Battle for the Blood (2 page)

“You look like an angel,” he said.

I gave him a dubious look.

“Fallen angel?” he tried.

“Angel of death if you decide to get handsy before I’ve had copious quantities of caffeine. And bacon. And maybe a croissant.”

He laughed and pushed the breakfast tray fractionally in my direction. “Please, help yourself. I don’t want to pull back a stump.”

The man—god—
guy—
learned fast. But his evening had been every bit as strenuous as mine, so I only took half the bacon and left him the pancakes, though I did fall on the scrambled eggs and chocolate croissant. When we finished I was feeling almost human, despite the fact that I was most assuredly not anymore, not entirely.

Apollo went off to take his shower, and about two seconds later, as I was trying to figure out how to cover up sufficiently to get back to my room for clothes that weren’t covered in blood and gore, my cell phone rang.

I had to dig under a pile of discarded clothes to find it, and answered probably an instant before it went over to voicemail. I hadn’t even had the chance to see who might be calling. The voice that answered my
hello
was like a slap in the face.

“Tori?” Detective Helen Lau said sharply. “What the hell is going on?”

Detective Lau was Nick’s partner…or had been before she’d flown off on the back of the dragon that had awoken from his sleep beneath the pinnacle of Mount Lee in L.A., knocking the
H
off the Hollywood sign.

“Can you be more specific?” I asked.

“Did I not tell you to take care of him? What’s this I hear about Nick in a hospital in New York recovering from extensive burns? Needing skin grafts? What did you do to him?”

My heart clenched, and all my self-recriminations came back to tackle me to the ground. “Nick stepped between me and trouble and got burned for it. I’m so sorry. If I could go back…” I’d still have been possessed by a psychotic mother goddess and unable to change the outcome.

“You make this right. You know people. Gods and…whatever. You heal him.”

“He doesn’t want my kind of help, Helen. He flew off without even a good-bye.”

“So your feelings are hurt. Boo hoo. You’ll heal. He won’t. Not without your help. I’m on my way back. When I get there, you’d better have come up with something or I swear I will hunt you down.”

She’d do it too. Detective Lau was nothing if not serious.

“You’re flying back?” I asked.

“Not a commercial flight. No one stamps your passport when you fly off on the back of a dragon. With food and rest stops, it’ll take me probably a day and a half, but I’ll be there and then we’ll have a reckoning.”

“Helen, I’m not in New York.”

“I don’t care where you are. You get help to him. Pronto.”

She hung up, and I was still staring at the phone when a very naked Apollo stepped out of the bathroom moments later.

“Who was that?” he asked at the look on my face.

“Detective Lau.”

“The Dragon Lady?”

Accurate on so many levels. “The same. She’s ordered us to fix Nick. Or else.”

“Or else what?”

“I didn’t get specifics.”

“First we fix you. Then we worry about Nick.”

“So you think I need fixing?” I asked, wings fanning out as my hands went to my hips, as if my feathers were ruffled, but I didn’t have feathers. I had black, membranous wings like those of a bat…or like some images of gorgons on ancient shields and pottery shards.

Apollo came over and kissed me. It was weird how normal it seemed, and how quickly. I stepped back and gave him a dirty look, letting him know he still had to answer. “No,” he said with a slow smile. “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

“You have a ‘but’ face.”

He looked like he was about to ask, and then I could see him get it. “
But
,” he added, “you might be a little hard to explain to the paparazzi.”

A jolt hit my heart. Despite facing killer gods and goddesses, gargantuan titans and multiheaded serpents, it was the thought of featuring in the tabloids that sent me running for the hills. “No paparazzi,” I told him, like he had control of such things. “None.”

Crap, how were we ever going to get out of the hotel without being swarmed? The press had arrived in force. With all the recent insanity, the police had their hands full with crime scenes and damage control. No one had time to body guard or babysit a Hollywood heartthrob. Apollo could have hired his own bodyguard, of course, but that would only have cramped his style and potentially exposed secrets he’d guarded thus far, like his godhood.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ve got it all worked out.”

