I Can See You (The Gods Made Me Do It Book 5)

by Lisa Oliver

  The screen flickered and then showed one point six million. Artemas was ready for it. “Two million pounds.”

  “Sir, you realize there is no provenance with this book, don’t you?” The auctioneer was looking concerned now. The idea of selling a possible fake for such a hefty sum of money wouldn’t do the reputation of the auction house any good.

  “Understood. My bid still stands.” Artemas flicked his paddle to show he was actively bidding. He knew the book was authentic. It was calling to him like a siren song.”

  “Two million pounds. Do we have any advance on two million?” The screen stayed steady. “Two million pounds in the room then, going once, going twice, final call at two million pounds. Any advances?” the auctioneer waited a moment and then hit his gravel on his desk. “Sold for two million pounds to buyer one seven three. Congratulations.”

  “You must be one hell of a book lover. Perhaps we could discuss a mutual love of literature over dinner?” A woman in the seat next to him, eyed him over her catalogue as Artemas gathered his things. Her artfully done hair was swept back showing an elegant bone structure and naturally full lips. What was even more attractive was she had no problem showing her appreciation of him. Under any other circumstances, Artemas would be interested. It had been a while since he’d scratched any urge. But the book’s call overshadowed everything else.

  “My apologies, I must decline,” Artemas gave a regretful smile. “A plane is waiting for me. I am due in Greece in a matter of hours.”

  Her look of disappointment was genuine, but Artemas put her out of his mind as hurried from the room. He wasn’t going to be happy until he had his hands on that book.

  /~/~/~/~/

  It took more than an hour for the financial and paperwork side of things to be processed. A long hour, where Artemas kept his fretting to himself, showing a calm, unruffled exterior to everyone he dealt with. But he could barely contain his impatience as finally a steward took him into a secure room, waving his hand at the table where the book rested on a small perspex stand, a folder containing the verification papers by the side of it.

  “Were you wanting to take it with you now, or can we have it delivered for you?”

  “I will take it with me now, thank you.” Artemas patted the security briefcase he’d thought to bring with him. Taking it over to the table, he ignored the book for now, getting the case opened, tucking the accompanying folder inside, and ensuring the padded interior was all in place. The book was magical, and unlikely to come to any harm, but Artemas wasn’t taking any chances with it.

  “Forgive my being forward sir, but carrying something of that value in the city streets is unwise, especially at night. Do you have protective staff waiting for you outside, or could I…?”

  “You are absolved of your responsibility from the moment I step outside, but thank you for your concern.” Pulling out a pair of white gloves, that just magically appeared in his pocket, Artemas pulled them on and finally reached for the book.

  It was as if the book had been waiting for him. It jumped into his hands. Physically moved all by itself. Artemas threw a quick glance at the steward, hoping he didn’t notice. What was more, as soon as Artemas touched it, the book started to glow, the warmth seeping through his gloves, heating his fingers. Oh, crap, we’d better get you in the brief case and fast.

  But it seemed the book had other ideas, like sliding under Artemas’s jacket. “You can go,” Artemas said to the steward quickly. “I’ve got everything under control here.” When the steward opened his mouth to argue, Artemas let a thread of persuasion run through his voice. “I said you can go. Everything is all as it should be here.”

  “I should go,” the steward intoned as he turned towards the door. “Thank you for doing business with Sotheby’s international.”

  “Thank the Fates,” Artemas snarled as the man left, closing the door behind him. “What on earth is going on with you?” He held the book out from his chest.

  I’m talking to an inanimate object. Instantly, Artemas’s mind went back to the first time he’d encountered the book Orin was now the keeper of; the book containing the only spell in existence that could be used to summon an ancient god. Artemas, full of his own self-confidence, had touched it, causing a toxic smoke to billow from the pages, knocking him back. Without any thought for his own safety, Orin snatched up the book and ran through the shelves in the library. Soothing it, talking to it, as though it was sentient.

  “Is that what I’m doing to you?” Sure enough, without even thinking about it, Artemas was stroking across the gentle ridges and smooth surfaces that made up the carving on the front cover. “You recognize me in some way?” The book almost purred and seemed to ripple under his hands.

