by Jasmine Walt
Tres took a step back, but as he did, he curled his fingers around mine. “Shall we?”
He didn’t wait for me to answer. He gave my hand a tug. And then I was in motion.
He stayed one step ahead of me as we left the first layer of the restoration behind. He knew where the lever was to the second. Without the power of the Olympians illuminating the inner halls, we were engulfed in darkness. Immortals saw keenly in the dark, but I pulled out a flashlight from my bag as we headed down the corridor where I’d seen Hera disappear.
We came to the wall she’d disappeared behind. I pointed to the lever, but Tres was ahead of me. He reached up and pressed the space where Hera had. The passageway opened.
“Why didn’t that work for me?” I asked.
“This temple once belonged to the goddess Hera. She asked me to put in a lever when the reconstruction began on the second layer.”
“You knew her?”
“As much as anyone could. She was as cordial as a cactus.”
He still held my hand in his as we headed down the narrow passageway. I had a mind to take it back. I didn’t need his protection, but I liked the idea of being in his care. I liked the idea that he’d place me behind his strong, broad body and face any danger head-on.
“What are you hoping to find?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Bodies? The Holy Grail?”
At the end of the hall was an open entryway. We entered a room. On the wall hung a large tablet. I shone my flashlight on it and gasped.
“That can’t be the Holy Grail,” Tres said. “Last I heard, the Knights have it in their possession in their stronghold in Britain. And I know The Arthur would never part with it.”
“It’s not the Grail. It’s the Ninnion Tablet.”
“The what?” Tres asked.
“It was rumored to depict the rites of the Eleusinian Mysteries, but it was lost years ago.”
“Are you telling me that this drawing depicts how the Olympians make demons?”
“Not demons—Chosen. The humans they take come to them freely and offer their souls. They suck the energy right out of their eyes.”
“How do you know that?”
I turned to Tres. “I saw it last night.”
“They invited you to see?”
I nodded. “Me and Loren.”
“What?” His face contorted in horror. “Is that Van Alst woman now an immortal demon?”
“No. She declined the invitation. At least she did last night.” Who knows what Baros was convincing her to do as she rode his boat.
I stared at the tablet. I had a feeling of certainty that I’d seen it before. Perhaps I’d even seen it being made?
The Ninnion Tablet was a large square plaque. Etched on it were many people, some were standing, a couple were seated. There was wheat woven throughout all the empty space in the depiction. It crowned their heads, lay at their feet, and was held in their hands like an offering.
“Huh?” I cocked my head first left and then right. My eyes darted across the picture, counting the figures once, then twice, and then, to make sure my math was right, a third time. Something didn’t add up. “If this is supposed to depict the six Olympians and their rituals, why are there nine people on this plaque?”
“Are some of them humans?” Tres asked.
“I guess?” But that answer didn’t feel right. Something was struggling to the forefront of my brain. There were four men and five women. But they were all wearing crowns. No human would be depicted wearing a crown.
“Is this supposed to be a depiction of the Greek gods?” Tres asked. “If so, why is the Egyptian goddess Isis depicted in here?”
“Isis?”
Tres pointed to the edge of the picture at the second seated person. Looking closely, I saw it was a woman. She sat on a throne facing two individuals, a man and a woman who were larger in stature than the others. In fact, the three of them—the large couple and the seated woman—were apart from the other six individuals, as though they were conversing in secret.
The woman in the large couple had her hand outstretched to her male partner’s face, as though she was going to touch his eyes. But his body was turned away from hers. The seated woman, the one Tres pointed to as a depiction of the goddess Isis, watched the large couple before her as though in judgment. In her hands, she held a staff—the Eye of Ra.
I took a step back when I realized it was the same as the painting in my dream, the one Zane was etching. My mind went back to that dream, or perhaps it was a memory. I saw his hands working on this very piece of art. I watched his lips form an O and blow away dust as he chiseled out the staff in my hand. The same as it was in this picture. What the hell was going on?
“Do you think we can move this?” I asked Tres.
“Up three levels of narrow, crumbling temple? I’d rather not.”
I took out my phone and snapped a picture. But the resulting image came out grainy. I turned on the flash and took another shot. When the light lit the room, a low moan sounded from somewhere in the corner.
Both Tres and I turned, aiming the flashlight into the corner. We were not alone. Someone cowered in the darkness.
“It’s a demon,” Tres said.
Tres leaped in front of me. He bent over and pulled the mass of dirty robes off the ground. Bare feet dangled. Atop the head were white wisps of hair.
“Socrates?” I asked.
But clear, pupil-less eyes full of aged wisdom and peaceful resignation didn’t shine back at me. Instead, black eyes with a red rim stared. The eyes of a demon.
“But you died,” I said.
“You know this thing?” Tres asked in disgust.
“Yes, that’s Socrates. I watched him die last night. He’d been a devotee of the Olympians. Hestia returned his soul last night, and he died. I saw it.”
“It looks like someone stole his soul back,” Tres said.
I’d watched Hera take his body away. She had been stoic the whole ceremony. She had been the only god to have no new initiates.
I turned to Socrates. “Did Hera do this to you?”
