by Alice Bloome
Like a white-hot sun reaching towards you for an electrifying kiss, so hot that I felt it singe the tips of my hair. My lips parted in a scream as I wondered if this was truly the end.
And then – darkness, and I opened my eyes to see a shadow eclipsing my view. A moment later, the darkness glided back and I gasped just as the sound of screaming metal rang in my ears.
My blurred gaze helplessly followed his every movement: I watched him break the flaming bolt into half with his bare hands, watched the way the thunderbolt’s fiery glow died flickering to its last ember in its hold, and finally, just as my injured body stiffened in anticipation and an awful twinge pinched my heart, I watched the way he turned towards me, his own eyes blazing a bright hazel.
Paul.
Chapter Nine
“I made you tea.” They were not the first words that I had expected Paul to speak, but I was relieved all the same. It was so much better than ‘I told you so’, which I knew I deserved.
Less than an hour had passed since Paul had driven me back home. I was now ensconced in my own couch, a thick blanket around my shoulders, and feeling warm and cozy after my hot shower.
I watched him pour tea into two porcelain cups, every inch the consummate gentleman. He had changed into another suit after his shower, making me wonder just how many of those dark-colored ensembles he had stored in his car. As he turned towards me, I saw the way the slightly wet locks of his hair shone like golden rays under the fluorescent lighting. It was a dazzling sight, and my senses quivered.
Mr. Handsome. Home. Shower.
It was much too intimate a thought, and I hastily shoved it aside as Paul handed me a steaming cup of chamomile tea. “T-Thanks.” I tried to lift the cup to my lips, but it was impossible. My hands had suddenly started shaking, and I stared at them in consternation. I thought I was okay. I should be okay, so why –
I heard Paul sigh, and I stiffened when I saw him rise to his feet. “It’s fine,” I said immediately. “I can---”
But Paul only ignored my protest as he scooped me off the couch and took my place – just before depositing me on his lap.
“P-Paul!” I had never sat on a man’s lap. Never. And that the first time would actually happen with Mr. Handsome, of all people –
“You’re still in shock,” he said gently.
No kidding, I thought dizzily, and my nerves were stretched taut at the feel of Paul’s hard warmth against my trembling limbs. This time, I couldn’t even try to protest as Paul lifted the cup to my lips. I started to take a sip, but then I saw the steam rising past the rim, and I hesitated.
“Blair?” In the corner of my eye, I saw his lips curve as I blew on my tea several times before letting myself take a tiny sip. It was the right kind of hot, and I sighed in relief as I took a longer sip.
When I lifted my head, the first thing I saw was the gleam in his hazel eyes, and my face heated up. “What?” I couldn’t help sounding defensive.
He placed the cup back on the table with a shake of his head. “It’s disconcerting,” he admitted wryly, “the way you can appear like an innocent child one moment and a fully-blossomed woman the next.”
My cheeks turned a deeper shade of red at his words. “You’re reading it the wrong way,” I muttered even as I let Paul pull me back against him, my head against his chest. I knew I should be doing the opposite, but I was tired of going against what I truly wanted. Just this once, I would do what my heart craved – and that was to be in Paul’s arms.
“Are you saying you never act like a child?” Paul asked teasingly.
“I’m saying I’m human,” I grumbled. “You hold live thunderbolts in your hands, for Cronos’ sake. I won’t be surprised if I see you playing with them next time like a majorette twirling her batons---”
“That’s a horrible analogy,” Paul interrupted with a slight wince.
I suddenly had a vision of him wearing a majorette’s costume, gold-tasseled shoulder padding and all, and I choked back a laugh.
Paul scowled down at me. “Get that image out of your mind, Blair.”
“But---”
“But nothing,” he said firmly. “Or I’ll give you something else to think about.”
A strong arm went around my waist, and I gulped.
Not good.
“You win,” I said hastily. “I’m already thinking of something else.”
Paul shook his head in mock disappointment. “You give in too easily, agapoula mou.”
“It’s called self-preservation.”
“I see.” His voice was pleasant, too pleasant, and unease stirred inside of me.
“Paul---” My voice broke off as I felt his arm tighten around my waist again.
“A pity you didn’t have the same concern when you left your house despite my warnings.”
“I knew you’d get around to that sooner or later.” I kept my voice light and teasing, hoping to defuse the sudden tension in the room, but Paul’s handsome face remained unsmiling.
“You almost died out there, Blair.” His voice was taut, and the way he was suddenly looking at me made my throat tighten. “If I hadn’t found you in time---”
“But you did,” I whispered.
“But what if I didn’t?” he gritted out. “You can’t take such chances---”
The look on his face was unbearable. It thrilled and confused me, and I could only shake my head, asking tremulously, “Why do you worry so much about me? You’ve only known me for days.”
“It’s been more than days, Blair,” he said quietly. “You and I both know you’ve been watching me a lot longer than that.”
Oh.
“And it was the same for me. I couldn’t stop watching you from the first day I saw you in Panda’s---”
My fingers curled involuntarily against his chest, and Paul inhaled sharply.
“W-What exactly are you saying?”
