by S. L. Stacy
I roll my eyes, a reaction that happens so often around him I’m a little concerned they might get stuck like that one day. “Unless you’re actually going to give me a little more to go on than a few half…baked lines of poetry, leave me alone. I’m kinda busy.”
“Alright,” he concedes, coming to a stop.
“Really?” I exclaim, whirling around in surprise. “Alright, you’ll leave me alone?”
When he shakes his head, I knew it was too good to be true. “Alright, I’ll give you a hint.”
“You will?” That was an answer I didn’t expect, either, and I can’t help but be intrigued.
He nods. “I’m not supposed to do this, but…I’ll tell you the secret ingredient. The antidote won’t work without it.”
“Okay, I’ll bite.” I fix a skeptical look on my face and cross my arms, all in a feeble attempt to disguise my eagerness. “What’s the secret ingredient?”
“Well. The secret ingredient is…” Pausing for effect, he walks toward me in slow motion, only stopping when he’s so close the black column of his hat obscures my view of the moon. I become rigid as he leans into me, butterflies swarming in my lower belly, the only part of him touching me his cool, cinnamon breath on my cheek when he whispers, “Love.”
“Love?” I reach a hand up, knocking his top hat askew, before backing away from him. “Yeah. I thought it might be something like that. Jerk.”
“Were you expecting a different answer?” he asks with a merry grin, taking pleasure in disappointing me yet again. “You really have to start being more specific.”
“The only thing I have to do is stop thinking I can depend on you, even for a moment, for any sort of help.” I turn, storming off into the night.
“Hey—wait for me!” he shouts, catching up to me in a few running strides. “So…where’re we goin’?”
“To a party.” I leave out the part about it being a party at the Delta Iota Kappa house, and that I’m really going there to see if Dionysus has seen or heard from Victoria tonight. And to take him up on his offer of help, if it’s still on the table. “You’re not invited,” I add, just in case that wasn’t clear.
“Why not?” he asks, pouting. “She gets to go.” A gloved hand points accusingly at the cat walking in between us. “You should be helping me, not traipsing off to some party, you traitorous ball of fluff.” Apate turns her whiskered face toward him and growls low in her throat.
“Your sister is smart, sticking with me,” I point out. “Seeing as I can turn her back, once I make the antidote.”
Dolos shrugs. “If you ask me, I think she’s better off this way. The Elder Council needs someone to make an example of, not a new house pet. This way, I can keep her safe. Protect her.” At this, Apate’s velvety ears flatten back as she lets out a defiant hiss, bearing slim but sharp white canines.
“It doesn’t seem like she wants anything to do with you right now.”
“You probably wouldn’t want anything to do with her if you knew she was the reason Siobhan is stuck in Pandora. Oops,” he cries, hand flying to his mouth, “Did I just say that out loud?”
Apate stops in the middle of the street, looking up at her brother with her mouth parted slightly, in an expression I can only describe as shock. I pause midstride just behind her, the sight of her silky black fur and innocent cat face filling me with anger. “She…what…”
“That’s right. My sister followed her into the portal to warn me not to go back to Olympus and got out of there just before it closed, leaving Siobhan behind to rot.”
“Why…you…” I’m still stammering, breathing hard, rage a liquid fire coursing through my veins. The cat shifts her eyes, crescent pupils dilated with fear, from her brother to me, letting out a series of pleading mews.
“I think my work here is done,” Dolos says, sounding pleased with himself. When I look back over, mouth opened to reply, he’s no longer there, of course, although I imagine I see the hem of a black leather coat flapping around the side of one of the red brick houses.
I turn back to Apate, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction as I watch her shrivel underneath the weight of my glare. “Everybody’s just out for themselves, then, is that it? You thought you’d dupe me next, use your cute, helpless kitty act to get me to change you back. Dolos is right,” I realize, shaking my head ruefully. “I am gullible.”
