Demarco nodded. “Explains why he’s holed up in Camden.”
“Yeah, the authorities steer clear of this whole area. Even if they decide to one day brave the hood, they wouldn’t be able to step foot in Bob’s place without his okay. It’s warded. Which is why I can’t just beam us in here and skip the thugs outside.”
“Technology’s got nothing on good ol’ fashioned magic,” Tweety said, admiring the wall once again.
Luck usually trumped technology as well. Although I’d rarely run into security systems or electronic locks my luck couldn’t short circuit, they did exist. Luck and magic were fickle masters, and it was best not to take them for granted and only use them when necessary.
Tweety seemed to lose interest in the wall and wandered around the storage room, looking over shelves of mysterious and mystical objects. “You ever need a hag’s tooth, Romi?” he asked, picking up a small mason jar full of green liquid. A small yellowed tooth bobbed up and down as he jostled the jar.
“Not personally, but we could probably use it to summon you a bride,” I replied. “And you better put it down before Bob rips your hide off and adds it to his shelf.”
He set the tooth down and pointed to the dark vial beside it. “Blood of a virgin. That sounds more promising for a bride summoning.”
“Man, virgins are always getting the shaft.” I frowned at the vial, wondering which poor girl it had been extracted from. “It’s probably a good thing I got knocked up so I don’t have to worry about anyone stealing my blood or sacrificing me to their god.”
Tweety chuckled. “Yep, you definitely don’t have to worry about being mistaken for a nice virgin girl.”
I saluted him with my middle finger and he grinned back.
Demarco stopped in front of a glass display case, and I drifted over to see what sort of treasures had caught his eye. Weapons. Naturally. Although the collection looked downright anemic compared to what he had back at his shop, a few of the pieces drew my eye.
“Some of these are nice,” he said, pointing to an ax on the top shelf. “Look at the handle on that ax. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Hieroglyphics curved around the handle, glowing with a strange sort of power.
“It’s enchanted,” I said. “But not like the wall. This one is different.”
“Any idea what it does?” he asked.
Weapons and enchantments were definitely not my specialty, so I gestured Tweety over and asked him.
“I’m not sure,” the griffin replied, sniffing the case. He wrinkled his nose. “But those arrows right there have been dipped in poison. Something caustic and unnatural. Not from any plant I know of. Probably some sort of lab concoction.”
“But you don’t know what the enchantment on the ax does?” Demarco asked.
“I can’t smell enchantments,” Tweety replied. “Well I can, but they smell like magic. Hard to tell what they do until you wield the weapon.”
“What do weapon enchantments usually do?” Demarco’s curiosity was piqued, and he clearly wasn’t backing down until he got an answer.
“Anything you can imagine,” Tweety replied.
Demarco frowned. “You two are being extremely vague and not at all helpful.”
“Sorry,” Tweety replied. “But according to one of the books I studied back at Romi’s, enchantments can do everything from shooting fire to spreading plagues, unlocking doors to rendering people barren. It all depends on who enchanted the weapon, what materials they used, and how the metal responded. Enchantments don’t always come out as intended.”
“Which is why I’ve never gotten my daggers enchanted,” I added. “It’s a gamble. When it works, it’s phenomenal, but when it doesn’t…”
“It can backfire and maim or kill you,” Tweety said.
“Exactly.” Plus, I wasn’t sure how enchantments would work with luck. Blowing on my daggers might just result in blowing myself up and I’d never been desperate enough to take the chance. “Thinking about getting something enchanted, Demarco?”
“I don’t know.” He took the hammer from his back and studied its head. “What sort of enchantment do you think would work against Shade?”
My heart melted. Seriously, it took everything in me not to turn into a pile of goo right then and there. My blacksmith was bound and determined to protect me, even if it meant facing the consequences of a backfired enchantment.
“Not worth it,” I choked out, forcing down my emotions.
“Something with the ability to damage molecules,” Tweety piped in. “Maybe energy or electricity based.”
