I looked at the signs as I stepped out into the hallway. In one direction lay pediatrics. In another, obstetrics. I was sure those sections were watched fairly closely, and that I’d be a little…apparent. I turned around and found a sign for a visitor’s lounge.
It was empty as I entered, lights out since it wasn’t in use. I didn’t flip the switch. The only light came from the two sliding glass windows. There were screens on the other side. And that weird prickly stuff that was supposed to discourage pigeons and gulls. But there were no bars on the windows.
I undid the latch and slid one open…until it stopped only halfway to home. There was a stopper jammed into its track to keep it from opening all the way, probably to keep people without wings from doing the very thing I contemplated. I checked out the stopper and found a nail. A simple nail, but smashed in so well, I didn’t see any way to pry it out. I didn’t have super strength or laser vision or anything that would help me with the problem. What I did have was the willingness to cause myself bodily harm, knowing I would heal. Still, I’d need something thin and strong enough to wedge under the nail head to pry it loose.
There was nothing, of course. A table, chairs, a couch, a smaller table, some magazines. I started there, grabbing the toughest looking of the bunch and sliding the middle staple on the spine under the nail head. I thought I felt it start to give, but it was only the staple buckling under the pressure. I cursed and tossed the magazine down.
I wondered if the buckle on my cursed sandals would do the trick. It seemed worth a try. I took both shoes off, so that if I was caught, at least I’d be flat-footed, which messed with the cliché, but there it was. Then I stabbed the buckle up under the nail head, angling it so that the head was caught in the corner and ripped at it with all the anger I felt at those shoes. Because yes, dammit, anger at inanimate objects could be productive, thank you very much.
Slowly, the nail pulled forth. The angle was awkward, but I repositioned myself and kept pulling and finally the nail popped free, setting me back a few steps.
The light came on suddenly, and I whipped my head around to see a nurse as surprised to see me as I was to see her.
“Hey, what are you doing?” she asked, stepping into the room.
I quickly tossed the nail down and yanked open the window. Now she wasn’t walking, she was racing, and the room wasn’t large. In a flash, I hopped up onto the sill, shoved out the screen and jumped out, chanting the words to free my wings in midair.
She called out after me, but I soared away, hoping she hadn’t gotten a decent look at my face and wondering whether her next move would be to call security or have her eyes examined.
Chapter Eighteen
I started low, since the window I’d jumped from was only on the third floor, and since I’d fallen even farther before my wings had engaged, but I quickly found myself soaring over the city. I knew where Neith’s hotel was, but before heading there, I circled the hospital in an ever-widening spiral, hoping to feel another zing, another tug, blood to blood. I wanted to pin those boys down, so that when the time was right, I could swoop in.
But either the chaos field was interfering with my power or they had fled somewhere outside the city. I couldn’t spend any more time on the search. Maybe Nick had tracked them down. Or maybe one of the others had something to contribute, but Neith was right. We needed a plan.
I veered off toward the hotel, landing on the roof of the building, where, luckily, someone had stuck a loose piece of cement in the path of the roof entrance door. Maybe Neith. Maybe some smoker who’d doggedly resisted all the anti-smoking campaigns. Whoever it was, I thanked them silently, tucked my wings away and took the offered entrance. A minute later, I was standing in front of the room number Neith had given me, knocking on the door…
Which opened to the sight of a boyish face with overlong curls. There was no dimple currently in evidence, and the face was as grim as I suspected it got.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I hadn’t meant it to come out quite the way it sounded, but this was no time for fun and games. Matchmaking or ancient feuds.
“One of Aphrodite’s girls has gone missing as well,” he said, opening the door wider and stepping aside so I could enter.
“Girls?” I asked, bristling. Not bad enough she ran Hollywood’s premier “escort service,” but not to even grant the women who worked for her the status of adulthood…
“Women,” he said, “is that better? Well, actually, nymph in this case.”