“Meow,” she cries in desperation, gaze sorrowful as it meets mine. I don’t think cats can cry, but if they could, I’d say this one was pretty close to it. But I can’t tell if she’s truly sorry for what she did to Siobhan, or if it’s all an act to convince me to help her.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, continuing the train of thought out loud. “Because I’m a nice person. Fudge it—I’m a nice person, and, despite what you’ve done, I can’t just leave you like this. You don’t have anyone else right now, not even your brother. I’m your only hope. I could just forget about it and leave you like this, but I’m going to do the right thing and save some of the antidote for you.” Assuming I can figure out how to make it in the first place. “But you owe us big time now. And you can start by helping me out tonight. Whatever comes our way, you’d better step up and do your part. If you don’t—if you betray me in any way—I will leave you like this. I swear I will.”
The cat nods her understanding, then pads over to me, rubbing up against my legs in gratitude. “Get off,” I grumble, giving her a gentle nudge with my toe. “Come on. We only have a few more blocks to go.”
I hear the Delta Iota Kappa house before I see it, thumping like a giant boombox in the middle of the neighborhood, the music so loud I wonder if any of the neighbors have called and complained yet, and if it would even make a difference. As we approach, I notice a familiar figure manning the front door, showing a little leg—very skinny, very pale leg—in a white dress shirt that’s slightly too big on him and tube socks, à la Tom Cruise in Risky Business. I’m assuming Five has on boxers or briefs somewhere under there, but I can’t tell from here. He’s leaning against the house, looking bored, but upon seeing us stations himself in front of the door, arms crossed.
“Halt—oh, it’s you,” he realizes, arms dropping to his sides almost in disappointment. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. Can I go in?” I ask, pointing past him. “I really need to talk to Dion.”
Five steps off to the side, motioning me on. “Yeah, you can go in. I don’t know about that thing, though,” he says as Apate bounds up the porch steps.
“She’s just a cat.” Bending, I scoop Apate up into my arms, managing to hold onto her despite the fact she keeps squirming around, trying to break free.
“Dion doesn’t like cats. You can leave her out here, with me,” Five offers. “I’ll watch her.”
What is it with Olympians and cats? “I’m…watching her for a friend, so I don’t really want to lose sight of her. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get into the beer, okay?”
The joke doesn’t seem to amuse Five, who shrugs, nodding rather solemnly. “Well, if he complains, tell him I tried to stop you, but you kicked me and got away,” he says, opening the door for us. I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not, so I just give him a reassuring smile before going inside.
“Oh, and thanks again for all of your help earlier,” he adds, lingering in the doorway. “I really appreciate it. I think it’s going to be my first A on a homework…well, on anything in that class.”
“No problem. Let me know if you need any more help with programming. You get one more free tutoring session before my fifty dollar per hour rate kicks in.”
He laughs. “That’s a little outside of my budget, but I can pay you in beer.”
“Even better.”
Once Five returns to his post, Apate wastes no time launching herself out of my arms, landing on the floor with a butterfly’s grace.
“Hey! Get back here!” I shout, but she scampers ahead without even a glance behind her, either unable to hear me above the music or, mo
re likely, intentionally ignoring me.
“What happened to stepping up?” I mutter to myself, starting after her. It only takes seconds for me to lose her in the maze of parachute pants and neon tights with leg warmers in the living room. Mumbling apologies, I elbow through the crowd, scouring the floor for a ripple of long, black tail or glimmer of green.
When I reach the other side of the room with still no sign of her, I lean into the wall with a sigh, taking a break to watch the party and all of the happy, dancing drunk people, oblivious to the visitors that have snuck, uninvited, into our midst and the upheaval they leave in their wake. Part of me wants to grab a beer and join them, to forget—if only for one night—about the curse, the invasion. The fact that reality as we know it is literally starting to fall apart.
My longing for a few hours of blissful oblivion is shattered by the sight of Rae’s profile a few feet away from me, her head tilted back as she takes a swig from a bottle of beer. The skull tattoo peeks above the collar of her maroon leather jacket, staring at me with black, hollow eyes.