I shot the griffin a nasty look.
“What?” He shrugged. “I’m just trying to be helpful.”
“Bia could enchant it for you,” Bob said, joining us.
“Bia?” Demarco asked.
“No, absolutely not,” I said. “There will be no weapon enchanting. Not now, not ever. And definitely not done by Bia.”
Demarco ignored me. “Who’s Bia?”
“The goddess of force and raw energy. She hangs out with Zeus, so she’s probably pretty ticked off at Romi right about now,” Tweety said.
“Why would Bia be upset with you?” Bob asked.
I speared Tweety with another glare and he snapped his mouth shut. “Just some little misunderstanding,” I said, holding up the bottles. “You have the IDs ready?”
The distraction worked. His gaze went straight to the wine and he held up three little plastic cards. “As promised.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Bob, but you better believe I had my fingers securely wrapped around the IDs before I released the bottles. He chuckled, shaking his head as he headed to refill his glass.
“Show yourselves out,” he called out over his shoulder.
“What about this one?” Demarco asked, pointing to a dagger with symbols etched into the blade. “Is that one enchanted too?”
“No, those are runes… a different type of magic,” I replied.
“The symbols are in Greek,” Demarco said. “Mom made me take a couple of classes, but I don’t remember a lot of it.” He lowered his gaze back to the weapon. “This appears to be some sort of strengthening. Can runes make a blade unbreakable?”
I nodded.
“Runes generally affect the weapon itself,” Tweety said. “You’d get a weapon runed to keep it forever sharp, to make it hum, or glow, to make it weigh less or more, stuff like that.”
“How do you put runes on weapons?” Demarco asked.
Tweety and I both shrugged.
“Hephaestus can do it,” I replied. “So I bet you can, too, but I have no idea how.”
As we turned to leave, a magical tapestry on the wall caught my eye. The figures on the tapestry moved and suddenly I was watching a battle scene between the Titans and the Olympians. It finished and another battle began.
“Is this the Titanomachy?” Tweety asked, joining me.
I watched, mesmerized, as the consecutive battles began and ended. We were watching ten years’ worth of history playing out in colorful threads. “I think it is. Bob must have just got this in. I’ve never seen it before.”
“I really wish you two would offer up explanations so I don’t have to sound like a moron and ask,” Demarco said.
“Sorry. The Titanomachy was the ten years of battles preceding the Olympians’ victory,” I replied, still watching the threads.
Zeus released the one-eyed horde of Cyclopes and the hundred-hand and fifty-head giant Hecatonchires, attacking his father, Cronus, as well as the rest of the Titans.
“Watch, it’s almost over,” I said.
The Cyclopes forged Zeus’s thunder and lightning, and then bowed low as they offered it to the god. The scene cut to the end battle. Mythical weapons clanged. Giant rocks were hurdled through the air as if they weighed nothing. Humans were trampled underfoot in the chaos. Team Zeus defeated the Titans, and then the god sprung his siblings from the prison Cronus had cast them into.
A
s each of the rescued gods swore fealty to Zeus, Tweety named them for Demarco’s benefit. “Hestia, Demeter, Hera, Hades, and Poseidon.”
The Olympians took over Mount Olympus, and the tapestries froze on a victory pose with the psychos flexing like superheroes.
“Okay, two questions,” Demarco said when it ended. “Zeus and Hera are siblings?”
I nodded. “Makes you grateful Hera decided to asexually reproduce your father, huh?”
“Yes. Very much so.” He shook his head, probably wishing he could erase that bit of knowledge. “Second question. You told me Hera was ticked about Zeus’s infidelity, so I understand her role. But why did Hades and Poseidon attack him? Especially after he went through all that trouble to free them.”
Not wanting Bob to overhear our conversation, I tugged Demarco and Tweety into the shadows and headed back for Washington D.C. When we emerged across the street from Auto’s nightclub, I answered, “The brothers attacked Zeus for the same reason they’ve done it several times since they were freed. They both want what they can’t have. After they defeated Cronus, the three of them drew lots to determine how to share the universe. Zeus got the sky, Poseidon got the sea, and Hades got the underworld.”
