Pandora (Book 3) (The Omega Group)

by Andrea Domanski

  Chapter 5

  Flip scrambled up the perfectly manicured grass that covered the excruciatingly steep path to Ares’s palace. Getting from one place to another without his powers wasn’t so bad with the humans, what with their awesome automobiles. On Mount Olympus, where every estate was separated by miles of gardens, it was horrible.

  When he and Daedric returned to the home of the gods with the opened box and Eris freed, Ares flew into a rampage. As though it had somehow been Flip’s fault that the humans dropped the box, Ares punished him by stripping him of his powers. Not for the first time, either.

  The higher gods generally got their kicks from tormenting the lesser ones. It seemed to be their favorite source of entertainment since Zeus decreed they could no longer mess with the humans. When Zeus made the announcement, every lesser god cringed in anticipation of the suffering they knew would come.

  None more so than Flip.

  Born to two lesser, virtually unknown gods, Flip clung firmly to the bottom rung of the deity ladder. Add to that the fact that he stood a foot shorter than everyone else—including the females—and didn’t possess the beauty usually ascribed to the gods, and he quickly became the butt of everyone’s jokes.

  His name certainly didn’t make things any easier. Every god’s name had a meaning. Adonis meant “lord.” Prometheus meant “forethought.” Hades meant “the unseen.” Flip, on the other hand, meant “friends with horses.” He’d stopped counting thousands of years earlier the amount of times his name’s meaning had been twisted into something depraved by the other gods.

  But today Flip would be the hero. He’d spent the afternoon in the great hall, trying to blend in with the furniture as Zeus regaled the crowd with yet another tale of his victory over the Titans, to which everyone politely laughed and applauded at the appropriate times. His story was interrupted when Chronos barged through the doors, wielding an enormous scythe.

  “I hope you have good reason for this disruption.” Zeus glared at the other god.

  “A human has crossed the time barrier. I thought it might be more important than another one of your self-aggrandizing lectures.” Although a long beard covered half of his face, he couldn’t hide the hatred in his eyes.

  “Impossible. No human has that ability.” Zeus dismissed Chronos with a wave of his hand and returned his attention to the adoring crowd.

  Chronos threw a handful of black powder at Zeus’s feet. “See for yourself.” The powder swirled into the air, creating a void of blackness the same height as the god and twice that wide. The image of a young girl, tall with long black hair and olive skin, standing in the midst of some old ruins appeared. As quickly as it came into focus, the image changed. A battlefield from long ago layered over the scene, complete with all the sights and sounds of the time.

  “So, that is Artemis’s secret weapon,” Zeus said with pride. “Don’t worry, Chronos. The bounds of time haven’t been disrupted by a normal human. She’s an Amazon, and if I know Artemis, she is much more than that.”

  Flip’s jaw dropped as he watched the spectacle unfold. The girl crossing the time barrier wasn’t what had him captivated. The key that hung around her neck, however, was.

  He’d hurried from the hall as fast as he could. Now, struggling to catch his breath before knocking on the golden doors of Ares’s palace, Flip considered the best way to share the news of his discovery. The god of war promised many times to compensate him for his services but had yet to follow through on any of them. His punishments came quickly, but his rewards rarely did.

  Without warning, Flip was teleported to Ares’s library. I hate when he does that. Thousands of leather-bound tomes lined the walls, most likely never opened by their owner. The room had become the god’s favorite place to address his underlings. The pretentious setting added to the intimidation its inhabitants endured.

  “Why are you skulking outside my home?” The deep baritone voice rumbled through Flip’s chest.

  Standing as tall as his stature would allow, Flip spoke with as much bravado as he could muster. “I have awesome news. I was hanging out at the great hall earlier and—”

  Ares looked at him with disgust, raising his hand to cut him off. “Don’t speak as the humans do. It’s difficult enough to remember you’re a god without you using their ridiculous colloquialisms.”

  “I know who the key-holder is,” Flip said flatly.

  A wolfish grin tugged at Ares’s lips as his eyebrows rose. “Is that so? Tell me, horse companion, how did you come across this information?”

  Flip clenched his jaw at the familiar insult. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know who it is.”

  Ares strode around him, circling like a predator sizing up his prey. “I’m waiting.”

  Flip swallowed against the lump that had embedded itself in his throat and took a deep breath. “Not until you make good on your promise.”

  Ares stared straight through him before erupting in laughter. The walls shook with every bellow, sending books clattering to the floor. “Well, look who finally grew a pair. I tell you what: you tell me who the key-holder is, and I’ll give you back your powers.”

  Flip’s heart swelled at the small victory and it took every ounce of his willpower to suppress the smile threatening to sprout. “Not good enough. I want you to fulfill the promise you made to me when all of this started.” He knew he’d pushed his luck, but that kind of bargaining power wasn’t likely to land in his lap again.

  Some of the humor seemed to leave Ares’s tone as he spoke. “I will return your powers now. After your information proves accurate, assuming it does, I will grant your request.”

  Flip, about to offer his agreement to the terms, was hurled to the floor by a jolt of energy.

