"Ok. You have what you wanted. Now I want Ruby, back from the land of the dead. Like you promised."
"I," said Demetrios, "didn’t promise anything of the kind. I cannot bring people back from the dead, and neither can Dionysos. If Ruby has died, as you say, she is either in Heaven or, more likely, in Hell for her sins, and there she will stay."
Green pretended fury. She’d never thought Demetrios would keep his promise, or even that he could. She decided on an icy stare.
"You promised me Ruby - in return for the hand of Orpheus, which I have given you. Are you saying I’ve done this terrible thing - and you’re not even going to keep your side of the bargain?"
She stood up, hands on hips, and glared as fiercely as she knew how.
"You told me Dionysos could get Ruby out of hell. So bloody well tell him to keep his promise, or I’ll..."
"You’ll..." Demetrios raised manicured eyebrows, and hit the button on his desk marked ‘Security’. It was more for show than anything else - nobody would ever dare to challenge him in his own office, and security was everywhere. There wasn't a New Hope member in the building that wouldn't die for him, with pleasure.
She turned towards the exit, real tears stinging her eyes. The chances were that she never would see Ruby again - it didn’t make it any easier that she’d expected this. A low, sibilant voice stopped her in her tracks.
"I understand that Demetrios promised you Ruby in return for the hand of Orpheus."
Beside the ornate, gold-encrusted fireplace stood a figure she recognised well. Set leaned on the mantel, a picture of relaxed menace.
"You’re breaking your promise. I get it."
"You don’t seem very upset. Can it be that you did not really expect this promise to be kept?"
Got it in one, thought Green.
"I mutilated someone I admire, to get my friend back. Now you’re telling me you can’t get her back - or you won’t. So I’ve crippled the best musician the world has ever seen, for nothing. I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life. Of course I’m...upset."
Set reached out and gripped her arm, hard. Green shook him off.
"No, you’re not."
"How do you know?" she shot back. "You have no feelings, only cruelty and lust for power. How would you know what real feelings look like!"
"How could I enjoy cruelty, as I do, without recognising real pain? But you - you are not experiencing real pain."
He could not see inside her mind - she’d closed it to him. She wiped away a tear and just stared back at him. He had no proof.
"How do I know? Because this thing..." he opened the box, and dropped the severed hand on to the polished desk, "is not the hand of Orpheus."
"It is." Green pointed. "You see the calluses on the fingertips? You see the ring - that’s the ring that Ruby gave Orpheus when they first got serious. They were going to get married, did you know that? Do you care?"
"Very affecting." Set picked up the hand and waved it in her face. "So if I matched this hand for fingerprints, I would find that the prints are a match for the singer?"
"Yes." She wasn’t afraid of fingerprinting. Ishtar had taken care of that - how, she didn’t know and didn’t care.
"I thought you would not be that stupid," smiled Set, "and that is why I have examined the DNA - and this is definitely not a hand belonging to Orpheus. My sister Ereshkigal has provided the...evidence...required to check, and she tells me that this hand cannot possibly belong to Orpheus. So there is only one conclusion I can come to, and it is this. You have lied to me. You are the one who has not kept her bargain, not I."
He roared up in front of her, his black eyes like burning coals. She stood her ground, reminding herself that he wasn’t real. He couldn’t touch her - not if she didn’t allow fear to conquer her. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
He became a man again, and turned to Demetrios.
"Lock her up," he ordered tersely, "in one of those rooms you keep for recalcitrants. It will be interesting to see if your persuasive techniques work on this one...we have plenty of time, and there is no need to be squeamish about the methods."
Chapter 39
Green was blindfolded by two heavily muscled security guards, and hustled down to a small concrete cell. There was a bucket in the corner, no bedding, and - when they banged the door shut and drew the bolt - no light. She pulled the blindfold off and found that she was in complete and utter darkness. The room smelled of urine and worse.
