Ever seems almost offended by this. “Yes, it’s usually packed, so you have to know when to go. Sunset…go just as the sun is setting, just as the sky is turning pink. All the tourists from the cruise ships are gone, and there are very few people left. The energy there at that time is...startling, a sight to behold.”
As we approach a vendor display, a naked statue as tall as my leg catches my eye. I stop, suddenly startled.
“Whoa, hold on,” I say as I stare up at the statue and then back at Ever. “Oh my. You look almost identical to the god in this statue. Hermes, right?”
Ever grins. “Yeah, but…” He looks down to the lower portion of the statue. “While I’m flattered to be told that I resemble a Greek god – who was a major stud, by the way – I’m not sure that I look identical to this statue.” He’s pointing to where a large part of the male anatomy is missing, as if it has been sawed off with a chisel.
Ever tells me the story of how in Roman times, the people believed that Hermes brought good luck to the home. Because of this, most households displayed a statue of this god in front of their house. Over several centuries, Christianity became the predominant religion here, and the church started covering the private parts of the Greek gods – Hermes included – with leaves.
Ever’s expression grows animated. “And then, around 1500, the pope decided that covering the private parts wasn’t enough, so he ordered them all to be cut off!”
“Oh no,” I say, grimacing. “Poor Hermes!”
Fascinated now, I continue to study Ever in comparison to the statue. “Well, I guess you don’t look exactly like him. He has blond hair, after all, but your hair is dark brown.”
Perplexed, he says, “Hermes had blond hair?”
“Well, yeah. Everyone knows that the Greek gods had blond hair and blue eyes.”
He laughs. “Now that is a myth that I’m sure most Americans perpetuate.” Continuing, he says, “If the gods were real – and I don’t believe that they were – then no one has any evidence that this guy in the statue had blond hair or what his eye or skin color really was.” He stifles a laugh as a playful smile covers his face. “The other possibility, which I’m sure is hard for you to believe,” – he gives me a huge, smug grin – “is that I might not be a real Greek god after all.”
He’s so full of himself. I need to put a stop to this…now.
I punch his arm. “Unbelievable! I did not say that you were a real Greek god. This is all going to your head. I said that you looked a bit like this statue, and that’s it.”
“Ouch!” He rubs his arm where I hit him. “I believe the word you used was identical.”
“No, I did not.”
“Whatever,” he says, crossing his arms.
All of a sudden, a policeman steps out onto the pavement. My pulse rises when I see his oversized gun, riot gear, and bulletproof vest. Dimitris steps up to the policeman and whispers something in his ear, which causes the policeman to step aside, almost as if bored.
Ever explains that the Sarantos name has far-reaching tentacles that touch all aspects of Greek society. He nods to Dimitris, and as if he can automatically read Ever’s mind, his bodyguard lifts his gun and unlatches a rope that blocks an entrance that clearly says, “Ancient Agora Excavations – Do Not Enter – Staff Only.”
“The public doesn’t have access to most of the underground artifacts at this site,” he explains.
“Right. This must be the world-famous archaeological site, the birthplace of democracy,” I say, intrigued.
The artifacts here are vast and amazing, but according to Ever, there is much more below ground than the general public knows about or has access to.
Dimitris comes back to Ever’s side and quietly tells him, “I phoned ahead to the general manager, and he has made arrangements with the head archaeologist there. We will meet his assistant.”
When we arrive at the entrance, a trembling young man with heavy black glasses leads us down into the depths of the excavation and flips on a bright overhead light that bathes the room in brilliance. Dimitris stands near the entrance. The assistant hands Ever a digital key and then leaves us. Deep within the excavation, long rows of shelves filled with dusty artifacts line the stone path where we walk.
“Come over here and look at this, Helene,” Ever says. We are moving towards the center of the room, where an aged, weathered book rests inside a glass square box. “This is one of the oldest versions of Hesiod’s Theogonia,” he says with an air of reverence. “It was printed during the thirteenth century when the first books were printed. Hesiod’s poems have been passed down orally since first composed around 700 BC. It’s usually stored in the Blegen Library downtown, but it’s here for the time being. You know what it’s about, right?”
