Athena backed away, slowly, not sure what she had witnessed. An incredible transformation, that much was certain. But how, and why, and—into what?
The creature had no hair, stood nearly eight feet tall, and flexed six well-muscled arms attached to an abnormally long torso. She stared down at Athena with eyes burning with a fierce ruby light. “I feel ... fucking invincible,” she said, in a voice like a thousand heavy stones tumbling downhill. “Let's find out."
Athena dodged away from her first blow, taking advantage of the fact that she hadn't had time to get used to being female, much less eight feet tall with six arms. She stumbled about, knocking things from the bookshelves, staggering around the edges of the furniture, trying without much success to corner the smaller and quicker Athena.
"Hermes!"
She felt like a coward for a brief instant, but then decided—until she knew more about this transformation and what it meant—discretion was most certainly the better part of valor.
To her surprise, however, the hyper-speed immortal didn't arrive on cue. The thing that had been Johnny Gitano bounced around the room, trashing everything within reach. Athena found herself going from being startled and slightly frightened to downright ticked off. She turned and bolted from the room, grabbing the corner of a wall to slingshot herself around the corner. She pressed her back to the wall and waited for her transformed houseguest to come stomping by.
She'll have to duck to clear the overhang between the living room and the hall, she realized, glancing up. Perfect.
Gitano crouched to pass below the support beam and caught Athena's foot in the face, thrusting the back of her head into the beam with a meaty thud. Athena caught her with a few more choice blows while she stood there, shaking her head in momentary confusion.
She leaped up, planted a kick between the creature's breasts, and back-flipped away to land nearly ten feet down the hallway. Gitano grimaced, a particularly ugly expression on her transformed face, and started toward her.
Shit. I hit her with everything I've got and it didn't even seem to faze her.
Outside, through the window she could barely see around Gitano's greatly increased bulk, dusk gathered. Gitano advanced on her, six hands flexing as if anticipation of tearing through her not-so-tender flesh.
Athena ducked through her bedroom door, leaped atop her bed, and flung herself through the window. She hit the wet grass amidst a shower of glass and rolled to her feet. A glance over her shoulder showed Gitano at the window, snarling angrily, too large to fit through the opening.
"This isn't over!"
No, I suppose it isn't. Athena fired off a mocking salute and sprinted around the house to her car sitting in the driveway. Digging the keys from her pocket, she leapt into the driver's seat and shoved them into the ignition.
The ignition caught and she began to back out, glancing up to see the massive, naked form of Gitano explode through the front door and race toward the car. Front tires spitting gravel, the car surged backward into the street. She slammed it into ‘drive’ and thrust her foot against the gas pedal.
Gitano stood in the middle of the street, watching without expression as Athena's car vanished over the next hill. “This isn't over, bitch,” she said softly. She turned and started walking the other way, seemingly oblivious to the downpour, thin rivulets running down her naked black skin.
* * * *
Athena slipped into the Shea Industries building through a back door, her white blouse still sporting copious amounts of dried blood. She avoided any contact with the employees until she reached the penthouse via the private elevator. She stepped off into what had been Deryk Shea's suite for only the second time since his disappearance.
She conducted a search of his voluminous closet, finding an outfit that would work, if not anything particular flattering. Her skirt, thankfully, wasn't stained, but the best she could find was a man's dress shirt that didn't billow too much. Shea had been much wider across the shoulders and torso than she would ever be.
She inspected herself in the mirror installed on the inside of the closet door. Not bad, she thought, recalling how she looked only a few months earlier. She'd lost what little extra weight she'd carried, toning and firming up her body to an extent visible even through the loose shirt.
She shook her hair out, ran a brush through it, and headed for her office. As the elevator doors closed behind her, she took one last look at the suite. I suppose I should think about moving in, especially now. Gitano knows where I live and I have a feeling she's not going to be happy with me. Why do I get the feeling I'll be lucky if my house is standing when I get back?
The elevator doors slid open on the sixth floor, the executive office level, revealing both Loki and Renee standing there waiting for her. Loki seemed a bit distracted, but Renee—she wore an expression that simply screamed worry and frustration.
Athena felt her stomach sink. “Looks like you two are having as good a day as I have,” she observed dryly. “What's up?"
"We should have done as you asked,” Loki muttered, his dark look at Renee barely disguised. “Our prisoner has escaped—or, rather, been freed."
"Freed? How? By who?"
"If we knew that,” Loki replied with a grimace, “we'd be off chasing them right now instead of standing here."
Athena frowned at Renee. “Can't you track him psychically?"
Renee shook her head in response, eyes downcast. “No. I should be able to, considering that I created him, and, while he was locked in the basement, I could feel him as if he was living in my own head. It doesn't make sense."
It did, but only because she'd seen too many things she didn't quite understand today. The transformation of Johnny Gitano into a woman—that she could deal with. The subsequent transformation from woman to something frighteningly mythological—an image reminiscent of the Hindu goddess Kali, scared the crap out of her.
They walked with her to her office, empty except for the furniture. Marianne had gone home and, presumably, so had Adam. Good. Questions from either of them is the last thing I need.