She sat against the wall and muttered a string of imprecations, and tried not to think about how easy it would for them to just leave her here. This wasn't some kind of police cell, where she had the right to a phone call and could yell for the duty officer. This was completely off the radar.
She fought her rising claustrophobia by shutting her eyes and picturing Baldur coming to rescue her. He would turn heaven and earth, she knew. But he was only mortal, now. Still - maybe one of his aunts would come down here and break her out. She stared into the stinking darkness. She wouldn’t put money on it. Probably, they didn’t even give a damn.
She turned her mind back to Baldur, and beaches, and fjords, and sex. As long as she could keep thinking about beautiful things that happened in the sun, in the world up there, she’d be ok. But those things were hard to picture, down here. And she was getting hungry. She wondered if they would feed her. But why should they?
After a while, she fell into a fitful, uncomfortable sleep. She woke to darkness, and cramp, and an aching back. She was very cold, but there was nothing to wrap around herself - no blanket, not even a mattress - so she just hugged her knees, trying to keep her body warmth in. The silence was complete. If there were other prisoners down here, they didn’t make any noise.
Her belly ached with hunger. She was getting thirsty, too, and she knew that would be worse. You could last a long time without food, but no more than a few days without water. She licked her lips. Think of Baldur, she told herself. He knows where I am. He will come for me.
At some point, she got up and felt her way around the walls. Four of them, taking hardly five minutes to complete her exploration. There were nicks carved into the brick - it felt like some kind of scrawled writing. For something to do, she traced the letters, trying to work out what they said. After a while she gave up and sank to the floor again, swallowing her own saliva to wet her parched throat. A person could go mad in here, before they died.
After a long time - she had no idea how long - Green came to a horrible conclusion. Nobody was coming to rescue her. Nobody was coming to torture her. She was going to die in this place, alone, in the blackness - and it was all her own fault.
In Orpheus’ apartment, Baldur paced, a blur of motion.
"She has not returned. He has her imprisoned - I know it."
Hodr kicked the wall in frustration. "I went there again today, and they deny all knowledge of her. The police..."
"The police will not investigate - they are paid servants of Demetrios."
"Our aunts? They allowed her to walk into this - will they not intervene on her behalf now?"
Baldur gave a terse, joyless laugh.
"Have you noticed that my aunts are far more willing to lead humans into grief than to rescue them from it? And my mother is not unhappy - she has never approved of my choice of lover." He put his head in his hands and looked up through the silver strands. "I cannot protect her. It is driving me mad. I never thought the punishment for loving a mortal would be so hard."
"I could have told you." Hodr put a restraining hand on his brother’s arm. "But our aunts must retrieve Green - otherwise all this has been in vain. Even if they care nothing for her as a human, they need the information she carries on her."
"Set has contrived a barrier around the building, and Hera supports him. My aunts cannot get in - and she cannot get out. It will take a human to rescue her - an army of humans." He bit his lip. It was unendurable.
"An army..." said Hodr thoughtfully. "
Or one man, someone who Demetrios trusts. Do you know that the man Green was engaged to now works for New Hope? He manages their finances - I do not envy him that job. Perhaps there is something..."
"He hates her: Demetrios would not have hired him else," said Baldur briefly. "And though I love her, I understand why. She tried to kill him, and he does not understand why, and does not want to understand. Besides, how can I - a new lover - ask the rejected one for favours?"
"That was a year ago. Since then, I have seen his photo in the papers, in company with another woman. It is worth a try."
Baldur agreed, swallowing his pride. They were grasping at straws. Anything that might help them get to Green was worth a try.
"I will go to him. And god knows, if no one else can help, I will stand outside the House of Healing and tell the world myself what goes on in that madhouse."
Sam proved almost as difficult to contact as Demetrios. As Chief Financial Officer of New Hope, he was surrounded by gatekeepers - and spies. But through a friend of a friend, using the name of a well-known actor in vain, Baldur managed to make an appointment. Not at the office - that would be dangerous for both of them - but in a hotel suite booked for the purpose.