I released the shadows and we stood back on the street, watching the night club door swing open and close behind patrons.
“So Poseidon and Hades aren’t happy with their realms?” Demarco asked.
“No. Zeus definitely got the best deal, complete with a beautiful home in Mount Olympus and shiny, feared lightning bolts. Poseidon didn’t get a bad deal, but he’s like that one Disney mermaid who never quite settled for sea life. Only he’s still wallowing on the beach about how his fin won’t turn into legs. Hades, on the other hand, pretty much got the shaft. I mean his realm is dead. Literally. I can’t blame the guy for wanting to move up in the world.”
Demarco chuckled. “You’re ridiculous sometimes.”
I bowed. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“So they both want Zeus’s position? Which one do you think will get it? You said this has happened in the past?”
“Several times,” Tweety said. “The brothers battle it out and bring each other to the brink of destruction, and then Zeus returns and sends them both back to their realms.”
“And if Zeus doesn’t return?”
I shrugged. “No clue. Never happened before.” And the idea of it happening now sent a shiver up my spine. Zeus was an asshole, but at least he somewhat valued human life. The same couldn’t be said for either of his brothers. If Hades or Poseidon won control of Mount Olympus before we put Zeus back together, humanity was screwed.
“Maybe there’s a way we can use their fighting against them,” Demarco suggested. “Might be the key to retrieving the essences of Zeus from them.”
I nodded and stepped off the sidewalk to cross the street. “I think you’re on to something, but we’ll have to explore it later. Right now, we need to go put a psychopath in power.”
WHEN WE RETURNED to the club, a different bouncer was guarding the door. He looked the three of us up and down before a scowl settled across his face. Apparently our reputation preceded us.
“Hi,” I said, trying to sound as friendly as possible. “How are you?”
He nodded a hello and replied, “IDs?”
We handed them over and he took out a little flashlight to check them against our faces. Once satisfied, he handed them back and asked for the cover charge.
The nightclub interior was an interesting mix of extremes. Dark walls were broken up with pink accent paint and pink pillars, the hardwood dance floor butted up to plush rose carpet, and colored lights flashed above, adding complex highlights and shadows to the blacked-out ceiling. However, the biggest contrast of all came from the people. On the stage, muscular men wearing only thongs to hide their twigs and berries danced beside drag queens dressed to the nines with faces painted to perfection. The bar and the dance floor were filled with everything from business men in suits to college frat boys pounding shots. Even the occasional woman wove through the crowd.
Demarco and Tweety turned more than a few heads and a gorgeous blonde drag queen rushed over to greet us.
“Oh, honey, please tell me you dance,” she said, looking Demarco up and down.
His posture stiffened. “No, I do not.”
“Pitty.” She turned her leer onto Tweety. “And what about you, you fine young thing?”
“I’ve never danced before, but I could try,” he replied, moving to join her.
No doubt the curious griffin couldn’t wait to explore the new place and talk to all the interesting people, but the club was packed and if Tweety left our side we’d probably never be able to find him again. I grabbed his arm and held him back. “Business first,” I reminded him.
The smile fell from his face and he nodded. “Maybe later?” he said.
“You find me anytime, honey.” She poked him in the chest. “I’ll make time to take you for a spin and introduce you around,” she offered with a big wink before flouncing away.
He called out a thank you, then followed me and Demarco to a set of stairs in the back, where another vigilant bouncer stood with his arm crossed, watching us approach. I told him my name and explained that Mike was expecting me. He spoke into his radio, and nodded at us. Another bouncer came lumbering down the stairs and waved for us to follow him.
Up two flights of stairs and down almost to the end of the hall, we found Mike sitting behind a desk, plunking away on his computer. He greeted me, I introduced the guys, and he gestured for the three of us to sit as he retook his seat. The bouncer remained standing by the door.