Telling me not to worry or obsess was like telling water not to be wet, but I did my best. “What am I going to wear?”

Apollo took care of that with a phone call and an excessive tip to the maid when she appeared with a bundle of clothes from my room, tucked into a pile of towels she’d brought in case anyone was watching. My pants fit. My shoes from yesterday were badly abused but still wearable, but shirts were out, and bra bands chafed my wings. Luckily, I was not of the size where a bra was an absolute necessity. Certainly not at the level of the stunning starlets Apollo was used to…

I shut that down. I was not an insecure person or one who obsessed about my appearance, and Apollo wasn’t going to make me that way. He wanted me or he didn’t. After last night, I couldn’t doubt that he wanted me, but for how long?

I whooped my mental ass, stole one of Apollo’s shirts—blessing him for his broad shoulders—and disappeared into the bathroom with a borrowed brush to do what I could about the wild mass of hair I blamed on the gorgon part of my bloodline. At least my serpentine locks didn’t actually have minds of their own. Apollo had some kind of hair gel that I decided to try despite the distinctly masculine scent, and for a wonder my curls practically transformed into ringlets on the spot and played nice. I vowed to buy stock in the product.

I was without makeup, but I never wore much in any case, and if I looked somewhat scary, maybe the Grey Sisters would think twice before eating my face.

Apollo was up next. There was a knock at the door a minute after he stepped out of the bathroom, looking amazing, as always. Upon answering it, we found a doorman ready to conduct us down the service elevator to the dock entrance through which supplies and laundry came in and out. And, apparently, special guests trying to avoid a media frenzy. Just outside the dock doors a car waited. I didn’t recognize the car itself, but the driver…

“Viggo!” I cried.

Apollo opened the back door and hurried me inside before I could draw attention.

“Ms. Karacis!” our driver answered. “I am so glad to see you okay. But your back… You are carrying yourself with difficulty. You are all right?”

The wings flapped under Apollo’s shirt, fighting for space I didn’t have to give them. I just hoped Viggo wouldn’t notice. “Just a little stiff still,” I told him. “But what are you doing here? I thought you worked for Uncle Hector.”

“I have him on loan,” Apollo said.

“With a bonus!” Viggo agreed. “Hazard pay.”

I laughed. “Glad to have you aboard.”

Viggo took off as soon as Apollo was in beside me with the door closed, before we’d even had the chance to snap our seat belts.

“Where to?” I asked, realizing I still didn’t know.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? We’re on to Metéora. The Grey Sisters’ cave is halfway up the side of one of the cliffs.”

I groaned. No wonder he’d waited to tell me until I was a captive audience. Viggo drove only slightly slower on the switchbacks down the side of Mount Parnassus than he did changing lanes in Athens, and my heart was entirely in my throat. I hated heights. And now I had to contemplate scaling the cliffs of Metéora to meet three carnivorous crones. My life, I thought, could not possibly get any crazier.

I was wrong.

Chapter Two

If Delphi was the navel of the world (so said myth), then Metéora was Gaia’s hand flipping mankind the bird. Great projections of rock shot up out of the ground like Mother Earth giving us all the finger several times over. The rocks rose straight skyward to the height of mountains but without a single gentle incline. It was cliffs everywhere you looked. Metéora was a spot so unique, so stunning, so inhospitable as to be absolutely one of the most compelling places in the world. Even we Greeks, who liked to build on the tippy-top of mountains, had left it alone for ages and ages…until hermit monks determined to withdraw from the ever-encroaching world, scaled the heights and eventually built atop the unlikely peaks.

I couldn’t even imagine how that had been accomplished. There’d been no roads, no gentle gradients to allow for the transport of materials. No airlifts or giant cranes or any modern conveniences, which nonetheless would have been difficult if not impossible to maneuver on the rocky surfaces. Legend had it that the founder of the first monastery, Athanasios, had been carried to the heights by an eagle. Now monasteries stood atop the various cliffs of Metéora like fairy-tale castles.

