“Those are my things! How dare you kick them across the room? What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, Mommy. It was an accident,” Greco sobbed.
“You were the accident. You should never have been born. You’re an abomination.”
“No I’m not. I’m a good boy. Please, Mommy. I’m a good boy.” Greco tried to reach out and wrap his arms around his mother but she grabbed him by the shoulders and squeezed. Hard.
“You’re not a good boy. You’re not,” she wailed, shaking him violently.
“Gayle!” Greco’s dad stormed through the still-open front door and pulled him out of his mother’s painful grasp. “What are you doing? He’s just a boy.”
His mother took a few gulps from her drink then threw it against the wall, sending wet shards of glass flying. “This is all your fault. He shouldn’t even be here. You want him? You can have him.”
Greco buried his face in his father’s shirt as his mother walked out of the house, slamming the door behind her.
“Are you OK?” Greco’s dad knelt down in front of him and placed his hands gently on his face, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. Greco just nodded his head, as words weren’t yet possible for him. When his father pulled him into his arms, he hugged back with every bit of strength he had. “I love you, son.”
Moments later, still locked in their desperate embrace, Greco asked the question he always asked. “Why doesn’t Mommy love me?”
His father answered with the same lie he always did. “She does, son. She does.”
Chapter 5
The drive to Savannah, where Greco had been raised and his family still lived, took about two and a half hours. In that time, he’d spoken only a few words. The tension his silence was causing was palpable, but he couldn’t bring himself to alleviate it. This was going to be a rough couple of days, whether his mother’s disappearance was self-inflicted or not, and he didn’t see the use in pretending it wasn’t.
“Are we getting close?” Mirissa asked.
He stole a quick glance at her. “Just a couple more minutes.” They were winding their way through Skidaway Island where his parent’s lived. It was a huge gated community with live oak trees and paths running everywhere. As he looked around, he was struck by how beautiful the neighborhood was, even though he’d never felt particularly happy there as a child. Golf carts buzzed down the paths as the residents used their preferred form of transportation to get from one place on the island to another.
“It’s beautiful here.” Asteria, lying in her usual horizontal position across the back seat, was staring out the window at the luxurious homes they passed. “This must have been a great place to grow up. You’re so lucky.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mirissa grimace at that last comment but, thankfully, she didn’t say anything.
“My dad’s house is just up there.” They turned off the main street onto a short cul-de-sac and pulled into the driveway of a large home with a manicured garden. It was a mixture of light brick and stone, two stories tall, with a front porch that ran its entire length. The golf course was just visible out back through the trees.
Greco made his way to the front door, with Mirissa and Asteria trailing behind. Before he rang the bell, the door swung open and his father looked at him, eyes tired. “I’m so glad you’re here. Please, come inside.” His accent was still as thick as it was the day he’d emigrated from Greece. He was tall, maybe an inch shorter than Greco, with shaggy blond hair that was now partially gray.
Greco made the appropriate introductions. “Dad, these are my colleagues, Mirissa and Asteria.” His father shook each of their hands and offered a weak smile. “And this is my father, Demetri Costa.”
“You’re Myrine’s daughter, aren’t you?” Demetri said as if just remembering something. “The resemblance is remarkable.”
“You know my mom?” Mirissa asked.
“I met her several times, many years ago. She would come by to see Gayle and me whenever your family vacationed here. In fact, I met you once. Right here in this house, when you were very small,” Demetri said.
Greco could almost see the wheels turning in Mirissa’s head as she put this information together with what she already knew about his childhood. He was relieved when she didn’t ask for more details.
His father led them to the family room where they each took a seat. It had been several years since Greco visited his home, but nothing seemed to have changed. Then his eye caught something new. The mantle above the fireplace, where floral arrangements and artwork was always displayed, now held photographs. Without thinking, Greco pushed himself out of his chair and walked over. The first photo was an eight by ten of him that Myrine took when he joined the Omega Group. It was the headshot she’d used for his I.D. The others were assorted family photos taken over the years, featuring his parents and him in the midst of some activity or another. Greco knew those pictures were chosen specifically because they all looked happy—even his mother—in every one.
He looked at his father with confusion in his eyes. “You did this?”
“No, son. Your mother did.” Demetri put his hand on Greco’s shoulder. “She’s changed. This time is different, I promise.”
That last word brought Greco out of his temporary reverie. “Sure, Dad.” He turned his back to the mantle and sat in his chair, stealing one last glance at the life he’d never had. Clearing his throat he said, “Where was the last place she was seen before she disappeared?”
The disappointment on his father’s face was evident, but he didn’t push. For the next thirty minutes he told them everything he knew about the days leading up to her disappearance.
“Have you checked all of her usual places?” Greco meant all of the places where his mother ended up crashing after binge drinking but he didn’t want to embarrass his father.
“Of course. Those were the first places I checked. I know you think I’m naïve, but I’m not. She hadn’t been to any of them in a long time. In fact, her old friends haven’t seen or heard from her in a year. That’s why I called Myrine. I thought maybe she could help.” Demetri looked at Greco, as though waiting for him to decide whether or not he believed him.
