Chapter Forty-One
Nadia stared, flabbergasted, at her companion; mostly because of the direction the conversation with their formerly anonymous host had taken, but partly because of the staggering understatement he had just made. "Isn't it a little late for that? I'm pretty sure we're past the part where we get prep time."
Orion nodded, his customary seriousness coming back to the fore. "Yes, you are quite correct. Our first priority should be a plan of escape. Fortunately, our opponent has provided us with a readily exploitable option."
She cocked her head to one side, honestly preferring the idea that he just tell her what he meant, given their deficit of time to play guessing games in. "And that would be?"
Walking to the glass case in the corner of the room, he placed his hand against the translucent box and nodded at Daedalus' aged handiwork inside. "These."
The surge of confidence she had hoped would result from his idea did not materialize. "You want to jump out of a fifty story building wearing those? They're old, ratty and, let's be honest here; we don't even know they're really the wings you think they are."
"Yes, we do," he replied smoothly and without so much as missing a beat.
Nadia had to admit, his serene confidence was baffling, and just the tiniest bit annoying. "All right, Confucius, enlighten me."
"Because of Apollo. He placed them here, deliberately, not because wings were symbolic of Icarus, but because of his personal connection to the matter. Icarus, in his youthful audacity, flew too close to the sun, which was, at the time, considered to be the realm of the gods and not of man. The wax holding the feathers of his wings in place melted and he fell; these wings, then, are the only surviving pair of the two sets made and are the nearest thing to a trophy Apollo would be able to find."
Listening to his explanation did little to sway her on the matter. "But why would he care if some kid flew too high? What's it got to do with him?"
Orion smiled patiently. "It has nothing to do with Apollo himself, technically, you are right. However, he was associated with the sun in certain circles and, I had believed, it was only a matter of time before he found some way of taking the role of solar deity from Helios, who was one of the Titans. As he did not correct me when I used it as his last name, I assume this has already come to pass. Do you see?"
She swore she could hear a faint whistling sound as the point flew over her head, even as she grasped at it. "I'm not completely sure. You're saying he's literally the sun, and so Icarus' attempt to fly so high was a personal challenge?"
"No, not quite," he emended. "I am saying that, since supplanting Helios and taking on his name and title, Apollo fancies himself as representative of the sun. It is a personal affectation more than an actual reality, though where the Olympians and Titans are concerned there is often some manner of real connection."
Nadia felt herself beginning to scoff. "So it's more to do with his ego than anything else? He went out of his way to find these wings, just so he can take a shot at some kid who died like three thousand years ago?"
"Yes," he replied, simply. "Apollo was often somewhat vain. I am not familiar with his present state of mind, but I suspect the long centuries have not changed that particular fact. Given the elaborate lengths he claims to have gone to in order to secure his dominance, I would imagine he has grown even more attached to the notion of his own magnificence. After all, the surest way to know one is superior to others is to have a great many people present to look on your achievements and tell you so."
Feeling herself frowning, she shrugged. "All right, the guy's completely egotistical, I'm with you on that one. I'm still doubting the wings will fly, but I'll believe that they're the genuine article, if only because he's had a hell of a lot of time to put into finding them."
Orion chuckled. "That will do. For now, however, I need to ask you for a favour."
Getting up from Giselle's chair with the creak of well-used leather, Nadia moved to lean against the side of the desk. "All right, shoot."
Moving to the office door, her companion tapped the glass case once again, the reflection of the orange-lit room jumping slightly at the vibrations. "I need you to free these from their rest without damaging them. They may very well be our only means of escape. If Apollo was telling the truth about having forces a floor above us-"
"He was," Nadia supplied. "I heard voices coming from upstairs while I was trying to find this office. There was a separate stairway and elevator to get up to the penthouse level, so that's where they'll be coming from."
Orion nodded. "Then it is very likely that their first order of business will be to make sure that stairwell is no longer a viable escape route for us, as it was for you and Thomas the last time you were here. And, with the power out, that leaves us with a woefully inadequate number of options; which total exactly none, save for these wings."
Nadia fidgeted involuntarily at the mental image of throwing herself from a window and flailing her arms rapidly in a crazed attempt to gain altitude. "I'm against it, but I see your point. I don't suppose I can convince you to look around for alternatives?"
Attempting his best approximation of reassurance, Orion smiled. "You can, actually. I will need to buy you some time as it is, I suspect that our armed adversaries are already on their way. If I see a means for us to make our escape more safely, I will be sure to inform you of it."
She nodded, returning the smile. "I'll hold you to that, mister. And be careful, all right?"
"If I am injured, I will be sure to change to an undamaged form, Miss Lawson. As much as I detest wasting my reserve of essence, we are well beyond the point where I can afford to be picky."
"That's not what I mean," she began, pausing for a moment to swallow down her nerves; she wanted to be serious, at least for a minute or two. "Look, I get that I'm sheltered, so I behave a little childishly sometimes."