“I don’t want to see you hurt,” he said flatly. “Isn’t that obvious enough?”
“You know that’s not what I’m asking.” I swallowed hard. “Why do you worry so much over me?”
“Does there have to be a reason?” His gaze became veiled. “Isn’t it enough that I just do?”
Was it? Should it be enough? All this was so new to me.
Paul tipped my chin up. “I know I can’t stop you from doing your job, but can we at least agree to some ground rules?”
I bit my lip, feeling torn between the desire to alleviate his worries and the need to assert my independence. “I’m not a kid, Paul---”
“Then act like it,” he retorted. “I told you tonight would be a war zone, didn’t I?”
He had me there.
“I had no idea Zeus’ thunderbolts could do anything like that,” I confessed reluctantly. Even now, just remembering how close I was to having a thunderbolt stab me to death had me swallowing hard. I was definitely not taking my chances next time.
“Zeus has different kinds of thunderbolts in his arsenal,” Paul explained curtly. “The one you saw was the deadliest – it’s programmable, and a hundred percent accurate once it’s locked onto its target.”
“And you think Zeus programmed it to target witches?”
“We can’t say for sure, but most of us think it’s worse than that.”
I paled. “Are you saying it’s programmed to target humans, too?”
“I’m saying it’s programmed to target anything that lives and breathes---” Paul’s tone was hard. “That’s why no place is safe for anyone of us, and that’s why I want us to work on those ground rules.”
One, two, three seconds passed.
More time lapsed, but I just couldn’t think of a way to get past those ground rules without making myself seem as dreadfully unreasonable as a kid.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “You win. Ground rules it is, but I swear, if you even think of mentioning detention---”
Mr. Oh-So-Mature leaned back against his seat, drawling, “Now that you’ve mentioned it…”
Paul threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “A joke, just a joke, Agent Vavrin.”
“Just so we’re clear,” I stressed, still suspicious.
“We are.” He tugged a lock of my hair, and his lips curved when I refused to relax even as the gesture had my spine tingling. “I meant what I said, Blair. I’m not going to interfere with your work.” He paused. “But I don’t want to see you risking life and limb for it either.”
“But if the situation calls for it---”
“Let me rephrase that: I don’t want you taking unnecessary risks, and so here’s one simple ground rule. Just let me know where you are or where you’re heading at all times.”
I waited.
And waited.
And when I realized that was all he was going to ask –
“That’s it?” I asked dubiously.
He spread his hands out by way of waving the white flag. “That’s it.”
My gaze narrowed. “This isn’t some kind of trick, is it?”
“If you want more ground rules,” Paul drawled, “all you have to do is ask.”
Oops. I shook my head, saying quickly, “Err, no, actually, that one ground rule is perfect.”
He smirked. “I thought you’d say that.” He glanced at my teacup. “Do you want another?”
“I’m okay---” My gaze drifted absently to my watch. Nine-thirty. I hadn’t had dinner yet and – oh.
“I forgot to tell you about what I discovered at The Voice Factor,” I gasped, and Paul listened attentively as I told him what I learned.
“That’s good work.” Paul’s voice had turned vague, and I could see that his mind was already on what next steps to take. “We’ll need tech support…”
I grabbed my phone. “On it.”
“Tell them this is Code P.”
I hesitated. “You’re sure?” P stood for Pandora, and Code P meant the situation had hit rock bottom, the equivalent of Pandora’s box unleashing an unholy horror on mankind. Among other things, it granted tech support permission to hack even into government-owned systems, something we tried our best to avoid because it risked exposure for non-humans if we were caught.
“We have no choice. I received word earlier from Olympus. The only reason we have a lull in the storm right now is because Hermes was able to use one of Hypnos’ sleeping spells to knock the thunder god out.”
“Doesn’t he have to be physically close to Zeus to make that kind of spell work?”
Paul nodded curtly. “He didn’t need to get inside the battle tower, but he did have to get close enough that it cost him a torn wing.”
“Poor Hermes.” The fleet-footed god may be an Olympian himself, but none of those things saved him from feeling pain the way we all did.
“He’ll live,” Paul said gruffly.
I supposed he would, and that even with his injured wing, Hermes still had better chances of surviving the coming storm. “How long do you think the spell would last?”
“How soon before Zeus wakes up?”
“No one really knows, but when he wakes up---” Paul’s voice turned harsh. “He’ll be fit to destroy the world.”
A pair of gentlemen showed up on my doorstep at exactly eight in the morning, both of them dressed in – naturally – dark suits. They gave me polite, friendly smiles as they introduced themselves (Troy with the blue eyes, and Philip with the days-old stubble), and told me I had only to ask if I needed anything.
“Do you know where Paul is or what he’s working on right now?”
The men exchanged looks. “Well, anything except that,” Troy amended.
Mary Lou was agog with curiosity and didn’t waste time asking questions as soon as I got past the double doors. “That wasn’t the INTERPOL detective, was it?”
“Err, no.”
The nymph rolled her eyes when I couldn’t be more forthcoming. “Come on, Blair,” she wheedled. “At least tell me who they are?”
“They’re also from INTERPOL?”
“And?”
