by Lisa Kessler
Her back stiffened. “Every myth begins from a need to explain a reality. So while I’m not sure a real Kraken is locked up in the Earth’s core, I think it’s likely there is some inhuman force there, something imprisoned to keep it from destroying the world.”
Nate rocked back in his chair. He wanted to laugh and point out how insane this sounded, but the vision of the robed man in the gold mask reminded him of the danger. Even if this wasn’t real, at least one man with a taste for homicide was buying it.
“So this Kronos guy is trapped underground, and you think there’s some cult in Crystal City worshipping him?”
“Maybe?” She shrugged. “When Kronos ruled, it’s referred to as the Golden Age of Man. All milk and honey. I could see a cult wanting to bring back man’s heyday. Maybe they’re end-of-the-world junkies.” She met his eyes. “And Nia was not part of some cult, just in case you were going to ask again.”
Her cell phone chimed. She glanced at the text and frowned. “Can you excuse me for a second?”
Mel called Polly back on her cell as she watched Detective Malone—Nate—jotting notes on his pad. The muscles in his forearm flexed and released as he wrote, and she caught herself nearly starting to drool. She rolled her eyes at herself as Polly answered.
“Hey, Mel. They denied the permit for the roof restoration.”
“What?” She lowered her voice. “Why? It was a standard building permit. We’re not doing anything crazy.”
Polly sighed. “They’re sending out a building inspector to check the foundation and the support beams to make sure it’s structurally sound before they’ll issue the permits. The soonest appointment he had open was next month.”
“But we can’t start the interior renovations without repairing the holes in the roof. This is going to delay our opening.”
“Which may be what they were after from the beginning,” Polly grumbled.
Mel frowned. “I was just babbling when I said someone out there doesn’t want the Theater of the Muses to open. My typical worst-case scenario; it wasn’t real.”
“Maybe it’s more real than any of us realized.” Her voice softened. “Maybe this is why someone hurt Nia.”
Mel shook her head. “No one would murder someone to stop a theater from opening. That would be ridiculous.”
“I hope you’re right.” Polly sighed. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks,” Mel said and then they both hung up.
Mel returned to the table in a fog of questions.
“Everything okay?”
Nate’s deep voice snapped her back to reality. “No. Our building permits for the theater are being delayed.”
“Why?”
She nodded, suddenly unsure what to say. Talking about the theater hit too close to home, too close to the truth of what connected the sisters, to dreams of changing the world and inspiring future generations.
Nate tapped on the page of Kronos masks again. “Could these people be dressed like this in protest of your theater?”
“I don’t think so. How would they even know we’re involved in restoring it? We formed an LLC to keep our names and personal property off the project.”
Nate picked up his pen again. “Can you give me the name on the permits? I could do some digging and see if I can find out what’s really behind the delays. Just to be sure.”
It couldn’t hurt, could it? She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Our company name is Muses Anonymous, LLC.”
He smiled, and a warning light went off in her head. She needed to figure out what really happened to Nia, and intimate relationships never ended well for her. Not to mention that she’d made a no-dating pact with her sisters until the theater opened.
Let this one pass by.
“How’d you guys come up with the name?” he asked.
Oh crap. She never should have told him about the permits. “Polly is funding our project. It was her idea. Like that Theater of the Muses in Paris? That’s her vision for the place.”
Before he could ask any more questions she wasn’t prepared to answer, his cell vibrated on the table.
“Sorry. I’ve got to take care of this.” He lifted his gaze. “Thanks for the information. I’ll let you know if I find any leads on your roommate, and I’ll see if I can dig anything up on those permits, too.”
“Thanks.” She sipped her coffee, admiring the view as he walked away. He was clearly still hiding something. She didn’t believe for a second that the Kronos masks were part of some big crime spree. Not when she and her sisters were muses. But he didn’t know that…did he?
Picking up her red pen, she did her best to focus on grading papers.
Yeah, right.
