"Affection?" Audrey hadn't thought about the god needing something other than food.
"I'm the god of desire. I need cuddles."
"I'm not going to ask."
"You'd probably benefit from some." He folded his wings over his head.
Audrey wished she had something to lob at the impudent creature. "I'm just fine, thank you very much."
"Uh huh. Just fine until they get too close. I heard what Mum told you. That's why I shot the nice policeman, so you'd have a fighting chance for a normal relationship."
"Like you'd know what that is."
"I bet right now he's on his way here to rescue you."
"Right." She stretched out on the floor and put her head on her arms. She couldn't sleep here; she could only achieve a doze, so she was constantly tired. Will Damien rescue me? What the heck is taking him so long?
And, most disturbingly, the idea of cuddles sounded pretty darn good, especially if they involved a certain silver-eyed policeman. She swatted the thought away, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to see Damien again. And she would have felt the same even if she hadn’t been Zeus’ captive.
Damien trudged up and down another hill. The horse had vanished along with his armor when he and the wolf went through the doorway in the ruins, and now he wore a simple tunic and breeches like the peasants he'd seen. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make anything faster appear.
"Why can't I conjure another horse?" he asked his spirit guide.
"Magic in this part of the C.U. is strictly governed by the Twelve. It can be used by permission only. They hoard the energy and only give it out to a select few."
"Isn't there some way to get where we're going faster?" He thought he could see the shimmer of water in the distance, but the rolling hills and pastureland seemed to go on forever.
"If you have a clear idea of where you want to go, the path will take you there."
"But I don't know where I want to go. Other than to Lyle Ames' office here." He thought about what they had discovered. Ames had Aphrodite. He was trying to bring her cult back. "That means I need to find the site of her worship."
"We need to head to the city of Corinth," the wolf told him. "It is and was the center of Her Radiance's cult."
"How did you know that?"
The wolf only grinned up at him, its tongue lolling out.
"Oh, right, that's where we sent Rizzo. It's hard to think in two worlds." Something Lucia said occurred to him. "Am I very obvious with whatever it is has happened to me?"
The wolf looked at him quizzically.
"Lucia said that whatever I've been touched with would make me stand out to the Twelve."
The wolf sniffed him. "Whatever it is, it's very faint at this point."
Salt tinged the air, and soon they rounded a bend. Damien squinted against the low, setting sun and saw a city of white and yellow marble and limestone. They entered the gates without challenge, and he followed the path that appeared before him. It led him to a square, which he estimated to be about the size of Atlanta's Olympic Park, but instead of fountains, the square was crowded with people. Wine flowed from a large stone structure with stairs leading to the top. Men in rough garb poured skins of wine into the stone tower, and the ruby liquid trickled out of spigots around the base and into waiting glasses.
The temple façade was as he remembered from Rizzo's drawing and the miniature version in the Plaza ballroom. It looked like the pictures of Greek temples he'd seen in school, but whole and not crumbling into ruins. Steps led up to a wide landing, which supported the columns. Pink and yellow flowering vines and ribbons twined around them.
"Damien, my boy." A rather intoxicated Arthur Rizzo appeared and put a sinewy arm around him.
"Doctor Rizzo, what are you doing here?"
"I think I was going out to get some lunch or something for that girl." Rizzo put a trembling hand on Damien's arm. "She's the one you like so much. I stopped for a glass of wine and forgot what I was doing." Rizzo squinted at Damien through his round lenses, then at the sunset. "Oh… Shit."
"Right, where's Audrey?"
"Who?"
"Audrey. The girl." He had never seen Rizzo so distracted.
"She's in there." Rizzo pointed to a building attached to the temple. "Office on the fifth floor. Place is a dump."
"Great, thanks."
"Careful, there are guards. That's why I can't get back in—they just appeared today." He shook his head. "Some guardian I turned out to be."
Damien looked at the temple and saw that, indeed, large-shouldered men with black and blue belts across their broad chests stood with scimitars at the ready. They glared at the crowds and twitched their heavy black mustaches.