“Rae,” I call out, marching over to her. “Hey, Rae!” Giving a small jump, Rae looks around in confusion, hazel eyes becoming wary as they settle on me.
“Hey, Cathy,” she says, setting the bottle on a foldout table littered with discarded cups and a half-empty bag of chips. “What’s up?”
“It’s Carly,” I snap, crossing my arms.
“Right.” She studies me with one eyebrow raised, the ring of her piercing winking gold under a roving strobe light. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yes. You can tell me where the heck Victoria is.”
Jaw dropping slightly, Rae folds her arms across her chest. “How the hell should I know where she is?”
“She left to go meet up with you tonight and never came back. So what happened? Where is she? Is she here?” My questions ring off in rapid succession like shots from a handgun. Rae flinches as though she’s been hit, looking genuinely startled by the accusation.
“I don’t know,” she insists. “For your information, she stood me up. I should have known better than to hook up with some dumb sorority skank. No offense,” she adds with an apologetic grimace, but I can tell she doesn’t mean it.
I take a step closer to her, throwing as much ice into my glare as I can muster. “I don’t believe you.”
“Well, I don’t know what else to tell you.” Rae lifts her chin slightly to meet my gaze, standing her ground. “I’m sorry you can’t find her, but I can’t help you. I’m sure she’ll turn up. She’s probably just off whoring around.” The corner of her mouth quirks up as she says it. I know she’s just trying to get a rise out of me.
It works.
Her words are the tipping point for all of the anger and frustration that’s been building up inside of me since I left The Midnight Shoppe. Before even I really realizing what’s happening, I have Rae shoved up against the wall, pinning her there with the full weight of my body. I’m vaguely aware of a male voice yelling “Girl fight!” somewhere behind me, but I’m too busy relishing the look of surprise on Rae’s face to pay it too much mind.
“Tell me where she is!” I demand, pulling her forward slightly only to ram her into the wall a second time. Rae winces in pain, trying to cover it up with an angry snarl.
“I already told you. I. Don’t. Know!” Recovering from her initial shock, she plants a knee into my stomach and pushes me off. I stumble backwards, doubled-over from the white-hot pain searing my abdomen. Holding myself, I try to straighten up, but Rae quickly grabs me, her hand circling around my throat like a steel collar.
“Touch me again,” she threatens, and I can feel the air leaving me as she tightens her grip, dizziness blurring my vision, “and I will snap you like a goddamn twig. Got it?” I try to nod, eyelids fluttering closed, Rae a smear of red jacket and blue jeans underneath the slits.
Suddenly, the hand chocking me lets go. Eyes flying open, I gasp for breath, using one hand to massage my neck, the other braced on my thigh.
“There is no fighting at Delta Iota Kappa.” I hear Dionysus’s voice, only it seems to be coming from the Bret Michaels impersonator standing behind Rae, arms locked around her waist. He has her lifted several inches off of the floor, her hand still extended through the air, reaching for me. “We make love,” he says, releasing her. “Not war.”
“She started it!” Rae lowers her arm, but continues glowering at me.
“She knows where Victoria is,” I fire back, startled by the loudness of my own voice. Someone has turned off the music. I don’t have to look behind me to know that everyone at the party has stopped dancing and drinking to stare at us.
“Like I’ve already told you a million times: I don’t!”
“You’re lying!”
“I’m not lying, you crazy bitch!”
“I don’t believe you, you stupid…butt munch.”
At this, Rae sniggers. “Butt munch? Seriously? We’re not in middle school. Grow the fuck up.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Dionysus barks, coming to stand in between us. If I wasn’t so overcome with anger, I would have probably burst out laughing at the sight of his costume: a black leather vest paired with washed out jeans, a long, blonde wig sitting somewhat unevenly on his head, kept out of his face with a leopard print bandana. “You, out,” he says to Rae, pointing a finger toward the front door.
