A Victorian Lady's Guide to Killing Gods and Monsters [ONC 2023]

Chapter VI: Get your mother involved in order to avoid macabre prophecies

London, April 5th, 1852

"I... what? How in Heaven would I be part of a prophecy made millennia ago?"

That was definitely not the worst part. The fact that she would be responsible for the end of the world... Yes, it was far better for her sanity to deal with being in a prophecy first.

"Why are you asking me? My father ordered, and I obeyed. It's just how things work."

"I refuse to think that way, Mr. Swift. Can you answer my questions now? Who is your father? Why is he making you protect me? I am not a child."

"I know," he sighed. "You've said it five times already. This is not an everyday problem, Miss Rayburn. We are facing real-life gods and monsters. You need a protector, someone who knows about these things."

"You could teach me so we can be even. And you could also answer my questions."

"Fine! My father is one of the Olympian gods, just like yours. He's not as important as Zeus, though. He is Dionysus, the god of wine, theatre, madness, and debauchery."

A clap of thunder rumbled in the distance. Hattie raised an eyebrow in doubt.

"Is that the reason the coachman requested bottles as payment?" the lady asked. "He sounds like a Frenchman," she commented after a while.

"He is not French. Or at least that's what he told me when I asked him. I have met him once, so please don't come to me anymore for your doubts about him. I just know what is common knowledge."

"If your father is the god of wine... does that make you an alcoholic?"

He sighed for the umpteenth time. "You are a daughter of Zeus. Does that make you a sexual predator? For the love of the gods, Miss Rayburn, my personal life is none of your business. I thought you were going to make questions about the prophecy or something like that..."

"Oh, yes, I have a list. Do not worry. I want to talk to my father about it."

"M'lady—"

"Stop calling me that way, Mr. Ben Swift."

"Sorry. It's just... It's not that simple to talk to a god, Miss Rayburn. I met my father for the first time in my twenty years of life only a month ago. No god talks to their children, much less someone like you. As I said—and probably you won't remember—half of Olympus wants to kill you in order to save the world, and the other half wants to use you for their own advantage. Most immortals have held a grudge against the other gods for an eternity. You are a weapon."

Oh, dear. To be a weapon for immortal beings was not the best compliment for a young lady. Why would her father not want to talk to her? After all, he had bought that house, tiny as it was, and he protected Hattie and her mother. He paid for her bills. Why would he hate her as much as the rest of the gods did?