Urban Mythic: Thirteen Novels of Adventure and Romance, featuring Norse and Greek Gods, Demons and Djinn, Angels, Fairies, Vampires, and Werewolves in the Modern World

by C. Gockel

  ‘How on earth is she going to do that? Who would believe they’re living with the Invisible Man?’

  Hermes sighed. ‘I’m just saying I think this is a bad idea.’

  ‘You’ve already said that,’ Coop responded, ‘several times. Anyway, what were you calling about?’

  ‘I thought you’d want to know what was going on with Mr Sunshine.’

  ‘Apollo?’

  ‘Who else? He went round to your girl’s house this morning and pretty much went crazy when she wasn’t there. He’s got half of his minions out looking for her. They’ll trace her to that flight sooner or later.’

  ‘Yeah, that doesn’t mean he’ll work out she’s with me, though. I want him to enjoy the feeling of desperation that she might have disappeared before I move on to phase two.’

  ‘Do I want to know what phase two is?’

  ‘Probably not,’ said Coop cheerfully. ‘One more thing before you go, though, Herm.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s not my girl. She’s just a means to an end.’ And with that, Coop hung up.

  Chapter Ten

  The next day, Skye prepared her own breakfast and sat eating it at the large kitchen table rather than taking it down to the pool. She was here to work, she told herself firmly, not enjoy the Greek weather and laze around as if she were on holiday. Mr Kamadeva had left her a new list of things to do, which she glanced over as she ate.

  To begin with, there was a pile of yellowing handwritten letters in some incomprehensible language which he had asked her to type up. They sat on the table, at least an inch thick. Skye wasn’t bad at touch-typing but it would take her at least the entire morning to complete the lot. After that, she was to bid for an ancient samurai sword which was going under the hammer at Sotheby’s in England. Finally, she had to purchase a plot of land in Sicily.

  Deciding to prioritise, Skye figured she could work on the typing at any time and that the auction wouldn’t take place for at least another three hours, so the land purchase would probably be the best starting point. When she opened up her laptop and searched for it, however, she discovered it was an area of particular historical significance. There wasn’t much visible on the land now, other than some very old stones marking out the site of an ancient temple, but the Italian government were trying to buy it themselves to preserve it for future generations.

  She wrote out a note for her employer, detailing what she’d found out about the place and advised him that it might be worth reconsidering his purchase. Then she took the laptop into another room which was set up as a study and started on the typing.

  A few hours later, her fingers starting to cramp, she took a break and returned to the kitchen to make a coffee. She saw immediately that her employer had written further instructions underneath her own note. Skye was confused. The study looked out onto the corridor which led from the east wing to the kitchen and she could have sworn there hadn’t been so much as a shadow pass by. It was possible she’d been so engrossed in her work that he’d walked past and she’d not noticed but still…

  Shrugging to herself, Skye read his latest words.

  The land is interesting to me. I think it would be a good site for a new resort to encourage more tourists into the area. This will help boost the local economy. Please proceed with the purchase.

  She frowned. Did he mean he was going to bulldoze what was left of the temple ruins in order to build a hotel? Unimpressed at his lack of social responsibility, she scribbled:

  I agree the land is interesting and the local area could do with some investment in order to boost the economy. However, as a site of historical significance, perhaps it would be best to find an alternative location for your plans.

  Back in the study, she did some research and came up with a number of places ripe for development. They’d probably be better alternatives because they had improved transportation links and were more picturesque – and therefore more appealing to the tourist market. She wrote out a list and put it back in the kitchen.

  When Coop came back and read her words, he grinned. He was only interested in buying the land because it used to house a temple which had been dedicated to his mother. Buying it would make her furious and he felt it was time he got a little of his own back on her for ganging up against him with Zeus. Not that being invisible was proving to be any hardship, of course. And he had to admit, he was slightly taken back that his apparently shy and mousy little house guest was taking him on and arguing the toss. Perhaps she wasn’t as meek as he’d initially thought. Deciding to see how far he could push her, and have a little fun himself, he wrote down some more notes.

