A Season of Gods and Witches

by Bloome, Alice

  My eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  His lips twitched. “You don’t believe me?”

  “The evidence suggests the opposite,” I answered honestly, thinking back to how he’s never tried to order me around – and that’s with him being a god, too. “And besides, you can’t be seriously worried about Jason and me, can you?”

  “That depends.” Paul’s tone was thoughtful. “Which answer do you think is likely to persuade you to cancel on your date?”

  A choked laugh escaped me. “I’m not joking—-”

  “Neither am I.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “All I know,” Paul said lazily, “is that I won’t let another man take you away from me.”

  The words were completely unexpected – I had never imagined myself as the type to inspire such feelings, and I found myself searching his gaze, looking for a clue to tell me that he was simply teasing me again.

  But he was not.

  A wildfire of emotions swept through me, and I bit my lip hard while I struggled to keep my sanity. Logic told me that whatever Paul and I had was bound to fail – there were just so many things against us, so many fundamental differences between us that we might as well be from different species born in different times and different universes.

  And yet...

  When Paul’s hands went to my waist, it was the other half of me that won, the silly, romantic fool that made me unresisting to his touch and allowed him to pull me close to him as he leaned back against the couch.

  I found myself lying fully on top of him, heart racing at the heated closeness of our bodies, breath catching when his fingers threaded through my hair – and when Paul pulled my head down for a kiss, I could only close my eyes and let the magic happen.

  The kiss was so much deeper now, but it was sweeter, too, more tender, like every time we kissed, we found ourselves needing each other more. Clothes melted away as our touches became more feverish, and the air transformed into a sensual fire that burned away inhibitions, fears, even common sense –

  “Blair.” Paul’s ragged voice had me crashing back to earth, and an involuntary little cry of protest escaped me when he gently lifted me away and deposited me at the other end of the couch. “We need to stop, sweetheart.”

  I couldn’t help shaking my head, asking dazedly, “Why?” My lips still felt swollen by his kisses, and my shaking body still ached for his touch.

  “Because it’s not the right time yet.” After zipping up my pantsuit from the back, he pulled away, a harsh sigh escaping him when his hazel gaze met mine. “If you keep looking at me like that, sweetheart—-” His handsome face tensed as he ran a hand through the golden locks of his hair, which now looked mussed and a hundred times sexier. “There’s nothing more I want than to make love to you, Blair. But I can’t. I won’t. Not until you’re completely sure of me.”

  For one long moment, I could only stare at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. Was he...was he asking that we hold out – until we said three little words to each other?

  I could only shake my head helplessly. “You know that should be my line, don’t you?”

  His lips twitched. “Are you suggesting that women have the monopoly on not wanting meaningless sex?”

  “You do know I’m aware of your history as a libertine, don’t you?” I couldn’t help pointing out. “I’ve read the real myths, the one from Clio’s library–”

  But he only shrugged this off, looking completely unconcerned. “They were the reason why I realized meaningless sex is what it is – meaningless.”

  “Ha!” I shot him a warning look, saying, “If you’re going to say I’m different next—-”

  “And you are.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Paul!”

  “But you are, Blair.” His voice was gentle. “And you know this, too.”

  Whatever wisecrack I was half-contemplating to dish out was forgotten, with his last words reminding me that I had made the same mistake again. I had forgotten who he was, and what not telling the truth did to him.

  “Do you really believe we’ll last?” I heard myself ask wistfully.

  “If I didn’t believe it, we’d be in your bedroom right now.”

  Oh.

  “When we take the next step in our relationship, it’s not just because you’re sure. It’s because you also know I want forever with you – and you want it with me, too.”

  Chapter Eight

  A 6AM text had me returning to the Wilsons’ home early in the day, but this time it was Amy’s mother who answered the door. She was the older, harder version of her daughter’s, with the same long hair, the same taste in clothes, and even the same style of eyeglasses except for –

  The eyes, I realized. Only now did it occur to me that while the daughter’s eyes were blue, Annabelle’s was a cold dark brown.