She heard the sound of a toilet flushing in the restroom down the hall and froze in the doorway. Of course, I could be wrong.
Her first thought was the cleaning crew, but it was too early for them to arrive. They typically showed up around eleven. Security only entered this floor if called, or if one of the silent alarms was triggered by something unexpected. Last week they'd found a raccoon who'd apparently found his way up through the heating ducts. That had brought the security team running.
She nearly smiled at the memory. Nearly. The events of the day didn't lend themselves to quick, easy smiles. “Loki—do me a favor and go check out the restroom. I want to know who's up here at—” she shot a glance at her watch “—eight-thirty at night."
He nodded and disappeared down the hall. Renee avoided her gaze as she let herself into her office with a swipe of her keycard. Before she managed to settle into her chair, Loki returned. “There's no one there,” he told her with a glance over at the still silent Renee, who'd crossed to the window.
Athena shook her head. “Didn't you hear the toilet flush?"
He nodded. “I thought so. I think it's time to look into updating your security system,” he said musingly, rubbing his chin. His unusually somber expression slipped into a grin. “You have no idea the chaos I could wreak around here."
"I shudder to think."
"Athena. The escaped vampire isn't the only problem we've got."
That raised an eyebrow. “What now?” she sighed.
"Got a phone call,” he said, then, with a little prodding, told her everything about the phone call with Hades.
She listened intently, face flushing as anger rose like gorge in her throat. “The bastard.” The threats seemed to grow larger with each passing moment. Goblins, Sif, Gitano, the other vampire, and now Hades himself?
She felt the anger swell into an aching throb pressing against the inside of her chest and s
kull, keeping time with the beat of her heart. All the other immortals standing back, watching, offering nothing. We're up against a wall already ... and this is just the second wave. The Enemy has a lot more waiting in the wings—even if we manage to somehow defuse these threats, there will always be more on the way.
Suddenly it all felt so hopeless. Deryk left this to me? I'm supposed to lead a handful of misfits against all the might the Enemy can bring to bear? This is insane!
She looked up into Loki's cool stare, the one he used when he didn't happen to have a reason to spread a grin, smirk, or sly smile on his face. He shook his head as if he knew what was going through her head.
"Deryk chose you for a reason,” he told her, almost angrily. “You haven't even been trying, Athena! You call a Gathering—no one comes. So what? You think that hasn't happened to Deryk a time or two? We immortals are notoriously self-involved. Who knows what schemes attending another Gathering so soon could have screwed up?"
"When you've got a pot ready to boil, you don't walk out of the kitchen,” Renee murmured.
Athena wheeled on her. “Deryk did.” She added a self-deprecating smile. “That's what put me in this position.” She shook her head. “No. That's not fair.” I'm swimming in stress toxins right now. And, apparently, they're a kind of poison we're not immune to.
She quickly told them what she'd gone through that day.
"Kali,” Loki whispered. He looked a little pale.
"That's what she ended up looking like,” Athena agreed. “I tried to call Hermes, but he didn't answer."
Loki frowned. “Didn't answer? That doesn't make any sense."
"That's what I figured. Renee—you know where his offices are, right? Could you go check on him?"
She glanced over at Loki, who nodded once. Athena felt a momentary twinge of irritation that she looked to him for approval rather than just doing as she'd asked, but laughed her way through it. Not sure why'd I'd expect anything else. I don't even feel like the boss most of the time. It's not like they get a paycheck from—
—Oh. I don't see why my allies can't collect a paycheck if they're working for me. I'll create a new department in Security for ‘High Level Threats'. Our competitors and the government can take that any way they like.
"What do you want me to do?” Loki asked her.
"I'd like to see Thoth and Thorne, to be honest. I want to know more about the magic that transformed Gitano. Somehow I doubt this was their intended result.
"Basically, if I can't get everyone to attend the Gathering, I'll make due with those I can get. Now go out and find them."
Loki and Renee both nodded and left.
* * * *
She nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone rang with the personal ring-tone that heralded a private call directly to her office line. She snatched it up. “Hello?"
"Ms. Cross?"
"Yes."
"Please hold for a moment—the President would like to speak with you."
"President? Of what?"
She received no answer, just a series of clicks, then she heard—"Hello? Ms. Cross?"
The voice left her stunned for a moment. She recognized it immediately. “Yes. Mr. President?"
"Didn't Jones tell you?” He sounded a bit ... disgruntled.
"Sorry, Mr. President. He said ‘the President.’ I talk to a lot of presidents. You might suggest he be a little more specific. Like saying President Keel is on the phone. Not that I'd necessarily believe that, even on the private line, but..."
"Forewarned is forearmed, right?"
"Exactly, sir. What can I do for you?” It was really the President. One would think something like that wouldn't matter to her—she had, after all, known several legendary human rulers. But, in those days, it wasn't that hard to manage.
These days it usually took several layers of personal connections to get anywhere near someone like President Keel. Of course, she had Deryk Shea, or at least his company.
"I just read a report in which you figure prominently,” President Keel told her. “It's hard to believe all the things I read, but people I have reason to trust say that it's all true."
