"Alecto, where are you going? I bet it's a guy, you dressed like that! Is it a guy?" Brianna followed Alecto as she started looking at blades.
"Yes, it's a guy," Alecto said, distracted by Brianna being almost too close behind her. "He runs a Parisian jazz club, patterned after the clubs in the late 1930s. Minus the Nazis, of course."
"Oh, he's toast! One look at you, and you have him," Brianna stopped and stepped back. "I had a gown like that once, but my mother refused to allow me to wear it out in public, at least until I turned thirty. So, I called my Uncle, and he said not until I'm forty."
"A wise man, your Uncle." Alecto picked up a small dagger, and frowned, replacing it on the wall. "Now, get to work tracking down your killer's previous victims."
"Can I ask about being a Fury when we catch this guy?" Brianna challenged.
"I'll see what I can arrange. It's not just me, you understand, it's the others and our boss," Alecto said while she inspected another small dagger.
"You guys have a boss? Is it your mother, Gaia?"
"No, it's Hades." Alecto picked up the Italian stiletto. A thin, but lethal blade. She nodded, and carefully packed it into her small clutch-purse.
"You mean the devil? Satan is your boss?" Brianna's eyes went wide.
Alecto walked up to Brianna and placed a gentle, but firm, hand on her shoulder. "Like Zeus and Apollo, he was simply given another name. He is the god of the Underworld, anything below the surface is his. Thus, he is the richest of all gods, owning all the mineral wealth in the world," Alecto explained. "He is far from being an evil deity, as the name implies."
"Woah, I see I have a lot of old habits to unlearn," Brianna said, sitting on the bed. "Being dead isn't what I expected."
"Of course not. It rarely is. That's because you mortals are not really dead, you just changed form. And like energy, you cannot cease to be," Alecto explained. "I'll check back in on you in a bit."
Alecto vanished as she walked towards the door.
***
Around back, Gaia was busy with her garden. She was pulling weeds and directing the Monarch butterflies to the milkweed plants. Tending the garden allowed Gaia to think, to reach out with her mind to see all the potential realities anchored in this one moment. That damned prophecy. It was starting to bother her.
Megaera walked through the flourishing greenery. She was showing off a lot of leg in a flowing pale-yellow dress that was off one shoulder, she carried a stuffed cloth bag with bread and a bottle of wine showing out of the top. Gaia stopped and watched as Megaera approached.
"Now, that is a good look. So calm and demure. I pity that poor mortal." Gaia shook her head slightly and continued to weed the spaces between flowers.
"His name is Dan, Mother," Megaera corrected. "He's had a tough day, what with this niece's funeral."
"I see," Gaia muttered.
"You really think I look good in this? It's quite old." Megaera held out her hands, and looked down at herself.
"Yes, you are quite lovely. You wore that when you tried to seduce Gaius Marius," Gaia pointed out. She snatched a few weeds and tossed them behind her.
Megaera crouched alongside Gaia. "Now, answer this for me, mother: Why didn't you tell me you'd visited this mortal man earlier?"
Gaia sat back and looked at Megaera. "I have my reasons. He's not like other mortals, dear. He saw you without even trying."
"Yes, which intrigues me," Megaera admitted.
"Just 'intrigues' you?" Gaia asked.
"There's something about him," Megaera sighed.
"Now go, it's almost the mortal's supper time, and have fun! While you are doing that, I'm going to check out this mortal and see what his past is like, who were his ancestors. The answer may lie there," Gaia suggested.
"Yes, it just might. How long will you be gone?"
"Until next full moon, no later. Have fun." Gaia watched as Megaera walked away, fading into the golden sunlight, becoming one with the floating particles.
She went back to her work. Now she began to plan her research trips. Immortal blood gets diluted quickly when mortals gave birth. This had to have been recent. Within the past one-hundred years. She knew who she could enlist in this research. Just to get word to him.
She looked around and spotted a crow flying high overhead. She reached out and the bird did a twist in the air, and dove towards the ground. It alighted near Gaia and strutted over.
"I have a message for Hermes," Gaia said quietly. "And you will deliver it."