By the time Nate and John finished questioning eyewitnesses of a hit-and-run in the park, all he wanted was a beer and a bed, but when he got home and had a brew in hand, he didn’t head for the television or his bedroom. Instead he sat at the dining room table—his makeshift desk—and opened his notebook and the folder of masks.
Once his laptop fired up, he started searching for information on Kronos and the Titans. A few days ago, he would’ve laughed his ass off at the idea of Greek gods shoving girls down the stairs in Crystal City, California, but now…
He rubbed his shoulder and winced. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he was sunburned, but he hadn’t been to the beach in weeks. He got up, unbuttoning his shirt on the way to the bathroom. Twisting around, he couldn’t quite see it in the mirror. He grabbed his cell phone and took a picture of the reflection of his back.
He frowned staring at the pic. “What the hell?”
His birthmark on the back of his shoulder had been almost black his entire life, but now… He enlarged the photo. It was bright red and raised—like a brand. He didn’t have time for a doctor appointment right now, but it definitely looked angry. Maybe all those years of running on the beach were finally catching up to him. Shit.
He tossed the shirt on the edge of the bed and went back to the table. He still had a case to solve. Greek gods, a theater, and a dead woman shoved down the stairs. There had to be a connection he was missing. If the vision he’d seen was real, what tied Mel and her roommate to this Kronos guy?
He took a swig of beer and scrolled through more Greek myths about Titans. Maybe he needed a new angle. Mel and her roommate were both part of the Muses Anonymous, LLC. He opened another window and typed Greek muses into the search engine. He clicked the first listing on the page.
The more he read, the more the mark on his back ached. Nine muses. How many “sisters” did Mel have in this LLC? He opened another window, logging into the city records. Including the victim, there had been nine. Coincidence. Had to be.
He scanned the names. Nia, the victim, Mel, he’d met Callie. He kept skimming when one popped out at him. Thalia. Unique, and he was almost sure… He switched windows to the page about the Greek muses. Thalia was the Muse of Dance.
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand down his face. This was nuts. He couldn’t believe he was even considering this. It had to be a coincidence.
Then he read further and froze. The nine muses were the daughters of Zeus.
Kronos would hate his jailer. What better way to hurt someone than to go after his children?
He got up, pacing the kitchen. This was certifiable. Mel was a high school English teacher, not a daughter of a fictional god. But what if this guy in the Kronos mask didn’t see it that way? What if they were real to him?
Mel could be his next target.
He snatched up his phone and dialed her phone number.
“Hello?”
Just hearing her voice calmed the tempest inside. It made no sense. Every part of him was tense. The urgency filtered into his voice. “Mel, I need to see you right away.”
She hesitated. “What’s wrong?”
“Face-to-face. It’s important.”
“Okay.” She sounded less than convinced. “Meet me at Gracie’s in thirty minutes.”
Nate arrived first and nursed a Coke at the bar. Although his back was to the door, he was aware of her presence the second she opened it. How was that even possible?
She took the stool next to him, resting her hands on the bar. “What’s so important?”
On an impulse, he placed his hand over hers and braced himself. Nothing. Well. Far from nothing. In fact, his entire body sizzled with need. But he had no visions. He hadn’t had any at the hit-and-run earlier, either. Maybe the visions had been a one-time thing. Or a brain tumor.
“Sorry.” He pulled his hand away. Thankfully she didn’t seem offended, but confusion lined her brow. He got up and pointed toward a corner table. “Let’s talk somewhere more private.”
He followed her; grateful she didn’t mention his inappropriate physical contact.
Once she was seated, her gaze locked on his, her full lips struggling to hold back a smile. “I hope I didn’t come down here to hold hands.”
He raked his fingers through his short hair. “Sorry about that.” He leaned in closer. “Solving crimes is like following a spider web. Everything is connected in some way, it’s just figuring out where things intersect so I can find the spider in the middle.”
“And did you find it?”
