Shadows Before the Sun (14 page)

So he did.

He wrapped his arms around her, his big hands splayed over her bare stomach, dipped his head, and spoke softly, just below her ear, the deep power of his words giving life to his thoughts, his wants, his driving need. He told her everything.

She straightened, finally waking like Aphrodite rising from the sea. Her back pressed into his chest. Her hands settled over the top of his, holding him to her as her head dropped back, exposing more of her neck as though she wanted more, wanted him.

Accepted him.

The knock at the bathroom door heralding breakfast jerked me out of the dream so fast I almost sucked in a mouthful of water. My heart beat like a jackhammer, and my body practically hummed. I coughed several times and then swallowed hard, trying to reclaim some control over myself, but it was pretty damned difficult.

That dream . . . God.

Feeling dazed and shaky, I left the pool and dressed quickly to the sound of servants bringing in the morning meal, setting the small buffet, and Alessandra’s muted voice.

As I sat down on the end of the bed to pull on my boots, I was still reeling. Still shaking. Cheeks still flushed and warm.

Hottest dream on record. Period.

Hank’s deep, exotic voice echoed in my mind and whispered against my skin.

The mark on my shoulder, however, was still unresponsive, and that realization cooled me off considerably. Thankfully, the ache in my arm was nearly gone. And in a few hours, I’d meet the infamous Circe, start making headway into finding Hank, and proving those delegates
wrong
.

He was here. He had to be.

Shaking off the last shreds of the dream, I stepped into the main room. Sandra took one look at me and said, “We need to do something about your wardrobe.”

“Gee, thanks. Good morning to you, too.” I went to the table to pick up a slice of warm bread, feeling edgy and frustratingly unsatisfied. “There is nothing wrong with my clothes.”

“I didn’t say that. But you can’t exactly wear that outfit to the banquet. And this”—she gestured from my toes to my head with a wild flourish of her hand—“just doesn’t cut it.”

“Well, let’s see . . .” I lifted a foot. “Steel-toed boots.” I stuck out my hip. “Cargo pants for ease of movement.” I slapped a hand on my weapon strapped to my waist. “ITF-issued High Frequency Tag gun; otherwise known as a Hefty.” I spun around so she could get the full effect. “Outfit designed to maximize that ass-kicking edge . . . priceless.”

Alessandra huffed. “You’re such a smart-ass.”

“So are you. You’re just a better morning person
than me. Which is annoying by the way.” I sat down on the couch.

“You might be my personal bodyguard, but within the confines of the palace, attending meals and meetings, to carry a weapon is to suggest the place unsafe. It would be an offense to our host to attend the banquet armed. And you can’t go dressed like my bodyguard.”

“All of which I do know.” I shoved the last bite of bread into my mouth.

“Good. Then let’s go shopping.”

•    •    •

The hall was lit with small lanterns set into niches in the walls. Alessandra walked ahead of me, the fine material of her midnight blue gown flowing out behind her and making shadowy waves on the walls. Wind and string instruments echoed down the passageway in an exotic melody.

And even though the sights and sounds were beautiful and mesmerizing, I was unarmed and feeling completely exposed and antsy.

Don’t attack the Circe on sight,
I repeated, knowing myself and knowing as soon as I laid eyes on the old bitches I’d want to rip their collective throats out.
Don’t kill the Circe. Don’t react at all.

“They are eerily insightful,” Sandra had counseled me as we got ready—her in some kind of traditional gown with yards of gauzy fabric and me in loose pants that fell like cool silk and matching tunic with
long, flowing sides. “They pick up the smallest vibes. Think of them as a pack of drug-sniffing dogs, and we just lit up a joint back in our room.”

I’d just stared at her with a you-did-
not
-just-say-that look. She sniffed and returned to the mirror to fix her hair. “Oh, please. Like you never smoked a bowl back in the day.”

