“Ari…”
“But you didn’t.”
“I think a night out will help both of us,” he says.
“I don’t know.”
“I promise you will not regret going. Please?”
Why did he have to say ‘please’ so sweetly? “So, how dressy is this restaurant.”
“I think a simple dress would be appropriate.”
I look down at my leg to see if there are any telltale signs of my injury. It’s almost completely healed. A dress will work.
“Is it an alien hangout?”
He makes a choking sound.
“Just kidding,” I say. “We certainly have a lot to talk about. Okay. I’ll go.”
He looks really pleased. Happy. Excited? “I’ll pick you up at seven. Is that alright?”
“Sure. So will I be under guard tonight?” I ask.
“Yes. A team of Warriors will patrol your property. At daybreak, another team will take its place.”
“Are they here now?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“They are hiding.”
“Oh. I guess that’s good,” I remark. “What about tomorrow? What if I leave the house? Will they go with me?”
“If you need to leave your house, call me and I will accompany you. If you do not call, two Warriors will follow you.”
“Geez. So much for privacy.”
“I realize this is an imposition, but it’s temporary, and it’s for your safety.”
“Do you really think the Zon are going to find me?”
“I don’t know, Ari, and that’s why we need to be vigilant. There are no Zon in the immediate area, but that can change quickly.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“You’ll get through this. I promise.”
And I believe him.
Chapter 9
I sleep like a baby, and if Mom didn’t drop a laundry basket down the stairs at eleven, I may have slept through my dinner date with Davin, which, to my surprise, I’m now looking forward to. A lot. Our talk helped. It really did.
After a very long shower, I root through my closet, assessing every single dress I own. No luck. Those that still fit are either too casual or too ugly. I call Ella, praying she’s close to home. She picks up on the third ring.
“Ella,” I say, “Davin is taking me to a really nice restaurant tonight. I need a dress. None of mine fit. Do you think I can borrow one?”
“No problem, sweetie. I’ll be over by six with everything you’ll need. Except shoes. Do you have black pumps?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Good. That’s all you’ll need. I’ll bring the rest. See ya later.”
We end the call, and I wonder what I would ever do without her.
Ella arrives a little after six, equipped with her trusty makeup kit and an armful of dresses. She sits on my bed, chin resting in her hands, and carefully appraises each dress. Finally, she makes her decision. “This one, sweetie.”
It’s a little black dress—the one I actually would have chosen.
“It’ll take him two weeks of cold showers to recover from seeing you in this little number. Put it on,” she says, holding the dress out to me.
“Well, okay then.” I slip out of my shorts and top, and into the dress.
Ella gives me a big smile and a thumbs-up. “Wow. I like the look on you, sweetie.”
I step in front of a mirror. It looks nice. Really nice. The top is cut low enough to be alluring—in a classy way. The hem comes to just above my knees. The lines accentuate my figure. “I like it.”
“Ok, so that’s settled. Now tell me about the picnic.”
“Sure. We ate, we swam, and then we talked,” I say with a grin.
Ella glares at me.
I chuckle. “We had a very nice time.”
“Is he a keeper?”
“Um, possibly,” I say, holding a straight face.
She sizes me up. “Mm-hmm. Yup. You like him. But what’s not to like? He’s the closest thing I’ve ever seen to a Greek god.”
“He’s nice, too. And smart.” And he’s drawn to me like a moth to moonlight.
“Tell me about the lips. Are they as tasty as they look?”
Oh, they are much tastier than they look. And so soft. And warm…
“My lips are sealed.”
“I really need to know, sweetie. Sooner or later you’re going to ask me for advice, so I need to put a dossier together. Ya know?”
“No, I don’t know. But you know I never kiss and tell.” I give her a little smirk.
“I’ll let you slide—but only because I’m on a tight schedule. Now let’s do the face and the hair. Come. Sit,” she says, motioning me to a straight-backed chair. As I sit, she drapes a towel across my shoulders.
“One of these days I really need to learn how to do makeup…”
“If you don’t keep still, Davin is going to be having dinner tonight with Chuckles the Clown. Know what I mean?”
“Mm-hmm,” I say, without moving my lips.”
“That’s better, sweetie. Almost done…”
I grunt, not wanting to cause an incident, as Ella applies some finishing touches to my eyes.
“Done. Go look in the mirror,” she says.
I give myself the once-over. Then, just to be sure, I look again. She did a fabulous job. “You’re amazing. I feel…transformed.”