“Of course!” I say as my eyes light up with excitement. “The poems describe the creation and lineage of the gods.”
“Yes, and allegedly, the poems were a gift given to Hesiod by the Muses.” He stares into my eyes a bit longer than usual. “Are you ready?”
I nod. But seriously, what could he possibly show me now that is all that remarkable after all that I’ve seen before?
Ever inserts the digital key into the stone column that holds the glass box, and slowly, the glass sides of the box drop into hidden crevasses within the stone column below. Next he places his right hand directly on top of the book. I stare in awe as the stone tablet begins to glow a faint golden hue. The longer Ever’s hand rests there, the brighter the glow grows.
“Here, you try,” Ever says. This text is several hundred years old, so I’m more than a little concerned about what my hand touching it could do to it, but Ever doesn’t seem concerned in the least. Slowly…gingerly…I place my hand beside his. The book lights up, now blazing into a brilliant inferno.
“Whoa,” I say, mesmerized at the sight and feeling that burns inside me. This is truly amazing, almost as incredible as seeing Poseidon’s ghost at Sounio. Ever shifts his hand now to cover mine. The intensity of the energy magnifies, ejecting an aura of a rainbow of colors that bounce across the walls. Intense tingles run up my arm and into my spine, causing me to pull my hand away in shock.
“I knew that I felt this energy with you that very first day you knocked into me at the airport, the first day that I saw you,” Ever says quietly.
I don’t know what to say. It’s all too much. I'm getting creeped out.
I ask Ever, “When did you discover that you could do this?”
His expression is filled with wonder. “I was here on a private tour for my eighteenth birthday with legendary archaeologist John Camp. When it happened, he was as shocked as I was, but we agreed to keep it a secret. Ever since then, the book has remained here.”
While it makes sense that my hand could light up the tablet because a lot of bizarre stuff has happened to me since I went through the Gate, how is Ever able to do this? Is it possible that he has been through the Gate, too? The bold yellow star tattooed on his wrist comes to mind, and since Janus works for Ever’s father, it wouldn’t be a stretch for him to visit the basement and the mirror over there.
Whatever the case, I now know that there is much more to Ever than meets the eye. I hate being direct, but I need to know if he has been through the Gate or at least knows something about it. I don’t want to be all alone in this.
I ask playfully, “Maybe you have special powers, like a superhero? Been to any faraway lands lately?”
“Ha-ha. Very funny!” He doesn’t take the bait but then says, “Well, actually, when I was six, I thought I was Superman.” His eyes sparkle. “It was great until I jumped off the roof of our house into the backyard pool. I almost hit the pavement!” He chuckles to himself. “I guess I’m only human aft
er all.”
This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’s incredibly endearing. I can imagine how adorable he was as a kid dressed as Superman.
So, I guess he doesn’t know. I must be alone in this.
I’m the only one who knows about the Gate.
24 – The Mafia
“Are we done here? Ready to go?” Dimitris works his magic, and we are back on the pavement walking under the mystical Parthenon once again. We stroll in silence, enjoying the cooler nighttime air. The peaceful ambiance is shattered, though, by the shrill beep of Ever’s Apple watch.
He glances at it but doesn’t react. His expression is totally stoic, as if it were nothing. But then, in the next moment, he stops walking and turns to me, saying, “Something came up. I have to go.”
He steps aside, leaving me standing there all alone. I shiver as I realize that I didn’t bring a coat. Ever doesn’t seem to notice. He pulls Dimitris over into an urgent huddle. They talk back and forth, and while I strain to hear what they are saying, I can’t. Dimitris shakes his head as Ever throws his hands in the air.
Ever turns back to me. “Helene, can you make it home on your own?”
The intensity in his eyes compels me to answer fast. “Uh, sure,” I say.