  “Okay, under the jacket you go, but no funny business until we’re somewhere safe.” Tucking the book under his jacket, Artemas checked to ensure it couldn’t be seen. It was unlikely the glow would be noticeable by humans, but Artemas had never come across magic like it before. Whereas the book Orin had seemed almost malevolent to him, this book gave off a comfortable vibe as though there was nowhere else it’d rather be.

  “I’ve seen some weird stuff in my time, but nothing like this,” Artemas muttered as he closed his brief case and left the room.

  Chapter Three

  It was a wintery night in London. Gray slush lined the gutters, and the sharp bite of the frosty air chilled Artemas’s cheeks as he strode down the road, away from Sotheby’s. Despite the chill, there were still plenty of people about, enjoying a late meal or a show. He needed to find somewhere private, so he could translocate back to Poseidon’s lair. He was already drawing attention to himself for his lack of overcoat.

  A prickle in the hair on the back of his neck, a slight quickening of his heart. Someone was following him, reaching for his aura, or his powers, Artemas wasn’t sure which. A subtle pressure poked at his mind and he immediately threw up the mental blocks he’d spent centuries perfecting. To anyone looking at him, he was an exceptionally tall businessman, of indeterminate age. His broad shoulders were encased in a finely cut custom suit. Short hair, one of his signature bow ties and thick rimmed black glasses completed his image. As far as he was concerned, with the exception of his height and lack of overcoat he looked like any other well-off business man. There’s no reason for anyone to be stalking me unless someone seeks to steal the book from me.

  There was no way Artemas was going back to Poseidon’s now. While it was unlikely his stalker could follow him below the sea, disappearing wouldn’t give him any answers. One half of his genetics was a thinker, a wise man with more magic than anyone in history since, but Poseidon’s blood still ran through his veins and the Lord of the Sea didn’t take shit from anyone. Neither would he.

  Changing direction, Artemas strode purposefully across the road. Just a short walk from Sotheby’s was the Café Royal Hotel. The grand dame sat beautifully among the many historical buildings in the area, but Artemas wasn’t there to appreciate the architecture. The doorman snapped to attention, opening the door to the central lobby. Artemas headed straight for the reception desk, slipping his hand into the inner pocket of his jacket, conjuring his wallet.

  “Good evening,” he said, placing the business card he used at Sotheby’s on the counter along with his black American Express card. The prickling awareness on the back of his neck hadn’t lessened. “I got caught up at an auction this evening, and I appear to have missed my plane. Is it possible one of your suite’s is available for the night?”

  “Certainly, Mr. Klaxon.” The receptionist’s smile was genuine as he picked up both cards. “Do you have luggage coming, or can we arrange to have some basic supplies sent up for you?”

  Artemas could click and get anything he needed, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. “Apparently, my luggage is on its way to Thailand, or somewhere similar,” he said with a weary chuckle. “If you have a piece of paper, I’ll make a list. Please charge it to my room.”

/>   “Not a problem, sir.” Ten minutes later Artemas was in his suite. Slipping his hand in his pocket, he tipped the porter a five pound note that magically appeared and closed the door, locking it firmly. Setting his briefcase on the table, Artemas got rid of his jacket and loosened his tie. The book’s glow seemed to brighten under the dim lighting in the room as he set it on the table.

  “Okay, my pretty,” Artemas called on his magic. “Let’s see who’s looking for you, what connections you have that would cause someone to follow me.”

  Knowing he had to be careful, he’d learned his lesson from his tussle with Orin’s book, Artemas’s hands hovered over the cover watching as the glow reached for his fingers, almost caressing him. “Someone’s looking for you,” Artemas muttered, “Show me where you came from.”

  A light blossomed out of the book like a hologram. Pictures moved, going back in time. Artemas quickly noted the evil shell of a dark elf, unearthing the book from a hollowed tree. There were no other faces around which made Artemas wonder how the book came to be up for auction, but the slideshow offered by the book wasn’t allowing any time for introspection. Centuries seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Through it all the book had stayed hidden from prying eyes, viewing the world through the leaves and branches of the tree. Wars were fought, people’s mannerisms and clothing changed, but still the slide show continued.