He shrugged. “Is there a reason you didn’t mention the Muses were daughters of Zeus?”
Her smile faded. She rested her forearms on the table, leaning closer to him. “You were asking about Kronos, not Zeus.”
“Your theater is for the nine Muses, Zeus’s daughters. If I were a crackpot on Team Kronos, I’d hit Zeus where it hurts—his beautiful girls.” He moved even closer to her, pulled in by some unseen magnetic force, an unquenchable thirst to be near her parching him.
“You might be on to something, Detective Malone.” Her breath warmed his lips as she spoke.
“Nate,” he whispered. “Call me Nate.”
“Nate…” she whispered as she closed the distance between them. Her lips brushed his.
Fireworks erupted behind his eyelids, landscapes rolling through his consciousness in a constant stream he couldn’t comprehend. Greece, Rome, Paris, Crystal City. He pulled back, struggling to clear his head.
“Did you see that?” he asked.
She frowned. “See what?”
Maybe he needed to get more than his birthmark checked out. He ran a hand down his face. “Sorry. When I’m around you…”
“Please don’t apologize, you’ll hurt my pride.” She almost smiled. “And I kissed you. Just so you know.”
He was usually smooth when it came to women, but Mel wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met. She threw off his equilibrium, and the crazy visions weren’t helping. He shook his head. “I wasn’t apologizing for the kiss.” He chuckled. “In fact, I’d be willing to try that again sometime.”
“Good.” She settled back. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention the muses had a tie to Zeus.”
He swallowed and met her gaze head-on. As much as he was feeling for her, he needed to focus, even if it meant confronting her. “Are you keeping anything else from me that could help with this case, Mel?”
Was she? Mel struggled to string her thoughts together. She shouldn’t have kissed him, but besides being the hottest detective she’d ever seen, he was also the only person who believed her and was trying to figure out what really happened to Nia. Knowing someone was going on a limb to help her was a heady sensation as it was, and add in that he smelled like an untamed forest, and her resistance ran really low.
And now that she’d gotten a taste of his lips on hers, she was hard-pressed to focus. “I think I’ve told you all I can.” She tried to keep her voice from trembling, from giving away the truth of who she was, who Nia was.
He pulled out the printout of the masks again. “If there is some kind of cult that worships Kronos, it’s not a big leap to think that if they found out you all were restoring a theater for the muses, they’d see hurting you as a way to punish the guy who defeated their leader. People have killed for less.”
Could he be right? “But we don’t advertise who we are, and our company is an LLC. We don’t have our names anywhere on the project. How could they have made that connection?”
“Maybe they saw you coming and going from the theater? That’s the part I’m missing.” He reached across the small table to take her hand. “But if I’m right, you or one of your sisters could be the next target.” He squeezed. “You need to be careful.”
She nodded, struggling to convince herself he was wrong. They were muses. They weren’t hurting anyone. Why would anyone want them dead?
No. There had to be another explanation. Clio, their resident Muse of History, studied every mention of the muses in any ancient text she could get her hands on. If there were Kronos supporters out there, wouldn’t they know?
She shielded her fear with bravado. “I’ll keep my eye out for a guy in a gold mask.”
He groaned. “This isn’t a joke. I don’t want to get a call that something’s happened to you.”
She sobered, glancing down at their joined hands. “Why do you care?”
He caught her chin with his other hand. His gaze demanding she look at him. “Because I lost someone I should’ve been protecting. I’ll never let that happen again.”
She searched his eyes and saw raw concern, worry, and regret. Her chest constricted, the memory of Nia’s empty stare crawling out of the shadows of her mind. This was real. She needed to circle the wagons. If they put their heads together, she and her sisters would come up with a plan. They had to.
She slid her hand free of his. “I appreciate your concern.” She pushed her chair back. “I think I’d better get back to Callie’s.” She stood, and a scar on his right bicep peeked out from under the sleeve of his T-shirt.