  Ares, brow furrowed and fist clenched, pierced him with an evil glare. “If your information proves inaccurate in any way, your misery will be boundless throughout eternity. Do I make myself clear?”

  Flip nodded vigorously, unable to bring himself to speak as he scrambled to his feet. A warm tingle spread outward from his chest until it enveloped his entire body. The return of his powers eased his anxiety and he once again stood tall. “It’s a young Amazon girl with long black hair. She’s referred to as Artemis’s secret weapon. She’s wearing the key on a chain around her neck.”

  “Daedric!” Ares bellowed.

  Flip jumped back, startled by Ares’s unexpected outburst. The news he thought would make the god happy—at least as happy as the god of war could ever be—seemed to be having the opposite effect. When his half-human son popped into the room next to him wearing nothing but a robe, Flip understood the anger.

  “What is it? I was in the middle of—” Daedric started.

  “I don’t care.” Ares glowered at the man in the same way he often glowered at Flip. “It seems one of your many mistakes is coming back to haunt us.”

  Daedric looked genuinely confused at the statement. “I’m not sure what you mean, Father.”

  “Stop calling me that. I created you for a purpose, and being your father wasn’t it.” Ares turned to Flip. “Why don’t you tell him what you just told me?”

  After clearing his throat and taking a few deep breaths, Flip began. “I was at the great hall earlier, and—”

  “Oh, for the love of … skip to the important part,” Ares growled.

  “The key-holder is a young Amazon girl that is Artemis’s secret weapon.” Flip spewed the words out as quickly as he could.

  All color drained from Daedric’s face as he dropped onto the armrest of a beautiful leather sofa. “It can’t be,” he said, more to himself than anyone else.

  A sweep of Ares’s arm and the sofa disappeared, causing Daedric to drop painfully to the tile floor. “It can be, and it is.”

  Flip sidestepped to the edge of the room, wanting to distance himself from the sputtering Daedric. For once, Ares raged at someone besides him, and he wanted to keep it that way. As usual, the other occupants of the room see
med to forget his presence as they argued. If one good thing came from being at the bottom of the hierarchy, that was it. Flip frequently found himself privy to all sorts of information he shouldn’t have, simply because nobody cared enough to notice him.

  The knowledge he gained now was priceless.

  Apparently, Daedric had spent most of his adult life putting together a plan for world domination—something to do with controlling the oil humans needed to survive. The young Amazon stopped him. Not just that, but she’d actually captured the demi-god, and he had to be rescued by Ares.

  Flip drooled over the thought of all the ways he could use this information against Daedric the next time the blow-hard half-breed talked down to him. The one-liners being scripted in his head almost caused him to miss the most important piece of information being discussed.

  Ares was having difficulty controlling his sister. She’d been locked away in the box for five thousand years and wanted revenge. Eris would lay waste to the humans, which aligned pretty well with what Ares had planned. But she also wanted to decimate the gods, and the first deity on her hit list was Zeus.

  “Flip!” Ares roared as though calling him in from another room.

  To keep up the charade of him not being present during their private argument, Flip teleported to Ares’s side. “You called, sir?”

  “I have a job for you.”

  Chapter 6

  Pella felt completely different at night. The majesty of the ruins in the light of day was replaced in darkness by a downright creepy feel. Mirissa passed through the remains of the city, giving a wide berth to the mosaic floors. The only security on site was stationed outside the crime scene and paid no any attention to the surrounding area.

  As was the plan, Mirissa’s parents led the others to the opposite side of the palace. If security became alerted to her presence, they would create a disturbance to draw away their attention. The hard part for Mirissa would be teleporting to the proper location. Having never seen the inside of the tunnel, she had no image to focus on as her destination.

  She’d studied the photos of the palace from pamphlets meant for tourists. If all went well, she’d be able to jump—her new term for teleporting—to a room on top of the tunnel. From there, she’d have to trust her abilities to get her inside.

  Still holding the pamphlet, Mirissa closed her eyes and focused. When she opened them, she stood in what remained of the outer palace building.

  So pictures work. Good to know.

  From what they’d seen earlier that day, the entrance to the tunnel lay in the foundation under the east wall. Other than that, they had no information. She assumed it angled downward into the earth, as the likelihood of a hidden chamber going unnoticed above ground was slim. She thought it also a safe bet that the tunnel ran in a relatively straight line, as there would be no reason for the original architect to do otherwise.

  With that in mind, Mirissa put her back to the east wall, at a spot three yards from the corner, and walked several paces forward. If she’d calculated correctly, the tunnel should run directly below her. After a few calming breaths, Mirissa once again closed her eyes. Please don’t let me materialize in rock.

  She didn’t, although the solid wall stood mere inches from her. Shaking off the shiver created by her close call, Mirissa fumbled down the dark corridor. She didn’t dare use her flashlight, as its glow would attract unwanted attention. Counting her steps, she estimated the tunnel ran at least the length of the palace and descended to a depth of about twenty feet.

  When the tunnel finally opened into a small chamber, Mirissa went to work. She pulled a blanket borrowed from her hotel room out of her bag and, using double-sided tape, hastily draped it across the corridor opening. Not the prettiest solution, but it would get the job done.

