by Alice Bloome
“What did you find out?”
Paul’s voice was gentle and calm, and his hold on the steering wheel was relaxed. Both went a long way in helping me pretend that the embarrassing little episode ten minutes ago didn’t actually happen. I was completely dry now, thanks to Paul’s magic, and although I had to clear my throat a few times, I was able to answer him in a voice almost as steady as his.
“Lana’s already running an ID check on the woman’s photo,” I told him. “She’s promised to call me as soon as she gets results, and I also forwarded you a copy of the video in case your agency finds something first.”
“Thank you, Blair.”
The warm, approving glow in his hazel eyes me made feel breathless excited strange, and I muttered awkwardly, “I’m sure any other detective at INTERPOL could have done the same thing.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Most other INTERPOL officers wouldn’t even have made it past the entrance.”
“I don’t think so.” I was genuinely skeptical. “I’m just a Level 1 agent –”
“Exactly,” Paul said simply. “All of Midas’ casinos are for humans, and his security’s trained to keep high-level sups out of his hair. He doesn’t want any non-human interfering in the way he runs his business.”
“But you managed to get in,” I pointed out.
“I’m better at disguising my powers than most are.” Paul turned the radio on after speaking and I mentally dissected his words while keeping one ear out for the news. Was he able to disguise his powers by using a shield (which was a terribly expensive spell) or had he simply drawn everyone under his thrall (a natural-born ability that only immortals possessed)?
“And now, for this hour’s breaking news…”
The familiar sound of the messenger goddess’ voice had me sitting up while Paul tapped on his radio’s digital display to increase the volume.
No definite timetable for how long the mood swings would last…
Heavy flooding has now struck certain parts of New England…
Hurricane level may be upgraded to Category 4 if this continues…
Paul and I exchanged somber looks at the last piece of news. Category 4 meant that the wind gods were nearing at the end of their tether. We had to find out who that woman was – before Zeus ended up commanding his immortal liegemen to tear the world apart.
Paul picked me up at my place at exactly eight the next morning, dressed impeccably in another dark suit, and with a black umbrella in hand. He had insisted on this last night, telling me with one of his rare wicked smiles that he wasn’t the type to take no for an answer.
A good number of curtains on neighboring properties twitched tellingly at his arrival, and I was pretty sure I caught sight of Mrs. Murray taking a quick photo of Paul’s SUV from her second-floor bedroom window.
“Good morning.” Paul’s lips curved into a smile of unabashed appreciation as his gaze took in my unbound hair, long wet strands curling against my back. “You look beautiful.”
“It’s the clothes,” I felt obliged to emphasize even as my cheeks turned pink. I was secretly (and foolishly) glad that I had taken extra effort with today’s outfit: a sleeveless lilac sweater worn over a collared lace blouse, a plaid skirt that conservatively fell well below my knees, and black, low-heeled Mary Janes to complete the look.
Paul laid a hand at the small of my back as soon as I finished locking the door and pulled me close under his umbrella while walking us to his car.
A little too close if you ask me, and I nearly fell into the passenger seat in my haste to put a bit of distance between us.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” Paul inquired as soon as he settled behind the wheel.
“I was thinking---”
“So that’s a no,” he interrupted with a grin. “We’ll make a quick stop at Panda’s before I drop you off.”
“I can’t be late,” I warned even as warmth flooded me at his thoughtfulness. “I have a very strict boss---”
“That sounds like Dike.”
My eyes widened. “She is my superior. Do you know her?”
“Just enough to promise I won’t have you late.”
He was doing it again, I thought in exasperation. Telling me everything without saying a single thing.
Paul parked his SUV by the curb and reminded me to lock my doors before making a quick dash to Panda’s. I glanced outside my window, and my heart grew heavy at the still darkened skies overhead. I personally loved the rain, and I usually loved the pitter-patter sound it made against the windowpane. This storm, however, was different. I just found it impossible to delight in it, knowing that this was nothing but a result of Zeus’ condition tampering with nature.