She went back to her work, then dizziness overcame her. She swayed a bit, put her hand out and caught herself. She looked around her garden. She saw a small rise in the dirt that had concerned her earlier. No change, but the smoke continued to seep from the cracks.
She stood and stared at the ground for a moment, then started back to the house.
***
Paris
The nightclub was hopping. Black limos were lined up, dropping people off, then moving quickly away to make room for the next drop-off. Many club goers, even after being dropped off by a limo, were directed to the back of an ever-growing line, held at bay by a huge doorman and a red velvet rope.
A maroon Rolls Royce Phantom glided up to the curb. The club's giant doorman eagerly walked forward to open the back door to the limo when the Rolls' driver cut him off, smiled brightly and opened the door. The doorman got an eyeful of light brown thigh as Alecto swung her legs out and slid forward. The red-headed driver held out his hand and assisted Alecto to the sidewalk. She walked past the doorman, stopped, and dazzled him with a smile. He fell over himself getting to the red velvet rope, unhooking it, and waving her in, ahead of a long line of jazz aficionados. As one, the crowd followed Alecto's passage past the rope and into the club.
As the door opened, soft sounds of piano drifted out and then was cut off as the door closed behind Alecto.
Inside, the place was jammed. On the stage, a woman was playing piano, smiling slightly as she worked her way through 'Giant Steps'. She was accompanied by a lean man on the sax, a drummer deftly handing a set of brushes. The quartet was rounded out with a tall dark man on double bass.
Alecto didn't walk so much as she slithered her way across the room. All eyes swiveled and locked onto Alecto as she passed. Her long legs rippled with muscle as she glided to the main bar. The bartender watched her move towards him, and he was more than ready to ignore all others as long as Alecto existed. He was in a tuxedo with white tie, a blue gray striped apron tied to his waist, and his name tag read "Grayson".
She sat on a padded stool, then fixed an inviting smile on Grayson. "Martini, Bombay Sapphire, extra dry," she murmured. She turned to face the bandstand, then looked at Grayson over her bare shoulder.
Grayson wheeled and began making the best martini he'd ever made, while the other customers, men, and women alike, stared at Alecto. He placed the chilled martini on a coaster and sat it on the bar. Alecto leisurely turned, lifted the drink. She looked him in the eye as she sipped.
"I'm sorry, but French isn't one of the tongues I speak," she explained softly as the music momentarily paused, before the band started in on Birdland.
"That's ok, I'm from Miami originally," he said. "I mangle the French language."
Alecto leaned forward slightly, her low-cut dress exposing soft, light brown skin. The bartender's eyes were going nowhere else.
"That's interesting. How did you wind up here?" Alecto's almond eyes bored into his eyes. She smiled, turning to watch the room.
"It was somewhere to go after I had to leave Florida," Grayson explained. His knees were weak, and the other customers were starting to grumble.
"Excuse me?" He went back to work, but kept an eye on this vision in red.
After another jazz number wrapped and the crowed clapped quietly, Grayson was back just as Alecto was finishing up the martini. "Another? On the house."
"Yes, please. You're such a dear," Alecto said. This almost made Grayson's heart go into fibrillat
ion. After a slight pause, he began making another drink, icing the shaker down, pouring an extra measure of Bombay, and a small dash of Vermouth. He stirred the drink and then strained it into a large glass, adding a twist of lemon.
He sat it on the bar and looked into Alecto's eyes. All he saw was liquid brown eyes taking up his whole vision, the sound in the room slowly muffled.
"Excusez-moi?" Another customer needed attention. Grayson hesitated, then turned to attend to his other customers.
One Hour Later
The band was now covering Count Basie's version of "Goldfinger." It really missed the brass, so this version fell flat.
Alecto watched a moment, then she swiveled around to face Grayson. "When do you close?"
Music to his ears. This was the most exotic woman he'd ever seen, and she was all his!
"Since I'm part owner, I can leave at any time," he confided.
"Perfect." Alecto smiled. She turned back to the stage and whispered over her shoulder: "After this number, we leave and I want to see your apartment."
