Iris came around behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. They felt warm and gentle and fine. “You might not want to know.”
“Not knowing is worse,” Ganymede said. “And knowing only a little is even worser.”
“Is that a word?” Eros asked. “Worser?”
“Shut up.” Ganymede thwapped him, and Eros grinned. It was good to see him back to his old self. “I need to know.”
“Find out later,” Eros said, the grin still on his handsome face. “You have eternity. Right now, we have other things to do.”
Ganymede looked into his deep blue eyes. Behind him, Iris reached over with one hand to stroke Eros’s arm and down with the other to cup Ganymede’s face. Eros leaned in and kissed Ganymede like he meant to push through him and out the other side. Ganymede kissed back, letting his hands trace Eros’s chest, his neck, and behind to touch those soft, muscular wings again. Eros shivered, and Iris made a soft, musical laugh.
“Quit it,” Eros said against Ganymede’s mouth.
“Really?” Ganymede said.
“Not you,” he replied. “Iris. Shut up and get down here, rainbow girl.” Then Eros reached up and pulled Iris down to for a kiss, and then Ganymede took one from her. The grotto swirled into color. Every frequency of light flashed over and around him, filling him until he overflowed. His body rippled and hardened, soft and hard, powerful and pliable. He looked at beautiful Iris and handsome Eros, wanting to fill them up and drain them dry at the same time. His body ached, and he trembled with the intensity.
The kiss ended. “Every time I do that, I drink an ocean of wine,” Iris said.
“Let’s get drunk,” Eros said.
The three of them fell together onto the cushions and didn’t speak for a long, long time.
Later, they sat soaking in one of the clear, hot pools at the back of the grotto. Ganymede sank up to his chin in the wonderful water, Iris on his left, Eros on his right. The water around Iris swirled with color, and Eros’s shining wings didn’t lose a bit of their beauty even when soaking wet.
“So how do I find out more about what’s going to happen?” Ganymede asked. “About me killing … you know.”
Eros closed his eyes, steam rising around his red hair. “Can’t you give it a rest for a couple hundred years, G?”
“I have to know, Eros,” Ganymede said seriously. “Really.”
“There’s only one place you can go, then,” Iris said. She shook her head, scattering multi-colored droplets.
“And that is?”
“To the ones who decreed it all in the first place. The Moirae. The three Fates themselves. Ask them. Just be ready for some harsh news.”
Ganymede took her hand under water. “I can handle it if you’re there. You and Eros.”
“Sorry, G.” Iris gently pushed his hand away. “The Moirae don’t discuss the future with anyone but the person involved. You’ll have to go alone.”
BOOK 8
PART IX
I woke up all tangled with Eryx and Irene and thirsty as hell. At least this time we weren’t on the beach. I carefully pulled away without waking them, then squatted by the mattress, watching them sleep. Irene was so pretty. Some of her streaky hair had fallen across her nose, and I lifted it away so it wouldn’t bug her. Eryx’s arm lay across her stomach, and I looked at the strong muscle in it, wanting to touch him but afraid it would open his eyes. These two knew what it was like. These two knew what I’d gone through, who I was, what I wanted, and it didn’t scare them away. I wanted to draw a magic circle around them both, keep out all hurt and harm.
Instead, I put on one of the shirts from the hotel left-behind bin, grabbed my empty mug from the floor, and went outside. Cerise, her big daisy hat shading her face from the morning sun, looked up from her gardening as I passed by.
“Hey, honey!” she called out. “There’s some oranges and carrots in the pile right in front of you, if you want some.”
A sunset pile of food sat where she pointed. I tore into the oranges, squeezing the juice of several straight into my desert mouth, and Cerise even let me rinse my hands and fill my mug from her watering can, though she didn’t let me get too close. I called thanks to her and went onward. I came to a section of the grounds that seemed to be the old maintenance area. Metallic wreckage of two big pole barns rusted in the growing heat. The roof and two walls of one of them still hunched partly upright, creating a sort of shelter.