Paul returned soon after, and as he handed me my coffee and donut, he noticed the way my brows were furrowed and asked, “What is it?”
“I’m just worried about the storm.” I knew CIA, INTERPOL, and all the other agencies were doing their best to mitigate the damage, but I also knew that they were only buying humans extra time at best. The only way to solve this was to find a way to cure Zeus out of his mood swings.
“Were you able to get anything from the CCTV footage?” I asked Paul as he steered his SUV back to the road.
“It was a big help. I meant to tell you first thing but it slipped my mind. Facial recognition couldn’t find any match, but my agents had a hit with voice recognition.”
“How’s that possible?” I wondered if he realized he had just let slip how high up he was in hierarchy. MY agents, he had said, like he had a whole squad of them working under him.
“Our software was able to detect unnatural qualities in the woman’s voice,” Paul elaborated.
I tried to understand what he was saying. “Is she a banshee?” Such creatures had a distinctly high-pitched scream, and listening to any sound they make for more than five seconds was enough to make human ears bleed.
“Her voice,” he said meaningfully, “was unnaturally perfect.”
Comprehension dawned.
Our poison-administering Jane Doe was a siren.
“Does Dike know?” I asked as he drove the SUV into one of the parking slots in front of my office.
“That’s what I’m here for.”
What?
But Paul had already stepped out of the vehicle, and I could only watch with a sinking feeling in my stomach as he went around to open the door for me. This was not good.
“Come on out, agapoula mou.” Paul was grinning as he took my hand, leaving me no choice but to let him pull me out of the car. “You don't have to sound so worried.” Paul’s tone was full of sham innocence. “I promise I won’t do anything you could lose your job for.”
That was good to know, but what I was more concerned about was losing face, and as soon Paul opened the doors to let me in first, I immediately knew I was right to worry.
“Oh no!” Roseanne was careening straight at me, tottering in her high heels like she was about to lose her balance.
Chapter Six
With only a split-second to spare, I could only brace for impact. Been there, done that, I thought unhappily while mentally preparing myself for the look of pity I was sure to see on Paul’s face. Roseanne did so love throwing her weight around (literally), and she loved apologizing to me even more just so she could add in the end that it wasn’t her fault I was so small and skinny.
“Oh no, no, no!” Even with a fake look of horror on her face, Roseanne still looked as lovely as ever.
I squeezed my eyes shut, prepared to once again fly across the lobby, but instead I felt one strong arm curving around my waist.
YANK!
My eyes flew open as Paul hauled me out of Roseanne’s way, and my lips parted in silent horror as I watched the other woman screech as she skidded straight into the wall head first like a crazed, raging she-bull.
Cronos save her.
Paul looked down at me, asking blandly, “Is she always that careless?”
“Umm…” I h
ad no idea what to say. As much as it pained me to admit this, Paul wasn’t the first guy to see how Roseanne loved to bully me. He was, however, the first one to actually do something about it, and while I was pleased about it---
I also felt stupid and disappointed, realizing too late that I shouldn’t have let Roseanne get away with so much in the first place.
“Blair? Are you hurt anywhere?”
Paul’s soft question made me belatedly realize I was still leaning against him like some weak damsel in distress. My self-disgust grew, and I quickly pulled away from him, muttering, “Sorry.”
His hazel eyes turned thoughtful, but in the end he only nodded, saying politely, “It was nothing.”
The sound of angry stomping had us both turning around, and we saw Roseanne angrily heading towards our direction, her face an ugly shade of red.
I prepared myself to confront her once and for all, but Paul beat me to speaking.
“I apologize for the accident.” Paul’s velvety smooth voice had my eyes widening. Was it just me or was he acting like he could charm Roseanne out of her bad temper? “I hope you weren’t terribly hurt?”
