Relics and Runes Anthology

by Heather Marie Adkins

  “Then, what you’ve described is supposition. I’ll expect the close of this case by next meeting.”

  34

  May 24, 2008 afternoon

  Amber dialed Ares’ phone number, but it went straight to voicemail. This was the fourth time she'd called him today. Disappointed, Amber punched the palm of her hand. “I don't know why I expected anything different from him.”

  Meanwhile, Ares sat at the steel-top table on the opposite side of Detective John Larson.

  “Marcus Pratt,” Detective Larson stated, looking over a thin folder. “You wanna tell me what you were doing at that house?”

  “Visiting a friend.”

  “Do you always barge into your friends' houses, uninvited?” Detective Larson asked. “Hands where I can see them!” Never taking his eyes off Ares, Detective Larson reached for his holstered gun. With his firearm pointed at Ares, he silently dared him to make a wrong move.

  Ares’ hands were concealed beneath the cover of the table. Slowly, he removed them with palms facing forward to show the detective he was still handcuffed.

  Seemingly inured by the detective’s aggression, he clasped his fettered hands as if shooting the breeze with a friend over coffee. This time, however, he sagely settled his hands on top of the table. Once the detective relaxed, Ares resumed where he'd left off. “The door was unlocked and I was use to letting myself in.” He smiled. “With her permission, of course.”

  Clearly, Detective Larson was riled by Ares’s calmness. Ares had an answer for everything. No telltale signs and his body language indicated that he was telling the truth.

  “Okay, give me your friend's name to corroborate what you've told me.”

  “Melinda.”

  “What? No last name?”

  Still unflappable, Ares responded, “St. John.”

  The detective tsk-tsked, content that he'd caught Ares in a lie. “Bad news for you. The residence belongs to one Juan Martinez. Your friend didn't tell you she'd moved?”

  “We lost touch.”

  "Which is it? Were you visiting a friend or you lost touch?”

  “Both.”

  Detective Larson scoffed. “I think you're lying. I don't think you were visiting a friend at all.”

  “I don't know what to tell you. It's the truth, Detective.”

  On the surface, Ares appeared serene. But beneath the facade he was all nerves and anxiety, a byproduct of becoming mortal. If it hadn't been for the steady blast of air conditioning he'd be soaking in sweat, too.

  Any nervous tendencies, then it would make him look guilty. He couldn't afford to go to prison. He wouldn't last there as a mortal. He'd hope his acting was convincing. It seemed it was working.

  With every calculated response, the detective became undone. Ares suspected the detective's diminishing composure was due to his lack of substantial evidence to hold Ares. He just might walk.

  “What do you think we'll find once we've run your fingerprints?”

  Detective Larson registered a slight gulp from Ares in response to his question. Gotcha.

  “Nothing. I'm a model citizen—”

  “With a penchant for burgling homes.”

  “I didn’t steal anything. I've done nothing wrong.”

  “I've got news for you, buddy. Those handcuffs aren't for kink. Last time I checked, breaking and entering is a crime and so is trespassing.”

  Detective Larson was on a roll when the phone rang. Wearing a wide grin, he picked up the phone. “Larson."

  His wide grin retracted, forming a line. “Sir?”

  He abruptly disconnected, dropping the receiver back into its cradle. He rounded the table and un-cuffed Ares’ hands.

  “I'm free to go?" Ares asked, rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs chaffed his skin.

  “Yea,” Detective Larson said, dejectedly waving at the exit.

  “No one's pressing charges?”

  “Will you scram before I come down with a case of amnesia and throw your ass back into that jail cell?”

  Ares nodded understanding and stalked out of the room with that steady confidence that grated on Detective Larson's nerves.

  Once outside, Ares looked at his cell phone. His stomach churned as he scrolled threw his missed calls and his blood ran cold. Four missed calls from Amber. That didn't portend well. Presumably, she'd be pissed he didn't return her calls. It made him sick to imagine this being yet another issue widening the wedge between them.

  When Ares entered Evie's condo, she was deeply engrossed in a large leather bound grimoire, one of many she'd acquired.

  “Back so soon?” Evie's asked never tearing her concentration away from the book.

  “It's like I never left,” Ares joked.

  “What's up?”

  “I'm going back to the police station.”

  This got her attention. She looked up. “Are you crazy? You were lucky they let you go the first time and you want to go back?”

  “I know, I know. That detective really had it out for me. He was ready to put me under the jail, but then he got a call from someone—maybe higher up—ordering him to let me go. I need to know who it is.”

  “I don't think this is a good idea. They may not let you off so easily if you get caught.”

  “It's a chance I'll have to take. But I was hoping for …”

  “A magical assist?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here,” she said, handing him a small hourglass.

  He looked at her puzzled.

  “It stops time. You'll have about five minutes until it runs out and restarts time again.”

  Her phone buzzed and her face lit up as she read the text message.

  “Good news?”

  “Yes. Do you know what this is?” Evie asked, tapping the book.

  “A dusty old book?”

  “Ha, ha. No, smarty pants. It’s not just any book; it’s the Promethean Grimoire.”

  “How did you get your hands on it?”