"What are those?"
"Arabian guards. Very tough to get past."
"We need a plan."
"So do you ever take your clothes off?" asked Charlie.
Maggie smiled and twirled for him in her gown. She wore a floor-length black dress cut snug in the back and low in the front, her signature style: simple, elegant, and the best she could do with what she had at hand. She'd had to concentrate hard to get the look she wanted. "I do to take showers, but having magical clothes lets me pack light so I can move on to my next assignment quickly if needed."
"Do you already have another one?"
Was that dismay in his voice? "Not yet. This one isn't complete enough."
"But will you have to go soon?"
"Probably." She looked up into his blue eyes. "Why do you ask?"
"If you can't figure that one out, spirit-girl…"
Maggie breathed an inaudible sigh of relief when they had to separate so she could go through the revolving doors first. She knew what he was asking, but there was the curse. And her next assignment could take her to Scotland, Greece, China… Or to places no mortal human had ever been or could go. She'd learned that the hard way with her last partner. No, she would have to stay unattached for his safety.
Without speaking, they snuck down the side stairwell and into chaos.
Atlanta's elite lined up to enter the ballroom, and wait staff passed wine, cocktails, and hors d'oeuvres to the queue. A young woman with black hair, striking blue eyes, and a headset met them with a suspicious look that cleared into a radiant smile when she saw Charlie, and Maggie's heart thudded with jealousy.
"Who's that?"
"Her name's Delilah Butler. Trophy wife and party planner extraordinaire. She's helping Amelia Ames with the gala."
"So she's married?" Maggie cursed her relief. Like she had any right to be jealous.
"To a man with a reputation for ruthless jealousy. Not even Atlanta's dirtiest old man would dare to get close to her."
Delilah approached them. "Detective MacKenzie, how good to see you again. And this is…?"
"Margaret Cornwall. She's helping me on the case."
"And where's that handsome Officer Lewis?" She winked at Maggie. "Too many good-looking men in one place?"
Maggie coughed to stifle a chuckle. Charlie's turning red. "I'm a specialist they called in."
"Nifty accent. British?"
"Somewhat."
"Well, this is my specialty." With a broad wave, she indicated all the flurry.
"Do you know what, exactly, is going to happen?" asked Maggie. "We got a tip that we needed to check things out."
"Oooh, I don't know if I can talk to you about that. I'll have to call Amelia and ask."
"No, don't do that." Charlie stopped her from dialing her cell phone. "Can we just see the party timeline?"
"Sure, there's no secret. I've got it on my phone." After rearranging a few things on the screen, she handed the smart phone to Charlie. Maggie stood close to his elbow and read along with him. It was all when to put this and that out with guest arrival times, bar re-stocking schedules, and simply, "Event" at nine o'clock.
"What's the Event?" asked Maggie.
"Amelia couldn't tell me. Probably her husband getting up on the stage w
ith that temple-looking thingy and talking about some stuff. She said he has some actors and actresses to give it the feel of an ancient Greek temple celebration." She winked again, this time at Charlie. "Hopefully not an orgy. That would ruin my reputation."
"Right," said Maggie, and an idea tickled the back of her mind. She looked at her watch. "Do you mind if I come in and keep an eye on things? I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable, but with all the V.I.P.'s coming, you can consider it free extra security."
"There's plenty of security here already." But Delilah's face registered the doubt Maggie had planted. "All right, just stay undercover."
"Will do."
"And let me know if anything is amiss." For a moment, she looked like a scared college student instead of a premier party planner. "If this goes off well," she told them in a low voice, "I can count on my career being made. This is what I've always wanted to do."
"Has anything odd happened so far?" asked Charlie.
"No." A radiant smile broke through the concern on her face. "Actually, everything has been strangely smooth to this point. It's like the gods are smiling."