“But…I…she started it,” Rae sputters, pouting.
“That might be true, but then you tried to choke her. And she’s my friend. So you’re out.”
Rae’s lips part as if to protest further, closing as she thinks better of it. “Fine. Your parties suck, anyway. You all suck!” she shouts on her way out the door.
“Alright, folks!” Dionysus says to the room at large. I risk a glance behind me, watching as the semi-circle that had formed around me and Rae starts to break up. “Nothing to see here! Go back to your drinks and your dates.” There’s a crackle of static before music thunders from the speakers once again. Although everyone complies, reforming their smaller circles around the room, the occasional head turns curiously in my direction, probably waiting for me to pick another fight. I turn my back to them, cheeks burning.
“You okay?” Dionysus asks me, his rum gold eyes looking at me with concern.
“I think so.” I allow myself a small smile. “By the way, your wig’s a little uneven, Blondie.”
He rolls his eyes, reaching up to adjust it, then takes me gently by the elbow. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere quiet where we can talk.”
In the kitchen, Dionysus gets me a glass of water and mixes himself a gin and tonic.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the glass from him. I sit carefully down on one of the wooden stools pulled up to the counter, my stomach and neck still sore from Rae’s counter-attack.
“Care to explain what all that was about?” he asks me, leaning against the opposite wall. “I didn’t see everything, but Rae kept saying you started it, which I find hard to believe.”
“I did,” I admit, cringing. “I don’t know what happened. This horrible day just keeps getting worse, and I guess I just snapped.” Pausing, I take a drink of the cool water, just noticing how dry my throat is. “But I shouldn’t have ruined your party like that. I’m sorry.”
“Guy trouble?” From the playful wink Dionysus gives me, I can tell he’s just kidding this time.
“Actually…yeah. Kind of.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of a long story,” I warn him.
He shrugs. “I have time.”
After gulping down the rest of the water, I give him a recap of everything having to do with Dolos, from meeting him in Pandora for the first time to our confrontation outside of Billy’s store, leaving out some of the more R-rated parts. I also tell him about Victoria and how I haven’t seen her since this morning.
“I thought maybe she’d turn up here,” I finish, hoping to see a glint of
reassurance in his eyes. Instead, he shakes his head, frowning.
“I haven’t seen her since last night.” He sips on the gin and tonic, considering me over his glass. We stare at each other in silence for a few minutes.
“Well?” I finally ask him, unable to bear the suspense any longer. “What do you think?”
“I’m not sure.” Glass empty, he sets it in the sink. “Honestly, I just feel like an ass.”
“Why?”
“Well, when you admitted you had guy trouble, I figured you meant he forgot to call you after a date, or maybe you caught him making out with some slutty girl. Not that your boyfriend’s evil alter ego has returned and is hell-bent on stopping you from saving your sorority.” He shakes his head again, brow furrowed. “That’s some really messed up shit.”
“No kidding.”
“So, what’s this recipe he gave you?”
I unzip the fanny pack and take it out, unfolding it. “Here,” I say, handing the parchment, now lined with deep creases from being folded up in the bag, over to him. “Most of it doesn’t make any sense.” Dionysus takes a minute to study it, then gives it back to me, nodding in grave agreement. “Do you know what any of it might mean?”
“Well…it mentions the sun,” he points out. “Maybe it needs sunlight?”
“Maybe,” I say doubtfully, folding it back up. “It’s supposed to be like a riddle, you know? So the ‘sun’ it mentions probably isn’t the literal sun. But it’s something I should be able to figure out.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I’m not. I just mean that his puzzles are usually something you’re supposed to be able to figure out on your own. You have the information somewhere in your brain,” I explain, tapping one of my temples, “you just may not realize it right away. Although he could be trying to actually stump me this time, I guess.” Sighing, I tuck the piece of parchment, now condensed into a tiny square, into the pack and zip it closed. “I’m probably being too optimistic. I mean, how in the world am I supposed to know who ‘the children left behind’ are?”