The guys sat, but I leaned against Mike’s desk and grabbed the picture frame he kept by his monitor. Every time I’d been in his office, Mike had a new boyfriend featured in the frame. Today’s model came with brown hair and a nice smile, wearing a sweater vest.
“This the new squeeze?” I asked. “He looks nice. Safe.” Codeword: boring. “How long has this one been around?”
“None of your business.” Mike ripped the frame from my hands. “And don’t touch. I’m still angry about the bouncer.”
“But he’s gonna be okay, right?” I asked.
“Yes. Just some bruising.” Mike looked over Demarco. “Please try to keep your hands off the help in the future. On top of everything else, we don’t need a work comp claim.”
Demarco’s curt nod made no promises of good behavior.
Mike sighed and resettled the photo on his desk. “Now, business. What do you have for Auto?”
I gave him the basics about the video thumb drive before handing it over. He popped it into his computer and asked me for the password.
“Slide me your keyboard,” I said.
He rolled his eyes, but complied. I waited until both he and the guard were looking away before unlocking the video.
“Has anyone ever told you you have trust issues?” Mike asked.
Tweety snickered.
Déjà vu. “Yes, I’m aware.”
Mike slipped earbuds in his ears and focused on the monitor. After he finished viewing the video, he handed me back the thumb drive. “Auto is currently disciplining a client.” He leveled a meaningful stare at me. “I’ll let him know you’re here. Why don’t you go ahead and prepare your companions for the experience? We wouldn’t want them to react and undo the work Auto is doing.” Then Mike disappeared through the door behind his desk.
“Well that sounds ominous,” Tweety said.
I glanced at the guard still standing vigil, wondering how much I could say with him standing right there. But Mike had told me to fill them in, so the guard couldn’t be completely in the dark.
“Romi, what’s going on?” Demarco asked.
“Okay, so here’s the abridged version. Auto is short for Autolycus.”
“Doesn’t really clear things up,” Demarco said.
Tweety took over. “Son of Hermes and some beautiful human woman. He
has all Hermes’s abilities. Autolycus means ‘the wolf’ and he is said to love turning white into black and black into white.”
“Meaning…?” Demarco asked.
“Not important right now,” I replied. “All you have to know is he’s a master musician, and when his politicians venture too far out of his pocket, he uses his craft to… uh… reprogram them.”
Demarco thought it over for a beat, and then asked, “He brainwashes them with music?”
Nothing got past my blacksmith. “Pretty much. And no matter what you see, you need to be cool, okay?”
Before Demarco could even wipe the look of disgust from his face, much less reply, Mike returned and showed us through the door.
Auto’s office was enormous and far more opulent than anything you’d expect to see above a nightclub. The modernized, masculine mix of bamboo, stone, and glass was spotless, with not a single paperclip out of place. Even the giant darkened one-way windows looking out over the street appeared to be freshly washed. The place smelled of wood and expensive cologne.
But none of the opulence mattered, because my attention was immediately drawn to the glass wall separating Auto’s office from the small disciplinary room. Within the room stood a man who appeared to be somewhere in his late fifties or early sixties, if his thinning gray hair and wrinkles were any indication. And we could see all the wrinkles, because he was completely naked. Thankfully the rolls of his generous stomach hung low enough to hid most of his junk, but it was still an image I wouldn’t be able to get out of my head for a while.
Dragging my gaze from the scene, I focused on the lyre dancing midair beside the man’s head. It swayed back and forth as the strings played by themselves. We couldn’t hear the tune—the glass protected us—but the man’s vacant expression told me there was some serious brainwashing juju going on in there.
Demarco tensed beside me. I grabbed his hand and whispered, “Be cool. Trust me.”
He met my gaze and gave me a slight nod, but his body and expression remained tight.
The door clicked closed behind us and the thump of bass from the club below disappeared completely, making me feel like we were in some sort of soundproof box.
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