Discord’s Apple (10 page)

He’d started to leave, when she called him back. “Wait a moment. You must be Sinon. The Greek.”

He stopped. Her voice was bright, good-natured.

“I’d heard you were a prisoner here. Don’t be shy—stay and talk with me. You were at Troy, weren’t you? Will you tell me stories of the war?”

Cautiously, he approached. She modestly hid herself in the water, only her head and neck breaking the surface. She was young, with a rosy, shining face to match her voice. He couldn’t guess the color of her hair, which was dark with water and slicked back.

Smiling, she nodded at the brick-lined edge of the pool. “Sit here, so I don’t get a crick in my neck staring up at you.”

This had to be a trick. He had seen women at the palace—nymphs and minor goddesses come to sport with Apollo and each other, indulging in the god’s hospitality. None had ever spoken to him. Sinon knelt a little way from the pool’s edge.

“You don’t trust me,” she said.

“I don’t trust anything about this place.”

“Wise man.”

“Who are you?”

“Celeste.”

“Are you a nymph? Or something else?”

“I’m . . . something,” she said. Her smile filled her expression, so at ease and lovely.

“Why are you here?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?”

He looked away, blushing. But he didn’t know how to act. This was all so strange.

She answered him. “Apollo brought me here.”

“You’re a prisoner as well,” he said, perhaps too eagerly.

She shook her head. He could see her shape in the water, rippling, without detail. He could see himself reaching to touch her. It had been so long since he’d spoken to a woman. Cassandra at Troy had been the last.

Her expression turned sly, as if like a god she knew his thoughts. “Did you rape many women at Troy?”

Angrily, he said, “I raped none.” He’d been so tired, twice beaten and too weak to hold a woman, much less have her. At least, that had been his excuse to himself.

She stared at him until he felt as naked as she was. Then she said, “I believe you, hero of Greece.”

Water rippling around her, she came to the edge of the pool and reached a dripping hand to touch him. The coolness of her skin sent a shock up his arm. To hold her to him would still the heat flushing along his body. Graceful, slipping like a breeze, she pulled herself out of the water so she was sitting
next to him, in all her soft and pale glory. Then she kissed him.

He threw himself into lovemaking, her eagerness feeding his, both of them clawing off his tunic. He told himself he should slow down, enjoy every moment of her beauty and vigor, but he was desperate for her touch, her mouth, her body. On top of her, at the edge of the pool, rushes and lilies as a backdrop, he moaned as he entered her, and the stresses of his captivity left him.

The sound of applause carried across the pool. Sinon looked. Across the way, on a stone bench, sat Apollo, clapping, watching them as if this were a play. Celeste, her head tipped back, her expression contorted with ecstasy, didn’t seem to notice.

Sinon’s cheeks burned red, anger filling him all over again. He pounded into her harder than he should have, and at the moment of his release—she melted. She turned to water, a flood that slipped out of his arms and back to the pool.

He was left kneeling, breathing hard, soaking wet. Apollo grinned. He’d planned the whole thing.
Damn him.

Scowling, Sinon stood, grabbed his tunic, and marched away.

Another time, invisible hands tied him to his pallet, face up. Then Apollo arrived and toyed with him, bringing him to the edge, evoking pleasure even as Sinon resisted. Sinon even laughed once at a ticklish jab. It was an unexpected noise. Apollo untied him and left him exhausted, humiliated, confused.

He had no way to track the time.

Under the open collar of Alex’s shirt, the bronze chain glinted. He’d told Evie it was a curse, keeping him alive and ageless, when all he’d ever wanted was to die. He’d offered to slit his wrists then and there to prove it to her. She insisted she believed him. One way or another, he’d bleed all over her car and she didn’t need that.

It just looked like a necklace.

Evie had to turn around and go back. She’d raced from the hotel and made the quicker right-hand turn. While she could travel side streets to avoid driving past the hotel again, she still had to go through town to get back home. Through town and the police checkpoint. Evie stopped.