Until now, she hadn’t even noticed that he was out of his detective suit. A gentle smile tugged at her lips. “You should wear short sleeves more often.”
Before he could respond, she hustled out of the bar. Something was going on. Something big, like the dreams that brought her sisters together. But this time, it wasn’t a theater bringing them together. It was a killer tearing them apart.
CHAPTER 5
Mel groaned. “I kissed him.”
Callie pulled out the chair next to her at the long dining room table. “The detective? Seriously? We made a pact.”
“I know, I know. But there’s something about him.”
Callie sighed. “We’ll never get this theater open if we’re all off chasing men. This is important. Like, for all mankind and the future of the world important.”
Mel put her hands up. “I get it, Miss Epic Poetry.” She shook her head. “He’s the only one who believes that Nia’s fall wasn’t an accident.”
“He seems like a good guy, but we need to focus on finding Nia’s killer, and then finish the theater. We don’t have time for distractions. No men.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Mel rolled her eyes. “Inspiration before intercourse.”
Callie chuckled. “I should put that on a T-shirt.”
“He’s smart, too.” Her voice wavered, fear creeping back into her consciousness. “He thinks he found a link.” Releasing a breath, she forced the words out. “We may all be targets.”
But before Mel could finish telling Callie about her meeting with Nate, Clio burst in, books and scrolls in her arms. “Sorry to interrupt, but I think I stumbled onto something interesting.”
Mel tensed, already imagining that the Muse of History discovered some ancient prophecy of their demise. She took a deep breath rolling her eyes at herself. Glass half-full, remember?
Clio pulled out a chair at the table and sat down, carefully placing her ancient documents on the tabletop. “I was actually looking for some record of previous muses being murdered, and while I didn’t find that, I did find this…” She unrolled a scroll, pointing to a few faded lines.
Callie propped her head up on her elbow. “It’s all in Greek.”
Clio nodded, then sighed. “Sorry. I forgot you can’t read it.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder and leaned in closer to the text. “Every generation, the nine daughters of Zeus are reborn, and with their rebirth are also nine Guardians. They will be marked by the gods, and given gifts to protect his treasure. Their abilities will only be unlocked when they find their muse.” She tipped her head up, looking from Mel to Callie. “We have Guardians.”
Mel crossed her arms. “Where was Nia’s?”
Clio sighed, rolling the scroll up again. “It doesn’t say how they find us, just that when they do, their “abilities” will be unlocked.”
“A lot of good that does us if we can’t find them.” Mel leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling.
“According to the scroll, they’re supposed to find us.” Clio took her glasses off. “But if the gods thought we needed Guardians, it’s possible there has been trouble in the past, too.”
Callie got up and took a cup out of the cupboard. “Do you think they have dreams like we all did?”
Clio shrugged. “It didn’t say. I’ll keep looking. Maybe I can find another reference.”
Mel rubbed her forehead. “Better find it quick. Nate thinks there might be a Kronos worshipper out there and he might know who we are.”
“What?” Callie came back to the table. “Why would he make a connection like that? How is that possible?”
“He was researching the mask and the myths about the Titans.” Mel shrugged, hoping she looked flippant like some of the teens in her classes instead of a guilty five-year-old. “He also offered to check into the delay in our permits, and I might have told him the name of our LLC. Which I guess led him to start researching the muses.”
“You didn’t.” Callie frowned. “Mel, we don’t know anything about this guy. The theater, Nia, our calling, this is our responsibility.”
Mel jumped out of her chair. “I get it, okay? But there’s something about him. He wants to help us.”
Clio cocked a brow. “That’s pretty hopeful for the Muse of Tragic Poetry.”
“Right?” Mel shook her head. “I’m telling you, though—he really could help us. Yes, I don’t know him well, but I can tell you he’s been shot twice, he respects my teaching abilities, and he believed me when no one else did.” A light bulb burst to life over her head. “And I trust him.”