In a flash, Grayson was signaling to a bartender at the rear bar. When he arrived, Grayson took off his apron.
"The main bar is all yours for the rest of the night, buddy," he explained as he tucked his apron under the bar. "I'll be busy until tomorrow, at least, so close up. Keep any tips on the tabs, she's worth it."
He winked and nodded over to Alecto, still seated with her back to the bar.
"Dude. You're one lucky bastard," the other bartender said. The short man turned and began working the bar. Grayson almost ran to the far edge and around to where Alecto was sitting.
She smiled and took his arm, and he slowly walked her out of the club, aware of all the jealous eyes from everyone. He could barely control the snide grin playing across his lips.
Outside, the sleek maroon Rolls waited at the curb. Grayson's eyes took in the sleek car as the driver climbed out and opened the door for Alecto.
"Do let him know where to take us," Alecto smiled as she slid across the seat, exposing long, light brown legs to her waist. Grayson spoke to the driver, then eagerly got in next to Alecto.
The car took off, smoothly and efficiently. Grayson stopped looking out the window and did not notice that the scenery had started going by unusually fast. Lights streaked by as the car accelerated.
He couldn't keep his eyes off of Alecto as she stretched out her leg and took off a tall, high heel maroon sandal. She flexed her toes. He saw that her nails were done in a French nail varnish color that matched the car.
"You love red, don't you?" he remarked.
"Of course. It's the color of freshly spilled blood," Alecto said softly.
That smile. Framed by blood-red lipstick.
Focused only on Alecto's eyes, Grayson was totally unaware now that the car wasn't anywhere near Paris, or even in France. The countryside blurred past as he started lightly touching Alecto's leg. She raised her foot and he took the hint, and began gently massaging her instep. Alecto moved so that she was able to stretch out, her feet in Grayson's lap.
She allowed him to massage her feet. They were sore from those shoes, anyway, so it was ok. Her eyes closed. She knew he was totally not going to stop at her feet. As expected, his hand began to creep up past her ankles. Soft, gentle fingers began to massage her calves.
Grayson was totally focused on the best pair of leg's he'd ever seen. His hands trembled slightly as Alecto allowed him to massage her knee.
Outside the car began started slow down and the driver took a sharp turn. The light was different. It was no longer a dark city lit by streetlamps or store fronts.
The landscape was now upper central Florida, close to White Springs.
Grayson's hands were starting to edged further up past her knee, when Alecto slipped away and sat up.
"We're here," she stated.
Grayson looked out the window and did a double take. This wasn't his apartment building on the northern edge of Paris. This was some small dirt road that the Rolls drove along, lit by the setting sun. A small blue and white trailer appeared in between trees.
"Wait, what? Where are we?" Grayson looked back at Alecto. She smiled like a cobra.
"That was nice, while it lasted. So, you don't recognize this place? You used to spend a lot of time here, before your Uncle won the lottery. Remember?" She rolled down the window so Grayson would get a better look.
The scene shifted. They were outside of the car, standing in the packed dirt yard of the trailer. Grayson wheeled around, in a panic. "How? Where did the car go?"
Alecto smiled and pointed towards a small meadow, "He's right there. He'll come when I need him." Alecto indicated a beautiful maroon horse that was grazing in the meadow across the dirt road.
"Who the hell are you?" Grayson demanded.
"Oh, sweetie." Alecto touched him on the chin with a finger. "Why, I'm the last sexy women you'll ever see... in this life."
She looked him in the eyes and his world started spinning.
The trailer was suddenly in better shape. No rust and the awning appeared almost new again.
His Uncle Henry was jumping up and down in the shade, waving a small piece of paper. He started doing a little dance as Grayson saw a younger version of himself drive up in a small Chevy Corsica. Its engine kept knocking when he shut off the motor. He watched his uncle dance a jig.
"Lookeee here! Grayson! Ya gotta take me to the store, then we have to make a run into Tallahassee! Ya hoo!!"
Grayson climbed out of the car and tried to get the old man to calm down. "What's this?"