  A scan on Mrs. Wilson came back with two words once again flashing in red – NOT SAFE – and I bit back a sigh of frustration. Gaea bewitched, but this was going to be one difficult interview. The older woman had a hostile air about her ever since I arrived, and I wasn’t surprised at all when she launched into angry speech the moment we were in her living room.

  “Are you here because you think my daughter has anything to do with Venus’ death?”

  “Not at all, Mrs. Wilson. It’s simply protocol that we speak with people who know Venus, and your daughter shares English class with the victim.” I paused. “Amy was also one of the last people to see her alive—-”

  “Are you insinuating something?” Mrs. Wilson snapped.

  Ignoring this, I asked Amy gently, “Do you remember the day Venus visited your workplace?”

  Amy started to speak, but her mother’s rude snort cut her off. “Of course she remembers. It’s the same day Amy fell sick. When you talk to that woman Demi, you tell her I’m still thinking of contacting FDA about her bakery.”

  Good luck with that, I thought. One snap of the hearth goddess’ fingers, and she could have FDA burned to the ground – alongside Mrs. Wilson’s home, too.

  “We’ve lab technicians running tests on everything the bakery sold that day, but in the meantime–” I glanced at Amy. “Do you think there’s any person who might have had a grudge against you and Venus?”

  “Well, there’s this contest in school—-”

  “Mr. and Ms. Silver Mist High?”

  Amy was visibly surprised. “You know about it?”

  “I noticed some students hanging up a banner of the event while I was at your school. I believe Venus’ in the running to win it?”

  “She’s one of the finalists, along with two other girls, and well – me.”

  “Congratulations.” I was proud of myself for not betraying my astonishment.

  “Thank you.” Amy’s tone, however, was awkward. “The list of finalists just went out today, and a friend at school told me I was on it. I honestly think someone only put my name in as a prank, and I have no idea why so many people still voted for me—-”

  “Amy, for heaven’s sake!” Mrs. Wilson’s tone was querulous.

  “I’m just being honest,” Amy mumbled.

  While I held my silence throughout the entire exchange, I couldn’t help studying Amy’s features a little bit more closely, thinking how if she just had the right clothes –

  “Why are you looking at my daughter like that?” Annabelle demanded. “Are you thinking the same thing, too? You don’t think she deserves to be a finalist?”

  “N-Not at all,” I stammered, stunned to find myself on the defensive. “I was just thinking that with the right clothes—-” I noticed the way Annabelle’s lip curled and stopped speaking. “So you’re one of those types, too, aren’t you?”

  “Types?”

  “You think a woman can both be beautiful and smart,” Annabelle sneered.

  A frown marred my forehead. “I don’t see why it’s not possible—-”

  The older woman th
rew her head back with a cold laugh. “How surprisingly naïve of you, Agent Vavrin. You’re either a follower of Aphrodite or Athena – you can’t worship at two temples at the same time and have the best of both worlds.”

  I pinned a smile on my face. “You’re right.” And she was, but right now that wasn’t the point. All I could think of was that the agency scanner somehow got it wrong. Maybe I was reading too much into this, maybe Mrs. Wilson was just a huge fan of Greek mythologies, maybe this had nothing to do at all with the case – maybe it was all of those things, but my gut instincts told me otherwise, and I knew I had to do something about it.

  Ten minutes later, and I was driving back to headquarters as fast as the speed limit allowed, my mind racing as fast as the service car that Paul had managed to persuade me to use. It was that...or let his immortal soldiers – disguised as “ordinary” INTERPOL detectives – tail me every minute of my working day.

  An elegant, antebellum mansion rose up in view as I slowed down to take one of the few vacant slots in the parking lot. Officially speaking, the historic house was the headquarters of Silver Mist Heritage Society. Unofficially, however, it served as headquarters of all division offices of CSI, CIA, and other crime-fighting agencies for non-humans.