Ever steps up, reaching his arms out to me as if in apology. “I asked Dimitris if he could take you home, but he insists that he has to stay with me. It’s like a matter of national security or something that I not be left alone. Seriously! You sure you’re okay?”
I shrug as if it’s no big deal. “Of course! I take the Metro all the time.” But the truth is that it is a big deal. It’s not cool for him to suddenly leave so abruptly without any explanation whatsoever after all we’ve shared tonight. The good news is that I’m not as worried about my life being at stake after meeting his dad.
Dimitris waves at me to get my attention. “Yiannis will be here shortly. He can take you home,” he says, voice laced with concern for me.
I nod to him in thanks, but honestly, I know I can get home okay on my own. That’s not the issue here.
Just then, Ever pulls me into a tight hug, and almost instantly, all bad thoughts disappear. He whispers softly into my ear, “In Greece, friends don’t shake hands. This is what we do.” He kisses both of my cheeks before pulling away with an adorable smile. The Greek kiss.
I stare at his lips, willing him to kiss me there, like for real…and oh, I want him to. I feel the heat stir inside of me. He smiles and moves in closer. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, anticipating the feel of him. And then, nothing. Frustrated, I open my eyes to see him push back from me. He looks away for a minute, then takes my hand. He laughs as he squeezes my hand gently. “And here’s a handshake for you, American girl.”
I’m stunned for a moment. What just happened? I feel the sting of rejection. This might be funny under different circumstances, but here and now, I feel such a jumble of emotions, I don’t know how to react. I just stand there staring at him, speechless.
God, how could I be so stupid?
The car’s engine rumbles loudly behind us. Dimitris is waiting for Ever. Time for him to go. Just when I think he’s leaving, he moves in very close to me, almost brushing the bottom edge of my ear with his lips. I feel the heat of his breath there as a fierce shiver starts at the top of my neck and travels down through my spine, unleashing a flurry of tiny, tingling bumps that totally consume my body.
He whispers softly, “See you at the dance.”
My breath is shallow as I struggle to breathe, lost in the bliss of it all. My voice is breathy as I mutter, “Yessss.” Then I realize what he just said. “Wait…no!” My eyes open wide in protest. “I told you, I won’t be in tow—”
Before I can finish, he places his finger on my mouth. “Shhhh.” He grins as if he thinks I’m playing some sort of game with him. And then, before I can respond, he squeezes my arm and jumps into the back of the waiting Mercedes, the door slamming behind him.
As the dark car speeds away, I overhear Dimitris talking on his phone from inside. I hear him say, “She’s leaving…”
But who is he talking to? Must be the driver Dimitris mentioned before…Yiannis.
As I watch the Mercedes fade into the night, I’m relieved to see the bright lights of the nearest Metro station nearby. After a few minutes of waiting, I start to get cold, so I don’t feel like waiting around for Yiannis. I make my way onto the train, and before I know it, I’m back in Metaxourgeio. Now, only eight blocks to walk home.
Finally, I let myself reflect on what just happened. I feel my face grow hot as I realize that something was off with Ever. That whole exit was all wrong!
Why didn’t he kiss me? I blow on my hand to check my breath. Smells okay. But then it hits me. That text! It must have been from a girl he’s seeing. His exact words were, “Something came up.” Another girl. Maybe Samantha. This must be why he introduced me to his dad as his “friend.” He’s back together with her, but she’s not able to go to the dance.
Since he needs a date, Ever asked me to go as his friends. That’s why he didn’t kiss me! All that has happened tonight, while it seemed magical and wildly romantic to me, was just his way of trying to make me feel better. The almost-kiss, his abrupt departure with no explanation, his expectation that I should meet him at the dance…all of it was designed to send me the message, Let’s just be friends.
A dull ache seizes my chest at the thought of this. I don’t know how or what or why, but somehow, I was starting to feel something for him, which makes this situation so much worse.