  She flipped on her flashlight and began searching the room. Three of the walls were flat and uninteresting, but the fourth was a different story. A small door, located in the center of the rear wall, opened into another chamber. As she moved to take a closer look, her right foot stepped on something soft. Her first thought, irrational as it might have been, was that the police had somehow left the dead body there. The beam from her flashlight proved otherwise.

  A pile of dust the size of a throw pillow now had her boot print embedded in it. Needing to remove the evidence of her presence, Mirissa knelt down and reshaped the pile with her hands. Why someone had bothered to sweep a five-thousand-year-old floor in the first place escaped her, but how so much dust and debris had accumulated in a closed room seemed even more of a mystery.

  Refocusing on the task at hand, Mirissa poked her head though the small door. Another chamber, smaller than the first, sat empty. She crinkled her nose at the remnants of a foul odor and stepped inside. Much like the other room, most of the surfaces were unmarked. A rectangular discoloration in the center of the stone floor seemed the only indication anything had been there at all. Measuring about two and a half feet long and one and a half wide, the stain was several shades darker than the surrounding area and contained some sort of etching.

  Mirissa took out her phone and started filming. She recorded every inch of the room, taking special care to get close-ups of the discolored area. When she finished, she did the same with the outer chamber. Satisfied she’d gotten everything she could get, she doused her light and removed the blanket.

  With no need for her to make the trek back up the corridor, she simply closed her eyes and pictured the outer building in her mind. When she opened them, she stood topside again.

  But this time she wasn’t alone.

  Before she could jump back to the ruins, a head peeked around the door opening. The man was odd looking, with a long face and eyes set a bit too close together. He casually stepped into the room and confronted her.

  “You shouldn’t be here, miss,” he said with the hint of a Greek accent.

  “Oh, sorry. I was just looking around. I didn’t think it would be a problem.” Mirissa hunched her shoulders so as to lessen their obvious height difference and, hopefully, put the man at ease. “Are you a security guard for the excavation?”

  “No. I’m an archeologist. I worked here up until a few days ago.”

  “I see. Okay, well, it was nice to meet you.” Mirissa stepped around the little man and headed for the door.

  “Wait. Can you tell me what happened here? There are policemen surrounding my dig site, but they won’t talk to me.”

  Mirissa turned around. If he’d been one of the archeologists on Daedric’s team, he might have information about the chamber. “There’s been a murder. An archeologist. The news said his name was Jonathon Stapleton. Did you know him?”

  The man squeezed the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “Yes, I did. He led our group. I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but he was a bit of an ass.”

  A giggle escaped Mirissa before she had the chance to stifle it. “I’m sorry. I take it you weren’t close, then.”

  “Definitely not. He fired me three days ago. I came back today to see if he would reconsider, but I guess that ship has flown the coop.”

  “Sailed,” Mirissa corrected. “What were you guys excavating?”

  “Um, nothing special, really. Just more ruins.” The man shifted his weight from his left foot to his right and didn’t meet her eyes while he spoke.

  Mirissa’s eyes narrowed. “If you say so. I’m Mirissa, by the way.”

  “Phillip Petrakis, but people call me Flip.” He shook her outstretched hand and passed her a business card.

  “Well, again, it was nice to meet you, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Flip’s brow furrowed as though he hadn’t understood her last comment. “Of course. You, too.”

  Mirissa smiled as she wandered over to where the rest of her team waited, keeping an eye on the direction Flip had gone.

  “What’s got you smiling?” Greco asked.

  “I just met the oddest little man. But I think he might be our best ally.”


  Chapter 7

  Mirissa’s intuition went on high alert as the team entered the bustling lobby of their hotel. Throngs of people surrounded each of the small television sets installed throughout the space. The harried-looking news anchor babbled about something that appeared to be very important, although Mirissa couldn’t understand a word of what he said.

  When the image changed to a satellite photo, the language barrier vanished.

  “My room. Now.” Mirissa’s mother hurried to the stairs with the others in tow.

  “Was that what I think it was?” Orano asked when they entered the small hotel suite.

  Myrine grabbed her laptop and pulled up the CNN website. A familiar voice filled the room.

  ********

  CNN Special Report

  Meteorologists worldwide are reeling after the sudden appearance of six storms over the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. No explanation for this unprecedented event has been forthcoming; however, the recent atmospheric disturbances are being investigated as the possible cause.

  The storms, each currently rated as a category one hurricane, aren’t following the natural travel patterns normally expected. Of the three hurricanes over the Pacific, named Apollo, Balthasar, and Chloe, one appears to be headed west toward the Chinese or Russian coastline. The other two have an easterly course that has them approaching the west coasts of both the United States and South America.

  The Atlantic storm, Desmond, is making its way to Africa, while Eloise looks destined to hit the Eastern Seaboard of the United States. Fatima, the last of the storms, is expected to make landfall somewhere in Europe.

  Although not much is known about the development of these systems, speculation runs rampant as to what their effect will be. According to expert opinion, all of the storms are tightly formed, meaning they will most definitely increase in strength as they near their destinations.