Greco didn’t, but he loved his Dad enough to keep that to himself.
Chapter 6
Mirissa stared out the passenger side window as Greco wound his way through the city. They’d left his father’s house a few minutes ago and were heading to the hotel Demetri had reluctantly recommended.
“So, why are we going to a hotel?” Asteria asked, once again sprawled across the back seat. “Your dad’s house is huge. We could have stayed there.”
Asteria didn’t know anything about Greco’s past, so Mirissa couldn’t fault her for asking the obvious question, but as his knuckles turned white on the steering wheel, she felt the need to protect him.
“It’s complicated. Can we leave it at that for now?” Mirissa sent what she hoped was a comforting look toward Greco, then immediately changed the subject. “When we get to the hotel, we should probably split up. Asteria, you should go to Tritonia and see if anyone there has any new information. Greco and I will start retracing his mom’s path over the last couple of days up to her disappearance.”
Although Greco had told Mirissa a little bit about his past, she knew there was so much more to it. He’d spoken to her about it once, and only for a few minutes, but the pain she saw in his eyes during those uncharacteristic moments spoke volumes. She wanted—needed—to help him.
The problem was that Greco didn’t want her help. She was sure he regretted opening up to her that night. The tiny crack he’d created in his carefully built armor, though, acted like a magnet to Mirissa. At first, she’d wrongly assumed he’d continue to open up to her, maybe even let her in completely. It didn’t take long for her to figure out that wasn’t going to happen. For weeks she tried to talk to him, but with each attempt he pulled further away from her. Eventually, she just got tired of trying. You want me? You know wher
e to find me.
As they pulled up in front of the Hyatt Hotel in the historic downtown district of Savannah, Mirissa began formulating a new plan to open up that crack.
Within a few minutes they arrived in their adjoining rooms—Greco in one and the girls in the other. Asteria wasted no time. She chose the bed closest to the window overlooking the Savannah River, lay down, and sent her consciousness to Tritonia.
That left Mirissa alone with Greco.
“We should go,” Greco said through the open door that separated the two rooms.
“Alright.” Mirissa placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the door as they left. The last thing they needed was an unsuspecting maid stumbling upon the unconscious Asteria. “Your dad said he checked with all of your mom’s old friends already. So, where do you want to start?”
“I know what my dad said, but when it comes to my mother, he’s easily fooled.
The short ride down the elevator was filled with the same uncomfortable silence as the drive in, and Mirissa was getting frustrated. Always trying, and failing, to get information out of him was getting really old. If sweet doesn’t work, maybe bitchy will, she thought. “I tell you what, Greco,” she began. “When you think there’s something that I need to know in order to actually help you find your mother, why don’t you just let me know.”
The elevator doors opened onto the lobby and Mirissa stormed out, leaving a stunned Greco behind. This was all part of her plan. It had become painfully obvious that being an attentive, caring friend to her Guardian wasn’t going to succeed in breaking down his emotional barriers.
Their car was still parked right outside the glass doors of the Hyatt, so Mirissa leaned against the passenger side door, arms crossed, and waited for Greco to join her. She heard the telltale click of the door locks being remotely disengaged, and slid into her seat without even a glance in Greco’s direction. Two can play the brooding silent game.
“What is your problem?” Greco asked as he dropped into the driver’s seat.
“Just drive. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you have no interest in talking to me.” Mirissa kept her voice low and even and her eyes focused straight ahead. A moment later they were pulling away from the hotel.
Mirissa was amazed at the almost immediate change in their surroundings. One minute they were enveloped by incredible architecture from the eighteenth century housing bars, restaurants, and trendy boutique-style stores, and the next they were winding through a seedy industrial area where less-than-subtle prostitutes offered themselves to every vehicle passing by. They’d traveled less than a mile but it felt like a different world. Although she desperately wanted to ask Greco where they were going, she stayed quiet.
It occurred to her that Greco was navigating this maze of warehouses, truck yards, and abandoned buildings with an ease gained only from experience. She chanced a quick glance toward him and to her dismay, found him watching her. He immediately moved his gaze back to the road ahead, but she’d clearly seen the hurt in his eyes. If only he would open up to her. She was sure she could help him.
Although she hated to admit it, Mirissa actually understood Greco’s need to push people away. When she was seven years old her mother abandoned her, and even though her father was amazing, she never got over it. She spent years keeping everyone at a safe distance in hopes of sparing herself the pain of another loss. In Mirissa’s case, though, her mother came back to her. Greco’s never had.
As they approached yet another warehouse, virtually identical to the rest, Greco slowed to a stop. Mirissa could see the tension pouring from him as he turned the ignition off and they exited the car. His stride was stiff, his shoulders pulled up to his ears, as he led her to the warehouse door.
Although she knew when they left the hotel that they were going to see the seedier side of life caused by addiction, Mirissa still wasn’t prepared for the scene they walked into. The huge room, dark despite the sunlight peeking through the broken windows, was filled with people in various stages of inebriation stumbling through an obstacle course of filthy mattresses and broken lawn chairs.
