privacy? That is beneath you, too, considering our family’s reputation,” Ares said. At least he was no longer trying to leave the vicinity.

“Wouldn’t it simply be easier to tell her what happened rather than going through all these theatrics?” Eli suggested.

“You know what happened?” Ares whirled around to face Eli fully. The questioning frown on his face was deep.

“I know part of it. Most of it,” Eli said simply. Of course, Eli knew. He kept Ares’s secret. My regard for him rose again as if it could get any higher.

Something seemed to leave Ares at that moment. It was anger, to be sure, but there was something else that remained. Caution? Hurt? I wasn’t certain what it was.

Ares' shoulders slumped slightly and he hung his head, allowing this black hair to fall across his face. “No one can hide anything from you, can they, Helios Who Sees All?”

Eli’s expression didn’t change as he watched the man who stood before him. They were of the same size, but that was the only resemblance. While Eli was bright and shining, Ares was dark and brooding. It was like looking at a portrait of night and day as the two faced each other.

Ares sat on the log again and long minutes passed before he began to speak. “Her name was Rada. She was such a beautiful woman in a way most humans are not beautiful. She glowed with wisdom and strength of will. Her dark eyes were so very Russian and her hair was a cloud of soft dark curls.” Ares' eyes glassed over as he thought about the woman. He continued. “I loved her as I had never loved another woman, mortal or immortal. Rada touched my soul and made me want to be a better person because isn’t that the nature of love? I finally found truest love in the arms of a mortal woman. She touched something deep inside me that even my beautiful Aphrodite couldn’t touch.” Ares drew in a deep breath as if steeling himself for a crushing blow.

“She helped me dress for battle the morning of September 8, 1514--a date I will never forget. I had guided the Muscovite army in the Tsar’s push into Eastern Europe at the Battle of Orsha. The Muscovite ruler was Grand Duchy Vasili III and my commander. My Rada was only a serving wench. She followed me to the field of battle and kissed me soundly, sending my heart all the way back to Olympus. With wings on my heart and heels, I entered the battle and fought hard and bravely, but the Muscovites lost the day against the Lithuanians and Polish.

“After the battle, bone-tired and battle-weary, I sought my beautiful Rada and found her broken body on the field where we fought. She had gotten too close to the show and a horse had trampled her and broke her spine. Death was all around her. Men, horses. The field was wet with blood. Rada was still alive when I found her. I don’t know how she hung on for so long.”

Ares’s voice caught in his throat and a tear slid down his cheek. He continued, “I held her in my arms, crying like a woman, tears falling down my face and onto hers, washing away some of the mud. Her last mortal words were, “I love you,” and then she died.” He took a deep shuddering breath in an effort to calm the deep emotions that wracked his body.

Ares had seen thousands upon thousands die over the course of his life, but that one death meant more to him than all the others combined. He cried out loud as he held her lifeless form. For three days, he held Rada in his arms, not moving from the spot where he had found her. All around him, bodies rotted in the sun, and the stench was no more than Ares felt he deserved. He blamed himself for Rada’s death. It was as if he tore away her life with his own two hands and somehow, in his deep sorrow, the sword that had been his for so long fell away. He made a bier for her, washed her clean, and laid her on the pile of wood as carefully as a mother lays her sleeping infant in a cradle. He set it aflame and cried while the fire consumed her. His great sword was left beside her body and Ares walked away.

Had he not engaged in battle that morning, Rada may have lived a long full life. Rada wanted children. She wanted a home. Ares wanted to give her all of those things because he loved her so deeply. Could a woman’s love change a god of war into something else? Was it possible? Ares knew it was possible because he set his own sword aside for the love of a woman. She never asked him to stop fighting. She never asked him to change, but change Ares did.

His story was such a sad one, that I found myself crying for a woman who had been dead for nearly six hundred years. I cried for Rada and I cried for Ares. My hard-hearted, hard-spirited brother was broken and I put a comforting arm across his shoulders.

“I never told anyone that story. I have stayed away from everyone and everything, trying to deal with the pain that will not go away. My heart hurts as much today as it did the day she died. The longer my heart hurts, the more I appreciate how important it is to live. You see, Athena, that’s why I can’t help you find Phobos. He has to die and I won’t be able to kill him.”

Ares stood again and walked toward the forest.

“Ares, wait. We can still use your counsel. Please. It is important.” I ran after him and stopped him, again with a hand on his arm. “Ares, please. I can’t do this alone.”

He glanced toward Helios. “You aren’t alone. You have Helios to be your guide, your strength, your heart.”

“You know what I mean. Ares, you want me to beg, I’ll beg. We don’t even know how to begin to find Phobos.”

Ares’s face clouded over, again and I saw the fury building. Before me stood the god I recognized of old. “Wait here,” he said. “I will return, shortly. That one,” he said pointing toward Eli, “Can find me regardless of where I try to go.” He vanished.

“You seem to have collected another champion,” Eli told me. His eyes lost their focus for a moment and then he said to me, “He is gathering his things. He will be along shortly. Let’s break camp.”