Junk was scattered all over the place, and at first I thought it was random single-wide trailer yard junk, but when I got closer I saw that most of it was actually deliberate, even kind of neat. A yard pinwheel made out of pop cans. A set of wind chimes made from old water pipes. A sculpture of a giant grasshopper made from all kinds of scrap metal. An outdoor table and chairs cobbled together out of a thousand different plastic parts—milk jugs, waste baskets, cheap shelving, and even lost Legos.
A bald, bare-chested old man in overalls sat at a cracked worktable tapping at a twisted bunch of metal with a hammer. Rusty castoff tools were scattered around him, and a dirty plastic radio took up one corner of the table. It must have been running on batteries because a newscaster cheerfully talked about missiles in the Middle East and fighting in Africa.
The man caught sight of me and paused in his tapping. “Hey there, young man,” he said in a long Southern drawl. “You must be that Danny fellow June’s been talking about.”
“That’s me,” I said, surprised. “June talks about me? What’s she been saying?”
“That you’re a young fool, mostly,” he said with a grin. “But she says that about everyone. I wouldn’t pay her no mind. My name’s Ephram. I’m the fixit man.”
Memory clicked. “Oh! You made the window thing for Irene.”
“Yep.” He picked up the hammer again. “You need something fixed up, just bring to me, hear? Gives me something to do.”
“Yeah, okay.” My phone chittered, and my stomach twisted like a snake with a broken back. I pulled it out and found a text message from Lucian: Be here at 5 sharp.
“Bad news?” Ephram asked idly.
“Sort of.” I folded the phone up and stuffed it back into my shorts.
“The National Weather Service reports that Hurricane Tyler’s path has become more unpredictable,” said the radio. “It has shifted slightly from its eastern path to come north, though it’s still not expected to make landfall in the U.S.”
“We get more than our share of bad news,” he said, shifting on his seat. I noticed for the first time the aluminum crutches leaning against the picnic table. Both of Ephram’s legs were bent and twisted. He caught me staring. “I took a long spill when I was young,” he said. “Healed badly. But that was a long time ago, and I’ve adapted. We all learn to adapt. It’s that or die.”
“Uh, yeah.” My stomach growled. “I should go. I haven’t had much breakfast.”
“Stay out of trouble,” he said.
I went to a store in town and bought food—good food that didn’t come from the trash or the day-old section—with the money Lucian gave me yesterday. I felt a lot better with a full stomach. Then I went down to the beach and zoned out for the day. Eryx and Irene came down eventually, and I knew that Lucian had texted them, too. We hung out on the beach, swimming and sleeping and eating cheap junk food and sharing water from my mug and definitely not talking about the hotel. Later it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen any girls working in the bar when I’d been there, and I wondered where the Hotel Guys found Irene. Boys in the bar, girls in the restaurant, maybe? I wasn’t going to ask. I had adapted, which meant I wasn’t dead.
One time we were sitting in the sun when two male cops on beach patrol walked by, both pumped up and filling their brown uniforms like wet sand. They looked hard at us and I swallowed. Lucian had said that Guy 2 was the sheriff of DelMar County, so the cops would keep a special eye on me—and Eryx—to make sure we didn’t take off before we worked off the money Lucian had paid Myron for us. I had a sudd
en image of the two of them ordering me into the dunes with them for a freebie, and I started to hyperventilate. The cops continued to stare, and I couldn’t look away from them. One of the cops turned and started toward me, and I swayed dizzily. Irene pinched me hard. Eryx leaned back on the sand like he did this every day.
“You kids okay over here?” the cop said when he got close. He had a square, handsome face and kind of reminded me of Uncle Zack, except with a crew cut. The name tag on his short-sleeved shirt said his name was T. Reese.
“Fine, officer,” Eryx drawled. “Just soaking up the rays.”
“I’ve been seeing a lot of you three around lately,” Reese said. “Here on vacation?”
My heart was pounding so fast I think my chest was shaking. What was with this guy? The cops were in with Lucian, so either he was going to demand a freebie in the bushes or he was going to arrest us just for fun. I had no idea what to do. “I … yeah,” I stammered. “Good beach. Love it.”
“There alcohol in that mug, sir?”
“No,” Eryx said promptly. “That’s against the law. You can check if you want.”