Greco wandered through the masses, not getting too close, looking for his mother. Mirissa couldn’t decide if she thought finding her here would be a good thing or a bad thing.
“Little Greco. That you?” The scraggly voice, coming from a dark corner to their left, stopped Greco in his tracks. “Boy, I ain’t seen you around here in a long time. How’s your mama doin’ these days?”
“Hi, Miss Maggie,” Greco said with a kind smile. “I was actually looking for her. You haven’t seen her?”
“No, baby. Not in a long time. I heard she got straight. She ain’t with your daddy?” Maggie shuffled herself over to where Greco stood.
“No, ma’am. It was nice to see you again.” Greco turned to leave, but Maggie grabbed his arm. For an instant Mirissa saw his eyes flare, but before she could decipher the look, it was gone. Was that fear?
“Can you spare a little something for an old friend?” Maggie held her hand out expectantly.
Greco reached into his pocket, pulled out some crumpled bills, and gently placed them in her outstretched hand. “Buy yourself a good dinner with this. No booze.”
She nodded her consent and let loose a smile that was missing several teeth. Mirissa knew where that money was really going, as she suspected Greco did, but her heart warmed at his kindness.
Once again outside in the sunlight, Greco stopped dead in his tracks. His features, usually unreadable, betrayed the pain he was feeling and Mirissa couldn’t stop herself from wrapping her arms around him.
At first, Greco left his arms hanging limply by his side, but as Mirissa refused to let go, he slowly returned the hug. He pulled her tightly to his chest and buried his face in her neck. Mirissa felt, for the first time since she’d known him, the crack in his armor opening.
A moment later, it was over. Greco extricated himself from her embrace and, without a word, they returned to the car.
As they drove along the tattered stretch of road that ran through the area, Mirissa tried to end the uncomfortable silence that enveloped them. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I know how hard it must have been.” She waited for a reply, but none came.
Slowly, Greco turned his face toward her. Mirissa thought he was going to say something, but his eyes opened wide, shocked at whatever he was looking at. “What the…?”
The impact crushed Mirissa’s door, violently hurling both of them against their restraints. Her head hit what looked to be the bumper of a large pick-up truck, now protruding through the broken window. In her last moments of consciousness, Mirissa turned to Greco, finding only a bloodied mass hunched over the steering wheel.
Chapter 7
A slow, rhythmic beeping sound brought Greco out of the fragmented dream he was having. What happened? As his mind began putting the pieces of his dream together—the car ride, the truck, the accident—he felt his heart rate speed up in time with the beeps. Mirissa!
His eyelids refused to open, weighed down by something Greco couldn’t identify. Drugs, maybe. Are we in a hospital? Still trying to force his eyes to follow his commands, Greco shifted his weight, only to find he could move neither his arms nor his legs. Fear crept through the fog that encompassed his mind, giving him the extra strength he needed to open his eyes.
The fluorescent light that hung above him caused a splintering pain in his head, so he turned his face to the side. No more than two feet away, Mirissa stared back at him from where she lay strapped to a metal gurney.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” she said with a weak smile.
No matter how hard he tried, Greco couldn’t clear his head. He felt as though he was moving and thinking in slow motion. The sedation used must have been incredibly strong to incapacitate him like this. “Where are we?”
The look in Mirissa’s eyes told him that she, too, was struggling through the drugs. “I’m not sure. The last thing I remember was getting
hit by that truck. Then I woke up here a few minutes ago.”
Greco took a deep breath, trying to gather his faculties, and began searching the room for some clue as to where they were being held. The wall to his left was bare and held no windows or doors. Beyond his feet he could see metal cabinets standing floor to ceiling, but again, no identifying marks of any kind. To his right, behind where Mirissa lay, was another bare wall. This one, though, had a door.
Greco once again focused on Mirissa. “Have you seen anyone? Heard anything through that door?”
“No one. Nothing,” she said. “Just the damn beeping.”
Greco looked at the machines that sat on metal carts beside each of them. They were the same machines that were used in hospitals to monitor a patient’s heart rate. It was then that he noticed the I.V. in his arm that was attached to a plastic bag hanging over his gurney. A quick glance confirmed that Mirissa was also receiving fluids. “You need to get out of here. Now. Can you do it?”
Mirissa took a moment to reply. “I’m not sure. I’ve only ever teleported short distances, and since I don’t know where we are…”
Greco understood the problem. Since she’d gotten this power from Daedric three months ago, she’d been able to easily teleport to anywhere she could picture in her mind, but only if it was within a mile or so of where she started. She hadn’t been able to travel any further than that. Without knowing where they were, it was impossible for Mirissa to pick a destination within that radius. “Can you use your telekinesis to open our restraints?”
“I already tried that. If they’d used ropes to tie us up, it would have worked, but they used heavy metal cuffs with a lock I haven’t figured out yet. I’m still working on it.”
Whatever drug was in those bags was strong. At full strength, Greco knew Mirissa could have obliterated their restraints.
“Greco? Is that you?”
The weak voice came from behind them, but Greco didn’t need to see her to know who the voice belonged to. “Mom?”
Greco (Book 1.5) (The Omega Group) Page 2