There was a second of silence---
And then I heard Roseanne simper, “Oh, it’s fine.”
My head snapped back to him. It’s fine? I once saw an intern accidentally misspell her name in a report, and the CIA agent had ripped into her like the girl had committed murder. And now that very same woman was saying everything was fine even though Paul’s quick reflexes had caused her to sport a huge, swelling lump on her forehead?
I could only mentally shake my head as Roseanne batted her lashes like a coquettish Victorian throwback while introducing herself to Paul and afterwards gushing at how thrilled she was to meet a skilled detective like him.
By the time we headed up to CSI’s block of offices, leaving behind a certain CIA agent who was alternately ogling Paul and glaring at me, I was half-disbelieving, half-suspicious.
First, those people in the casino, and now Roseanne – could it be possible that he was…
Paul caught me looking at him frowningly as we reached the top of the stairs. “Is there anything wrong?”
I slowly turned to him with my hands unconsciously settling on my hips like I was a mother about to confront a son who might have done something naughty. “Be honest with me, please?”
“Of course.”
Paul’s swift assurance allowed me to relax slightly, and I asked in a rush, “Who are you, really? I’m certain you didn’t use any spell on Roseanne, but---”
The sound of a door opening cut me off, followed by a familiar, icily pleasant voice. “Paul, what a surprise.”
Dike stepped into view, and I was startled to see an unusually disconcerted expression on her face. My gaze immediately flew to Paul’s but a bland mask of politeness had fallen over his handsome features.
Uneasiness skittered down my spine. Something’s not adding up, I thought again.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I heard our division director murmur.
“I hope you don’t mind me dropping by.” Paul’s voice was smooth. “I felt it proper to let you know in person I’ve been working with one of your agents.”
Dike’s glance slanted towards me. “I see.”
I bit my lip. It did seem like she saw something. But what?
A closed-door meeting was held at Paul’s request, with our division director taking a seat at the head of the table while Paul took the other end. Also present in the room were Lana, Agent Tamara Gries who was to represent the CIA, and…well, me.
A mistake must’ve been made, I thought nervously. Lana might be a Level 1 like me, but everyone knew she was a tech wiz. She had what it took to be in this room.
I didn’t.
Someone still learning the ropes shouldn’t be here, and if I wasn’t so scared of my boss, I would have been tempted to ask the Daughter of Justice if she was certain about having me in the room.
It should’ve been someone else – like Tristan or Maria or even Roseanne – anyone who could actually contribute something to the table.
The meeting commenced with Paul providing a succinct summary of the evidence we had uncovered, and as soon as he was done speaking, Dike asked the INTERPOL detective what his next step was.
“With your permission---” Paul made a polite gesture towards my direction, murmuring, “I’d like to have Agent Vavrin---”
Dike started in her seat, the sudden jerking motion drawing everyone’s eyes to her.
“Is something the matter, Director?” Paul asked politely.
“Apologies.” Her voice was curt. “You were saying about Agent Vavrin?”
“With your permission, I’d like to have her accompany me when I pay a visit to a siren I know.”
“Granted.”
I almost choked. Just like that? But before I could even figure out how I felt about the way things were progressing, the CIA agent with us was already shaking her head with a frown.
“No offense to Agent Vavrin---” The statuesque brunette gave me an apologetic smile. “But wouldn’t it better if someone more experienced accompany Detective---” Tamara raised a brow at Paul.
“Paul.”
“Paul…?”
Paul’s lips curved into a smile. “Just Paul.”
With the exception of Dike, all of us couldn’t help gaping at his blatant evasion. Wasn’t that carrying his secretiveness a little too far? It was just his last name, for Cronos’ sake.
“Let him be,” my superior said dismissively. “INTERPOL detectives are notoriously suspicious that way.”
Tamara let out a stiff laugh. “Of course.” Her tone, however, was patently unconvinced.