Reese squatted next to us and his shadow slid over me. “Where are your parents?”
I nearly bolted then and there, but Irene gave me another hidden pinch, then laughed at Reese. “Dude,” she said. “We don’t need parents. We decided to take a semester off college, thanks for asking.”
He didn’t look convinced. “You got any ID?”
“On the beach?” Irene scoffed. I marveled at her calm. “Right.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Haidou. It’s a dump, but it’s affordable.”
“Yeah.” Reese glanced at his partner, who was still standing farther away. “Look, we’ve had a lot of problem with runaways in this town, you know? Kids who show up and live on the beach. They get into illegal stuff like theft and prostitution.”
Irene fixed him with a hard look. “Why are you telling us this?”
“It’s a tough road,” Reese continued. “Eventually they get into trouble. But there are ways out of it.”
I felt ready to faint. The sand spun a little, and the sound of washing waves faded. I waited for him to put a hand on my shoulder or my leg, tell what secret horror he wanted me to do so I could stay out of trouble.
“Most runaways are confused and just need help,” Reese said. “They don’t need to go to jail, okay? If they ask for help, they can get it.”
“Okay, whatever,” Irene said. “Have a nice day, Officer.”
Reese gave us another long look, then got up and left. Once he and his partner were out of sight, I dropped back to the sand, my entire body limp as kelp with relief.
“What the fuck was that?” Eryx said.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Irene said. “You guys want to grab a snack?”
When it got close to five, all three of us got up and walked toward the Haidou without saying anything. We changed clothes in Room 8 and, like I thought, Irene went into the restaurant while Eryx and I went into the bar. This time nothing much happened at first. We checked in with Gerald the Balding Manager, who told us to get to work or wait at the back wall. Eryx and I waited with the Cubans against that damn wall for more than two hours, and then Gerald the Balding Manager called Eryx and then he called me.
Guy Three (room 32) wanted me to take my clothes off while he watched. A while ago it would have freaked me out, but now I just shut my mind off and let him shape me. Adapting like water to a glass. And when he was done, I went back to the bar, my mind still shut off. I barely noticed Eryx had come back, in fact. Half an hour later, I got called again. Guy Four (room 40) wanted me to talk trash to him the whole time. I did that too, a robot made of mercury. But even though I was doing great adapting, it seemed like a little more of me went away each time, drained out the bottom and gone. How long before I couldn’t even say I was half empty?
And when I got called to Guy Five and keyed myself into room 48, it was suddenly more than I could deal with. Too much of me had drained out of the glass, and I was afraid I’d see the bottom this time. But I was already in the room, in my too-tight clothes, with Guy Five sitting on the bed grinning at me like a leather gargoyle and Lucian sitting in his office like a triple-headed guard dog and the cops patrolling outside like angry ghosts and I couldn’t exactly take off.
“Come on over, buddy,” Guy Five said, and I did. He stood up and ran his hands over my face and my shoulders, working his way downward. He wore a gold wedding band. I just wanted to disappear, but if I did, I was afraid I’d never be able to come back, and I was afraid I was going to start crying, and I really didn’t want to do that, not in front of a Guy.
“You’re cute,” Guy Five said, and kissed me on the mouth. He was scratchy, just like all the Guys had been. Eryx and Irene were both smooth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Guy Five’s cell phone sitting on the night stand and a stupid idea came into my head.
When Guy Five pulled away from me, I pretended to be really hesitant and innocent. Already I’d learned that Guys really like that. “Um … do you think you could maybe brush your teeth really quick?”
For a second I was afraid he was going to get mad. Then he shrugged. “Yeah, okay. Be right back.” He went into the bathroom and I heard water run. I grabbed his phone with chilly fingers, called up the address book, and went to the letter I, where I found an ICE—In Case of Emergency—number. It had a woman’s name with it, and I was hoping it was his wife’s. I hit the call button. It rang once, twice, three times. In the bathroom, the water stopped running and a toothbrush hit the counter with a plastic clatter.
The call connected and a woman’s voice said, “Hello?”
I set the phone back on the night stand. “Are you about done?” I called toward the bathroom.
“Yep,” Guy Five said. “Let me put this away.”
