05 Feb Fantastic Fridays: Assembly of the Gods
Welcome back to Fantastic Fridays! This week, I share a passage from the prequel story, Assembly of the Gods. This tale introduces Logan from the Fated series.
Long before Helen crashes into his life, Fitzgerald Logon the Third must pass his initiation to serve the Gods. Little does he realize that the fate of the world is being decided on that day and he is about throw it all off track. Enjoy!
Fitzgerald Logan the Third sat impatiently on the worn bench, tossing an ancient coin. He grew tense, waiting for his first assignment.
With his pedigree, Logan felt above trials. He came from a long bloodline of servants to the gods. He did not understand why he should have to be tested. Especially since his family did not think of themselves as servants. They knew they were the hand that kept the deities safe in this ever-changing world.
He was told that his impatience was a sign of immaturity. Mostly by his mother. She tried many times to teach him that a fiery nature was a grave responsibility. Tending to burn the bearer as much as the subject of his attention.
Logan tossed the burnished Greek coin. Catching it in his palm. Heads again. He looked up, watching the decrepit amusement park. Every few hours, a passerby strolled along the sun-worn boardwalk. And still, Logan waited.
The Gods chose this location for a reason. Few sought this place. And the ones who did were either easily swayed or easily discredited.
He palmed the coin, warm from so many throws. Logan scanned the horizon. Empty and desolate. Until he spotted a teenage couple tucked behind the carousel. Kissing and groping as only teenagers and adults in illicit affairs do.
Logan raised an eyebrow. He did not understand why people felt the need to sneak around. What rush did they get? What kind of satisfaction could there be in such a game? Logan wondered. He did not comprehend because he was not a liar. Nor did he admire liars. If he did, he would not be seated on this bench.
Though he admitted, he was curious.
Logan had married out of allegiance rather than affection. His family relied on political alliance, as did any ancestral line that wished to serve the Gods. The old ways were eminently practical. That left little room for love.
Lust, certainly. As Zeus could attest. But love. That was tricky territory luring young men to align their fortunes with someone outside their tribe. And in his line of work, loyalty — and family — were everything.
Logan felt old as he watched the teenagers part. They had seen him watching and scurried away to find a more private spot. Thrilled with their game. Laughing at the man on the bench who appeared ancient to young eyes. In their world, he was.
In his universe, however, Logan was a child.
He was proud that he was selected for this illustrious job at his age. Few were trusted so early. Guardian to the ancient ones. Eyes and ears on the street. A stepping stone to greater things.
Logan glanced back at the decrepit stadium. No one dared go inside. He had covered the dilapidated building in signs declaring asbestos and unsafe structure. He even went so far as to surround the location with wire fence and hidden cameras. Though the only people tempted into asbestos-ridden buildings were drunk teenagers.
At first, he thought the choice of location ludicrous. Why would the gods and goddesses lower themselves to meeting in such a place? Why not gather on Mount Olympus, or Valhalla, or the Hill of Tara? Surely, those locations were far better suited to an illustrious gathering of the Assembly of the Gods?
Much to his mother’s chagrin, Logan had questioned the choice of location in front of everyone.
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