When Sam strode in the door, Baldur thought he looked much older, and had put on weight. The tanned face was heavy now, and there were pouches under the brown eyes.
"What’s this? Where’s Gunnar?"
"Gunnar - lent us this room. It is not Gunnar who asked for this appointment. I am Baldur, and I am the fiance of Green Hennessy - who I think you know."
Sam stopped, irate. "I came here expressly to meet Gunnar - and I have no idea who you are. As for Green..." his expression darkened, "she's nothing to me anymore. I don’t want anything to do with her. I don’t know why you tricked me into coming here."
Baldur walked towards him. The two men stood face to face. Sam looked up at his ex-rival resentfully.
"Do you hate her so much that you want her to die?"
"What do you mean, die? Last time I heard, she was just fine."
"She is imprisoned in the House of Healing, and I think Demetrios means to kill her," Baldur said simply.
Sam broke the eye contact and sat down on the generic hotel sofa.
"I’m a busy man, and I don’t have time to beat around the bush. So you’d better tell me what the fuck is going on here. What do you mean she's in the House of Healing?"
"Green went to see Demetrios there two days ago, and has not been seen since. New Hope deny it, and the police are not interested."
"Why’d she go there? She hates Demetrios." He didn’t like Demetrios much himself. Still, if it wasn’t for New Hope, he wouldn’t own his own jet airplane and a score of houses across the world. Or, probably, be dating Rebecca. No, that wasn’t fair - Rebecca liked him for him. And she didn’t like the shit he did for a living.
"She went because she hates him. She offered him the severed hand of Orpheus - the musician - if he would bring her friend Ruby back from the dead. He said yes. She brought him the hand - and now she is imprisoned."
"Green - cut off a rock star’s hand? To bring back her girlfriend from the dead. Has she gone completely crazy?"
"Orpheus still has both his hands - she brought the hand of a dead guitarist . Do not ask how she got it, but no one has been harmed. She wanted the bargain on tape - to bring down New Hope."
"And you’re telling me this? Knowing I work for New Hope? What do you expect me to do? As usual, she’s got herself into a stupid mess - a stupid, crazy, lunatic mess - and now she’s got what she deserves. I wouldn’t help her even if I could."
Sam got ready to rise. Baldur pushed him back into his seat with one arm.
"You hate her. I understand that. But do you really want to kill her? Because if you do nothing - and you can - then you are responsible for her death, as much as Demetrios, as much as Set..."
"Who’s Set?" Sam asked, shoving Baldur’s arm aside.
"Demetrios’ master."
"Demetrios has a boss? I’ve never heard of him."
"There is much you do not know. Give me half an hour, and I will tell you." Sam pushed himself up off the sofa and shouldered past Baldur.
"Or leave. As you like."
At the door of the suite, Sam turned.
"Ok. Tell me."
Chapter 40
Three weeks before the Resurrection, Demetrios took a call from the News Director of CNN. New Hope’s media division was always in contact with the major news organisations, looking to place positive stories and boost the organisation’s image, so he was more pleased than surprised at the phone call. He smiled smugly, and put the phone on speaker so that his Communications Manager could listen in.
"Oh good morning, sir, Mike Steinberg here. I’m just calling about your idea of an in-depth personal interview..."
Demetrios purred. Put him in front of a sympathetic interviewer and he could charm millions for the cost of a few hours of his time. Set would be very happy with him - and so would the Madonna.
"Who will be interviewing me?"
"Celia Czerny," said Mike. Celia wouldn’t be happy at being roped in at such short notice - but she’d be mollified when he told her she’d got an exclusive with the biggest - and hottest - cult leader on the planet.
"Wonderful." Demetrios approved of Celia Czerny. She was blonde, and attractive, and she fawned over every big star she got to interview, mooning at them with her round blue eyes and husky voice.