  We’re back at the time of the gods, Artemas thought, riveted by how clean and new the world looked then. But the pictures didn’t stop there. This book is older than me, older than Poseidon. Finally, the pictures slowed, and the hologram was filled with a strong face with a quiet smile. Clean shaven, bright green eyes and a long straight nose. “No wonder the Romans took him for their own,” Artemas breathed. He had no doubt he was staring at the long forgotten face of Silvanus – and what a face it was. Artemas could write an ode about it.

  Closing his eyes, Artemas sent up a small prayer to the Mother hoping the ruggedly beautiful god found the peace he’d been looking for. His heart ached, thinking about the talent and skills lost to a world that just stopped caring. Unthinking, he rested his hand on the book and suddenly his mind was swamped with memories not his own.

  Silvanus, he realized, watching the god when his domain was new. Every new seedling was celebrated, forests grew and spread across the land. Bright patches of green grass, speckled with yellow flowers, and here and there, dotted across the landscape, simple stone cottages, a small fire in the hearth. It was a simple time, and yet Artemas sensed Silvanus was a deeply spiritual and intelligent being, connected to the land like no other. One memory burned especially bright and clear – a naked Silvanus standing at the edge of the sea.

  “All right then,” Artemas quickly pulled his hand off the book’s cover. “Stimulating though that is,” he really wasn’t going to dwell on just how stimulating the image of a naked Silvanus was, “It doesn’t tell me who else would feel the need to possess you. Are you telling me your only contact, the only person who knew of your existence is your maker and the dark elf who stole you from the tree?”

  The book emanated a quiet hum, which Artemas took as confirmation. Nevertheless, he ran a quick tracking spell over the covers. The book was right. “We have a mystery indeed, then,” Artemas muttered. No one in the god line but Poseidon and Zeus knew he was sent to collect the book. Artemas hadn’t seen his uncle in a while, and while it was possible Zeus had spoken of this with others in his inner circle, it didn’t make sense that one of those people would go against Zeus’s wishes and bid against him in the auction.

  “We need to get you to safety,” Artemas decided. But just as he’d made the decision to call on additional help, the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. Waving his hand, Artemas sent the book on to his library without him and then turned to face his intruder. His mouth dropped open and he quickly snapped it shut. Oh no, tell me it’s not true. A bright light, paranormal in origin shone over the intruder’s head, highlighting a face Artemas remembered vividly.

  Chapter Four

  Silvanus manifested in front of the large picture window, his legs apart, his arms folded across his chest, eying the aura of the being in front of him. The man stemmed from the god line definitely – a mix of magic, ancient wisdom, jumbled in with the power of the sea and earth. The aura swirled around him, mimicking the confusion showing on the man’s face. Physically, the man was impressive, standing straight and strong, but Silvanus was old enough to know looks could be deceiving. It was what was under the skin that counted.

  Looking deep into the man’s heart, Silvanus sensed the man’s bewilderment and shock. But what troubled Silvanus was the state of the man’s heart itself, bound in barbed wire, riddled with pain. This man is not yet ready to fulfill his side of the promise made to me. Strangely, the thought didn’t distress him. In fact, Silvanus felt himself warm all over with the prospect of a challenge, even as he wanted nothing more than to pull the man into his arms, and claim him in the way of his kind, soothing his pain and replacing it with something far more enduring.

  “Why did you bid so highly when you knew the book was mine? You knew it wasn’t yours to own.” It wasn’t what Silvanus wanted to ask. It wasn’t the type of thing he’d rehearsed saying to his promise on meeting him. But the young man was troubled, worried and wouldn’t be open to the words Silvanus held in his heart.

  “I didn’t know who I was bidding against. I’ve never known a god to use a computer before. And I’m not going to automatically assume that a random stranger turning up in my hotel room is the book’s owner either,” the young man spoke sharply, showing he did have some spirit. “You were fortunate the book showed me your visage before your arrival. As for why I was so intent on winning the bidding, I was charged by Zeus and Poseidon to reclaim it, to ensure your book didn’t fall into human hands. Why didn’t you remove it from the auction before it started if you were so concerned about its contents?”

