“When you stumbled into my investigation.”
I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line and remembered that same breath in my ear. It sent a pulse of crackling electricity shooting through my system that had nothing to do with my prophetic powers.
“You’re here?” he asked sharply.
“In the flesh.”
“Where?”
“Did they send a car for you or did you hire your own?”
“I picked up a ride at the airport. Why?”
“Look out the back.”
I navigated around the gnarly trees to poke my head out toward the road and wave one arm.
“Stop!” Apollo shouted, and the car leapt forward as if the driver had been startled and then froze in place, the purr of the engine and the buzzing of bees the only sounds to be heard.
“Get in,” Apollo demanded.
I’d faded back into the trees and now stared at the phone in disbelief. “You’re not the boss of me.”
“You’ve got the place staked out,” he said. It was more statement than question, so I didn’t answer. “You want to get inside?”
I wished I could see straight through the phone to his intentions. That question definitely demanded an answer, but what? I had no idea how much I’d be able to see of the compound from the outside. Going in through the front gates would definitely give me a better lay of the land and the chance to size up the players so that I knew what I was up against, but it would let them see me as well, limiting my stealth or undercover options. Not that I was a long con kind of girl in any case, but… Well, if what Hades had said about me was true, that “all of Olympus” was buzzing, that ship had probably already sailed.
“What’s in it for you?” I asked. Because strings were always attached.
“In gratitude, you’ll have dinner with me tonight.”
“I’m traveling with a friend—”
“Alone,” he said, in a way that let me know there was no room for negotiation.
“Fine,” I grated out. “In a nice restaurant. No room service.”
He laughed. “Afraid I won’t be able to control myself in private?”
Put that way it sounded silly. I was hardly irresistible. “Yes,” I answered anyway.
He sighed. “You’re probably right. Coming?”
Not yet, I thought. Then I spent my brisk walk to the car beating myself up for it. Not at all, I told myself. Bad Tori. No cookie.
The door to the Town Car popped open at my approach, and Apollo slid over to make room for me, though not as much as I would have liked. As luxurious as it was, there wasn’t enough room for comfort. Apollo’s presence was huge, overwhelming, like he was a junkyard magnet and I was an old clunker car. I wanted to slide over beside him, feel his heat and his…heat. I wanted to—
“Dial. It. Back,” I said from between clenched teeth.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Whatever,” I snapped.
In addition to being the god of the sun, music and prophecy, Apollo imbued the muses with their powers—poetry, literature, all the arts. He himself could inspire a host of wet dreams. I was doing my best to stay dry.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, suspicion giving me a tiny little wedge to drive between us.
“Dionysus and I go way back. I don’t know if you know, but we shared a sanctuary together at Delphi.”
“So you’re old drinking buddies getting together to talk about old times?
“No, business.”
My oh-shit-o-meter was going completely off the rails. Suddenly my head felt like a bell with the Hunchback of Notre Dame pulling on the rope. I know, wrong cultural reference. So sue me.
Didn’t Apollo hear the warning bells? He was the god of prophecy. Or maybe getting into bed (figuratively) with Dionysus meant something different to him. It was a good reminder that however well he played it on TV, he was not human and didn’t necessarily share my agenda for protecting them…us. On the other hand, he had stood with me against Poseidon and the other Olympians when they’d threatened L.A. Possibly he’d earned the benefit of the doubt. If I didn’t have this powerful urge to throw myself on top of him, I’d be much better able to trust that impulse.
“What business?”
He eyed me, clearly debating what, if anything, to say. “On the QT?” he asked.
“Who am I gonna tell?”
“Your grandmother for one.”
“I promise, my lips are sealed.” I mimed locking them up and throwing away the key, which only riveted his gaze on my lips. Probably not a good thing.
“They’re rolling out a new product line,” he said, still not meeting my eyes. “We’re going to discuss getting some of my talent involved in the promotion.”
“A product line?”
I managed to sound only mildly curious, when inside I was screaming. If they rolled out with something mass produced, it could affect thousands…millions. Nationally and even internationally.
