“What kind of rumor?”
“That she may be involved in the murders.”
Poseidon’s blue eyes fixed on my face. “Lamia is dead.”
“Sources tell me differently.”
“What do you mean?”
Poseidon’s gaze weighed upon me. My palms moistened with sweat. Every animal instinct in my brain shouted at me not to proceed. To drop the subject. But I was already in too deep. I had to keep going.
“She faked her death,” I said. “Lamia is still alive, and I need to find her. I was hoping you could help me do that.”
“Lamia is dead,” Poseidon repeated.
His huge frame seemed to grow even larger. My muscles tensed. My jaw tightened as I spoke. “I’ve seen her with my own eyes.”
He rose to his feet and said, in a monotone, “I think it’s time for you to leave, old boy.”
That was my cue to exit, or possibly get thrown into the sea. I chose the exit. “Right. Thanks for your time.”
As I left, Poseidon sat back down and continued to smoke his cigarette. That went well.
I stepped out onto the deck and was nearly knocked over by a violent gust of wind. It threw me against the railing, which bit into my back as I collided with it. The water had become choppy, and dark clouds churned overhead. They rumbled with thunder, threatening to burst.
68
The storm that raged across the city soon after I left the boat was one of the worst I’d seen in recent months. Rain and sleet fell in thick sheets, creating a near-total whiteout.
I drove fifteen miles under the speed limit with my high beams on, using the taillights of other cars as beacons to guide me down the road. If I was lucky, I’d make it home without wrapping my car around a light post.
I was still pretty shaken up after the meeting with Poseidon. I probably should have apologized to him before leaving the yacht. The last thing I needed was another enemy on Olympus. Hera was one too many.
Our conversation hadn’t given me much in the way of clues. But it did let me know one thing: Poseidon had strong feelings for Lamia. The only question was whether those feelings were positive or negative. Did he care about her, and feel that I was defiling her memory? Or did he despise her to the point where the mere mention of her sent him into a rage?
I was leaning more toward the first possibility. It was no secret that Poseidon and Hera weren’t the best of friends. But no one really knew why. Maybe it was her charming personality. Or maybe Poseidon blamed Hera for the death of his daughter. Maybe he killed the other Gods to get back at her. Maybe he knew Lamia was alive. And the two of them were secretly working together, trying to get back at Hera for slaying Lamia’s children.
Any way I looked at it, Poseidon had reason to seek revenge against Hera. Regardless, I had doubts about his being the killer. When it came to revenge, Poseidon took a more direct approach—or so I’d heard. He confronted his enemies in public and beat them to a pulp. He didn’t give a damn about witnesses. In fact, Poseidon enjoyed having an audience. The killer, on the other hand, seemed to favor the shadows.
Despite his reputation, I wasn’t ready to drop Poseidon as a suspect. People could change after all. Just look at Herc and—to a lesser extent—Ares.
I arrived home at a few minutes after three. I was soaked to the bone and shivering. All I wanted was a long, hot shower. I wished Chrysus could join me, but hey, we couldn’t always get everything we wanted.
I kicked off my shoes and headed to the bathroom. I flipped the light switch and there, standing in front of me, was a figure in black sweats. A white ski mask covered his—or her—face.
My heart jumped into my throat. “Who are you?”
The figure said nothing, but raised a pistol with a silencer.
Before I could react, the intruder fired two shots. The impact was like getting hit full force with a sledgehammer. I fell backward onto the floor. I couldn’t breathe. My pulse raced out of control. I pressed trembling hands against my chest. Warm blood spilled over my fingers. The world dimmed. I didn’t feel any pain. Only intense pressure.
Then I felt nothing at all.
69
I awoke—which was a welcome surprise, considering I’d been plugged in the chest. I was alive as far as I could tell, and in no pain. Both pluses in my book.
I swallowed and looked around. I was lying in the tub in my bathroom, stripped down to my boxers. Pinkish water sloshed about me as I sat up and inspected my chest. No bullet wounds. The skin was unmarred.
What in Hades is going on?
A dark-haired man appeared in the doorway. “Welcome back.”
“Ares?”
“The one and only.” He bowed low, making a dramatic sweep with his arm.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see if you had changed your mind about working together,” Ares said. “Saving your life—I did that on the fly.”
I looked at my chest again. Touched the spots where the rounds had entered. “Thanks, but how exactly did you save me?”
He winked. “I’m a God, remember? Now, are you going to tell me what happened or not?”
“Someone broke in and shot me.”
“Did you get a good look at him?”
I shook my head. “His face was covered.”
Ares smirked. “Mortals are so worthless.”
“I was wearing the Aegis,” I said as I climbed out of the tub. “It should have protected me.”
“You mean that thing?” Ares glanced at the gold breastplate lying near the toilet. There were two bullet holes in the metal. “Sorry to break it to you, but that’s not the Aegis. It’s a replica. The real article is indestructible.”
I knelt in front of the Aegis. Blood had dripped down its front from the holes. My blood. Why would Zeus screw me over like this?
“Can you do me a favor?” I asked.
“I just saved your life, and you’re already asking for more favors?”
