by Amie Gibbons
Also, if I dressed normally, the ticket guy might think I was a protester pretending, and then have to call Apollo for confirmation, and I wanted to at least have a chance of barging in on the bastard.
I liked the second reason better. I’d stick with that.
The dress was a blood red strappy gown with a corset top and a full ball skirt. I got it for Two-L Barrister’s Ball and it was nice to have a reason to wear it again. There weren’t a lot of formals, shows or balls in the life of a Prosecutor. I also had on my favorite red stilettos and an elaborate black and gold Pashmina an ex bought me.
I’d put my hair into an elaborate twist and done up my makeup. I hated to admit it, but it was fun getting all gussied up. Even if it was just to tell a god no in person and not for anything like a girl’s night, a show, or even, gasp, a date.
Our heels clickity-clacked our arrival as we rounded the building to get to the main entrance and protesters near the edges of the pathway leading from the sidewalk turned to shout at us that it wasn’t too late and we could stop supporting the gods and just go home.
There were more than a few ‘God hates gods,’ signs that made me frown. God didn’t hate anyone.
There were a lot more of the MAT signs and Millie made a face.
It stood for magic added tax. If they couldn’t stop magic, they wanted a cut.
“Right there with ya,” I said.
“How do they think the government would even manage to tax magic?” Millie asked.
“You’re assuming thinking has anything to do with it,” Tyler said, staring the front lines of the protesters down.
One guy paled and stumbled back, vanishing into the group.
“How do you do that?” I asked as we walked around them and onto the carpeted pathway.
Tyler shrugged. “You know I don’t know how my powers work. I’m just glad they do.”
Red ropes encased a path through the large lawn and all the way to the street. Guards stood every few feet, keeping the protesters away from the sculpted grounds. There were only a few well-dressed patrons hurrying inside and two by the cancellation booth.
Our heels sang on the pavement loud enough to hear over the shouting protesters. Or maybe that was just my heart pounding in my throat.
A guard by the cancellation booth stopped us. His nametag said Bruce. Wasn’t that just a perfect guard’s name? I pressed my lips together to keep from giggling.
No, I wasn’t nervous. I’d just... had a lot of sugar.
He was a foot taller than me with strong features, solid blue eyes, and hair buzzed so short I couldn’t tell its color. If he wasn’t ex-military, I’d eat my Pashmina.
“Sorry ladies, a fair bit of people trying to sneak into the premiere. Names?” Bruce asked with a smooth Southern accent a little too close to Foghorn Leghorn’s to be real. Or that could’ve just been me.
“Cassandra Berry, Tyler Carmichael and Millie Lehman.”
He nodded once and his eyes slid out of focus. He nodded again like someone was talking to him. Someone probably was. I shivered. Creepy
His eyes came back to me. “Of course. Apollo is expecting you. But you are the only one allowed up, Ms. Berry. I’ll escort you.”
Of course he would.
So much for barging in.
“She’s not going without us,” Tyler said, staring Bruce down.
The hairs on the back of my neck went up and Bruce stumbled back a step.
I focused on Tyler, drawing up my Sight. Magic shone all around, blazing from the guards, Millie and even a few of the protesters.
Nothing streamed from Tyler. I never could see her magic like other people’s but it called to me, made my heart race and my legs twitch.
The guard reached for his gun and Tyler’s lips curled up. “Even think about it, honey, and you’ll lose that hand.”
He let go of the gun, eyes rolling up again.
“Sorry ladies,” he said a moment later. “You are not invited.”
Tyler stepped forward and her and Millie disappeared.
I stumbled back, horror stuck in my throat.
“They’re fine,” Bruce said. “Apollo teleported them to Vanderbilt.”
I worked my mouth until my sound came back. “Why there?”
Bruce’s eyes went up again. “He says because he does not know where they live and that was a safe place where they would not end up in a wall.”
Oh, how thoughtful.
I called Millie and she answered right away.
“We’re fine,” Millie said. “We are in the Renaissance room at the law school. Scared the shit out of some students studying in here. Tyler’s about to run back to downtown, but I think I’ve talked her into waiting for Uber. We’ll be back in a few.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said. “This shouldn’t take long and then we can go dancing in our fancy dresses.”
Tyler said something and Millie sighed. “Tyler said don’t think about going in alone, wait for us… oh, there go the heels. And she’s gone.”
I rolled my eyes. Tyler kicking off her heels was like a guy rolling up his sleeves. It meant she was getting down to business.
Bruce shook his head. He heard that? “Apollo only has a few minutes, ma’am, and I really can’t let your friends in even if you did wait.”
“Sorry Millie. I’ll see you guys soon. Call Tyler and tell her to chill.”
Millie snorted. “I don’t think she has any other speed besides icy blast.”
“Isn’t this where you say, technically icy isn’t a speed?” I asked.
“Actually, icy is a speed. Heat is a product of molecules moving, so things with less heat-”
“Okay,” I said as Bruce’s face wrinkled up and his eyes danced. “I will see you guys after my meeting.” I hung up and tucked the phone back in my purse.
“Oh she’s fun,” Bruce said, offering me his arm. “Ma’am.”