We were at the gates now, and I had to divide my attention between looking around and pinning Apollo with a piercing gaze. What if promotion wasn’t all they had to talk about? What if Apollo was actually Dionysus’s ambrosia supplier? Or vice versa? Apollo might not even see anything wrong with what Back to Earth was doing. After all, he’d been quick enough to addict me when…okay, when I’d needed it, at least in his opinion.
I kept all those thoughts on the inside as Apollo flashed his ID and we were waved through the compound gates.
As the windows closed again, he answered me. “They’re planning an all-organic version of a grocery delivery service. Today they’re talking about regional distribution of their home-grown products, but they’ve got expansion plans in the works—full gourmet meal delivery via their restaurants, three squares a day with snacks to compete with those diet plans, and once they have more facilities and distributors—” He stopped. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you all this, but at least it’s not a publicly traded company, so you can’t go out and buy stock or anything.”
Oh yeah, because I so had the money for insider trading.
I couldn’t ask any of the questions I wanted to. If he was in league with Dionysus, then talking to him would be just like tipping my hand to the enemy. He’d know I knew. And if he was threatened by that knowledge…well, I’d already had Thanatos try to kill me. I figured my odds of actually dying went up with each and every god I crossed. Not that it would stop me from investigating, but it might force me to learn the subtlety that had eluded me all my life.
I made a noncommittal noise, like he could talk or not, it made no difference to me, and focused out the window. As far as I could see, the place was immense. Everywhere there were wooden plank buildings, like log cabins if the logs had been sawed flat rather than left to their natural curvaceous selves. There were a few men and women in natural weak-coffee-colored fabric, rather than the blinding white I half expected of a cult. Although, I supposed that would involve bleach, which was probably a no-no for children of the earth. Some had baskets on their hips, heads or shoulders, and some had children by the hand. But there weren’t as many as I expected. Maybe everybody else was out working in the fields I could see rising in tiers above the compound. Those nearest turned their heads to watch us as we went by, and one of the children pointed excitedly while jumping up and down, but for the most part our arrival went ignored, which demonstrated to me a surprising lack of curiosity.
“Which building?” the driver asked, talking for the first time that I was aware of.
“Anywhere’s fine,” Apollo answered.
The driver stopped short as if here suited him perfectly. Apollo paid him, and the driver handed over a business card with the receipt. “That’s my cell number on there,” he said. “You want outta here, you just call. I’ll pick you up or send somebody out for you.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think that’ll be—”
“My sister got sick from somethin’ she ate f
rom these people—one of their stands. Couldn’t prove nothin’, but it was the only thing she ate different. Gave me the heebie-jeebies when you told me we were coming out here. If I was allowed to refuse a fare—”
Apollo looked troubled, and I asked, “Do you have a second card, in case I want to go and he’s not ready to leave?”
The driver met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Sure, doll. I don’t know what you’ve got goin’ on, coming out of the bushes like that, but you be careful, capisce?”
Oh, I capisced. I wanted to hear more about his sister, but that would have to wait. I pocketed the card, thanked him, and followed Apollo out of the car.
Three figures had come out of one of the central buildings—two beautiful women with flowing hair, one a bronzy copper and the other so dark brown it was nearly black. Between them stood a man who looked like the love child of W.C. Fields and Zack Galifianakis. In other words, tall but round, at least in the belly area. Attractive-ish, but with a red nose that let you know exactly how that gut had come about. Perfectly appropriate for the god of the grape. Yet his dark eyes glittered with mischief and knowledge, calling you to look no further. He had, in a word, presence. In two, charisma. He didn’t look like any kind of health guru, which might explain the need for a spokesperson. On the other hand, he looked exactly like the kind of figure that would lead you into temptation…or a crazy cult.
Apollo stepped forward to greet Dionysus, not with a handshake, but with arms outstretched. They hugged and kissed on both cheeks, then Dionysus held Apollo out at arm’s length to get a good look at him.
“L.A. agrees with you, my friend. You don’t look a day over…thirty-five.”
“I’m supposed to be creeping up on fifty,” Apollo answered.