I stared. “Nymph? Do the customers know?”
“She doesn’t exactly advertise. I mean, a select clientele might be aware, but otherwise…” He shrugged. “You know how it is. Kingdoms fall and so do fortunes. It’s a living.”
I moved dazedly into the room. Neith had what was probably referred to as a junior suite. It wasn’t hugely, incredibly grand, but it was impressive enough. It probably would have looked a lot bigger without all the bodies taking up space. Hermes, Sigyn, Apollo and Neith had beaten me there. Aphrodite was present too, pacing. It looked odd on her. She should be lounging. Or slinking. Flirting or flattering. Instead, she looked honestly concerned, enough to allow a wrinkle to form on her brow.
Apollo rose at the sight of me and came over to fold me into his arms, flat against his body. As always, it radiated heat. I drank from it. His closeness or some radiant energy he gave off seemed to give me back a little of what I’d lost in the battle back at the theatre.
I held him close, but only for a moment. The comfort was too indulgent when others were in danger.
As soon as I pulled back, Aphrodite closed in on me. “You have to save Genie,” she said, her gaze boring into mine.
“Genie?” I asked. It had to be the name of her nymph, but it seemed an odd one to me.
“Iphigenia,” she said impatiently. “She’s an innocent.” She waved away whatever emotion showed on my face. “That aside. She doesn’t deserve this. And I promised to protect her. I promise that to all my girls.”
“Women,” I said automatically.
“Sure, fine. Women…whatever. You have to help her.”
“We will,” I said.
I didn’t know I had the parts to a plan until they started coming out of my mouth. “Neith, I need you to check on Set. Look in on the security arrangements. See what needs to be bulked up. Take Hermes with you. He thinks like a trickster. If there’s a flaw in the precautions, a way out, he’ll find it. Right?” I asked him.
He saluted me with a three-fingered gesture that suggested I read between the lines. I knew I had extreme cheek ordering around gods and goddesses, but it wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last.
It was Neith who protested. “I suppose you’ll be going after the Roland twins. They’ve beaten you once. What makes you think they won’t beat you again?”
“Sigyn,” I answered.
The goddess looked up at me in confusion. “What can I do?”
“Your runes. I’ve been on the receiving end, and I never want to be there again. You want to even the score between us, then you’ll devise some runes I can plant on the boys to neutralize them. You paralyzed me. Maybe you can do the same for them. Then Jessica can call in an exorcist or whatever to free them from whatever psychotic spirits have taken over, and they can turn themselves in to the police. I’m sure with the kind of lawyers they can afford and a good insanity defense…”
Jessica… I hadn’t heard from her since this morning when we’d dropped her off. It was now fairly late in the evening. She’d been the nervous type so far, calling regularly for hand-holding and updates. A bad feeling started to grow in the pit of my stomach at the realization that no news wasn’t always good news.
Sigyn’s lower lip had nearly disappeared as she chewed it in thought. She had to let it go to answer. “It’ll take me a little bit. I can’t just turn any old object into a
rune stave. The more transitory, the weaker it is. Paper, for instance, is right out. Carving the runes into wood or stone works best.”
“You do what you need to do.”
“And I’ll need to be present to activate them.”
“Fine,” I said, hoping it was. Part of me truly believed in her rehabilitation, but a deeper part of me that still smarted from Hecate’s betrayal had some serious trust issues. “Apollo, maybe you can give Artemis a call? She and her gang might want to reinforce the guards for Set until all this is over.”
A feral grin spread across his face. “Knowing my twin, she’d give her left arm for the chance to shoot Set.”
“Would make it awfully hard to draw a bow,” Hermes observed.
Apollo didn’t respond. To me, he said, “Don’t even think you’re going to send me away. I’m sticking to you like glue.”
“Like you did back at the theatre?” it slipped out. I knew there had to be a good reason he hadn’t seen that the boys were closing in on the ladies’ room and given warning. But there hadn’t been a private moment to ask him about it and now it was out there for everyone. Even I heard the accusatory tone.