  “Well, Aphrodite’s contact, Max, moonlights for a price. He did a sweep of the cabin, and found this.”

  “He brought this to you?”

  “No, my coven and I did our thing and ta-da!” She opened the grimoire and turned to almost the last page of the book. “That’s not the best part; there’s a spell in here that can make you Olympian, again.”

  “What, like the serum?”

  “No, better. I don’t know how Prometheus got his hands on this, but these are advanced spells.”

  “Maybe he stole it.”

  “It has his namesake.”

  “Even if he didn’t use his five finger discount, how do we know it works?”

  “Baby, I don’t, but we’re running out of options.”

  “I know you’re trying to help, but I met Prometheus. He’s just a mortal.” Ares kissed Evie on the forehead. “We’ll figure this out, but I have to go.”

  “You’re always protecting everyone else, but who’s looking out for you?”

  “You are, Evie. You worry too much.” He kissed her, again. “I’ll be back soon. Lock the door.”

  It was a bold move showing his face at the police station, but Ares wanted to follow up on his hunch before he could get pulled away on another tangent by Aphrodite. He was dressed inconspicuously in plain clothes and a baseball cap. As long as Detective Larson wasn't around, Ares wasn't worried about anyone recognizing him. But he couldn't leave anything to chance, so he'd called earlier to speak with Detective Larson and was told he was out of the office and wouldn't return until a quarter after two. To give himself enough time to search, Ares came to the police station at one.

  He reviewed the bulletin board, which listed the various offices at the station. Although he didn't know who he was searching for by name, he surmised it would have to be someone on top. After all, Detective Larson received his orders from a superior, which could have been a Sergeant, Lieutenant, or Captain. He didn't have time to check all three. Captain Matthew Barton, it is. Room one ten. />
  Knowing he'd have a hard time getting past the uniformed officers, he removed the hourglass from his coat pocket and started the timer. Everything stopped. A flurry of fallen paperwork was suspended in midair. The desk clerk stood still while pouring water in a cone-shaped paper cup. The motionless drink looked like an ice sculpture, swirling in a beveled cylinder inside of the cup.

  With five minutes to spare, Ares ran down the hallway towards Captain Barton's office. To his good fortune, no one was there when he opened the door. Setting the hourglass down on the desk, he searched feverishly through the Captain's desk, file cabinets, essentially anything he set his eyes on.

  This was a terrible plan: he had no idea what he was looking for and a short amount of time in which to find it. Nevertheless, he pressed on intent on finding something useful.

  There was a photograph of a woman and child, presumably his wife and son, crouching in the sand, building a castle. Another picture taken on a golf course, a group of five men in golf gear donning caps, argyle polos, and golf clubs. There was nothing remarkable about the photo save for the one fellow who towered over the others by at least a foot.

  This was taking too long.

  Ares shot a glance at the hourglass, which had about a minute left. He snatched up the hourglass on his way out of the office. With less than a minute left, he wouldn't make it down the hall without being seen. He took the stairwell to the second floor landing, traversed the hall until he reached a second stairwell marked EXIT. He hauled ass down the steps and was covered in sweat upon reaching the first floor. He composed himself prior to using the exit.

  Ares opened the door, which conveniently placed him in the front lobby entrance just a short distance away from the last exit. He was perturbed he hadn't found anything, but at least he hadn't been caught.

  In the midst of the downpour of sweat that was still sliding down his face, he felt an icy sensation run through him. He whipped his head around, seeking a familiar face, but saw nothing amongst the bustle of officers moving about, carrying on with their work.

  Realizing he must have looked like a deranged man with bulging eyes desperately searching for an Elysian, he got out of there. If he felt the presence of another Elysian, surely the Elysian felt him, too. Maybe this plan wasn't in vain. It was a small discovery, but far better than leaving empty-handed.

  35

  May 26, 2008

  Ares sat in his Celica about a block away from the police station. His eyes trained on the entrance, watching everyone coming and going whether it was citizens filing a complaint or police officers reporting for duty. Most of it was the latter, escorting their detainees into the building for booking. Every now and then, Ares’ hopes were given rise whenever anyone remotely resembling an acquaintance of his came within his periphery. He was determined to lay his eyes on the Elysian he'd felt, but it had been days now since he posted himself outside of police headquarters and it was starting to feel like all of his efforts were for naught. Not one tingly sensation to suggest another Elysian was in his midst.

  Stifling a yawn, he started his engine and pulled off slowly driving down the street to steal one last look at the police station before capitulating. A uniformed officer was conversing with a suit and, judging by his obsequious, emphatic nodding he was subordinate to the suit. The two shifted to the left, allowing fellow officers entry to the building, which now gave Ares a clear visual of their faces. Gawking at them in stark disbelief, he nearly peed his pants. He immediately slumped down in his seat with a silly notion that his cover was blown, which was absurd because the officer and his superior weren't even looking in his general direction. They were still talking amongst themselves.