“Ah, but fifty is the new thirty-five.”
“In the city of angels, it’s halfway to dead.”
“It is a good thing we spring eternal, no?”
Dionysus put Apollo aside and turned those glittering eyes on me. “And who is this beautiful young lady you bring with you? One of your rising stars?”
It was all I could do not to roll my eyes or step back when he approached, arms outstretched as they had been for Apollo. I knew what came next—the hug, the kiss…both cheeks. I stood for it all, not finding it as difficult as I should have to smile back. His grin was infectious, and the mischievous glint in his eyes invited me to share a joke to which I hadn’t even heard the punch line.
Apollo returned to my side and hugged me to him, a possessive move. “This is Tori Karacis,” he said. “She’s a…good friend.”
If the name meant anything to Dionysus, it was covered up by his “Ah ha!” of understanding at Apollo’s none-too-subtle implication that “good friend” was a euphemism for “bed bunny”.
I seethed, even though it was in my best interests to be dismissed.
“Well,” Dionysus took my hand and kissed it, even though he’d already gotten both of my cheeks, “it is a pleasure to meet you, Mizz Karacis. Come, both of you, there is a beautiful spot where we can talk business and you can see the fruits of my labors.” Oh yeah, his labors. “So much better than standing around in the heat.”
He tucked my hand into his arm without asking permission and escorted us inside. We barely had time to appreciate the rustic lodge feel of the place—plank floors with colorful area rugs covering them, what looked like handmade wooden furniture arranged group-therapy-session style around a huge fireplace above which was a tapestry of winemaking. Then we were out again onto a lovely terra cotta patio overlooking the terraced vineyards. An overhang prevented direct sunlight, cutting down on the heat to which Dionysus had referred.
“Wow,” Apollo said, eyeing the land. “You’ve done well for yourself.”
“As have you, my friend,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze. Smarmy didn’t begin to cover Dionysus. Neither did the shirt straining across his midsection. “Sit,” he ordered, leading us to a table and chairs that were absolutely gorgeous, made of rough cut, gnarled wood that had been sanded and polished until it was smooth and glowing but still retained its unique shape and character. There were no cushions, but when I slid into my seat, it seemed to fit just fine. The table looked to have been carved out of a single monstrous tree. I mourned that it had been turned into even such a lovely set.
“A lightning-struck oak,” Dionysus said, as if reading my mind. “This set works in harmony because it was carved from a single tree that lightning destroyed last year. So devastating. The tree had to have been over two hundred years old. But nothing is ever lost, eh?” he asked, finally surrendering my hand to take his own seat. “That’s our entire philosophy here—reduce, reuse, renew, recycle. We compost everything. The take-out containers in our restaurants are biodegradable. We plant even as we reap.”
Oh, he had the patter down.
“It’s impressive,” Apollo said so that I didn’t have to. He gave me an amused look, in fact, as if Dionysus wasn’t the only one reading minds. I forced myself to relax my face and even let myself ease back into my seat as if the peace of the place was working its magic. “But you didn’t bring me here just to impress me. I believe we have business to discuss?”
Dionysus looked at the two women who’d accompanied us. “Gracelyn, will you bring us the marketing plan? Pansy, would you send Narcissa to serve us? Then you can get on with what we’ve discussed.”
That made me sit up and take notice. I hoped it didn’t show. Narcissa…I’d heard that before. I also noted that though Dionysus called his acolytes by name, he’d never introduced them. Clearly, we were to address ourselves to him and him alone. What was odd was that the women didn’t seem to mind. If I weren’t here strictly on a fact-finding mission (for the moment, anyway), I’d have been organizing a revolt. Smiling back at the women as they smiled at us to take their leave nearly did me in.
I focused on not reacting when “Narcissa” came out with a huge tray laden with a bottle of wine, three glasses, grapes, crackers and assorted cheeses. Casey Olivieri, in the flesh. The very person I wanted to find. She looked good. Sun-kissed. Her tanned skin a nice contrast with her lighter-colored threads. What she didn’t look was approachable. Casey’s smile was just for Dionysus, though to be polite she swept her gaze over us to imply inclusion.