But before there were structures, there were the caves. The cliffs were peppered with them. A few were highlighted with ancient symbols or more modern graffiti. One or two were decorated with brightly colored flags, candles and kitsch like a memorial wall. But most were unobtrusive, difficult to see with the naked eye, at least from the base of the cliffs or from the stone steps or few roads that had finally been carved out of the rock. I was guessing the Grey Sisters’ cave would be off the beaten path. Otherwise, there’d have been scads of tales about tourists or supplicants going missing over the years. As for the hermits, well, they’d kept to themselves. Who was going to report them missing?

With family in the nearby town of Kalambaka, I kept up somewhat with local news. I knew the cliffs claimed a few casualties each year, disappearances chalked up to tragic accidents or becoming lost in the crazy-thick fogs that would sometimes roll in, making the monasteries look like castles in the clouds. I wondered now whether the cliffs were truly to blame.

Viggo had parked in a little visitors’ area, alongside tour busses and a few rental cars. Apollo and I stood outside the vehicle now, contemplating the massive stone formations.

“We go the rest of the way on foot,” Apollo said. “Their cave is on one of the deserted pillars. There’s a monastery up top, but long since abandoned. There never were steps built for this one. In the olden days, pilgrims and visitors were lifted in a net to the top.”

My heart nearly stopped just at the thought. “That sounds…safe.”

“It’s all about faith. Anyway, I’d never let you fall.”

My wings flared in indignation at the thought that it was his business to
let
me do anything, but the shirt kept them contained. “I think you’ve got that backwards. I might let
you
fall, but good luck with the vice versa.”

The thought should have been more comforting, but I’d lived with the fear of heights a lot longer than the wings, and it wasn’t going to give way quite so easily.

Apollo led the way to a path that seemed to wind among the pillars, and I followed, wondering how on earth my life could get any weirder. It wasn’t a healthy thought, I knew that. The universe tended to answer such rhetorical questions with a big, hearty belly laugh and an avalanche of irony.

We stopped before one particular pillar that jutted straight toward the sky. There were small rocks at our feet, indicating some erosion, but at a glance I couldn’t see any decent hand- or footholds.

“I don’t suppose you grabbed Spiro’s climbing gear?” My brother’s ropes and anchors had come in handy when we’d descended into the underworld, but we hadn’t exactly come out the way we’d gone in, and for all I knew, the gear was still in place.

“No. We wouldn’t be allowed to use it here anyway. It’s a sacred site.”

“Well, I can bust out my wings, but someone might notice.”

Apollo was shaking his head before the words were even out of my mouth. “No, we have to free-climb.”

I stared. “Come again.”

“You know, one hand over the other, feet tucked into toeholds.”

I eyed the sheer cliff in front of us. “What toeholds?”

“Follow me.”

Yeah, because I wouldn’t be distracted at all by his fine backside in his tight jeans. On the other hand, hanging on to a slab of rock for dear life might have a way of focusing my attention. I wondered momentarily if having wings was really so bad. I’d get used to them. If the PI business failed, I could always go back to the circus as a sideshow act, assuming the Rialto Bros. hadn’t blacklisted me throughout the circus world…a story in and of itself.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” Apollo asked.

He knew very well that I was, but also that I was too stubborn to ever admit it.

“Whatever, just go. I’ll be right behind you,” I snapped.

“That’s my girl.”

It gave me a pang. Armani…Nick…had said the same thing, and where was he now?

Apollo hoisted himself up, using nothing but the strength of his arms and legs, which, as I knew, was pretty impressive. The muscles in his arms bulged, straining the fabric of his heather-gray Henley, but I forced my gaze away, made myself focus on where exactly he stuck his hands and what tiny divots he found for his feet. Then I tried to mimic him. With my fear of heights, I’d never been a climber, and now with the weight of my wings on my back, my balance was all off. I was down before I was even up. I landed on my feet, like a cat, my wings beating against my borrowed shirt, trying desperately to give me the lift I needed.