“This is important.”
“Fine. What do you want?”
“I need you to call the records office on Olympus and check the statuses of Athena’s Aegis and the Claw of Erebus.”
Ares raised an eyebrow. “What’s a Claw of Erebus?”
“Cut the act. I know the Claw exists and so do you. It’s the only thing that can kill a God.”
Ares didn’t respond. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.
“This is ridiculous,” I griped. “Look. The Claw is the murder weapon, alright?”
Ares narrowed his eyes. “How do you know?”
“I just do. You’re going to have to trust me on this.”
“I hope you’re right about this, Jones,” Ares said. “For your sake.”
He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He came back a few minutes later.
“What did they say?” I asked.
“They said the Aegis is currently checked out by one Plato Jones.” He pointed at me. “That’s you.”
Wiseass. “And the Claw?”
“The Claw is in the vault.”
“Are the artifacts ever taken out of the Treasury, for cleaning or restoration?”
“Yeah,” Ares said. “About once a year, around this time.”
“So they were both removed from the vault recently—before I got the Aegis?”
“Most likely.”
My Aegis was a fake, which meant the Claw in the vault could be a fake too. Who could have switched them? I clapped my hands. “That’s it!”
“What?”
“I know who the killer is.” I ran past Ares and out of the bathroom. I grabbed my cell phone off the kitchen bar and dialed Hermes’s number. He answered on the third ring.
“Wha
t is it, Jones?”
“Send every OBI agent you’ve got to Chrysus’s house,” I said. “I’ll meet them there.”
Ares snatched the phone out of my hand. To Hermes he said, “Correction. We’ll meet them there.”
70
Ares and I jumped into my car and hit the freeway. I was opposed to his coming along. But I knew it would be in my best interest to just let him have his way. Moreover, I’d probably need the extra muscle.
“The Treasury director,” Ares said in disbelief. “She’s the killer?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “The killer is Lamia, a shape-shifter. She wants revenge against Hera for the murder of her children.”
“That’s impossible. Lamia’s dead.”
“Only on paper.”
“Did you see her?”
I nodded.
“How do you know she’s the killer?” Ares asked.
“Because the clues all point to her. Not too long ago, a gorgon went missing from a ranch in Boreasville. Evidence suggested the creature had escaped on its own. But that wasn’t the case. Lamia had charmed the gorgon. Forced it to follow her off the property. She also charmed the other gorgons in the enclosure, so they wouldn’t make a fuss and alert the owner. When Lamia and the gorgon reached the street, she loaded it into the back of her truck and drove off.”
“Why’d she steal a gorgon?”
“So she could turn the real Chrysus into stone and assume her identity. Chrysus is a spirit. Simply killing her wasn’t an option. She would have just found another body to inhabit, and then told Zeus what was going on. Lamia’s only course of action was to imprison Chrysus, hence turning her into stone.”
“And she did all of this, why?”
“To gain access to the secret vault. Lamia got Hephaestus to make replicas of the Claw of Erebus and Athena’s Aegis. Then she switched them with the real ones while they were being cleaned. She used the Claw to murder the Gods. The Aegis assured the victims wouldn’t be able to turn the tables on her.”
Ares frowned. “Why would Hephaestus help the killer?”
“Revenge, most likely,” I surmised. “He wanted to get back at Hera for throwing him from Mount Olympus, and for favoring her other children over him. He wanted her to suffer as he had suffered. But after Eileithyia was killed, he suddenly grew a conscience. He wrote a letter to Aphrodite, basically confessing his involvement in the murder. Lamia was afraid he’d rat her out, so she took care of him. Then she continued her killing spree.”
Ares nodded slowly. “You never mentioned where you saw her.”
“We ran into each other at one of Prometheus’s torture parties. The next thing I know I’m getting shot in the chest. She knew I was getting close to the truth. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when we show up on her doorstep.”
Ares grinned darkly. “Neither can I.”
71
The sun had begun to rise by the time we reached Chrysus’s mansion. Her Escalade truck was parked in the driveway. There were no other cars around.
“Damn,” I griped. “The OBI hasn’t gotten here yet.”
“Screw ’em,” Ares said. “Let’s get in there and take care of business ourselves.”
“No. We need to wait for backup.”
“Revenge waits for no one.” Ares got out of the car and approached the front door of the mansion.
I went after him. I knew it was a stupid thing to do. But I couldn’t in good conscience let him face Lamia alone—especially if she had the Claw of Erebus.
Ares kicked in the door, knocking it off its hinges. It flew across the room and slammed against the opposite wall. Inside, the lights were off. The silence was absolute. Adrenaline raged through my body, shattered my breathing, quickened my pulse. In the living room we found what looked like a castoff skin. It looked a lot like Chrysus.
Gazing at the empty husk, I had no choice but to face the terrible truth: I had been dating the infamous God-killer. I had bought her roses. Kissed her. Almost had sex with her. And she was half gorgon.
My stomach churned. The realization left me feeling sick and humiliated. The clues had been staring me in the face this whole time, but I had been so infatuated with Chrysus/Lamia, that I ignored them. I let them slip past my notice. Some detective I was.