“There was a huge commotion at the theatre doors, like some crazed superfans had stormed them. The doors rocked like they got hit by a battering ram. There were screams. I ran toward them, thinking it might be the Roland brothers and that someone needed help… It turns out it was either a perfectly timed coincidence or a planned distraction. Either way, it worked. Security and I were both pulled away.”
Well, that explained that. I could tell by the look on his face he felt like hell, and I didn’t make it any worse. “I didn’t mean that to come out the way it sounded. Yeah, you’re with me on team ‘Rescue Thalia’.”
“And Genie,” Aphrodite inserted.
“What about me?” Eros asked. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m both a lover and a fighter.”
I rolled my eyes.
“He’s all yours,” Neith said.
A snarky comment was on the tip of my tongue, but, after all, Hermes had proven himself useful, and if I turned down the help of every overly flirtatious Greek god…well, I’d hardly have any allies at all.
I was ignoring the fact that Apollo had once fallen into this category. It was one of the things that had kept me from giving in to my feelings for him for so long. Yet he’d come through for me time and again. And anyway, change was squarely in his nature…in all their natures. Belief fueled reality. Maybe if I believed hard enough…
I was either a fool or a visionary. “Fine,” I said again, thinking clearly of Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride—You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
“Sigyn, you work on the runes. Neith and Hermes, you work on Set. Apollo and Eros, you’re with me when the time comes. I need to check in with Jessica. Maybe she’s heard from her brothers.”
“Jessica?” Aphrodite asked. I realized she’d neither asked for nor received a part to play in all this.
“My client,” I answered shortly.
I moved a bit away from the others so I’d be able to hear, and I called Jessica.
Her phone rang and rang before sending me to voicemail. I tried to tell myself that it was only an unanswered phone, but that feeling in my gut rose up like Godzilla storming out of the ocean to trash Tokyo. I regretted now that I hadn’t gotten Mrs. Barbarosa’s number. At least I had her address. I quickly used my browser to look up her number on-line, but no one answered my call.
When I looked back toward the others, Apollo was already glancing my way, alerted by the alarm radiating along our link…or maybe by his own precog.
“We’ve got to go now,” I said.
“The limo’s outside,” he answered, not even asking for an explanation.
I ran for the door. I didn’t have time to protest about the limo being too conspicuous. Given the violence of my reaction, we might already be too late to save Jessica.
“Shotgun!” called a voice behind us.
Eros. Curse him.
“There’s no ‘shotgun’ in a limo,” Apollo bit back.
“Well then, whatever. I’m coming with. Most action I’ve seen in… Wait, don’t get the wrong idea, I’ve seen action. Just not the Terminator-type stuff.”
“This isn’t a movie,” I said. I’d hit the hallway and made a command decision to give up on the elevator and take the stairs. We were only five floors up.
Apollo and Eros pounded down behind me. I only hoped the others were doing what I’d told them to do. We needed to nip this whole thing in the bud, dammit. If not, we’d have another clash of the titans or battle for New York or… I’d had enough of near apocalypses.
The limo waited for us in the covered portico in front of the hotel, off to one side so as not to block traffic. We raced for the door before the porter could grab it for us, startling our poor driver, who was cracking pistachios and flipping through messages on his phone when we jumped in.
Or maybe I startled him more than we, given my barefoot state and disheveled appearance. My gown might never be the same. I didn’t give him time to ponder it, but rattled off Mrs. Barbarosa’s address, which was still saved in my phone’s GPS under recent searches. He looked to Apollo in the rearview mirror to confirm he should listen to the crazy woman, and Apollo answered with, “Move, dammit. This isn’t a drill.”
The driver didn’t need to be told twice, but put the car into gear and pulled out into traffic.
“So, what’s the haps?” Eros asked, sounding eager.