"Look, right heah! I done won the whole thing!" He shoved the ticket into Grayson's face, so close it was just a blur. "They called the numbers last night, I matched every damned one! You just go check the newspaper, and you'll see!"
He snatched it out of his uncle's hands and looked. "No way, no way in hell!" Grayson turned the ticket over. "Idiot. You didn't sign it yet, anyone can cash this in."
The old man was still dancing like crazy.
"Jesus! Would you stop that! You'll die of a heart attack, then who gets the money?" Grayson yelled.
Henry's arms were waving and he was spinning. Grayson watched for another minute, then he stalked into the trailer. He looked around until he spotted the morning's newspaper scattered on the floor. He sat in the busted yellow recliner and reached for the a section of the newspaper.
The page was folded open at the lottery listing, and Grayson compared the numbers. Sure as shit, the numbers all matched and the date on the ticket was right.
He looked out the door as his uncle kept dancing, skipping back and forth across the patio. Grayson went to the open door and watched as his crazy uncle started twirling and holding his hand out.
"Do you plan on giving me any for taking you all the way over to Tallahassee?" Grayson asked.
His uncle stopped and wobbled a bit. "Gas money, and maybe some beer. Hell, you'd just waste even that! I may help your momma, though, being that she's my sister and all..."
He gave Grayson a true shit eating grin, then stuck his dentures out, making a face. Grayson's vision darkened, his face turned red. Anger seethed up and he started seeing red.
In a blur, all Grayson saw was his hand grabbing a butcher's knife from the kitchen. When he got back outside, his damned uncle was still yelling. He grabbed the old man, spun him around, and plunged the knife into his uncle's back. Lifting the skinny old man up, he pushed in the knife as the old man started gagging on his loose dentures.
He dropped his uncle onto the concrete slab. He stood over him as blood poured from the wound to the heart. The knife went back into the sink and he returned to the patio and watched as his uncle suddenly stopping, like a switch shut had him off.
He stood and took in the now shriveled up body of his uncle: The skinny, twisted legs in black trousers ending with the yellowing house shoes on gray feet and a dirty sleeveless t-shirt. The blood spread all across his back and dripping onto the cement. Gr
ayson looked around. Still no one nearby.
He walked around back and went into an old tin shed. He rummaged a minute and found a small camping shovel, its green paint peeling. Along the backside of the trailer, he loosened a piece of the aluminum skirt. He crawled under the trailer, dragging his uncle through the dry dirt, then started digging.
With a start, Grayson was back to the present. He found himself standing by a loosened piece of the aluminum trailer skirt as Alecto pressed up against his back.
"I hope this has nothing to do with me taking liberties with you on the ride over?" Grayson asked, his feeble attempt at humor.
"Oh no, that was the reason I allowed you to exist for this long." She whispered softly in his ear, "Your uncle was wrong, you certainly did not waste it. That's a nice club, but..." Alecto stepped back. "You should have allowed him to be found, and not to be left to rot under his home."
She drove the stiletto's blade deep into his chest.
Grayson's eyes went wide as the blade pierced his lung. He exhaled loudly. Alecto twisted the knife to let it nick the heart muscle.
Grayson dropped to his knees, his arms struggling to reach around and grasp where the knife speared him. He looked at Alecto, eyes wide.
She stepped back and gave a soft whistle. Her demonic steed trotted around the corner. She gently swung up, her dress metamorphosing into a maroon leather jacket and riding breeches as she settled on the horse.
She looked down at Grayson. He was slowly dying and was still trying to stand as his blood dripped and soaked into the dry dirt by the open trailer skirt.
Gray arms and clawed hands shot out from under the trailer. They grasped Grayson by his legs. He jerked and struggled weakly as the hands dragged him towards the crawlspace under the trailer and into the darkness. His hands were frantically trying to gain a purchase in the dry soil, leaving a series of deep grooves in the dirt.
Grayson disappeared under the trailer, his piercing shriek of terror was quickly cut off. He'd be resting with this uncle, for a long, long time.
Alecto turned and rode bareback across the meadow, the landscape turning red as she disappeared.
Angels of Vengeance Page 17