  No. Much as I appreciate your research, this site is by far best suited to my plans. It will be an easy matter to have the old rocks pushed into the sea so that the land is cleared to build on. I think a casino would work well. We can create the Las Vegas of Europe!

  Skye was horrified when she read that last part. The Las Vegas of Europe? On that quiet, pretty little plot of land? Instead of the last remnants of an ancient building which had stood there for centuries? She didn’t stop to think before she scrawled down her next words.

  Monte Carlo has that area covered already. You simply cannot destroy Italian heritage in that way. It’s completely irresponsible. As a forward-thinking and respected businessman, you need to take a step back and consider the bigger picture.

  When she read over what she’d written, she blushed. She’d only just started working for this man. She’d not even met him. And yet here she was, admonishing him as if he were a child. She considered scoring everything out and simply agreeing to his demands, but then decided the issue was important enough to make a stand. At least writing down her argument was easier than doing it in person, even if it did seem incredibly strange.

  The next time she went back to see his response, all there was to read was a terse Fine. She gnawed at her lip, wondering whether she’d burnt all her boats and he’d decided she wasn’t suitable as a personal assistant after all. Thinking about how strange the last forty-eight hours had been, Skye figured that wouldn’t be a bad thing entirely, even if getting fired from two jobs in less than three days would have to be some kind of record. The elusive Mr Kamadeva, however, made no further reference to the altercation in any other missives.

  It was later in the day, when she’d almost finished the typing, that the doorbell chimed, a long, loud sound that reverberated through the house. Skye scurried to open it. After not having spoken to anyone all day, it would almost be a relief to have another human being to talk to. When she managed to pull open the heavy wooden doors, she saw a slight man flanked by two younger women standing on the threshold.

  ‘Ms Sawyer,’ he said, bowing with a flourish. ‘I have been sent here by a Mr Kamadeva to help you organise your wardrobe.’

  Flummoxed, she gazed at him.

  He explained further. ‘We are to measure you up for some new outfits so that you can better meet the needs of your employer. He has suggested some lovely material which you may want to consider and a range of dresses that may suit you.’

  The man waved a swatch of floaty, chiffon-like fabric in front of her. Skye gaped. ‘I don’t need any clothes,’ she said.

  He smiled at her patiently. ‘Ms Sawyer, your employer wishes to help you become more,’ he paused and looked her up and down, ‘stylish. You should take advantage of this opportunity.’

  Skye found her voice. ‘Are you suggesting there’s something wrong with what I’m wearing?’ There was the slightest hint of a screech to her voice. She looked down at her functional black skirt and blouse. What the hell was wrong with what she was wearing?

  ‘Absolutely not. Just that perhaps you might be more comfortable with more of a,’ he licked his lips, ‘range of clothing.’

  Skye felt a flame of rage building up inside her. How dare he? There was nothing wrong with what she was wearing. She was damned if she was going to flounce around in something which not only wasn’t appropria
te to her position as a personal assistant but which was paid for by her boss. It made her feel like some kind of chattel. She firmly declined the man’s offer, with as much politeness as she could possibly manage, then closed the door and marched off to her room.

  Halfway there, she abruptly halted. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. How did her employer know what she was wearing? They’d never met face to face. Skye glanced up at the high ceiling. Were there hidden cameras placed around the entire mansion? Were they in her room? The idea that she was constantly being watched sent trickles of fear down her spine. This was not good.

  Coop’s eyes followed her as she stomped off. The set of her back and the tight line around her mouth indicated that she wasn’t best pleased. He was confused. All the women he’d had round before would have been thrilled to have a new wardrobe. Why she was so angry? She could wear whatever she pleased, but she looked uncomfortable in that cheap formal suit and he knew from the size of her suitcase that she’d not brought much with her. It was most curious. Eventually, deciding that the ways of women were a mystery, he let it go without pursuing it further. He didn’t even mention it to Hermes when he phoned later on to find out what was going on with Apollo. It was a private incident between him and Ms Sawyer, not one which should be aired to others.