Ares turned in place, looking around the room. “Lamia! Come out and face me!”
I shushed him. “Haven’t you heard of the element of surprise?”
“Only cowards fight from the shadows. Lamia!” The volume of his voice rose so loud that it pounded against my eardrums. “Lamia!”
My frustration level went through the roof. I fought to suppress it. Fought the urge to lash out at Ares. To tell him to shut his damn mouth before he got me killed. I needed to stay cool and focused, especially now that Lamia knew we were here.
“We should check the rest of the house,” Ares said.
“Yeah.” I spoke through gritted teeth. I restrained myself from saying something he’d make me regret.
As we started to leave the room, my attention was inexplicably drawn to the scuffmarks near the piano, as if someone had whispered, “Hey, buddy, look over there,” into my ear.
“Hold on.” I knelt and examined the marks. Tiny wood shavings curled upward from the damaged floor. The curls led away from the piano rather than toward it—which meant the scuffs had been made when the piano was moved away from its current position.
“What are you looking at?” Ares asked.
I stood up. “I think these marks will lead us to the real Chrysus.”
We followed the marks into the kitchen. The flowers I had given Chrysus sat in a vase in the middle of the kitchen table. Glancing at them, I wondered if she had actually liked me, or if it was all an act. Did I even want to know?
The marks led us to a door at the back of the kitchen. It was locked. I took out my lock-pick, but Ares pushed me aside and kicked the door open.
“Ta-da!” he said.
Darkness loomed through the doorway. A narrow staircase led down to the cellar. Ares went in front, down the stairs. I drew my gun and followed him, my eyes trained on the space behind us. Moving through the shadows, weapon in hand, I felt like Beowulf going to face the dragon. I guess that meant Ares was Wiglaf.
The stairwell opened into a spacious cellar with cobblestone walls and hardwood floors. Built-in wine shelves lined the walls, each one fully stocked with bottles. A wrought iron chandelier burned overhead.
The scuffmarks ended at the far left corner of the cellar, where we found Chrysus’s petrified form. She was looking over her shoulder in surprise, as if the gorgon had sneaked up on her. Even her short bathrobe had been turned to stone.
“It looks like you’ve found my little secret,” a mousy voice said from behind us.
We spun around.
Lamia stood at the base of the stairs, wearing Athena’s Aegis over black sweats. Her saucer-like emerald eyes glittered. On her right hand was a huge, plate armor gauntlet. Wisps of shadow drifted from the gauntlet, like blood in water. A foot-long claw made of black metal tipped each finger.
The Claw of Erebus.
“You!” Ares shouted.
“Ah, Ares,” Lamia said. “I have to thank you for coming here. You saved me the trouble of tracking you down.”
Ares rushed her, his body a blur of motion. He slammed his shoulder into her chest. With a deafening boom, Lamia flew across the cellar. Her back struck the wall with enough force to make the entire room shake. Wine bottles tumbled off the shelves and smashed to the floor.
“Get up,” Ares growled.
Lamia began to laugh. “Is that the best you can do?” She pulled herself off the floor. There wasn’t a scratch on her. The Aegis twinkled even in the dim light of the cellar.
Ares went after her again. Lamia swiped at him wi
th the Claw. Ares caught her arm and twisted it sharply. There was an audible snap. She howled in pain.
Still holding Lamia’s arm, Ares swung her into a wine shelf, and then flung her into another. Wood cracked and glass shattered. Wine spilled across the stone floor, black as oil under the light of the chandelier.
Lamia braced her left hand against the wall and got up. Her right arm dangled at her side, bones poking through the flesh. She hunched over, breathing heavily, her hair plastered to her face with the wine running down her cheeks.
Ares yanked off his leather jacket and threw it to the floor. “Don’t quit on me now. We’re just getting started.”
Lamia straightened. Her pained expression vanished, replaced by a smile. Her arm jerked back and forth at crazy angles as the bones snapped into place.
“Much better,” she said, bending her arm at the elbow.
Ares cursed and charged forward.
Lamia drew a handgun from an ankle holster and fired three rounds at Ares. The bullets must have been osmium, because he fell to one knee, clutching his chest.
“Shit!” I emptied my clip into Lamia.
She jerked with every shot but didn’t fall down. She looked at me and smiled. Her wounds had already begun to close.
“Don’t do that again,” she said sweetly, then returned her attention to Ares.
She unloaded her gun into him, threw the weapon aside, and then kicked him in the face. He tumbled across the floor into a clumsy sprawl, his white T-shirt soaked with blood. She sat astride him and stabbed him repeatedly in the chest with the Claw. Blood flew, dark and viscous, splattering against the walls and floor.
I loaded another magazine into my gun and fired.
Lamia recoiled. She rose off Ares, a hole in the middle of her forehead. There was a whooshing sound, like rushing wind, and she was right there in front of me. I shot her twice more, in the neck and shoulder. The bullets barely fazed her. She slapped the gun out of my hand. I backed away with both my hands held up.
Lamia stalked after me, her eyes wide and unblinking, her face spattered with blood.
Murder on Olympus Page 26
