A Sword of Chance

by Bella Forrest

  My mother placed her hand over hers in a comforting gesture. After a moment or two of silence, Calida continued with her story.

  “Well, anyway, I came, but when I knocked on the door I didn’t hear an answer. It’s not that unusual,” she hastened to add, “he often has naps, so I let myself in through the back entrance. There was always a key kept under a pile of driftwood. I called for him, but I got no answer. I searched the house, but nothing.” She shrugged. “I didn’t see a thing, no sign of a struggle, nothing. Not that I was looking for that at the time. I just assumed he’d gone to one of the local estiatoris—a restaurant, or a bar.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I went everywhere—everywhere I could think of. But nobody had seen him!” She clasped her face in her hands momentarily, taking a deep breath. “And now I don’t know what to think!” she exclaimed, looking at us imploringly.

  “But she has a ridiculous, fantastical theory,” Silvanos interrupted, banging his hand on the table, “which is made up of old wives’ tales.”

  They glared at one another, Silvanos' good humor gone. I got the impression that this was an argument they’d had numerous times this week.

  “My brother and I disagree on the nature of his disappearance.” Her face reddened, and she looked down at the tablecloth.

  “We promise to stay open-minded,” I whispered. “We don’t judge theories—we listen and then try to get to the truth. It’s all helpful information, believe me.”

  She drew a shuddering breath. “Okay… it’s just—it sounds stupid, even to me.” She glared at her brother. “But it’s what the entire town is talking about… well, the old ones anyway.” She paused. “The site near here, it’s the largest Bronze Age archaeological site in Crete, and Europe’s oldest city. It’s been a historic site since I was a small girl, but recently, they discovered something else—something below the city they had already dug up.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “They discovered a labyrinth—a vast thing, so huge they haven’t yet unearthed it all. The locals believe it is the very same one that King Minos created for his son, the Minotaur. It is this creature, half man, half bull, that the locals believe is now running rampant on our island, awakened once more.”

  “It is myth and legend!” Silvanos erupted. “Nothing more! Nonsense, I tell you—utter nonsense.”

  Calida held up a hand to stop her brother. “And I would agree with you, Silvanos, were it not for the missing site diggers.”

  Ben, my mother and I exchanged glances. This was news to us.

  “They came to the island about three weeks ago,” Calida continued. “Normally there’s just a small team working at Knossos—they are mostly locals from the university in Athens. But the job was so big, they brought in more helpers. These men and women came from all over the place, eager to help uncover the labyrinth. On the second night, two of the girls came to my bar. They drank too much, which made them chatty and they started talking to me. They said two of their team, one woman, a very prestigious archeologist, and a man, had gone missing in the night…There is something wrong going on here.” She stared me directly in the eye. “Something very wrong.”

  Silvanos let out a sigh of frustration. “Those girls were drunk out of their minds, you told me so yourself. You can’t trust anything a drunk person says, they become useless— no better than babbling toddlers. I’ve heard no official reports of any missing archeologists. They could have returned already. No. I believe our uncle went out fishing, and because he is old—and no matter how many times I tell him he needs a helper, he will not listen—he is lost at sea, had an accident. Tell me this is not the more likely cause!” He slapped his hand down on the table again, the plates and crockery rattling. “I tell you this is a stupid story, and the more we tell it, the less likely we are to find out what really happened to theious.”

  He leaned back in his chair and muttered an obscenity under his breath.

  “Calida, you will be the end of me,” he implored the sky. “Will you not see reason?” He turned to us abruptly, waving his hands to encompass the glinting ocean. “It looks peaceful now, but let me tell you, the sea here is a maddening mistress—a law unto herself, and dangerous. Many fishermen die on our coasts. It is not strange or unusual, it is just sad.”

  Ben nodded, but turned back to the sister and fixed his eyes on hers. “Tell me, when you went to your great-uncle’s house, did you notice any unusual tracks around the area or nearby?”

  “Not that I can remember, no.” Calida shrugged. “Everything looked normal—but then, his place is on the beach. If he had been… taken, even the night before, the tide would have washed any tracks away.”

  Inwardly I sighed. It seemed that there would be no use in searching the old man’s place. Calida was right—if there had been any evidence to find, it would be long gone now.

  “His boat,” I addressed Silvanos, “is that also missing?”

  “And this is where his theory falls apart,” declared Calida before her brother could get a word in edgeways. “The boat is still in the harbor. Nothing wrong with it—moored perfectly.”

  Silvanos dismissed her comments with a wave of his hand. “He was near blind—he could have gotten into the wrong boat easily.”

  “He was not blind!” Calida retorted angrily.

  I glanced at Ben. It was time to leave before the siblings descended into a full-blown row.

  “We will enquire as to whether anyone has reported a missing boat,” Ben stated, “And we’ll be in touch if we have any further questions.”

  My mother smiled as we rose to our feet. “We’ll let you know as soon as we find anything.”

  “Thank you,” Calida replied. Her gratitude was heartfelt. “I’ve had a hard time with the authorities. They don’t seem to be taking any of this seriously enough.”

  Silvanos rose to shake our hands.