I took it. Everyone just assumed you were right-handed until you told them otherwise. Yes, I felt a little silly for walking in on his arm like he was my escort in an old movie about the South, but it seemed rude to ignore him. He opened the door for me and walked me into the lobby.
A gentleman, my my.
The lobby was as spectacular as I remembered. Circular and very Greek with its white and rose marble floors and columns. White velvet chaises were placed along the walls. Circles of four leather chairs made up little island groupings for conversation scattered here and there amidst the sea of stone. Gold statues adorned the columns and doorways, and a real crystal chandelier straight out of The Phantom of the Opera hung in the middle of the ceiling.
The ceiling was the best part. A straight up Michelangelo-esque depiction of stories about the Greek gods, mostly Apollo and the Muses.
Well-dressed people milled about and chatter echoed in the background, but it was clear the show was going to start soon by how the few people left glanced at watches and cell phones.
We walked to an elevator in the back and rode up to the fourth floor. I babbled the entire time and Bruce nodded along, looking interested. Man, he had to have been paid well to play babysitter.
The elevator doors dinged open onto a floor I’d never been to before, and Bruce walked me down a hallway, my arm still in his. The wallpaper was light gold in a leaf pattern. Paintings in the Renaissance style decorated the walls between doors that were probably executive offices. I was pretty sure some of the paintings really were from the Renaissance. The carpet was burgundy and so thick my heels sunk to their stems with every step.
I looked behind me; I was leaving a trail of little spikes in the carpet. Can you say decadent?
One thing you could say about Apollo was he had great taste.
There was a single door at the end of the hall. It was white with a sort of tree design carved into it. A shocking plainness amidst that splendor.
A shiver ran down my spine like I was facing down a pit full of pythons.
The door... buzzed. I didn’
t know how else to describe it. It was a low, bone rattling rumble. Like an old truck idling on the street, shaking just enough to make the world feel off without you consciously knowing why until you looked outside.
I focused on the door and couldn’t see anything besides the door. No colors, no shapes, no invisible spells over it. That either meant it was normal, or it was coated in magic so hidden and powerful even I couldn’t see it.
I knew which one I was putting my money on.
I stopped ten feet from the door, digging my heels into the carpet’s depths.
If Apollo wanted me to go in there, he’d have to come out and drag me in himself. And if I was right about where it led, he couldn’t do that.
I wasn’t positive because I’d never been there, but I’d bet money the door was one of the entrances to Olympus.
“Ms. Berry?” Bruce asked. He didn’t tug my arm, just stayed next to me. “Are you coming?”
“In there?” I unhooked my arm and my hands flew out, waving like I was conducting a symphony. Heat prickled my skin as my heart raced. “Not a snake’s chance in Ireland.”
I eased my hand down to the side of the dress, clenching it like I was trying to calm down. I inched to the side and eased my hand through the slit hidden in the skirt’s folds. The skirt started at my waist where the corset practically pinched it in half, so the holster and pistol secured by a belt around shorts on my hips were completely invisible to the outside world.
“Ms. Berry?” Bruce stepped in front of me and I pulled my hand out of the slit.
I wasn’t going to shoot him just because he was escorting me to the gods’ little pocket dimension. He probably didn’t even know what was behind that door.
He bent a little to look me in the eyes. “Are you okay?”
I probably looked paler than usual and I knew I was breathing too fast. What was it about even the idea of that door that made me panic?
Probably the not being able to get back out part.
“You don’t feel that?”
“Feel what?” His eyebrows drew together.
“Magic. I’m not going through that door, Bruce. Can you go in there and tell Apollo to come out?”
He shook his head. “I’m not allowed in there. He just told me to escort you up here and through the door, if I could.”
“If you could? He thought I’d be able to tell?”
Something about that bothered me. Fire tickled my arms and I rubbed them.
The door was some serious magic. It made my dinner roll over. Bile coated my tongue. Bang; bad stomach, play dead.
“Tell what?” Bruce looked genuinely interested.
I took a deep breath. “Do you know anything about magical theory?”
He smiled. “It’s my major.”
“Really? When did that happen?” I whirled a finger. “Magical theory being put in colleges, I mean.”
“Last year.”
“Okay. So you know about Olympus?”
“The gods’ magical dimension. It’s where they live when they aren’t in this one. All the gods’ ones are connected, but you can only enter into the area connecting to the territory in the real world. So all the entrances in the U.S. go to Olympus. In say, Sweden, you’d end up in Asgard, Africa you end up in the Egyptian gods’ part, I think it roughly translates to The Land of the Sun, and so on.” He sounded like he was reciting a paper in front of the class.
“Yeah. My point is, going there’s kind of like Gitmo. They can’t legally hold you, but there’s nobody making them let you go. If I go in there, I’m probably not coming back out. So...” I spread my hands.
“Why didn’t Apollo drag you there then?”
“Can’t. Magic seems to have a lot to do with free will. Like, they can’t take your soul, but they sure can screw with it once you sign it over.” I flinched. “Um, no offense.”