I had the sudden urge to share crime scene photos, the especially bloody kind, to take his enthusiasm down a few notches.
“Does anyone still talk like that?” I snapped instead.
“Don’t they?” He thought about it. “How about: what’s the 4-1-1?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” I said.
We seemed to be catching every single light. Every one of them. I was leaning forward in my seat, straining as though it would get me there any faster. Hell, I could probably run there ahead of the limo… Or fly.
“Pull over,” I said.
The driver again glanced into the rearview mirror to check in with Apollo…the man paying for his services.
But Apollo was looking at me. “There’s no time to stop,” he said, which the driver took as a sign to ignore me entirely.
“I’ll get there faster on my own,” I said, reaching across for the door handle.
He put his hand over mine to stop me. “You’re not going off alone. I’m not going to lose you.”
“No, you’re not,” I said. I kissed him hard in good-bye and to put him off kilter, then yanked on the door handle even with his hand on mine and threw myself out of the car, rolling and scraping across the asphalt as the limo went on without me. I heard the brakes squeal as my cursing died down and a curb stopped my roll, but I quickly jumped to my feet ignoring the fact that I was in pain and still wobbly from my earlier defeat and bolted down a side street, though only a few steps before I unleashed my wings and achieved lift-off.
Only this time it took a monumental effort. All action and no recharge was taking a toll on me. I felt like I needed a big, fat, bloody steak to build my blood back up and then a twenty-four hour nap. I wasn’t getting either one any time soon.
I had no idea how to get to Mrs. Barbarosa’s as the crow (or gorgon) flies, so I had to follow the roads, sometimes swooping low enough to read the signs. I could see people down below, wondering if I was a bird or a plane or yet another Superman reboot. Cell phone cameras pointed my way. By tomorrow I’d probably be a YouTube sensation. Not my favorite idea ever, but I’d survive.
At last, I hit Mrs. Barbarosa’s street and spotted her tidy, one-story house—yellow with green and white trim. The roof was too steep for me to land on safely, but luckily she had
a fenced-in backyard for her cats, and I landed there, startling two of them, who disappeared as though they’d never been.
I took the two steps up to the shaded back porch. As I approached the back door, one of the in-house cats scared the hell out of me by leaping at the door and clawing at it for all she was worth. I expected the screen to shred, but she must have been declawed, because all that happened was a shooshing sound and a plaintive mew like she was begging to be let out.
Something was wrong, but I didn’t need her to tell me that.
I tried the door, and the cat paused in her batting at the screen to stare at me. It was locked. I debated going around for the front to try that door, but my sense of urgency wouldn’t allow it. Instead I grabbed an empty clay flowerpot and swung it for the window. Both shattered on impact, and I punched out a few remaining shards to stick my hand through and push in the screen as well. If her neighbors were on guard, they’d have heard the sound and should be calling police right about now, but that was okay with me. I might need the back-up.
I stood on my tiptoes and reached in to undo the locks to the inner and outer doors and let myself into the house, closing the screen door behind me so the clawless kitty didn’t get out of the house and into some trouble she couldn’t fight her way out of. But the cat had vanished at the racket I’d made. Other cats, though, peered out of everywhere to see what all the fuss was about.
Or maybe just whether I had the kitty kibble. I had, after all, just let myself into Mrs. Barbarosa’s kitchen. It smelled of canned cat food and ammonia, as though the kitty litter tried and failed to keep up with so many cats—at minimum the clawless kitty who had dashed away, one thinking she was thin enough to hide behind the legs of the kitchen table, another peering from the wall separating the kitchen from the next room, and yet another, a huge orange longhair, making a bee-line for me, rubbing herself against my legs for all she was worth, as though she wanted to weave me legwarmers with all the excess fur.
“Jessica!” I called.
The walls ate the sound. My precog lay dormant. As silent as the house that gave me no answer.
Blood Hunt Page 19