Dike turned to Paul. “As for Agent Gries’ suggestion, it’s your call.”
“I’m sure Agent Gries is entirely capable---” It was Paul’s turn to give the other woman a smile of polite apology. “But I must insist on continuing to work with Agent Vavrin for reasons I can’t disclose at the moment.”
Tamara’s gaze narrowed. “So that’s how it is.”
Paul appeared indifferent to whatever the other agent was insinuating. He swung his chair to face Dike, asking with laconic ease, “Director?”
“Permission was already granted,” Dike answered with a grunt. Turning to the CIA agent, she said abruptly, “I appreciate your good intentions, Agent Gries, but with INTERPOL now involved it’s best to let Paul do as he sees fit.”
Chapter Seven
Paul had just taken a left turn at Rainbow Street when I finally broke the silence between us by clearing my throat. “So…”
Paul turned to face me with a knowing look. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I made a face, realizing that he had only remained silent in the ten minutes we had been in the car as a way of teasing me. “It was that bad, and you know it.”
“There’s no need to torture yourself over anything. Agent Gries should’ve known better than to try to take over the case that way.”
“But she had a valid point, Paul. And I am worried that you and Dike made a big mistake---”
“In choosing CSI over CIA?”
I shot him an exasperated look. “You know it’s not just that.”
“Then what is it?”
I didn’t like the way he was forcing me to spell out things, and I frowned unhappily while watching Paul steer his SUV into a vacant parking space closest to the gates of Silver Mist Park. At about nine-thirty on a weekday, the local park was as empty as expected, with only a handful of grandmothers doing tai chi next to the playground. They might look harmless in most people’s eyes, but I only had to live in this town long enough to recognize our local baddies.
And those grandmothers stretching and bending like they were the next Avatar?
They were the meanest of the bunch, witches made easily irritable because they had reached the retirement age of 90 and were no longer allowed to ride their brooms in post-daylight hours. I f
elt for them, really. I could imagine it was like having to obey a curfew even when you were a full-fledged, fully functioning adult.
On the other hand, I also didn’t think curtailed broom activities made up a valid reason to temporarily transform human boys into frogs just for being rude enough to play loud music at 3AM.
Paul let out a mock sigh when he saw me shrugging me into my CSI-issued windbreaker and pulling its hood up before letting him help me out of his car. “And to think I was looking forward to have us snuggle under an umbrella.”
I made a face. “Not funny.” Just remembering the feel of his hand on my back was enough to make me feel faint, and I quickly changed the subject, asking, “Are you really sure it wouldn’t be better if you worked with Agent Gries?” I hated the idea of relinquishing a case, but what I hated more than that was the possibility that I could end up hampering everyone’s efforts to stop Zeus from destroying the world.
“We’ve shared all we know about this case with Agent Gries. That should be enough for her.” Paul’s tone was one of finality. “Now, let’s not waste our time talking about her, yes? We still have work to do.” He gestured to the park’s on-site greenhouse, located on top of a small hill with a winding road leading up to it. “That’s where Thelxiope lives. Ready to talk to the world’s oldest siren?”
Sirens had it pretty bad compared to most immortals. They weren’t gifted with extraordinary strength like the Amazons or blessed with impossibly good looks like the nymphs. They just had really lovely voices, but that didn’t mean much these days with the birth of auto-tune. If they wanted to live in this world, they had to work for a living like humans did, and knowing this did have me thinking. Could someone have paid our siren off to poison or brainwash Zeus?
Another little-known thing about sirens was that they could also transform into birds, being the offspring of the river god Achelous and a nightingale he had turned into a woman after falling in love with its, well, voice.
Hence our local aviary, I thought, which Thelxiope herself owned. She was one of the lucky few, having married a wealthy lumber baron a few hundred years back and had been his sole beneficiary as his widow. She had lived a quiet life since then, with her wealth managed by humans who were paid handsomely not to ask too many questions about her remarkable longevity.