  “Nice to see you back on your feet, Blair,” Mary Lou greeted from behind the reception counter. “Also – Dike says she wants to see you as soon as you came in.”

  “Got it.” I thanked the tree nymph for the message and quickly raced up the stairs to get to CSI’s division director’s office.

  “Come in.”

  I slid into one of the two swivel chairs across her desk and waited patiently for my superior to finish writing what seemed to be like a summary report. She was a statuesque brunette, with haughty features that made her look like the younger, prettier, and scarier sister of Cruella De Vil.

  In truth, however –

  “An update on your current case, Agent Vavrin?”

  Her brisk, blunt voice almost made me jump in my seat. “Umm, yes.” I began rattling off the facts even as I berated myself for always acting like a kid caught with half of my hand in the cookie jar with the Daughter of Justice. “Based on the surveillance footage tech support reviewed, the spell that made the lemonade serve as an instrument for delivering the poison wasn’t cast during the brewing process.”

  “And your conclusion?”

  “Analysis lab is running tests on the cauldron used during the brewing process. They expect to have results anytime today.”

  “What about your interview this morning?”

  I straightened in my seat. “I’m hoping to speak to tech support about it,” I admitted. “The agency scanner identified the family as NOT SAFE, but—-” I gnawed on my lip. “Is it possible for the scanner to get it wrong?”

  “It is.”

  Suffice to say, that was not what I had expected to hear, and I could only stare at my supervisor blankly. “It is?”

  “It’s not something we broadcast, but yes, our scanning system isn’t infallible. Records we keep may also be magically falsified, the same way human criminals are able to use a variety of methods to take on another identity.” She paused. “You believe one or both Wilsons know about our world?”

  “I have reason to believe it, yes.”

  “And you think it might have something to do with our case?”

  “Yes, I believe—-”

  “Then what are you still doing here?”

  Errr...what?

  “But you asked that I see you,” I stammered.

  Dike didn’t seem to hear me. “You’re wasting my time. Go follow that lead.” When all I could do was stare at her, she growled, “Now, Agent Vavrin.”

  Riiiiight.

  I quickly scrambled to my feet just as my supervisor gestured imperiously towards the door. I winced as I heard it swing open, realizing I was virtually being kicked out of Dike’s office.

  What in the world just happened? Dike was a lot of things, but a moody immortal warrior she definitely was not. Maybe Daughters of the Horae still had menopause even though they were hundreds of years old?

  I turned around to leave and immediately had the shock of my life.

  “Surprise!”

  Party poppers went off like fireworks, showering confetti in the air just as Maria and Tristan, two of my closest friends in the agency, whipped out a banner.

  CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR PROMOTION!

  And behind them was a smiling Paul, looking dashingly handsome and effortlessly elegant in another one of his dark suits, and armed with a bouquet of roses in his hand.

  Chapter Nine

  As soon as the thirty-minute recess break Dike allowed us to enjoy slices of Greek semolina cake expired, CSI’s New England division director immediately ordered us to get back to work and I hurried down to our analysis lab, where results from tests done on the cauldron were waiting.

  “Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do with your time?” I asked Paul awkwardly. Maybe he was used to drawing attention, but I wasn’t, and so all of these agents sneaking looks at the way Paul again had his hand on my back?

  Not my cup of ambrosia, I thought with a sigh, and never will be.

  “Just ignore them, Blair,” Paul murmured under his breath.

  “They’re looking at us like we’re an inter-species couple,” I muttered. And this was only because they didn’t think a lowly Level 1 neophyte agent like me deserved to date a high-ranking detective of Interdisciplinary Phalanx of Olympus. What more when they ever found out Paul also happened to be an Olympian as well?”

  “Blair?”

  I shoved all unnecessary thoughts aside when I realized we had already reached the analysis lab, and Paul had been holding the door open for me for the last ten seconds. “Sorry,” I said with a grimace.