Reason to trust? She hadn't stopped to consider what Stone's ‘I’ division meant, politically. Only a few select members of the government could know what they did—tell the wrong person and the shit would hit the fan. But the Presidents—all the Presidents?—had to know about it. Which meant that they knew about the immortals.
How much had Stone put in that report? Everything? “I can't say, sir."
Now he sounded slightly amused. “No, I suppose you couldn't. What was your impression of Special Agent Stone, Ms. Cross?"
She winced at his repeated use of her current surname, one she'd long since grown tired of using. “I'd prefer you call me Athena, sir. The surname is, after all, more of an affectation to fit in than anything else.
"My impression of Stone? Smart, capable, cunning. I trust him, I guess, even though he insinuated himself into our ranks through deception. Deryk trusted him."
"Ah, yes. The esteemed Deryk Shea. Now dead, I understand?"
"We believe so and hope otherwise. You didn't call just to get my take on Ian Stone, did you, sir?"
"You're right about that. Tell me, Athena—” He said her name as if testing it out. “If I told you that several graves in the Arlington National Cemetery were disturbed, and the bodies of several elite soldiers were missing, what would you say?"
"The first thing that comes to mind is a pithy statement not suitable to use in conversation with the President,” she answered with a snort. “But, honestly—sounds like Hades."
"Hades? What, like the Greek god of the underworld?"
"More or less. He's the one who killed Deryk Shea. He contacted me and wants a meeting—he is threatening to unleash an army of zombies unless I help him acquire the wealth he believes is his due."
"Is there any way to shut him down?"
"We don't know where he is, sir. Even if we did, we're not strong enough to take him on yet."
"Not strong enough? But there's some two hundred of you immortals, aren't there?"
"One hundred and seventy six in the loop at present, sir. But I only have about half a dozen personally loyal to me. The rest ... well, they're mostly loyal to themselves."
"I see.” He definitely didn't sound happy about that. “He wants to meet with you personally?"
"That's the way it sounds."
"Then do it. I'll arrange backup for you."
"Sir?"
The President sighed. “We know your man Loki has been recruiting these meta-humans—the media's calling them ‘freaks'—into some sort of superhero club. Stone followed him around and approached those who wouldn't take his offer. He managed to sign on fifteen of them. Apparently appealing to their patriotism was a little more effective than appealing to some superhero fantasy.” This last had a distinct sense of amusement to it.
"I'm signing an executive order transferring ‘I’ Division from the FBI to the Department of Homeland Security and re-naming it,” he told her. “I'm also putting together a Commission on Paranormal Events. I'd like you to head that."
"Me? Sir, I'm flattered, but—"
"I would have chosen Deryk Shea,” he cut her off, “but he's missing and presumed dead. That leaves you as the only immortal I know I can trust. If he trusted you, I trust you."
It made a weird kind of sense. “It's quite a large step, creating such a commission,” she observed. “You're really going to take a lot of heat from conservatives."
"I know. But it would be worse if I knew this was coming and did nothing. I get the feeling we're going to see a huge rise in paranormal activity in the coming months. I want to be on the boat before it sails, not standing there on the pier watching it leave without me."
"Very well, Mr. President. I accept.” What choice do I have?
"Good. It won't be a paid position, at least not at first, but I doubt that will cause you any hards
hip. Once our prospective agents go through their initial training, I'm sending them your direction. I want them brought up to speed as soon as you can manage it.
"One of the benefits here is that at least a few of them are former military. One's an ex-SEAL, another was a Marine Master Sergeant. This means they're accustomed to following orders. I would recommend you split them into two teams and put each in charge of one."
"Yes, sir.” What else could she say?
"Good. They should arrive within the week. In the meantime, try to make a connection with this Hades fellow and set up a meeting. I'll be in touch."
He hung up without another word. Athena appreciated the gesture—hanging up without saying goodbye was a very immortal thing to do. Most immortals didn't tend to put too much effort into social niceties.
She glanced up as Renee entered through the open door, dragging along a slightly disheveled and completely annoyed Adam by the upper part of his shirtsleeve. “I found this one lurking in the hallway,” she said, shaking him just a bit.
He flushed. “I wasn't lurking,” he said, brushing her hand away. “I'd forgotten something and just came back to get it."
"Through security?” Renee asked skeptically, eyebrows knitting into a frown. She stepped back and regarded him curiously. “He's shielded pretty damn well,” she told Athena.
"Shielded? Deliberately?"
"I can't tell,” the vampire answered. “Could be unconscious, but it's damn powerful. Stronger than most mortals."
Athena let her gaze fall on him and nodded to herself. “Adam Orage? Shit, am I an idiot or what?"
Renee gave her a puzzled look. Athena laughed, a bit harshly. “Orage is French for Storm. My new X-A is a fucking immortal. Thor, to be precise."
The glamour seemed to melt away, his height seeming to increase by at least five inches and his general mass by around a hundred pounds. His facial features, while similar, were far coarser than those of the young Adam Orage, his hair a brighter blond, and considerably longer. “Clever, Athena.” He aimed a short bow at Renee. “Pleased to meet you."
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