I hoped at some point I could find a way to isolate her and get her to talk. But not here and now, as Dionysus watched me watch her set down the tray and pour the wine.
He knows, I thought. He’d chosen Casey to serve us specifically to see my reaction. I was certain of it. I kept my poker face in place.
Gracelyn reappeared with the portfolio Dionysus had requested and gracefully, like her name, took the fourth and final chair around the table. A dragonfly flitted casually over the table before zipping off toward the fields, and Dionysus ruined the idyll by sending Casey back for another glass. Only three because I’d been unexpected? If so, he could have had “Pansy” tell “Narcissa” to set another before she came out with the tray rather than send her back. Was it some kind of petty power play?
“Excuse me,” I said as Casey disappeared inside. “I need to use the facilities.” I didn’t wait to actually be excused before rising.
“Certainly,” Dionysus said magnanimously, his teeth stained eerily red from his first deep sip of the wine. “Gracelyn will show you.”
Gracelyn…who’d only just sat down.
“If you’ll point the way,” I said, delegating the task back to him, “I’m sure I can find it on my own.”
“Oh, but there are instructions that come with the facilities. As I’ve said, we recycle everything here.”
I didn’t even want to think about that.
“Oh, okay.” I looked to Gracelyn. “Sorry about that.”
She smiled beatifically, as if she couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do than escort me to the crapper. “I’m happy to help. This way.”
I followed the glint of her coppery mane of hair, a little jealous a
t how glossy and smooth it lay while mine was a rat’s nest of curls seldom tamed and then only with care and lots and lots of product that was likely frowned upon here.
She didn’t lead me into any of the buildings, as I’d expected and hoped. Oh no, that might have given me the chance to snoop. I feared I knew exactly where we were going as we approached a very small shack that looked like an old-fashioned outhouse. I could hardly hear her lecture about fertilizer and decomp over my mental cry of “Oh HELL no.” I could smell it already, and my ambrosia-heightened senses were in full rebellion. I wondered how any of Dionysus’s acolytes tolerated the stench, which begged the question—does a god shit in the woods? Or did Dionysus have his own private potty stashed somewhere?
“Um, seriously?” I asked, trying not to sound all citified and stuck up. “There’s no other option?”
“Oh, you get used to it” She gave me the special instructions. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
For what? I wondered but didn’t ask.
The smell inside was everything I feared it would be and more. The unseasonable heat didn’t help. If I’d actually been planning to use the facilities… Well, let’s just way it was a good thing I wasn’t. Instead, I was going to be hunting hot spots of the non-meteorological kind.
Outside of probably half the teens and amateur ghost hunters in the world, not many people realized that android phones could be used as portable EMP meters. Oh yeah, there was an app for that. Maybe it even came in handy if you were searching for the ghost of your dear old Aunt Gertrude on a deserted island, but for the most part, those apps were only useful for impressing the impressionable, who’d get positive readings all over the place from technology here, there and everywhere. The readings were enough to convince some that they were looking at future careers with Mystery, Inc.
I’d found the app useful only a time or two myself, but I was ready to make it three. If Back to Earth was a dedicated as they said to a simple way of life and a small carbon footprint, any tech at all should stand out like a virtual sore thumb.
I already had my phone set to silent, but the red and green lights of my app told me everything I needed to know about the hot spot. Not the building we’d been led through, but somewhere off to my right. I couldn’t tell how far, just that it was nearly due south of my current location. It gave me a place to start if I was able to sneak back. It was impossible to run a modern business without a communications network, and that meant files, records, a trace. It seemed likely they’d keep all their secrets in one place, rather than scattered about. There had to be some sign of Uncle Christos. Maybe even the man himself. I had a sudden image of a conservationist’s version of Tartarus, with Christos facing something like Sisyphus, only instead of constantly pushing a boulder uphill, he was trapped in a giant hamster wheel generating the power to run all of Back to Earth’s electronics.
Crazy in the Blood (Latter-Day Olympians) Page 12