“And I gotta go, I have a meeting with Dike.” Or so I did, but all I really wanted was to escape before Mary Lou pried out more information from me.
Our division director called for Lana and Agent Gries as soon as I entered her office, and at her cue, I provided them with the latest update. “Detective Paul emailed me early this morning. He says INTERPOL’s convinced Dion that it’s in his interest to work with them, but it will still take time. Dion doesn’t keep records on non-human employees so tech support has to comb through all the surveillance footage in hopes of finding a match.”
Dike turned to Lana. “Any news from tech support?”
“When Code P went into effect last night, we’ve tapped into surveillance cameras within a mile’s radius of every establishment Dion owns. We should’ve come up with results by now, but we don’t even have a single possible match.” Lana took a deep breath before saying reluctantly, “We think Jane Doe used a retroactive camouflage spell sometime in the past 24 hours to cover her trail.”
Lana’s report left me stunned. A retroactive camouflage spell was classified weapon material, the non-human’s equivalent to government-exclusive firearms like the AA12 Atchisson assault shotgun. The spell Lana spoke of was able to delete all types of evidence – printed photos, digital files, and just about everything connected to the spell’s subject. Once activated, any such data from that point in time and all the way back to the subject’s date of birth would be erased.
“That’s a serious accusation, Agent,” Tamara voiced sharply.
“It’s the only logical explanation---”
“Is it, really? Or maybe you guys simply aren’t looking hard enough.”
Lana stiffened at the implied criticism. “We know what’s at risk here. We wouldn’t be so careless or negligent---”
Dike raised her hand. “Enough.” Her voice, treacherous softness underlined by razor-sharp steel, sliced everyone’s words into silence. “Agent Gries’ concern is understandable. Lana, I’d appreciate if you could get the other agents to make a sweep of everything again, and failing that, I’d like you to continue monitoring real-time footage. Assuming that such a spell is in effect, it doesn’t cover any footage made past the date of activation, yes?”
Lana nodded.
“That said---” Dike turned to Agent Gries. “Agent Spears was also right to bring up such a possibility. We are not the kind of agency that operates with our heads buried in the sand, Agent Gries. If by any chance our Jane Doe is using such a spell, then we need to act based on worst-case scenario and assume that the whole system is compromised.”
I wasn’t the same girl when I left Dike’s office. I had never realized how naïve and idealistic I was when I first worked for the agency. It had never occurred to me that it was possible for one of us to betray the agency, but that was obviously a possibility now, and one I couldn’t deny.
Zeus’ spell-induced slumber had forced everything into a standstill, and with the non-human public suspicious but still mostly unaware of the threat literally hanging over our heads, all agents had been ordered to proceed as normal.
In my case, that meant continuing to field calls about a missing cauldron at Demi’s Bakery, Mr. Norton’s pet that was possibly showing signs of low-level demonic possession, and pretending I was my usual self as I turned down a date from Jason, a handsome, easygoing executive based in the city. We had been seatmates in my flight out of California, and we had been friends ever since.
“You sound stressed,” Jason commented bluntly. “Are you still adjusting to your new job?”
“More or less,” I hedged, not wanting to elaborate.
“Maybe we could talk it over dinner?”
I had to laugh, thinking how it was just like Jason not to give up after the first try. “What happened this time?” Although Silver Mist was an hour’s drive away from Portland, Jason once told me that the distance was a small price to pay in exchange for enjoying
one evening of no-strings-attached fun.
“A woman tried to spike my drink over lunch,” he revealed in disgust. “How bad do you think that is?”
“Very bad,” I had to concede.
“Enough to take pity on a poor guy---”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Ha!” He had more money than he would ever know what to do with in a lifetime; that was how “poor” he was.
“Just dinner,” he cajoled.
“I honestly can’t, not tonight. But next time---”
“If you mean that, give me a date then.”
I glanced at my calendar, thinking that all these blank boxes and crossed out dates would mean nothing if we didn’t survive tonight. “We have a local fair coming up two Saturdays from now,” I said finally.
“Perfect. What time should I pick you up?”
When I put the phone down, I was startled to find Roseanne standing behind my cubicle, and with a smile on her lips that could only be described as catty. “How very shocking,” she sneered. “Who would think someone like you would be juggling your time between several men?”
“Excuse me?” Was she seriously accusing me of playing around?
“So it isn’t serious between you and the INTERPOL detective?”
So that was what this was all about. She was interested in Paul. I slowly shook my head, saying haltingly, “We only work together.”
Her lip curled. “So you’re telling me he sends out an escorted Bentley SUV for every person he’s worked with?” My surprise must have been shown, since Roseanne spat, “They dropped you off right in front of the lobby, little girl. Do you think people wouldn’t notice?” Her voice started to rise. “You wanted to be seen and so you were seen---”
“Is this official business, Roseanne,” a cool voice interrupted, “or could you spare Blair for a second?”
Roseanne’s lips tightened when she saw who it was. “The little girl’s all yours, Agent Gries.” She stalked away without looking back, and Tamara shook her head as she leaned against the wall of my cubicle. “She really has it for you, doesn’t she?”