  “We appreciate your help. I hope you get to the bottom of this,” he said, sincerely.

  We walked back the way we’d come, and all simultaneously sighed with relief as we entered the cool sanctuary of the hotel lobby.

  “What do you think?” My mother turned to my brother and me, her expression even more troubled now than earlier.

  We reached the reception, and my father walked toward us from where he’d been seated in the bar area.

  “How did it go?” he asked when he reached us.

  “It was interesting… and vague,” replied Ben, “but we have a few leads—and there are some places I’d like to check out before the day is over.”

  My father nodded. “The family staying in the hotel, the Andersons, are willing to talk to us about their missing girl. Ben, if you want to head off, then I’ll take this one with Sofia and Rose. Take Lucas or Kailyn with you though. I don’t want any of us exploring alone.”

  Ben nodded. “All right. I’m going to check out the site first, then I’ll head over to the port and enquire about missing boats.” He strode off toward the exit.

  “They’re in room six-five-six. We’ll need to take the elevator—it’s down here.” My father led the way, and we followed him over to the glossy chrome elevator doors that were situated in a small, exposed brick hallway. They were the only obviously modern part of the hotel, and I wasn’t surprised they hid them to preserve its luxurious rustic charm.

  The elevator doors pinged open, and we filed in. The ride was swift. Before the doors opened, my father put out a hand to stop us.

  “I know you’ll be sensitive anyway, but just a reminder that this couple have lost their only daughter. They’re American and won’t want to hear a word about any of the locals’ Minotaur theories. It will just upset them more.”

  My mother and I nodded. My heart constricted a little—I couldn’t even begin to imagine what they must be going through. It would be worse for them being in a foreign country as well, without friends and family around to offer support.

  We made our way down the plush carpeted hallway, and then my father knocked on the door of the room. />
  After a few moments it opened, and a man stood in the threshold. He was a big guy, with short cropped hair and a ruddy face. He was by no means an attractive man, but his face was an open and honest one. Right now it looked bleary-eyed and haggard, like he hadn’t got much, if any, sleep.

  “GASP, right?” he asked, and we nodded the affirmative. “Hi, err… thanks for coming.” He rubbed his forehead. “Nancy’s just out on the terrace.” He stood aside and let us pass. They had a lovely room, with a large sweeping balcony and a huge living room area, but the entire place looked like a bomb had hit it.

  “Apologies for the mess. We don’t want the maids coming up here in case they tamper with evidence.” He sighed. “This wasn’t even her room, but we don’t want the police to miss anything that might help.”

  His wife, Nancy, had risen from her seat and walked slowly into the sitting room. “It’s too hot out there, have a seat.”

  She gestured to the sofas and we all sat down. Despite the sun outside, the room felt gloomy and musty. The husband came and sat down with us, placing a reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder.

  “I’m Steven, by the way.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “I’m Derek, and this is Sofia and Rose. I want to thank you for taking the time to see us.”

  “I just don’t understand what’s happened,” Nancy whispered, her voice frail. She brushed away a strand of lank hair from her face and crossed her arms over her stomach. She was a young mother, maybe in her late thirties, and a pretty woman, were it not for the sorrow that was now etched across her face. My heart went out to her, though I could barely meet her eye, not knowing what to say in the face of such devastating anguish.

  “Let’s start with the facts,” my mother intervened gently. “When did she go missing?”

  Nancy took a deep breath, and steadied herself. “It was two nights ago. We, the three of us, were having dinner in the hotel lounge. Lily—that’s my daughter”—she smiled tearily—“had spent far too long in the sun that day. Both her father and I warned her against it, but she doesn’t listen. She said she had a headache, and so…” Tears erupted, and Steven gently found his wife’s hand and clutched it within his.

  “She went back to the room alone,” he continued the story, his voice gruff, “and when we finished our dinner we retired to ours. We didn’t think to check on her—she had our cell phone if she needed anything… I should have checked on her. I should have gone to see if she was all right.” He placed his head in his hands, rubbing the skin on his forehead back and forth.

  “The next morning, we knocked for her to join us for breakfast. We didn’t hear a sound from her room, but thought she was still sleeping. An hour later, around ten, I started to get worried—or annoyed that she wasn’t getting up, I can’t remember—and I went back up and let myself into the room…”

  As her husband trailed off, Nancy pulled out a photograph that they’d obviously asked the hotel staff to enlarge so they could place it around the town. “This is her. Isn’t she beautiful?” She smiled longingly at the photo and traced her finger down the face of her daughter. Lily was beautiful—bright blue eyes and chestnut hair, with a warm laughing smile directed at the camera. She must have been about Hazel’s age. I suddenly felt queasy.

  “There were signs of a struggle,” Nancy continued, her voice growing stronger as she looked at the photo. “Things were knocked over. There was a mirror broken and one of the wardrobe doors. My girl was brave—if anyone tried to attack her she would have fought back. She knew how to protect herself. She wasn’t like me, I’m a complete scaredy-cat—I’m even afraid of spiders! Lily always teased me about that, she was never afraid. After we found the room, the police were called, they checked the area. They checked her room too, took samples. But we haven’t heard anything encouraging, just dark, nasty rumors from the locals—just garbage. I feel like the local authorities aren’t treating it as seriously as they should, especially after we told them that she’d started hanging out with a local boy. I don’t even know if they’ve questioned him!”