"We can only hope," said Maggie. The word "orgy" kept fluttering through her mind. Would Zeus dare to bring the entire party to the C.U.? How in the world are they keeping Aphrodite cooperative? Surely she must feel the energy gathering here, and she's an astute enough goddess to be able to use it. No, there has to be something else.
They ducked out of line when they got too near the front and found two brawny men in ill-fitting tuxedos checking invitations, their heavy black mustaches twitching.
"Oh, no," Maggie said. "Arabian guards. They'll sniff me out in half a second if I have to interact with them."
Charlie led her into the hallway he and Damien had found earlier. Empty meeting rooms stood open and dark.
"I just had an idea," Charlie told her. "Do your clothes do formal hotel uniforms?"
"Turn around. They won't perform if someone's looking."
He complied. She focused on the look she wanted to achieve, and the fibers of the dress stretched and pulled across her as they rearranged themselves and changed color. It felt like being rubbed down with a cotton towel.
"Okay, turn back around." She wore black tuxedo pants, a white shirt, and a black tie. She picked up a tray.
"Nice. I didn't know you could do trays."
"I don't. It was lying here. Now, I'll get into the party from the rear of the ball rooms, and you go back the way you came. Can you play the drunken party guest who's wandered to the bathroom and can't find his way back in?"
Charlie pretended to stumble. "'Scuse me, can you tell me where the bar is?"
"Perfect. I'll meet you inside in ten minutes."
As soon as Maggie left Charlie's side, Delilah Butler arrived to take her place. Maggie considered how good they looked together, like they had stepped out of People Magazine, a young James Bond and his beautiful mistress. Delilah gazed up at Charlie with her striking blue eyes, and he grinned back at her. Maggie watched them until they disappeared from view past the bouncers.
Waiting guests placed empty glasses on her tray, and she walked by the bouncers with a smile. One of them even held the door wider for her. She gathered more empties on the way back to the kitchen, the door of which was hidden to the left of the stage.
"Can you believe she's making us do this?" asked one young woman who leaned against a metal prep station and fanned herself with a tray. She, too, wore a hotel serving uniform like Maggie.
"I've never worked this hard, not even when I was a temple acolyte," complained another while she poured champagne.
Maggie cleared her throat, and both girls jumped.
"You're not one of us." The nymph's tone conveyed curiosity, not hostility.
Maggie put a finger to her lips. "I'm here to help you, but you've got to keep it a secret for now."
"We'll do anything to get out of this Hades-hole," the first girl, who had pretty curly red hair, said. "I thought we would be serving our mistress in her temple again, and here we are being put to actual work."
The other one threw the champagne bottle into a bin with other empties with a smash. "I just want to go back home to my nice tree by a stream. I'm afraid it will die without me. And the way the men here are looking at us…" She shuddered.
"Don't worry, we'll get out of here," Maggie assured them. She was arranging glasses on her tray when one of the security guys, thankfully not an Arabian guard, came in. He took a long look at her before turning to the other two.
"Hey, girls, less chatting, more serving. We've got thirsty people out there."
"Would you like some?" Maggie asked sweetly.
"Naw," the man said, "that stuff is drugged. I don't want to be hit by that and Cupid's arrow tonight. I've got enough trouble with my old lady as it is."
He continued to chuckle and walked out of the kitchen. Maggie put the tray down before she dropped it.
Drugged? And what did he mean by Cupid's arrows? I have to warn Charlie.
The tingling wave of magic that hit her when she walked into the room nearly knocked her over. She had to lean against a column entwined with pink and yellow ribbons and fake greenery. Sweat trickled down her chest and tickled the undersides of her breasts. The number of people in the room seemed to have doubled, and mist from the fog machines hung in the stuffy air. The lights dimmed by a few lumens every second, a gradual shift that the humans probably wouldn't notice, but which caught her attention. In the semi-darkness, the champagne glowed with a golden hue.
She picked up a glass and sniffed. The earthy, vinegar aroma gave it away—transportation spell. But to where? Not here, this was only the magnetic pole; the blood, or goal, pole would be somewhere else.