Three patrol cars—Hopes Fort’s entire law enforcement fleet—were parked across Main Street, blocking it. At least half a dozen people were crouched behind open car doors, aiming their handguns at her as she slowed to a stop. Hopes Fort had only a handful of officers, but a number of part-time deputies served as well, in addition to the Citizens’ Watch volunteers.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she said. Her voice felt stiff. Silent, Alex stared hard out the windshield.

Johnny Brewster stood behind the barrier of his open car door, gripping his gun in both hands. “Get out of the car! Hands up, out of the car!”

She shouldn’t have hesitated. She didn’t expect herself to hesitate, but she did. Maybe because Alex didn’t move either.
This felt odd, an out-of-place sensation—like that stranger’s hand around hers. Like a door was closing to trap her in a dark room.
I’m getting paranoid.

“What do you want to do?” Alex said.

She wanted to go home. “I think we should get out. Slowly. This is just a misunderstanding, I’ll explain it to Johnny. It’ll be okay.” She hoped that saying it would make it true.

“Get out of the car!” Johnny was snarling, his face turning red, furious.

Evie opened her car door. Alex opened his. She climbed out and straightened, holding her hands up by her face. On the other side of the car, Alex was doing the same.

“Put your hands on the roof of the car! Stay there, don’t move!”

This was like some overwrought scene out of her comic book. Tracker, undercover, meeting with a double agent, getting in trouble at some volatile border . . . she’d have to file that away for a plot twist.

She and Alex put their hands on the roof of the car. He glanced at her. His expression was stony.

This was about him. The police wanted him. What had he done? Besides stalk her family.

Four of the cops ran out to them. Three of them went to Alex, patted him down, pulled him away from the car, and wrenched his arms back.

Johnny Brewster came to her and gripped her arm. “Evie! Are you okay?”

She straightened. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“We got a call that some guy matching his description jumped in your car and held a gun on you.”

She stared. “No, there must be a mistake. He—he’s a friend. Nobody pulled a gun.”

One of the other cops called, “Johnny, he doesn’t have a gun.”

“Check the car.” The guy climbed in and looked under the seat, opened the glove box. Johnny looked back at her. “Carlos Alvarez called from the Schooner. He said that you were just there, and that one of his guests saw you get carjacked.”

Several points of confusion collided in her mind in a moment of understanding. The question was, how much would she have to tell Johnny to explain the situation? Alex wasn’t the one trying to kidnap her. That other guy, he must have fed Carlos the story. But how did she explain that? And how did she explain Alex? On the other hand, if she wanted Johnny to haul him away, now was her chance.

“Johnny, this has been a misunderstanding. He’s a friend—I’m giving him a ride.” If it wasn’t the truth, it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. She didn’t know what he was. “How likely does a carjacking sound? Does that sort of thing happen in Hopes Fort? Has anything like that
ever
happened in Hopes Fort?”

Johnny frowned, knowing she was right. He lowered his voice. “What about that stranger you called me about? Is this him?”

She’d given Johnny a description of him, hadn’t she? “No. I mean, that was a mistake. I’m sorry. It’s okay, Johnny, really.”

He turned to the others. “He have ID on him?”

“We didn’t find
anything
on him,” the same cop said. “Well, a couple of twigs in his pocket.”

Johnny left her to stroll over to Alex. He’d learned his swagger straight off a prime-time police drama.

“You know it’s illegal to travel without proper identification?” Johnny said.

Alex looked at him. He had the cold, still look of someone about to start a fight. Johnny must have seen it, too. He held his right hand on his hip, next to his gun, daring him. The men by the cars still had their guns drawn. If Alex threw a punch, as he seemed to want to do, somebody would shoot.
Please don’t.
. . .

“Here it is,” Alex said at last. He pulled a wallet from an inside coat pocket and handed it to Johnny.