"Only thing is," said Mike, sipping an alka seltzer for his dyspepsia, "it’d have to be soon. We have a spot for tomorrow night’s special - someone dropped out. You think you could make it for Monday night?"
Demetrios hesitated. It was short notice. He wondered who exactly dropped out - and thought he knew. An exclusive interview with Orpheus - replaced by an exclusive interview with his worst enemy. Handless or not, the musician was going downhill.
"We can do the interview at the House of Healing if you like. Save you the trouble of heading across town?"
Demetrios bit.
"That would be perfect." Not only would he get to sit in the spotlight, to educate the world - but he’d be able to do it in his own environment, on his own ground. It couldn’t be better, really.
"Great," said Mike. He’d never been to the executive suite of the House of Healing - actually, he’d never seen the inside of the place at all. He’d heard it was wall to wall marble and gold leaf, with dancing girls and champagne running instead of tap water. "Five o’clock on Monday night, then? I’ll bring the crew and we’ll wrap it up in a couple hours. And I’d very much like to thank you for the privilege of this exclusive interview, sir. I’m deeply honoured that CNN will be the first network to interview the Healer in your own personal headquarters - and I’m hoping this is a real breakthrough for New Hope. Actually, my wife is a big fan of yours, ha ha."
He paused, wondering if he’d done enough arse licking to pass muster. It looked like he had. The briefing by Alexakis had helped - when your CFO turns on you, that’s when you know you’re fucked. And Vorsatelli - who’d have thought the New York Times would get themselves embroiled in a sting like this. But if it was good enough for Vorsatelli, it was good enough for him. Don knew a story when he saw one.
"Wonderful," said Demetrios again. "We like to think we bring healing to this troubled world - and this interview will be an opportunity to extend the light - new hope, if you like - even further. I look forward to it."
Demetrios put the phone down and smirked at the Communications Manager, who licked her lips nervously.
"You sure she’s going to be sympathetic, Master?"
"Sure," said Demetrios irritably, "and if she’s not, we’ll shut it down. This is a big chance, Sonia, and we can do with all the publicity we can get right now because.."
He stopped, because, of course, she didn’t know. She didn’t know that she only had two days left to live.
Chapter 41
Demetrios gelled his h
air with olive oil (he liked to use pure olive oil, as a tip of the hat to his Greek connections), checked his look in the mirror, and straightened his robe. This was his big chance to shine. Eat shit, Orpheus! If he did well - if viewing figures were high, and ratings were positive, and they gained members - the God would be extremely pleased. As would She. Maybe even pleased enough to let him touch... But no, that would be sacrilege.
He pictured the Madonna as he waited in his office for Mike Steinberg and the crew to be escorted up to the Executive Floor. Every now and again, she would display herself to him in her full naked glory. He was not allowed to come close, just to look. He was sure that she enjoyed his gaze - and for him it was reward enough to see that shining golden body. No mortal woman could compare, though he often called up an expensive call-girl agency and asked them to send out a beautiful blonde, just to get rid of the sexual tension. He had never imagined that the Mother of God could stoop to display her abundant loveliness to a mere mortal. He was privileged beyond imagining.
He would have to be very careful - but he was always careful. His words, his looks, his charm - they would all be calculated to project one thing to this audience of millions - hope. That was the thing that people most needed, in these times of turmoil - and that was what New Hope could give them. Hope was not to be gained by listening to the scientists, by over-thinking the world’s problems, by feeding the starving or freeing the enslaved. Hope rested on faith in God - and that’s what he would tell them. He knew his own abilities - this interview would take him to the top of the world, and with him, Dionysos. He was sure of it.
The lift doors opened and Celia Czerny sashayed out, gorgeous in a tight cream suit and matching pumps. She held out her hand and trotted forward, beaming.
"Mr...Mr Healer, I’m so pleased to finally meet you. This is such a great honour, a great privilege. The crew are just following now but I thought we might just sit down while you’re having your make up done - if you don’t mind, that is - and get to know each a little before the interview?"
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