Apollo looked down at me, concern written all over his face.

I tried again, this time not straining to hold my wings tightly to my body, but letting them adjust as they felt they needed to, but the shirt kept stopping them and the whole thing was just awkward.

I looked back up at Apollo. “You know, a real god would be able to just snap his fingers and get us to the top.”

“A real god, huh? Do I have to remind you whose name you were calling out last night?”

I blushed. I
never
blushed. Not since I was about fifteen and walked in on my brother, Spiro, with one of his many conquests.

“A reminder would be good,” I said. It certainly beat out scaling a mountain.

“You’ll have to catch me first.”

He was off like a rocket. He climbed like a spider…or like the rays of the sun as it rose in the sky. Smooth, effortless. I could have watched him all day. I was tempted to do just that. But then I’d never hear the end of it…or see the end of my extra appendages. What good were wings if you couldn’t use them for fear of being seen? And what then? It wasn’t like Nick Fury was going to descend and insist that I join the Avengers or anything, which was good, because I’d totally have to kick Tony Stark’s irresponsible ass, and I wasn’t entirely sure I could take him.

My brain tended to babble when faced with fear.

I grabbed a handhold, psyched myself up and heaved. Two feet off the ground, points for me. I shoved one of those feet into a teeny-tiny crevice and felt along with my free hand for a protruding rock or something else to hang on to. And so it went, inch by grueling inch, Apollo calling out encouragement from above.

“Now to the right,” he said after a while. My arms were shaking, and I could feel one of my calf muscles starting to twerk. “There’s a little ledge. It will give you some relief.”

I was beyond ready for relief.

Going sideways, as it turned out, wasn’t any easier than going upward, especially not with muscle fatigue setting in, but as soon as my big toe touched that ledge, the sense of relative safety that washed over me was immense. And dangerous. My muscles wanted to relax, and I couldn’t let that happen. I pulled myself fully onto the small ledge from which Apollo had watched my ascent and glanced over at him, my face still pressed against the rock and my hands holding me there. The ledge wasn’t large enough to let go.

“Good girl,” he said.

“Should I bark? Wag my tail? Are you going to pet me behind the ears?”

“Is that where you want me to pet you?”

“Down, boy. We’re halfway up a mountain.”

He leered. “I didn’t say it had to be
now
.”

“Later then, if we live.”

“Incentive. I love it.”

I smiled. Halfway up a mountain, hanging on for dear life, and I smiled. A sure sign of insanity.

“Come on, it’s not much farther,” he said.

I groaned, but followed. He was right. Five minutes that felt like fifteen later, we hit another ledge, this one much broader. As soon as my weight rested on it fully, I wanted to collapse. My legs wanted to give out. But I knew that would be a bad idea. I might not get up again, and I’d be a sitting duck for the sinister sisters.

Apollo handed me one of the bottles of water Viggo had provided, and I drank it down in two gulps.

“Don’t make yourself sick,” Apollo said.

I eyed him over the rim of my water bottle. “Oh right,” he added.

Whether it was the ambrosia, the nectar, the possession by a pissed-off mother goddess or Apollo’s breath of life, something had recently kick-started some of my dormant gorgon genes. It had rebuilt me—better, stronger, faster…and with wings. I was still waiting for the tusks and serpents to sprout. I wasn’t sure I
could
get sick anymore, not naturally. I could probably still die of thirst…probably…but it would likely take a helluva lot longer than it used to. I wasn’t planning to test my limits.

“So where’s the cave?” I asked.

Apollo got a funny look on his face. “You haven’t noticed the trail?”

“What trail?” I looked around. All I saw were rocks, rocks, sheer rock face and some scree. Our ledge did go on for several feet, at the end of which there was a wrinkle in the stone that might possibly be the entrance to a cave.