“Gary?” the phone demanded sharply. “What’s going on?”
I snapped it shut and sat on the bed just as Guy Five emerged from the bathroom. He sat next to me on the bed, put his arm around me, and gave me a toothpaste kiss. “Better?”
“Yeah,” I said.
The cell phone rang. Guy Five glanced at it—the woman’s name came up on the caller ID—then rolled his eyes. “Let voice mail get it.” And he ran his hand over my leg. I was starting to panic again. The phone rang five times and went silent.
“That’s better,” Guy Five said, his hand moving higher. “Now we can—”
The phone rang again.
“Shit,” Guy Five muttered. He waited through five rings again. The phone quieted, and he pulled me closer for another hard kiss. His hand roved over my crotch, and I started to fade out. Then the room’s bedside phone rang, harsh and loud. Guy Five jumped. It rang and rang.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” Guy Five said, and snatched up the receiver. “Hello?” Pause. “Oh, hello, honey. My cell’s on vibrate, and I didn’t notice when it went off… . No, I didn’t call you… . Well, I’m the only one here… . A young guy?” Guy Five looked stricken. “No. Why would there be … Ah. Maybe that was the TV or something.” That sounded lame-o even to me. “Uh, sure, we can talk. I mean, I do miss you… . Uh huh… . Uh huh… . Yeah… .”
I sat perfectly still on the bed next to him, though he pulled away as he talked. Finally I got up and leaned against a wall. He talked some more—or, more accurately, he listened. And listened. And listened. I coughed once, quietly, then again, louder. Guy Five looked at me, horrified.
“No, that was me,” he said into the phone, and coughed himself. Now it was turning into a bad TV show. “Dry hotel air. So what happened to Myrna’s dog?” He made frantic shooing motions at me. I moved toward the door with my eyebrows raised: Do you really want me to go?
He flapped his hand again. I slipped out, eased the door shut, and ran down the threadbare hallway, feeling lighter and freer than I had in days and days, and the feeling stayed with me even when Lucian caught me in the bar
.
“That was fast,” he said.
“He changed his mind when his wife called,” I said.
Lucian laughed at that one. “Sucks to be him. We don’t give refunds. Here, kid—you’re done for the night.” And he handed me thirty bucks—only ten for each Guy because I owed him five thousand. I was still a slave but I didn’t care right then. Cigarette smoke and beer fumes clogged my throat, and the Cuban guys were lined up against the wall except for one guy who was clearing tables. I looked at the beggar’s money in my hand and thought about how far from Michigan I’d come.
Behind the bar, a big-screen TV showed the Weather Channel. A blond man was pointing to the big white swirl on the computer map behind him in that fake way weather people do. “—has made this unexpected change in course. The National Weather Service has also upgraded Hurricane Tyler to Category Four, with winds of up to 140 miles per hour.”
I stared at the screen. The four or five Guys left in the bar stared with me. The storm had gotten way worse and it was going to hit Florida after all.
Flood it clear
To the sea
Stain the world
With his blood.
How fucking incredible was that? I glanced around the bar. In a few days, this whole building would be nothing but rubble and boards. I could feel it. The white spiral looked mean and hungry, and I knew deep in my guts that it would munch this place into oblivion. No more Lucian, no more Guys. No more. I was so excited, I was ready to jump to the ceiling, and I had to tell someone the news.
“Where’s Eryx?” I asked. “And Irene?”
“They both left a while ago,” Lucian said. He glanced at the TV, then said, “Walk with me back to my office, kid”
I followed him like a baby calf to a veal plate, scared he was going to make me do stuff with him again. My hands shook, and I shoved them into my pockets. But in his office, all he did was pull a heavy cash box out of the bottom of his desk, unlock it with a key from a ring on his belt, and stuff a wad of money into it. My eye went to the stack of green. It was money I’d earned for him. So had Eryx and Irene. Lucian’s suit jacket fell aside when he put the box back in his desk, and for the first time I saw he was wearing a pistol. I fought against a stab of fear and stepped backward. I’ve seen dozens of hunting weapons over the years, but never a gun that I thought might be used against me. Lucian didn’t seem to notice.
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