A look from Orion prompted a sigh from her. "Okay, I behave more than a little childishly sometimes. But I notice things; like what you just said, for example. If you're injured, you can just change out of the damaged form like it's a torn sweater. And yes, I know, the cost is high, because of what getting damaged too often forces you to do. But, I'm wondering..."
He tilted his head slightly, sensing that she was having trouble getting her words to come. "It is all right, Miss Lawson. Speak your mind."
She fidgeted with a frown. "Well, the way you said it bugs me. 'I will be sure to change'. Like it's something you need to consciously do, not a survival reflex. It isn't automatic, is it? Anything that can kill you without giving you the chance to start that change is just as lethal to you as it would be to anyone else."
Her companion's silence was all the answer she needed, though she wasn't exactly thrilled with this particular discovery. "I won't say anything. Just make sure to get back here in one piece."
Nodding slowly, she saw the smile on his face tinge with an emotion she had not seen there before. Unfortunately, in the less-than-adequate light of their present location, she wasn't sure quite which emotion it was. "I will do my best, Miss Lawson."
Passing through the doorway of Fitch's office, then through the waiting area immediately outside of it, Orion emerged back into the halls at a cautious pace. Nadia had been quite correct; he knew very well that men armed with guns posed a threat that not even his healing ability was able to make light of. Fortunately, he saw no such individuals present in the halls just yet, though he held no illusions of them not arriving shortly.
Frowning, he weighed his options in their entirety. He could attempt to face the men himself, which was not an appealing option considering his habits and reflexes were mostly suited for hiding and not an open brawl. It would cost him dearly, as well, in terms of losing essence and he would almost certainly need to drain someone else of theirs as soon as possible to recover what he would use in healing from his injuries. He briefly wondered if he might be able to escape now, if he could somehow make it to the stairwell before the armed me
n did, but quickly pushed the idea aside. In the first place, it was extremely unlikely that they were Apollo's only plan to stop him, but more importantly he would not leave Nadia here to save his own skin. This last thought stuck in his thoughts, for a moment, mostly because it was unusual of him to place others before his continued survival. He supposed he had become rather fond of the young woman during their time together. It had been a long time since he had had anyone he would call a friend, let alone one that he was willing to put himself at risk for. And what a time I have chosen to change that habit, too.
With his choices rapidly boiling down to the unpleasant decisions of where and how to engage the enemy, risking his own safety in the hopes of a favourable outcome, one other choice presented itself. Surprisingly, especially to Orion himself, this particular dilemma had a clear solution. This day was, it seemed, going to be one for breaking precedents. Resolved, he turned himself to the right and marched down the hall between the CEO's office and the bathrooms. Passing the stairwell and inoperable elevator leading to the penthouse, above, he stole a glance up into the barely illuminated darkness. Breathing a sigh of relief when he neither heard nor saw any evidence of approach, he hurried on his way past the closed doors. Unknowingly, he was scant seconds ahead of those above emerging into the stairwell to make their descent; he had precious little time to put his plan into motion.
Entering the Men's room, just to the left of the Women's, he took a moment to take in his surroundings. The first and most noticeable thing was that it was better lit than the rest of the level; he supposed this was because of the wall-length mirror set over the sinks reflecting some of the orange light back out into the room, though of course everything still carried the same orange taint. The floor was a dark, speckled tile with a nearly invisible grout between each square, while the walls were a smooth, hardwood affair. The stalls were a silver-toned metal, but done in professional style. The sinks, which he now moved towards, were a series of six wide, porcelain basins with large, flanged handles on either side of a tall, arching faucet, all set in a dark, chestnut counter. All in all, it was clear that the design for this part of the building had been made to impress, no matter where you looked.
Grabbing the left-hand knob, Orion twisted it as far around as it would go, letting the water take itself from lukewarm to a steam-producing heat. Moving down the line of sinks, he did the same to each, and then stepped back for a moment to wait. Watching the aforementioned mirror, a large, rectangular affair set on the wall and stretching the entire length of the counter, begin to fog up, he took a deep breath; there was no turning back after this. Moving up to the mirror, he used his index finger to begin drawing on the moistened, reflective surface. Stepping back once more, his appearance began to shift.
His tattered, well-worn clothing became crisp and new, though the overall use of dark colours remained. His shirt became red, while a black, trim jacket appeared over it, even as a bow tie fit itself in place around his neck. His shoes, so tattered they were nearly falling from his feet, became the polished footwear of the working world and his frayed pants were traded for slacks so smooth they could have been ironed minutes before. But, somehow, that just wasn't enough. Conjuring a top hat with a red band, despite it being somewhat out of place with his more business-like attire, the man set the object onto his dark brown hair with a satisfied flourish. A pair of hazel eyes studied the words spelled out on the mirror, even as he adjusted the hat's position to his liking. Armed men coming. Nadia in CEO's office, has escape route. Do not abandon her. Nodding approvingly at his blurred, orange-toned reflection in the mirror as though he could actually make out the details of his appearance, the man turned from the mirror, feeling a broad grin breaking out across his face.
"It's about time I got some appreciation around here. I was starting to think nobody liked me."
In Icarus' Shadow Page 59