  “I didn’t say I was concerned about you reading the contents. It is just the musings of an old man after all.” Silvanus mentally smirked. He knew he didn’t look a day over thirty.

  “My father was worried about you….”

  That means either Zeus or Sei sired him….

  “We have an extensive library – I’ve built much of it up myself….”

  He’s Sei’s son, then. I might have to invest in flippers. Silvanus let his smirk show at his internal joke and then remembered such things could be misconstrued.

  “I don’t see how you can find humor in this situation,” the son of Poseidon yelled. “My father thought you’d ceased to exist. It upset him, and it takes a lot to make my father upset. We were trying to protect your legacy, small though it was.”

  “There’s nothing small about anything I’d give you.” Silvanus deliberately dropped his hands to the waistband of his slacks, framing the bulge he developed the moment he caught sight of the Fates’ promise. “The book,” he added, as the young man’s cheeks turned bright red, “I take it you have secured it somewhere safe?”

  “Our library. I can retrieve it for you. My father will understand. It is yours.” The man went to move his hand, but Silvanus waved it down.

  “Keep it. Read it. I’ll collect it when you’ve had time to digest its contents.”

  “It’s not possible for anyone barring the family line to access Poseidon’s domain.”

  The frown was cute. “Tell me your name and lineage,” Silvanus prodded gently.

  “Artemas, son of Poseidon and Thoth. No specific domain, although I am known among our line as the Librarian or the Academic, depending on who is talking about me.”

  “Fitting.” Silvanus bowed his head slightly. “Well, Artemas the Librarian,” he loved how that name rolled off his tongue, “son of Poseidon and the revered Thoth, we have unfinished business, you and I, and not even the depths of the oceans will keep me from you when I am ready to find you.”

  “When you’re ready?” Artemas wore his ind
ignation well, but Silvanus forced himself to translocate. The bed in Artemas’s suite was too much of a temptation to ignore. Vivid images of his promise sprawled out, his short hair mussed, and his lips swollen, sent his urges surging like none had before. It was prudent to leave when he did, while he still had some control.

  The sweet scent of jasmine and honeysuckle greeted his nostrils. Silvanus took a deep breath, in and out. His soul settled, as it always did in one of the last of his precious hideaways. Sinking down, so he could sit cross legged, Silvanus rested the backs of his hands on his knees and closed his eyes.

  Eternal Mother, Fates times three, you’ve blessed me with your kindness. You have my thanks for fulfilling your promise to me.

  There was a long silence, which Silvanus expected, but then he was surprised by a reply. Don’t let him get away. That heart of his deserves to be loved, but be warned, it will not be an easy process. You will need a staunch heart and strong arms to hold him. We wish you the joy of the hunt.

  /~/~/~/~/

  “When you’re ready? You’re ready?” Artemas fumed, pacing around the hotel suite, too infuriated to translocate to Poseidon’s lair. “I am a grown man with thousands of years of life under my belt. I’m in charge of my own feelings. I determine who I share a bed with. Ha! What if I’d taken that woman up on her offer after buying the book? Would he have appeared mid-coitus and sent her on her way? Would he have cared he could’ve outed himself to humans who cease to believe we exist? To make a point? By the gods, I’m talking to myself and I don’t even have the book for company.”

  Infuriated, Artemas hunted the bar fridge for something strong enough to settle his nerves. Finding nothing, he clicked his fingers, stealing a bottle from Poseidon’s personal stash. The ancient mellow whiskey burned going down, settling in a stomach that reminded him he hadn’t had dinner.

  “I should go out,” he snarled into the empty glass. “Go out, find that woman, find someone, anyone, and fuck them through the damn mattress. How would you like that Mr. High and Mighty Silvanus?” But even as the words left his mouth, Artemas knew he wouldn’t do it. For one thing, he’d be making a fool out of himself. Using one person to get at another wasn’t something that sat right with him.