Advanced Mythology Read Online Free

he did so. “Oops. I turned over my Etch-a-Sketch.” Having gotten the hang of placement, he was able to restore the sketchy portraits in only half the time it had taken him before. He filled in details, like the lines beside Enoch’s mouth, the arched brows, and the rounded lobes of his ears that looked as though they ought to be detached but weren’t. He sat up, easing the tight muscles in his back.
    “Not bad, huh?” he asked.
    Enoch eyed the image critically. “Passable,” he said. “You could have done better.”
    “I think it’s pretty good. Hey, Holl,” Keith jumped off the wall, scooped up the image, and started walking; towing it along with him as though it was a balloon. “Is this really so awful?”
    Enoch was so stunned he paused for a moment before running after him. What Keith Doyle was doing at that moment out of pure instinct was much more impressive than he could know. He hurried to catch up.
    Not that Enoch was concerned that Holl would deliberately break his word not to talk, but he knew the Big student was very persuasive. He might be able to worm information out of them before they knew what they had said.
    “Hey, Holl, take a look. Is this really so bad?”
    “Don’t ask me,” Holl said, glancing up briefly from the carving he was doing. It was an incredibly lifelike rendering of a primrose. He had learned a lot over the last many months from Tiron, a newly arrived Little Person from Ireland. “Enoch’s teaching you. I’ll not second-guess him.”
    “Holl, what’s wrong?” Keith asked, dropping to the ground beside him. Holl looked up at Keith, then glanced at Enoch. His eyes dropped back to his work.
    “Nothing at all.”
    “Why don’t I believe you?” Keith asked, encouragingly.
    Enoch couldn’t deter Keith Doyle forever. The lad was a force of nature. Best to present a diversion.
    “Keith Doyle,” he began, clearing his throat, “I meant to ask you …”
    Surprised by the tentative tone, Keith looked up at him. Enoch was so self-sufficient. He let his illusion fade away.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked.
    “I myself have a concern that you might know something about.”
    “Sure. What is it?”
    To Enoch’s relief, they were interrupted by a high-pitched thread of music like the first line of a jig. Keith’s face went blank for a moment as the music repeated. Grinning sheepishly, he fished in his back pocket and came up with a small, flat wireless phone with a case the shimmering blue-green of a dragonfly’s carapace.
    “Sorry,” he said. “My graduation present from my grandmother.” He poked the RECEIVE button. “Hello?”
    “Keith?” asked a woman’s voice. “Your mom gave me this number. This is Dorothy Carver. Remember me?”
    “Hey, how are you?” Keith asked. “How are things at PDQ?”
    “That’s just what I wanted to talk about,” Dorothy said. “They’ve made me a creative director.”
    “That’s great!”
    Dorothy paused, then chuckled. “There’s days when it’s great. And then there’s days when I wish you’d gotten this job instead of me.”
    “You were the best choice,” Keith said firmly. “Things can’t be that bad, can they?”
    “No, they’re not. They’re good. In fact, that is why I am calling you. Perkins Delaney Queen is wooing … a company. I can’t say more than that yet. It’s a big deal. They’ve got a new product, and a big budget. PDQ wants them, of course, but the customer is going to want something offbeat. A new approach. That’s why I’m calling. I need a goofball like you in there pitching ideas, helping out the usual suspects. Can you drop in here Monday morning and meet the client?”
    “Monday?” Keith said, frowning. “Sure. I don’t have to be down here again until Wednesday.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Midwestern University. I start my Master’s degree program next week.”
    “Oh.”
    “Why?” Keith asked, concerned by her flat tone of voice.
    “Because if the client likes your