“Some taken.” He grinned, though. “You know, most people don’t know that bit about the gods can’t drag you into their dimension? How did you know that?”
“Oh, I...” My stomach howled, burning like a cat scratching its way out and I doubled over. “Ugggh!”
Bruce just stood there. I glared up at him, pulling my lips back in a snarl.
This wasn’t just me reacting to the doorway’s magic.
“What the fuck did you do to me?”
His face stayed as blank as if we were discussing the decor. “You were never told the gods couldn’t drag you in there. You just knew it. Like you knew about the doorway. Congratulations. You passed.”
I fell to my knees, arms wrapped around my stomach. My intestines felt like they’d explode out of my belly button if I didn’t hold them in.
“It was a test. That’s why...”
Nausea rolled through me.
I knew something else I didn’t a moment before.
Another human could drag you to Olympus just as easily as anywhere else. Once inside, you were as trapped as if you had gone of your own free will.
A loophole that’d do a corporate contract attorney proud.
“You bastard,” I breathed, slumping to my side.
Heated darkness took me in its arms before I could hear Bruce’s reply.
CHAPTER FIVE
My eyes felt like I slept with sandpaper tucked under the lids.
Oh, that would be my contacts. I rolled to my side, blinking up tears until the dried husks of plastic moistened and slid back into place on my eyeballs.
Why did I fall asleep with my contacts in?
Why was it so light in my room?
And why the hell did I feel like I was wearing a medieval torture device?
I opened my eyes fully, blinking a few more times and sitting up.
I was near the middle of a gold decked canopy bed big enough to host a party on. The comforter was some thick yet silky material and the head was covered in throw pillows in autumn colors. Gentle light that’d make a photographer giggle with joy came through the gaps between the thin, gold curtains.
I wore my red gown, which explained the crunched ribs, but why was I...
The blood drained from my brain and I forced myself to breathe when all I wanted to do was pass back out.
Oh God, I’d been coming to meet Apollo and was drugged.
Two guesses where I was now.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
Breathe and focus.
I did a quick evaluation. My hair was down. My shoes, purse, and Pashmina were gone, but my gun was still a solid weight on my hip. I pulled it out of its holster through the slit and checked it. Still loaded. So I hadn’t been frisked. I smiled as I checked the safety.
Bullets couldn’t kill gods, but they could sure as hell make them think twice about coming after you.
Oh what fools these immortals be.
Maybe if I thought sassy things like that enough, I could convince myself it was true.
I slid to the edge of the bed and peeled the curtain back just enough to peek out.
The rose carpets were ankle deep if they were a centimeter. A long couch that looked like it was made of buttery leather took up an entire side of the room. The thing could probably seat twelve. A giant window filled with the night sky took up the other wall I could see from here. The gentle light came from overhead lights, glowing like nothing on Earth could.
No one here, though.
I put the gun back in its holster and climbed off the bed, walking around it. No one.
The other side of the room held what looked like a bar made of clouds. It was all fluffy and white, but boxed into a counter shape that ran halfway around one wall and turned to take up about five feet, cutting out a little square. Closed doors flanked it on either side.
I went to the counter first, the smart half of my brain begging for us to leave.
I know, I know, bad curiosity. I poked the clouds and the fluffy whiteness swallowed my finger, barely wisping as I drew it back.
Okay, I admit, it was cool.
&nbs
p; In the middle of the cloud-boxed bar area was a carved fountain about five feet tall and three feet in diameter. The statue in the middle of a woman pouring liquid out of a pot was made of solid marble and gems. Her skin white with pink veins, her hair sparkling black, her eyes sapphires, her lips rubies. The liquid flowing out of her pot and into the basin was pure silver, like liquid moonbeams.
I didn’t know what made me more uneasy, the liquid I was pretty sure was mercury or the fact that the girl looked like me.
Well, like me on a really good skin and hair day when I was wearing red lipstick, but still, basically me.
No, actually, I knew exactly which one made me more nervous.
“Hello Cassandra.”
I whirled with a gasp, hands flying up as though to toss away the words, my heart so high in my throat I was surprised I couldn’t taste blood.
Apollo stood barely three feet away.
He hadn’t been there the whole time. No way. The first time we met, he was playing human to talk to law students who were planning to take the Tennessee Bar. I didn’t know it then, but he was scouting for someone to be his counsel.
I’d known he wasn’t normal right away. He’d set my teeth shaking like that door had. I’d just thought he was another psychic or a witch at the time. He was impressed I’d sensed his power at all.
The point is, if he’d been in the room, I would’ve felt it.
I crossed my arms, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
“Kidnapping, Apollo? Really? I don’t know what you think you’re going to accomplish by this, but I’m not going to agree to work for you just because you threaten to hold me hostage. There are plenty of lawyers out there. Go bug one of them.”
Pretty good speech considering I could barely breathe.
Apollo’s not movie star hot like a lot of people think gods should be. He looks like he belongs on a college campus: physically an indeterminate twenties or thirties, about five ten, with solid but not bulky muscles, skin a gold-kissed tan, short, buttery yellow curls and sharp features: pointy, almost girly chin, high cheekbones, long forehead, aristocratic nose.