  Ares pulled over and waited for the two to go their own separate ways before getting out of his Celica. He stayed low, using the other parked cars as cover. Once the suit started up the street, Ares crossed the street still managing to keep some distance to avoid being seen. A few minutes later, he cursed beneath his breath upon discovering he'd lost the suit. He overestimated and put too much distance between the two of them, giving the man an opportunity to escape. Ares muttered a few invectives as he peered inside each store window. If necessary, he resolved to check each and every business on the block. He had waited long enough. He wasn't going to let the asshole slip through his fingers again.

  With each frazzled glimpse inside of each business, he prayed that the man hadn’t gone too far. He scurried up to the diner, and looked behind him, more out of habit than necessity, then brought his gaze back inside of the diner. There he was: the man was seated in the rear of the diner in a large red booth.

  Pretenses aside, Ares marched inside, straight to the back to the booth. Then, almost as if intuiting Ares approach, the man looked up from his phone, locked eyes with Ares, and smiled as though he were pleased to see Ares. This unnerved Ares, making him less confident as he strode to the table. Quickly Ares shook off the bout of anxiety, generated by the unexpected greeting, and continued his advance toward the man.

  The man finished his text, then set his phone back down on the table to give Ares his full attention.

  “Nothing to say, huh?" Ares snarled.

  “Hello Ares.”

  “Hello Father.”

  “Ares, join me for a bite.”

  “You can't be serious.”

  “Absolutely, I'm famished, and, I'm sure being confined to your car for several hours has depleted you. So please eat something.”

  “No, I'm not playing this game with you, Father. You can't just waltz in here and act like nothing's happened. It's been a thousand years. I deserve an explanation. We all do. We thought you were dead.”

  “I admit I shouldn’t have left you, but it wasn’t by choice.”

  “Is that all or do you care to expand?”

  Zeus's phone vibrated twice. He picked it up, making a one second signal as he checked his text message. Ares glowered at him, but Zeus regarded him as he would a petulant child. “I have to take this, son.” He punched in his message with a facile dexterity which conveyed he was tech-savvy with the devices. “There, done. Now, where were we?”

  Ares was livid. “You don't even care, do you?”

  “Son, that's not true. Some things transpired that were beyond my control—”

  “Such as?” Ares prodded.

  “Dad, are you coming?” A teenage boy asked, his tread slowing upon realizing the disruption his unannounced entrance had caused. His perspicacity was confirmed when met with his father's reproachful expression.

  “Lucas, I asked you to meet me at the car,” Zeus replied.

  “I know, but it's hot outside and I was tired of waiting.” Lucas said, looking at Ares, “Who is this?”

  Lucas was tall and had quite the muscular build for someone of his age, indubitably due to his Olympian genes inherited from his father. He looked exactly like a younger version of Ares with the same dark crown of curls and light green eyes which suspiciously appraised Ares.

  “Lucas, don't be rude,” Zeus chided.

  “I'm sorry,” Lucas mumbled with chagrin.

  Zeus tossed him the keys. “Take it for a spin and pick me up in ten.”

  Lucas's eyes lit up. “Thanks, Dad!”

  Zeus watched his son run out of the diner before returning back to his conversation with his elder son.

  “You son of a bitch.”

  “Ares, if I didn't care about you I wouldn't have released you from jail.”

  “Are you expecting gratitude? Forgive me, Father, but there's a little issue of your leaving your family behind that needs to be addressed.”

  “I understand you want answers—"

  “Why, Father? Tell me….why?”

  “What about Corday?”

  “Excuse me?” Ares wondered why Zeus was all over the place with his line of questioning; maybe a ploy to disorient him. Well, it wasn't going to work.

  “She was your best friend—still is—but she wasn't around. I thought the two of you
would never part, but for over a millennium she was not by your side. What happened?”

  “Leave her out of this. What is your point?”

  “Son, think. Where was she during your time in Greece? Or your time in Africa?”

  Ares fell silent, aware for the second time that there was a period of time in which his memory was blurry and he had no recollection of Corday until after the fall. “I don't remember.”

  “That is my point, son. I don't remember, either. There's a gap in my memory, too, which spans shortly after ascension up to a little over millennium for which I cannot account. So, yes, I admit I left you, but it was not by my own volition.”

  “If you have nothing to hide, then why didn't you introduce me to your son—my brother?”

  “Because he doesn't know who I am, at least, not the Olympian part. When I regained my memories of you, I was alone. I assumed the worse and thought the Quorum had captured and executed you. I thought you were all dead. I know, right now, it seems like I moved on, but I grieved the loss of my beloved family for years.”

  “But you set me free. So you had to have known I was alive.” Ares wasn't letting up. Ares hit him with a series of questions in rapid succession. He didn’t want to give Zeus any time to think of any lies.

  “Son, I was at the police station filling out paperwork and then, I felt the presence of an Elysian. It shocked me, because your broadcast came in so clearly that it felt as though you were standing right beside me. And then I knew…I mean, I’d hoped…

  “There were only a few places you could have been: in reception, booking, a cell, or the interrogation room. Since the interrogation room was on the same floor as my office that was my first stop. I was floored, seeing my son, who I’d thought perished, on the other side of the two way mirror. At which point, I had no compunctions about pulling rank to get you released.”

  When Ares managed to speak again, he said, “How did you know about Greece and all of the other places I've travelled?”