“Now put these on,” Ella says, as she retrieves the black pumps from my closet and hands them to me.
I slide into the shoes and do my best impersonation of a model as I spin slowly around with a flourish. “Ella, do I look beautiful tonight?”
“Um, yes…you do.” She gives me a funny look. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering.”
She cocks her head, stares for a moment, and then smiles. “You’re hot, you’re exotic, and you’re dazzling. Why, if I were a guy—”
“Okay, that’s enough!” I chuckle. “I’m serious. You really think I look beautiful?”
She studies me for a moment. “You are serious. Ariel Worthington, you are more than beautiful enough for Davin.” She gives me an innocent smile.
“I didn’t say—”
“You didn’t say this was about Davin? You’re right—you didn’t. But you didn’t have to. Just like you didn’t have to tell me you kissed him. You are so obvious sometimes, ya know?”
“Really?” God, she can read me like a book.
“Really,” she replies. “Now cut this insecurity crap. It is so unlike you.”
I give her a toothy smile. “What would I ever do without you, Ella?”
“Hmm. It would probably be devastating, so let’s hope we never find out. Now, y’all have a fabulous time tonight, and I’ll expect a complete report by tomorrow.” She pauses for a moment, then goes back into my closet. She emerges with a lacy black wrap. “Take this with you in case it gets chilly.”
“Good idea. Thanks. You going out with Tom tonight?”
“Yeah, we’re going to dinner in Charlottesville, which reminds me—I best get my little butt in gear or the dimwit will get confused and go by himself.” She grabs the remaining dresses and her makeup kit—then blows me kisses as she leaves, pirouetting out of my room.
Ella is way out of Tom’s league—and I don’t know why she even bothers with him. I guess it’s a safe way to occupy her time until she leaves for college. She needs to find a guy closer to her intellectual level. A guy like Galen? Hmm.
Several minutes later Mom calls out to me. “Ari, Davin just pulled up and…oh wow…nice car. Are you ready, honey?”
“Yes Mom. Be right down.”
I’m halfway down the stairs when the doorbell rings. Mom lets him in—and I freeze. He’s dressed in an exquisitely tailored black blazer over gray dress slacks, and a crisp white shirt, open at the collar. It’s not the kind of outfit a teenager would wear. It looks like something you’d find in James Bond’s closet. His clean-shaven face is rad
iant. His black hair shines. And my arms long to hold him. Oh boy…I’m in serious trouble.
“Ari, you look…stunning.”
“Thank you, Davin. You look quite stunning yourself.”
I can’t take my eyes off of him—and I want him to know it.
“Well,” Mom says, “you two supermodels have a nice dinner.”
I make my way down the stairs and give her a big hug as I whisper in her ear. “Love you, Mom. I’ll be home by one. Okay?”
“I’ll be at the hospital. Call me if you’ll be later,” she whispers back, as she kisses my cheek. “But don’t be much later.”
“Gotcha,” I reply.
“Shall we go?” Davin holds his arm out.
I take his arm, and we walk outside.
“I like your car,” I say, as we approach a slate gray Porsche Carrera with a very red interior.
“I’m glad you like it.” Davin holds the passenger door open and I lower myself into the seat. It’s firm, but very comfortable. The entire interior is swathed in fine leather and carbon fiber. The scent reminds me of Ember’s Tannery, a stylish saddle shop in the Valley.
As he slides into the driver’s seat, Davin smiles at me. “I appreciate fine cars. They are like rolling works of art.”
“This is certainly a nice one,” I reply. It really is.
We back out of the driveway and head toward the Institute. As we drive, I wonder what kinds of vehicles an advanced civilization has. Do Olympians even have cars?
“Are there cars on Olympus?”
“Yes,” he replies. “We call them transports.”
“What are they like?”
I imagine the flying cars in Star Wars movies.
He ponders my question for a moment. “In urban areas, we have public transports. They are connected to a computer network. They’re comfortable, very fast, but quite boring—since computers do the driving. Every Olympian has access to this type of transport.”
“So they don’t own the cars?”
“No, they are available for use by anyone. Thousands are in service at all times. When you need to go somewhere, you enter the transport level and call for a vehicle. One usually appears within a minute or two.”
“Are there personal vehicles, too?”
“Yes, some of us have the need to be able to travel long distances quickly. A personal transport gives us that ability. In the city, it operates on the public network. But when we need to travel between population centers, the vehicle is capable of running independently. It can travel over land, on the sea, or in the air.”