  Going inside, a lab technician who introduced herself as Wednesday escorted us to one of the tiny glass-walled booths lining the hallway, and inside it was the cauldron we had obtained from Demi’s kitchen.

  “SOP required us to do a complete scan of anything sent in for testing, and a good thing we did since the cauldron’s bottom turned out to be laced with aconite.” Seeing me start at her words, she asked gravely, “You know what it is, right?”

  I nodded. In Greek mythology, aconite figured largely in Hercules’ Twelve Labors, with the plant believed to have first sprung from the moment Cerberus’ glandulae salivariae – otherwise known as spit – dribbled to earth’s soil. Nowadays, people knew the plant by many other names – queen of poisons, devil’s helmet, wolf’s bane – and they had also concocted an even greater number of urban myths around it.

  None of it, however, was any close to the truth, which was that aconite was the equivalent of any radioactive material to individuals with magic.

  “The sheer presence of aconite suggests that the cauldron was instrumental in delivering the poison to its target. It’s a commonly used tactic to tamper with evidence once law enforcement agents get really close.” Wednesday smirked. “Maybe that works on other divisions, but not here.”

  I held my breath. “Then you were able to find something?”

  “Not as much as I wished,” the technician admitted with a grimace, “but hopefully just enough to give you headway with your case.” She handed me a sheet of paper, saying, “With the aconite having several days to do its damage, we were only able to recover this.”

  ... F.C.E. THAT ... ... ... ....SAND .HIPS

  I gaped down at the colored photograph printed on the paper. “Is this some kind of code?” The spaces in between the letters differed in length, suggesting that they were for missing words to complete either a sentence or a phrase, or maybe even a warning or a threat?

  “It’s a tagline, isn’t it?” It was the first time Paul spoke, and both Wednesday and I turned to him with shared bemusement.

  “Are you saying this is the murderer’s calling card?”

  “Not quite,” Paul answered. “Technically,
this is from the spell caster – or if we were to follow your analogy, then it’s the calling card from the illegal arms dealer.” He took the sheet from me, saying, “Let me help you with this. INTERPOL has an extensive database used by spell casters who dabble with this type of magic.”

  THE MEMORIES OF PAUL’S spine-tingling goodbye kiss by the entrance steps of our office still lingered in my mind as I made my way to Panda’s, and I fought hard not to blush as I recalled the other little things that happened on the side. CIA agent Roseanne dela Cruz gaping at our after-hours PDA, Maria and Tristan not acting like the professional Level 5 agents they were as the couple actually hooted and honked their horn before driving away, and then there was Paul himself, too –

  Upon pulling away, he had flashed me his dazzling smile before saying pleasantly, “Remember who you belong to when you have dinner later.”

  Gaea bewitched.

  Just remembering his unashamed display of possessiveness and jealousy had me flustered, so much so that my cheeks were still pink when Jason met me by the diner’s doors, which of course was completely misunderstood by more than one party.

  “You’re blushing,” Jason observed with a wicked grin. “Have you finally noticed what’s been under your nose all this time?”

  Before I could answer him, an ancient satyr suddenly inserted himself between us with a loud harrumph. “More distance, boy,” he advised Jason in a cantankerous tone. “This lady’s taken.”

  But Jason only grinned. “Nice to see you again, Pan.”

  As the two men talked, I noticed how many of Silver Mist’s local population of single women were gawking at Jason like some kind of eye candy. And I supposed he was extremely attractive, with his dark good looks and his sophisticated air. But as far as I were concerned, he was still a far cry from Paul –

  “Blair?” Jason was looking at me questioningly. “Pan’s agreed to give us the room at the back. Shall we go?”

  “Umm, yes, of course.”

  Although the place’s official blueprints only showed a restroom located at one end of the diner, a knocking spell allowed us to access a private function room hidden from human eyes by magic.