“Oh my God.” I couldn’t help it. I buried my face in my hands and started laughing. Sandra responded with a chuckle that caught fire until she was laughing as hard as me, holding her side and getting teary-eyed.

I was beginning to think Sandra and Rex would make the perfect couple. They both were walking contradictions and both came up with the most off-the-wall shit. Like most off-worlders, they were a unique blend of ancient being and pop-culture junkie. They stayed true to their identities, but they embraced human culture and all the fun things like fashion, entertainment, technology . . .

Alessandra’s choice of analogy might be lighthearted, but she was right. I had to play my part; had to be a simple observer on a pleasant trip with my benevolent—as Sandra had put it—boss.

The hallway emptied into a massive covered courtyard, the roof supported by giant round columns set in a rectangular pattern that followed the shape of the courtyard. A large fire burned in the center of the room and there was a wide circular opening in the roof above it.

Long tables ringed three sides of the room, the fourth was left bare and completely open to the outside. People milled about under the roof and in the open courtyard.

As we moved deeper into the area, a wave of silence suddenly flowed from one end of the room to the other. Everyone dropped to one knee. Except me. Because I was frozen. Not by the sight of the sirens sweeping into the room, but by the two creatures walking on either side of a handler.

Short-haired and as tall as Great Danes, bodies sleek and muscular and colored like lions. Wings folded back against their sides with feathers ticked with a succession of tan, brown, reddish brown, and finally red at the tips. They wore thick leather collars and had heads like an eagle only ten times bigger. And ears tipped with the same red as their feathers.

Sandra yanked me down with a glare. “They’re just griffins,” she whispered as though seen-one-seen-them-all. Uh, yeah. Not this human.

I went down on one knee, totally missing the announcement part of the royal entrance. I knew the worlds of Elysia and Charbydon were full of creatures we’d never seen before and some that we’d seen carved and painted all over ancient walls of our past. Lions, birds, dolphins, goats, snakes . . . these animals had been depicted all over the Mediterranean right alongside griffins, sphinxes, mermaids, and other mythical creatures.

I knew they existed in Elysia and had once existed
in our world, but to see not one but two, in the flesh, being led to a spot behind the table where they sat like regal statues, was extraordinary.
Em would love to see this.

Activity resumed. Music, laughter, conversation mingled with the clink of glasses and the snap of the fire. We were led toward the far side of the room where the royals had taken up position behind their table. Toward the majestic griffins.

Pelos found us, led us the rest of the way through the crowd, and made introductions to the royal family. While Sandra chatted with the royals, I scanned the assembly, searching for the three old hags until Sandra pulled me next to her. “My assistant is captivated by your griffins, my lord. They are truly magnificent. I have not seen one in quite some time.”

“Are they not extraordinary?” The siren king, Aersis, beamed, casting a glance behind him. “And so rare. These two are the last mating pair in this part of Elysia.” He eyed me. “Would you like an introduction?”

I blanched. “Thank you for the offer, but . . . I think I’ll admire them from here if that’s okay.” At a safe distance.

The king laughed. “A most wise decision.” I wasn’t sure if he was messing with me or if he was serious, but I definitely didn’t want to find out.

As Sandra spoke with the king and his queen, I returned to my search. No hags in attendance as far as I could see, though my gaze did snag on something. Someone. Shit. Not good.

I recognized one of the sirens who had traveled to Atlanta to apprehend Hank. The same one who had grabbed me in the parking lot when I was travel drunk. He stood with a group of male sirens and they all looked deadly and ready to meet any challenge or threat.

At the time of our altercation, I’d just gotten back from Charbydon. I was bloodied, bruised, covered in gray sand and grit. Now I was healed, washed, my hair was dyed, and Sandra had convinced me to pull it back and to dress in feminine attire. I didn’t look anything like the woman who had stumbled out of Charbydon. And more important, I had to act my part.