Socrates opened his mouth, but he had trouble getting any words out. For a man who had spent his life debating, it broke my heart to watch him struggle with words. Finally, he was able to speak.
“Death.” His hands raised to his eyes. His nails dug into his sockets. “Please.”
The only way to kill a demon was through the eyes. This man had died not once, not twice, but this would be the third time. I couldn’t refuse him.
“Release . . . me,” Socrates begged.
“We have to set him free,” I said.
“He’s an empty shell. The only one who can release him is the one who stole his soul.”
“There’s another way.” I reached to my hip and pulled loose my dagger. A strong hand came over mine. I looked up into Tres’s eyes.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
I shook my head. “I knew him, for however briefly. I’ll do it.”
I cradled Socrates’s head in my hands. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’ll make her pay.”
The wizened philosopher moved his lips again. It took another moment before the word would come out. “Peace,” he begged.
I smiled so he’d see I had no intention of taking the high road. He opened his eyes wide to receive the relief of my dagger. I struck true twice. Instead of the celebrated sage collapsing to the ground, or trusted friend falling backward into the embrace of familiars, I caught the old man in my arms. His head rested on my chest as the life seeped out of him for the last time.
18
Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to the hotel. We got onto the elevator and were confronted with our first problem. It required a key to get up to the penthouse and the terrace level above it where the Olympians lived.
Thank goodness I had an engineer with me. Tres opened the panel inside the elevator and did some rewiring. Within a few seconds, we were on our way up. In the confinement of
the elevator, I glanced at his square jaw and curved lips, realizing how sexy math and technology were.
The door opened to penthouse level. Three large male devotees stood on the other side of the elevator doors. They looked us up and down from their spots. With menace in their tense postures, they stepped shoulder to shoulder, blocking our path to the doors spaced out along the hall.
I took a fighting stance. There was no way I wasn’t getting past them and through each one of those doors until I found Hera. She was going to pay for what she’d done to Socrates. It was three gladiator brutes against two Immortals. They didn’t stand a chance. But Tres stepped in front of me.
“Trust me,” Tres said. “You do not want to get on her bad side. This is between two Immortals. Let them work it out.”
“What’s going on out here?” Zeus emerged from behind one of the doors with a towel wrapped around his waist. His face lit up when he saw me, and the towel tented. “Nia, you’re finally succumbing to my wiles.”
His fiery eyes locked on Tres and his brows rose.
“And you brought a friend?” Zeus asked. “I had no idea you were so kinky.”
“Where’s your wife?” I growled.
Zeus grimaced. The tented towel lowered partway. “That’s actually a bit kinkier than I’m comfortable with.”
“I just came from the Parthenon. Socrates, the devoted who served your family for thousands of years, was cowering in the corner as a demon.”
“That’s not possible.” Zeus shook his head. “He was laid to rest.”
“Unless someone forced him to rise, and the last person I saw with him was Hera.”
“Nia?”
I turned at the sound of the lilting voice that drifted from an open door. Demeter’s yellow head emerged. I rounded on her.
“Your sister made a demon out of Socrates.”
Demeter’s questioning smile turned upside down. “Darling, none of those words make any sense together.”
“Where is she?” I stormed up to Demeter, then stepped past her. “Is she in your room?”
“No.” Demeter marched backward until she blocked my path. “She is not.”
“Let me see for myself.”
I stepped right, but Demeter slid in front of me again. “You’ll have to take my word for it, darling.”
“Oh, this’ll be good,” Zeus said, coming closer to lean against the wall beside us, as though he wanted a front-row seat at a theatrical play.
I turned back to Demeter. She wouldn’t meet my eye. “If your sister is not in there”—I pointed to the closed bedroom door—“then you’ll have no problem letting me pass.”
“Hera is not here. I’m in the middle of . . . private time in my room.” Demeter leaned in and whispered directly in my ear, “Darling, I don’t want to cause any drama in your family.”
As I listened to her, I noted a tickle in my throat. Tres was behind me. Having been with him for the last few hours, my body had acclimated to his presence. It should not be having an allergic reaction so soon with just one Immortal present. Unless . . .
I turned to look behind me. Tres was grimacing, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he felt the presence of another Immortal too. I turned back to my bestie of old.
Drama in my family? Hadn’t she said she preferred Zane? Did she prefer him so much she’d called him up and disappeared with him behind closed doors for some private time?
My chest burned as my heart sped up. I heard the clicking of my jaw as it clenched. My vision blurred with bright spots as I tried to bring Demeter into focus.
She was in a silk robe. The belt to the robe was haphazardly tied, revealing the top of her left thigh and the swell of her right breast. Her hair was mussed as though someone had been running their hands through it—no. Yanking at the loose strands. Her lips were too swollen to accomplish the grim line she was trying and failing to press them into.
“Who the hell do you have in there from my family?” I demanded.
The door creaked open. Slowly. My heartbeat slowed down until its thump reverberated in my ear. I could feel my pupils dilating as the door widened inch by inch. I looked up to see a dark head appear in the doorway.