Apollo reached out a hand, and for a moment I thought he was going to wipe sweat off my brow, but instead he tapped my forehead, directly above and between my brows. The something chakra or… The world blurred and returned, like a lens had dropped away, and I looked down at the rocks around us…or what I’d assumed were rocks.

What I saw now were bones of every kind, some with ends broken or gnawed, bearing deep gouges like toothy track marks. Most disturbing of all were the skulls, some clearly animal and some clearly…not. I was no forensic expert, but even I knew a human mandible when I saw one. A complete cranium would have been creepy enough, but skulls had become commercialized, used to decorate tables and T-shirts. Bracelets and barrettes and purses, oh my! But mandibles, long bones, fragments that defied identification were much creepier, especially because there were so many of them. We were walking the crime scene of multiple murders.

“Why didn’t I see it?” I asked, focusing on the mundane, doing my best to breathe through my rising tension.

“Glamour. Anyone with human blood is susceptible.”

“Can they glamour me again or will whatever you did hold?”

“I don’t know. I dropped your blinders, but this was a blanket glamour. If the sisters try something targeted to you directly, I might not know it but for your reaction.”

“But our connection…”

“Whatever you see or think or feel will seem perfectly normal to you, so you won’t radiate any alarm. Unless, of course, they make you see
me
as a flesh-eating monster.”

“Good, let’s hope for that.”

“Yes, let’s,” he said with a wry smile.

We made our way toward the cave entrance, which I could now see for what it was. The parade of bones got thicker as we approached, as if the bones had just spilled out like fast-food wrappers from a junker car. Three steps and we were no longer able to sweep the bones aside or step between them. There were just too many. We were walking on arms and legs and worse. The bones rattled and shifted and grated against each other like a cheap alarm system, pots and pans under the windows. My only consolation was that nothing squelched. The slaying sisters, to their credit, did seem to make the most of their meals, leaving nothing behind for scavengers. Or maybe the scavengers had already been and gone…or become dessert.

The entrance itself was nothing special. Or wouldn’t have been, if not for the bones piled knee-high and higher against the walls.

“Do we slog or blast our way through?” I asked. “It’s not as if the sisters could have missed the fact that we’re here.”

Apollo did his best to step over the bones piled in the entryway and reached a hand back to help me do the same. Blasting through would have been my preference, but, then, he knew that. I didn’t really see a point in being all polite with mass murderers. They never showed the same consideration when serving you up with fava beans and a nice Chianti.

Sighing, I took his hand and played the lady for once. My foot came down badly on something that rolled beneath my foot, and I knew that I’d found a skull. My ankle twisted, and I was actually glad to have Apollo’s hand holding me up.

“Strange how this wasn’t on any tourist map,” I quipped. “It’s a gothic paradise.”

“So it is, dearie,” came a high, sweet voice from within the cave. “Come, come, let us get a good look at you. It’s been so long since we’ve had willing visitors.”

Three cackles greeted the statement, and it sent a shiver from the base of my spine straight up to my hairline, raising the little hairs there and all across my arms.

My eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness within the cave, but there was nothing immediate to see but more skulls. Apollo and I stepped carefully, testing our footing with every step. I wondered what a caver or some other unwary visitor would see and feel. Would the ground seem not to shift under their feet? Would it appear to be a cave-in with an abundance of detritus?

After about fifteen feet, the cave opened from a fairly narrow tunnel entrance—the better to limit and trip up escape—to a full-blown chamber with high ceilings and enough space for three sinister sisters, a large stone cooking pit with a tripod cauldron in the middle and a hole in the ceiling to draw away smoke. Their gothic version of home decorating. Oh, there were chairs (made of bone), a long table (also bone), and sleeping mats against one wall that seemed to have been woven from hair. I didn’t want it to be human and hoped I wouldn’t get close enough to find out. I debated seriously whether we needed the Graeae enough for me not to end them. My wings were nothing compared to the murder of innocents.