What had Delilah said? "I hope it doesn't turn into an orgy."
Oh, gods!
"Margaret."
Maggie jumped and almost dropped the tray of glasses she carried. She turned to meet the sea-green eyes of Nimue, who wore a seashell bra and skirt designed to look like a fish tail. Her dark hair curled in damp ringlets around her face, and her skin glistened with sweat. The poor girl looked like she would melt into the water that was her natural element. All the supernaturals must feel the pressure building. Maggie's ears popped.
"Nimue, where's Aphrodite?"
"She's backstage. Follow me." Nimue turned, and Maggie followed her.
"What is going on here?" Maggie whispered.
"It's going to be some sort of show."
"We have to get you out of here."
Nimue looked back at Maggie with narrowed eyes. "I'm not going without her."
"You won't have to."
Maggie excused herself to the Satyr she’d almost tripped over.
"Watch your feet, Truth Seeker," he sneered, "or you'll find your cover blown."
"Shut your mouth, goat-boy," she hissed back, and he giggled. She just couldn't get the woodland sense of humor.
But what is he doing here? No one reported any of them missing. Oh, gods…
Nimue brought Maggie to the other side of the stage, and they slipped behind it into a narrow passageway, the entrance of which was hidden by a strategically placed pillar. Maggie wrinkled her nose; this was where the were-bats had slept.
"Did anyone see you?"
"No, Mistress."
"Margaret." Aphrodite spun away from the mirror. She wore a low-cut white dress with a flowing skirt and golden sandals with stiletto heels.
"Your Radiance." Maggie bowed. "I'm glad to see you safe."
Aphrodite snorted, and a cloud of powder rose from the puff in her hand. "It took you long enough to find me."
"It's not been easy to get close to you. Have they treated you well?"
"As well as can be expected, but I'm ready to go home."
"What are the conditions of your release?" Maggie tipped her glasses down and saw the golden chain that was invisible to the goddess and her helpers. It twined around Aphrodite's waist and over one
shoulder.
"I'm to help Lyle set up a temple here and in the C.U. Once it's running to his satisfaction—and to mine—he will release me."
"I see."
"No, you don't." Aphrodite looked at Maggie with all the force of her sapphire eyes. "Let's be honest, Margaret. Zeus has trapped me here, and you and I both know they want something more."
"I agree with you." Maggie put her tray on a stool and flexed her stiff fingers. "What do you know about this show tonight?"
"I'm to climb on the stage behind the curtain and wait on the throne in the temple while Lyle makes his announcement." She rubbed her arms like she felt a chill. "Then he's going to introduce me."
"And then what?"
"He didn't say. I guess they'll applaud, and I'll leave the stage on his arm."
Maggie weighed the possibilities. There was definitely magic in the air, which could cause Aphrodite's goose bumps, but there had to be something else. "What do you think the enchanted champagne is for?"
"Lyle said he wanted a crowd. That he would join the population of the dream world to the one in the waking world."
"Wow, what a nice guy."
"He's not really all that bad. He's really sweet, actually."
Was that a note of sarcasm in the lovely goddess' voice? "You haven't, ah…?"
"Goodness, no." Aphrodite fluttered her eyelashes, the picture of innocence. "He's got a wife. I don't steal husbands anymore, at least not unless they're young and handsome enough, which he certainly is not."
"And where is the good Mr. Ames right now?"
"He's in the temple. He said he had to fetch something."
Maggie smacked her forehead as the pieces of Zeus' plan fell into place. "Of course. The rustling thing in the office."
"What are you talking about?"
"Eros. He's in danger. I can't explain now, but I've got to go."
28
Damien pushed his way through the crowd, and someone put a pewter goblet of wine into his hand. Before he could thank them, the person disappeared. He sniffed it and wrinkled his nose at the fruity and floral aromas. It smelled like it had been spiced or mulled. He lifted it to his lips to take a drink, but the wolf butted against him. He stumbled and spilled the wine.
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