He, too, was scanning the crowd, and inevitably, his gaze came to me. I was human. He was siren. As such it’d be natural for me to acknowledge him because that’s what humans did, they admired sirens, and that was putting it lightly. He gave me a brief, unimpressed once-over and then moved on.

Asshole
.

We followed the king and Pelos down the table. Sandra’s fingers dug sharply into my skin as we stopped. I went still and focused, getting her message loud and clear: Circe dead ahead. I began my chant from earlier.

Don’t kill the Circe. Don’t kill the Circe.

“May I present our beloved advisors,” the king said, moving aside. “Arethusa, Calliadne, and Ephyra.”

They weren’t what I’d expected. Not old or bent
over or cackling like Halloween witches. No, the Circe were beautiful. Flawless. Regal. Nearly identical in size, height, and looks, except for eye color and small differences in the fullness of lips, the slant of the eyes . . . All three were decked out in deep burgundy gowns. Their hair, so pale a blonde it looked nearly white, was piled onto their heads and draped with jewels.

A creepy sense of unease replaced the initial shock. At first, I couldn’t figure out what it was and then as I studied them, I began to realize that their beauty was deceptive. Unnatural. Something I knew on a sensory level was wrong.

“Honored,” Arethusa said to Alessandra.

“Yes, honored.” Calliadne.

“To have you here.” Ephyra.

Oh God.
A shiver went down my spine, and I had to concentrate on not shuddering at the sound of their voices. The singsong quality was so profound, so exquisitely beautiful it made me want to weep. They were so powerful the amulet Lightwater had given to me burned against my chest. I could only imagine what it would’ve been like without that protection.

Alessandra made a respectful bow. “As I am honored to be here.” She straightened and moved a bit to the side. “May I present my assistant . . .” Oh shit. We hadn’t actually discussed an alias. “Carly Madison.”

I coughed in reaction. Her head whipped around, eyes widening in warning and irritation. I recovered,
offering apologies, and bowed my head, acknowledging the Circe with all the feigned respect I could muster.

Carly Madison? Really? I half expected someone to slap handcuffs on me or shoot me with a lightning bolt right then and there.

The weight of the Circe’s regard felt like a boulder on my submissive shoulders. But it was only a second before their attention returned to the oracle.

Arethusa, of the sharp green eyes, swept Alessandra with a measuring gaze. “Your reputation precedes you, prophetess.”

“We hear your gift is astonishingly accurate,” Calliadne added, her blue eyes narrowing as if trying to ascertain that fact for herself.

“Matching that of the first oracle of Delphi,” the last Circe completed the triple play. Ephyra’s eyes were a strange yellow-brown and they relayed a humor the others hadn’t—all malevolence and bad intentions like a hungry cat deciding how best to enjoy its meal.

“Surpassing it, actually,” Alessandra answered.

“Ah, yes.”

“And, thus, you were blessed with immortality.”

“Whereas your mother was not.”

They spoke in the same order as before, so I pegged Arethusa as either the eldest, the strongest, or the smartest of the group. Possibly all three.

The music stopped once more and a deep bell preceded servers spilling into the room with food. The banquet had begun.

“Enjoy your meal.”

“We shall talk more after.”

“Yes, more.”

Alessandra and I were shown our seats, which were thankfully on the other side of the royal family, away from the Circe. Food was laid out in front of us—platters of fruits, vegetables, roasted meats, fresh breads . . .

And none of it was appealing. My stomach was in knots. It had taken everything I had to stand there, right there, in the Circe’s presence and not do a thing. But it was done. Sandra had gotten us this far, and soon we’d be invited into their inner sanctum.
Soon, Hank. Soon.

Once the food and drinks were deposited, female performers swept into the center of the room and made a circle around the fire pit. They were dressed in sheer gowns, their light hair long and loose. They wore shell necklaces and anklets.

“Ah, fabulous!” Sandra exclaimed, leaning closer to the shoulder of the king. “It has been quite some time since I’ve enjoyed this type of entertainment, and in such magnificent company.”