Perhaps he can take some other “friend” to the dance! That’s an awesome plan. Makes it so much easier since I’m not going, especially not with him.
I’m so deep in my thoughts that I’m not paying attention to where I’m walking. It’s completely dark outside…like, scary dark. The moon and stars are completely shrouded by coastal fog tonight, and there is a biting wind that chills me to my core.
I walk past a man conversing with an imaginary person in a frantic and angry voice. Just around the corner, I pass by a dark alley when suddenly I hear what sounds like breaking glass. I whip around to locate the source of the sound, but no one is there. Now I think I’m going crazy…that is, until I see a dark form emerge from the shadows, a man dressed entirely in black.
His bloated body is covered head to toe with tattoos. He grins, exposing crooked, disgusting yellow-brown teeth. He murmurs something unintelligible. His accent sounds guttural, almost feral to me. I scan the area around us and wince as I realize that we are completely alone.
The next words out of his mouth stop me dead in my tracks. “Ah, sweet girl. Come here. I won’t hurt you. I hear you’ve been asking about the mafia. Well, here we are.”
Panic and adrenaline fill me. I launch into a run in the opposite direction and unfortunately end up in the alley. I yell out in frustration as I reach a brick wall. It’s a dead end. Two more hideous men wait for me there. They look hungry. Either I’m about to get mugged, or someone sent them here. Sarantos. He must not have liked my asking about my mom and sent these thugs to take me back to him…or worse. Maybe he wants me dead. But I can’t think of that. I need to stay calm and be smart, which feels impossible because I can’t seem to quiet my erratic pulse.
Tattoo guy grabs my backpack and tears it open, exposing my laptop, which clatters to the ground. He grabs the laptop, switches it on, and gives his friends the thumbs-up. Next he searches my pack and pulls out a ten euro note but then glares at me harshly as if he can’t believe that this is all the cash I have.
“Such a pretty girl.” He comes closer and closer to me, stopping only a foot away. “I wonder what you look like under this.” He strokes the
hem of my shirt with his dirt-encrusted finger. “Hmmm…”
Panic surges into terror, and some unseen force suddenly kicks into gear as my hands clench into fists and I assume a classic fighting stance. I experience the same surge of immense strength I felt when I was fencing with Ever. A powerful vision of me as a seasoned warrior consumes my mind. I let it engulf me.
Ugly tattoo guy grabs my arm…big mistake. My free arm whips up at incredible speed and easily chops down on his hand, causing him to yelp in agony. In a split second, I spin and smack him hard in the head with a graceful kick. He’s knocked out, sprawled on the ground with blood on his lip. The two other hoodlums back away in fear at what they just witnessed, but I rush at them. Holding both my arms out, I simultaneously punch them both, first in the stomach and then in the face. Now they too are out cold.
Surveying the scene, I roll tattoo guy over and turn his wrist, expecting to see the usual blue-black helix DNA tattoo that I’ve been certain is a sign of the Syndicate. But it’s not there. This guy must be from one of the local mafia street gangs. I’m not going to wait around to find out which one.
I’m about to retrieve my laptop and backpack when I see two stone life-sized statues in front of me. I’m certain they weren’t there just a moment ago. They look identical to the two guys I just knocked down. I rub my eyes, not believing what I’m seeing, but when I open them, the two statues have somehow morphed into real men. My heart rate rises as they start inching forward, coming at me with knives. I run down the alley to head out.
Just as I’m a few feet away from the street, someone new comes into view – my mom’s attorney, Harold “Hal” Avery!
Sweet relief fills me. He slowly moves in towards me from the street, hands out with a smile on his face. He’s here to help me. “Hal…” I start. “You’re still alive!”
“Yes,” he says, still smiling. However, his grin doesn’t reach his eyes as I notice his pasty, balding head is dripping with sweat. Something is off. Just like how I felt back in California when I first met him, my instincts scream in warning. But he must be here to help me! He works for my mom!
Protogenesis: Before the Beginning Page 22