Acid washed down my throat as a male body slid out of the opening. My gaze went fuzzy as downcast eyes appeared beneath hooded lids. He brushed his hand over his bearded chin and—
A beard? Zane couldn’t abide facial hair. I slammed my eyes all the way open.
Bet. It was Bet. I took a deep breath. My heart began beating again.
Bet’s shirt hung open. His pants were zipped up but unbuttoned at the top. His hair was completely disheveled. It was a bit jarring. I’d never seen him looking anything but impeccable and put together.
His gaze skated awkwardly over me and Tres, then latched onto a chuckling Zeus. He turned and glared at Demeter, accusation in his voice. “You’re making demons? I should have known. Every time I let my guard down with you—”
Demeter held up a finger. “Hush, puppy.”
Bet choked on the words that he had been gathering to spew forth. Like a good little pet, he heeled at her command. It was a wonder he didn’t sit back on his haunches and wait for a treat. I was momentarily stunned by Demeter’s power over this warlord, this conqueror of lands, this corrupter of democracy.
Demeter’s attention turned to me. “Where did you see demons?”
“One demon,” I said. “Socrates. He was on the third level of the Parthenon.”
“Darling, Socrates was sent on to the next life. You saw it yourself.” But her certainty had faltered.
I shook my head. “I saw him. His eyes were rimmed with red, and he could barely speak.”
“I see.” Demeter’s open face slowly closed and was replaced with forced calm. “Where is he now?”
My right hand reached for my dagger. My fingertips glanced the weapon before I folded my hands in front of me. “He begged me to end his life.”
Demeter reached out and took my hands in her own. “I’m sorry you had to do that, but I thank you for taking care of the matter.”
I looked into her light eyes. They were no longer bright and carefree. They had dimmed as though storm clouds had moved in.
“Well, darling.” She forced a smile. “I thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’ll take it from here.” She patted my hands and went to turn from me.
“There’s more,” I said. “I also saw the Ninnion Tablet down there.”
“The Ninnion Tablet?” Zeus asked, coming off the wall. His handsome face had also transformed from enjoyment to concern.
“You know it?” I asked.
Neither god said anything. They remained tight-lipped and looked at each other rather than at me.
“What’s the Ninnion Tablet?” Bet asked. For a man with such an impactful presence in the world, I’d forgotten he was in the room.
“The Ninnion Tablet was rumored to depict the Initiation Rites—how the Olympians granted immortality to the chosen few. But what I saw on the plaque didn’t look anything like what I saw last night.”
“It doesn’t. It—” Zeus began, but Demeter held up her hand to stay her brother.
“There are so many depictions of us,” she said, forcing a trickle of laughter that came out sounding choked. “It is but one of humanity’s explanations of what they think needs to happen to become immortal.”
“A human depiction?” I asked.
She swallowed, forcing her swollen lips into a thin line.
“I think I was depicted on that tablet,” I said.
It was a small flicker, but I saw it pass over her features. If I hadn’t already been sure, I was now that Demeter hadn’t known what had happened to Socrates. But I would stake my long life on the fact that she knew something about what was going on with that tablet. Something she did not want me to know.
“Darling Tisa.” Demeter took my hands in hers again. “You know we think of you as family. But you’re not an actual Olympian. So it
couldn’t be you depicted on the plaque. Humans invented so many gods and goddesses over the years.”
Her voice sounded reasonable. Like Socrates may have sounded arguing a point. But he wouldn’t do that again in this life. And I knew that in another time period, I’d carried an Egyptian staff. But it had been a weapon, not a symbol of power.
“I was holding the Eye of Ra,” I said.
Demeter sighed dramatically. “We’ve been through this. It was I who was once worshipped as the goddess Isis.”
She was lying. I knew she was lying. I knew why she was lying. But the facts were buried beneath the layers in my mind. I saw clearly that whatever it was she was hiding, she was afraid of.
“Demeter?” I said, trying to keep my anger and frustration at bay. I didn’t see a goddess before me any longer. I saw a woman who was in over her head. I just needed to know what was about to come crashing down around her. “What’s going on? I keep having these dreams where you, or someone who looks like you, keeps coming to me for help.”
“Dreams?” Zeus asked. “What kind of dreams?”
I opened my mouth to tell him about the dreams I’d been having where a floating woman begged me to wake up and go deeper. But Demeter let go of my hands and stepped back, blocking my view of her brother.
“This is family business, Nia. We’ll find Hera and take care of her. I promise you. I’ll take care of it.” Her voice was choked with emotion. Her stare was full of barely contained pain. Her over-bright eyes locked on mine, pleading with me to hold my tongue about the dreams.
In the end, I gave her a slight nod of my head. But if she knew me as well as she purported to, then she’d know I had no intention of sitting on my hands and doing nothing. A flicker in her eyes told me she did indeed know this about me.
She turned back to Bet, her carefree smile back in place. “That’s enough playtime today, pet. Mama has to go take care of business now. Run along with your siblings.”
Bet clenched his jaw. Then he opened his mouth, but Demeter was already out the door with her own brother, disappearing into the room next door, which I had to assume belonged to another of the Olympians. Bet followed us out and into the elevator.