Johnny glared at the cop who’d searched him. “I thought you said he didn’t have anything on him.”

The guy held up his hands. “I didn’t find anything, I swear!”

Johnny grumbled, mostly to himself, “Figures. Never patted down a guy in his life.” He opened the wallet, studied it, looked back at Alex. “I’m going to check this. Don’t move.”

He returned to his car and began some arcane background-checking process. Alex put his hands in his coat pockets, settling in to wait. Evie watched him. He didn’t seem at all concerned that he might be shot if he so much as flinched wrong. She’d lived in L.A. for ten years; you didn’t mess with the cops.

Alex had this tilt to his chin, this light in his eyes, a confidence that said he could take them all on by himself. Or he believed he could. And why not? He believed he was immortal.

Finally Johnny returned and handed the wallet back to Alex. “There’s nothing on you. If Evie says you’re okay, I’ve got no reason to hold you.”

“Thank you, Officer.” Alex tucked the wallet away.

They both looked at Evie.

“Can we go now?” she said, more bitingly than she had intended. She felt like she’d been holding her breath.

Crossing back to her side of the car, Johnny said, “Are you
sure
you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, really.” She looked away so she wouldn’t glare at him.

“He’s a stranger. You can’t blame me for being suspicious.”

“It’s a wonder anyone leaves home anymore.”

“Will you vouch for him? I’m going to have to report this. If I have a contact for him, it won’t look suspicious.
As
suspicious.”

Alex looked at her across the roof of the car. She could say the word right now, and Johnny would arrest him on suspicion of—of being a stranger in a small town. She still didn’t know anything about him. For all she knew, he really was a terrorist bent on the destruction of Hopes Fort.

Like anyone would notice the destruction of Hopes Fort.

“Yes. Sure.”

“Okay. I’m still going to keep an eye on him.”

She and Alex were allowed to return to the car. They had to wait for the police cars to pull out of the way before they could continue on.

They were well out of town, on the prairie road to the Walker house, before either of them said anything.

“That could have gone badly,” she said.

“They were more scared than we were, I think.”

“You weren’t scared at all.” He certainly acted like he was immune to bullets.

He laughed, shaking his head. The expression quickly turned somber again. “You didn’t have to stand up for me back there. You could have gotten rid of me.”

And she may yet regret that decision, she thought. Evie pulled into the driveway and shut off the engine. “Let me see that wallet.”

She was surprised that he didn’t argue. He pulled the wallet out of the same pocket and handed it to her. Inside, she found a Georgia driver’s license with his photo on it, alongside the name Simon Philips. Hometown, Athens.

“Not Alex?” He only glanced at her out the corner of his eye. “Johnny’s check came up clean. How’d you hide your wallet from them?”

He swiped the wallet out of her hand and deliberately opened his coat to drop it in the inside pocket. “Magic,” he said. He opened the coat again. The pocket showed no obvious bulge. She resisted an urge to pat down his coat. “Also, letting
people draw their own conclusions is not the same as lying.”

Her sigh probably sounded excessively annoyed. She felt suddenly exhausted. Getting stopped at a police roadblock did that to a person.

Mab was on the front porch, her head lifted, watching them approach the house. She didn’t leap forward, tail wagging, to greet Evie as she did with the elder Walker—Evie guessed she was still too new for the dog to feel protective. This time, Mab watched Alex.

Evie walked ahead. “Hey, Mab. Hey, girl.” She hadn’t been around dogs since she moved away and felt awkward talking to this one, like she was as much a stranger here as Alex. She didn’t have a right to be talking to Mab this way.

Mab glanced at her, twitched her tail slightly, then turned back to Alex, riveting him with her stare.

Alex stopped. “She doesn’t like me, I think.”

“She just doesn’t know you.” As she reached the first step of the porch, she noticed just how big Mab was. She must have weighed two hundred pounds. Evie offered her hand to the beast. Mab sniffed it, flattening her ears in a contrite gesture.