  ‘I do have work of my own to do, you know,’ Hermes grumbled. ‘I can’t spend all day trailing around after the bloody God of Sun and Light. Sooner or later he’s going to notice me. He’s already in a foul enough mood as it is because he can’t find the girl.’

  ‘Come on, mate,’ Coop had replied. ‘I’m either out making more fools fall in love, or I’m making sure Ms Sawyer is being kept occupied. She zipped through all those tasks I left her yesterday so I had to come up with more today just to make it seem like I really need her around.’

  ‘You mean Kamadeva needs her around. I can’t believe you picked that as a name. What if she looks you up?’

  ‘What if she does? She’s hardly going to believe the truth, is she?’

  ‘You’re playing with fire, Coop. Anyway, how long is all this going to take? You can’t keep her with you indefinitely.’

  ‘It’s only been two days. If I’m to make Apollo pay for being a prick, it’s going to take a lot longer than that.’

  ‘A week? Two weeks?’

  Coop shrugged. ‘Maybe a couple of months.’

  ‘Months?’ Hermes shrieked. ‘You can’t do that to her.’

  ‘I’m not doing anything to her,’ he answered calmly. ‘She’s got a job, she’s happy, she gets to enjoy some sunshine for a change…’

  ‘How do you know she’s happy if you’re not even speaking to her?’

  There was a moment of silence then Coop changed the subject. ‘Tell me what Apollo is doing.’

  Hermes sighed. ‘Oh, storming about and generally being a grumpy bastard. As I suspected, it took his guys all of about five minutes to work out she’d got on a plane to Greece. That’s completely discombobulated him, you know, that she’s wandered off to the motherland and he doesn’t know where. I’m told he’s barely slept since he found out she’d left. He even tore a strip off Helios for giving her the push from Nemesis. The man is well and truly head over heels and going completely nuts trying to track her down.’

  An invisible smile of smug satisfaction crossed Coop’s face. ‘Excellent.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Things did not improve for Skye over the next few days. She didn’t catch either sight or sound of Mr Kamadeva but he left an increasing number of bizarre notes with ridiculous requests. She’d scribbled down an apology about the damage she’d unwittingly caused to his car and his response was to ask her to get him a new vehicle. The trouble was, the new car that he wanted was a 1954 Oldsmobile. There were only four of those bloody cars in the world and none of their owners were prepared to part with them at any cost. She’d relayed this back via a letter and received nothing more in return than ‘Try harder’.

  Her boss clearly believed that his money could buy him whatever he wanted. She wanted to scream that the world didn’t always work like that; the trouble was there was nobody to scream to. Other than a few phone calls to her parents and one to Emma, Skye hadn’t had a conversation with anyone who understood her for days. She’d always enjoyed her own company and not thought she was the type to feel lonely, but the strange emptiness of the mansion made her feel incredibly isolated. And there was that eerie feeling of being watched. She’d searched her own room for any sign of tiny cameras following her every move, but had found nothing. She’d done the same thing in the rooms that she frequented the most, and had still found nothing. But her fruitless search didn’t dispel her sense of disquiet; after all, she was hardly a super spy who’d recognise a secret CCTV system when she saw one.

  Taking the bull by the horns, she’d finally left a letter stating that she didn’t feel comfortable living and working with someone whom she hadn’t actually met; she didn’t mention her suspicions about cameras because she didn’t want to come across as ridiculously paranoid. Skye didn’t like the idea of leaving an ultimatum, and she didn’t want to give up on her new job quite so soon, but things were getting too weird. All she got in response was a note saying that Kamadeva would be away on business for the next week, and he’d talk to her when he returned. Balling her fists up in frustration, Skye swore she’d give him another seven days to present himself and then, if he still wouldn’t come out and meet her face to face, she was packing her bags and going: job, crazy stalker and humiliation at home be damned.