  “I’m sure they have, Nancy.” Steven hushed his wife. “I’m sure they’re doing everything they can.”

  She looked at us, her eyes terrified. “I can’t lose my girl! I don’t even believe this is happening. She’s a good girl, she would never get herself into any trouble… and I can’t bear the thought that someone… someone might—”

  Nancy collapsed into tears again, and her husband didn’t try to comfort her this time. There was nothing anyone could say.

  “Steven,” my father said, “we would like to see Lily’s hotel room—if that’s okay?”

  “Sure,” he replied. “No one’s been allowed to touch it—there’s police tape covering the entrance. But we need all the help we can get.”

  “I’ll stay here,” my mother said, looking in the direction of Nancy.

  I followed my father and Steven out of the room.

  We walked three doors down, and found Lily’s room on the same side of the building as her parents’. My father cut away at the tape with a pocket knife.

  “I’ll stay here, if you don’t mind,” Steven said hoarsely.

  “Of course not,” I tried to reassure him. “We won’t be long. We just want to get an idea of what happened—hopefully it will get us some answers faster.”

  Steven nodded, but I could tell from the dejected look in his eyes he wasn’t holding out much hope. I didn’t blame him. I had no idea what I would feel were I in the same position. It was every parent’s worst nightmare—having their children abducted by strangers in the night.

  My father and I stepped into the room alone. The balcony windows had been left open, and the bright sunshine shone in, and so despite the debris on the floor—the smashed mirror, the messed-up bed and the broken wardrobe—the room felt light and far less oppressive than her parents’ just had.

  My father stepped out onto the balcony and looked down at the gardens below. He muttered, “Sixth floor,” under his breath. I was about to ask him what he meant, but something glinted at me from the foot of the bed, and I bent down to inspect it.

  It was a very small piece of jewelry—half of a heart hanging from a very thin golden chain that had been broken. It was part of a friendship bracelet. Griffin and I had worn something similar when we were children. I picked it up, surreptitiously smelling it for a blood trace, but I didn’t get anything. Ibrahim might be able to do something useful with it though.

  “Look at this.” I held out the bracelet for my father. “No trace, but I think we should take it back if we can.”

  My father nodded. “Good thinking. There’s nothing else here that can help us. I say we report back to the others and share our findings.”

  “Agreed,” I replied. “Let’s get Mom.”

  We stepped back out in the hallway. Steven was still standing where we’d left him, looking blankly at the wall.

  “Steven?” I asked gently.

  “Oh, hi, sorry.” He came back to earth and turned to both my father and me. “Did you see anything that might be of help?”

  “Actually, I think so. Did this belong to your daughter?” I showed him the bracelet and he nodded slowly.

  “Yes… that’s hers. A friend from back home gave it to her—Lucy Collins—she lives next door. Lily never took it off,” he whispered.

  “Can I hold on to it for a while? I promise to return it, but for now it might help us with the case.”

  “Of course.” He nodded. “Anything. I just want my girl back.”

  He hadn’t taken his eyes off the bracelet, so I stowed it in my pocket to spare him whatever agonies the sight of it was causing him to go through. It wouldn’t make much difference of course.

  We picked up my mother on our way back and said our goodbyes to the Andersons, leaving them both sitting looking lost and despairing on the sofa of their beautiful hotel room.

  I suddenly wanted to get out of the hotel as qui
ckly as I could. I felt tears prickling the corners of my eyes. The picture of their daughter haunted me.

  “Are you okay, Rose?” my mother asked me when we got back into the elevator.

  “I’m fine. Just… the similarities in age, that’s all,” I replied, trying to shake the feelings off.

  “I understand.” She smiled at me sadly. “It’s the hardest thing in the world for a parent.”

  When we reached the lobby, I recalled that my father had been muttering something when he was outside on the balcony.

  “Dad, what were you saying—something about the sixth floor?” I asked.

  “Ah, yes,” he mused. “I was just thinking about the ‘Minotaur’ theory. I am very puzzled as to how a creature heavy enough to dent cars—and one with hooves instead of feet—would be able to get up to the sixth floor of a hotel. And even if it could, somehow, I can’t imagine that it would do so without leaving broken windows, stones and terracotta splinters in its wake… and I didn’t see a sign of that—did either of you?”

  My mom and I looked at one another. Nope—neither of us had seen anything like that. In fact, apart from Lily’s room, the hotel was perfectly intact.

  As we approached the hotel entrance, we could see what looked like a mob standing outside: journalists, photographers, and tourists who were eagerly trying to barge past the hotel security.

  “When the hell did this happen?” I asked in shock—it had been perfectly quiet when we’d entered.

  The receptionist scurried past me, but she’d heard my question.

  “It always happens about this time, once after breakfast, and then again before dinner. We’ve basically made it on the ‘must see’ tourist circuit, but sadly not the ‘must stay’ circuit,” she lamented, then hurried off to help an elderly couple who were trying to leave the hotel without being ambushed.