  She was tempted to try and catch her boss out and had even made a couple of half-hearted efforts at padding quietly along the corridor in the hope of catching him writing one of his little letters. Her efforts had been fruitless. If it wasn’t for the fact she was living in rural Greece in the most luxurious house she’d ever seen, she’d think the last week was merely a daydream. Except there was no way her imagination would run to the level of luxury she was now getting used to. Through some internet research, she discovered that there was a genuine Picasso on one of the walls. She hated Picasso but having the real thing in front of her with its brash strokes and bold colours made her appreciate the painter in a way she never had before.

  Of course Skye used Google to try to find out more about her employer. She ran a search on Kamadeva but, frustratingly, all that had popped up was that he was the Hindu God of Love. Right, she thought sarcastically, I’ve been given a job by Love and Associates to work for the God of Love who likes nothing more than to drive round in a gas-guzzling car, drink lots of wine and hide. She’d rolled her eyes and given up; clearly if he was as much of a recluse in the virtual world as he was in the real world, she’d never find out who he really was.

  For Coop’s part, he was enjoying having her around. She still dressed ridiculously formally and clicked around on the hard floors all day long in her silly high heels, but he had discovered he rather liked seeing her every day. Just the previous morning, he’d wandered into the kitchen to get a drink and she was dancing around and singing at the top of her voice at having finally located the cheese she’d been looking for in the market. She shook out her hair until it was all mussed up and was twirling around on her tiptoes, at one point almost careening straight into him as he leaned against the wall and watched her. He knew she was only acting with such abandon because she thought she was alone, and somehow that made the moment even sweeter.

  She talked to herself all the time as well. She wandered from room to room murmuring comments, such as, ‘He should be more environmentally friendly,’ and, ‘Maybe he was disfigured in a horrible accident.’ He decided that he’d make her happy when he returned from the ‘business trip’ and tell her to buy a hybrid car instead of the Oldsmobile. Perhaps he could use the disfigurement story that she’d come up with and talk to her from behind a closed door to set her mind at ease. But then he wouldn’t have the fun of watching her nose wrinkle and her lips purse when she read his notes to her
.

  At some point over the last few days he’d stopped thinking of her as ‘Ms Sawyer’; now she was simply Skye. He told himself it was because he was getting so used to having her around. Considering that Zeus’s missive had meant Aria had been summarily kicked out and no-one else was allowed to visit, he needed someone to provide a distraction.

  On the fourth night of his supposed trip away, he was woken in the middle of the night by her calling out. Alarmed, he thrust his bedcovers aside and ran barefoot to her room. When he opened the door and saw her moaning, twisted up in a sheet on the middle of the bed, he didn’t think twice. He went over and gently tried to shake her awake. She pulled away from him and thrashed out an arm. Coop grabbed her flailing limb and leaned over her body, this time gripping her shoulders and shaking her more vigorously to yank her out of whatever nightmare she was having.

  Skye half-opened her eyes to find herself covered in a sheen of sweat and bathed in moonlight from the open window. Her arm tingled almost painfully and, when she glanced down, she saw that there were faint marks on her skin, which were already starting to fade away. A note of deep woody earthiness clung to the air. Part of her brain niggled at her as if in warning but, despite the vestiges of her bad dream, she felt incredibly – and oddly – safe. She closed her eyes and fell asleep again almost instantly.

  The next morning the entire incident seemed as if it had been nothing more than a dream. Skye pulled on her black skirt and striped blouse, thrust her feet into her heels and wandered into the kitchen to make breakfast. Deciding it was simply too beautiful a morning to sit inside, she took it out with a tall glass of ice-filled juice and sat at the small table and chairs beside the swimming pool. She nibbled at a croissant and gazed out at the blue water, wishing yet again that she’d thought to bring a swimsuit. But how could she have known she’d have sole access to such a beautiful pool? She wondered whether she should have taken up the offer of a new wardrobe which Mr Kamadeva had offered. She doubted he’d have wanted to set her up so she could spend her days swimming, however. And if he had wanted to buy her a swimming costume or, heaven forbid, a bikini – well, that was just too creepy to consider.