“Seriously?”
“Mm-hmm.”
How cool. “Will you take me for a ride someday?”
“Of course,” he says.
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“I’m sure you will,” he replies.
We enter the main campus and turn onto a service road. A couple of minutes later, we reach a security checkpoint. A man emerges from a small guardhouse and waves us through, giving Davin a formal nod. Obviously, they know each other.
“Is he a Warrior?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“He seemed a little submissive. Do you outrank him? Do Warriors have ranks?”
“Yes, we have a hierarchy. A chain of command.”
“What is your rank?”
“Lotani,” he says.
“Oh, is that like a lieutenant?”
“Actually, it means Master.”
“Like a Jedi Master?” I ask.
“In a way,” he answers.
I imagine the young Anakin Skywalker tormenting his Jedi Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. “Then I must be your Padawan,” I say with a smirk.
Davin rolls his eyes. He does it really well, too—as if he’s been practicing.
I put on a serious expression. “May the force be with you, Master.”
He shakes his head slowly, but keeps his eyes on the road, as he mutters, “And may heaven help me.”
Smart-ass.
We are several miles past the security gate. The road is completely deserted. “Where are we going?” I ask.
“We are almost there. I thought I’d give you a quick tour before we eat.”
“Really? Or are you going to throw me into a dungeon, deep under the Institute?” I ask, playfully.
Davin stares at me for a moment.
“What?” I ask.
“I sense that you are still a little uncertain about things.”
I shift in my seat to face him. “If I’m wrong about you and Thalia, it’s too late. I am resigned to my fate, Davin. My life is in your hands.”
“You couldn’t be safer.”
The road ends at the foot of Mt. Evan. We stop in front of a metallic garage-sized door. Davin opens his window and a blue light flashes, illuminating his face. The door opens and we drive in, and down, and around, and down some more. “We are here, Love.”
“And where is here, Darling?” We are inside what looks like an underground parking garage. The area is huge, but I can only see about ten cars. All of them look very expensive.
“Shh, you’ll ruin the surprise,” he says, as he pulls into a numbered parking space.
Surprise? “What kind of surprise? Davin…?”
“Shh. Don’t ask so many questions.”
“But…”
“If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“Impossible. You are female.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It is a universal law. Females like surprises. Everyone knows this.”
I glare at him.
He turns off the engine and we get out of the car.
“This way,” he says, taking my hand, as he leads me toward a metal door.
“It’s kind of spooky down here,” I say. “Is this garage for aliens only?”
“Yes,” he says, as he lays his palm on a translucent black panel set into the door.
A female voice responds to his touch, in a language I’ve never heard before. I assume it’s Olympian. It sounds like Mandarin spoken with a French accent. But some of the words sound Greek. Neat.
Davin answers in the same language, and the door slides open.
“Does she know I’m not human?”
“When I laid my hand on the door, a DNA scan was performed, and your Warrior DNA was detected. But since you are not programmed into the system, I was asked to override security protocols to allow for your entry. Only a Master or an official of the Governing Council can do that.”
“I feel special.”
“You are,” Davin says, as he leads me inside.
We enter a small windowless lobby. The walls are polished stone and covered with elegant artwork—paintings of flowers, exquisitely detailed, deliciously abstract. They remind me of Georgia O’Keefe.
Two very imposing guards are stationed behind a counter in the center. They are dressed in white suits—probably body armor. Their faces are completely hidden behind black mesh masks. Hanging from each of their belts is a wicked-looking knife and what looks like a pistol. The taller guard speaks to Davin in Olympian. Davin answers in English, nodding in my direction.
“Ari, these are my friends, Tal and Seto.”
“Ah, I am honored to meet you, Ariel. Enjoy your visit,” Tal says.
Seto nods. “It is indeed an honor,” he says cordially.
“I’m pleased to meet you both,” I say, wondering what they look like.
Davin steers me past the guards. “Do they always dress like that?” I ask.
“Only when they’re on guard duty. It’s ceremonial. Warriors are dangerously lethal—with or without their uniforms.”
“Oh.”
Davin leads me toward a black door on the right side of the lobby. A light flashes in my eyes, startling me, and then the door slides open—revealing a small room, perhaps eight feet square. The walls are transparent, and the ceiling and floor are a polished black material. The only door is the
one through which we entered.
“This is an elevator?”
“Yes. The Institute was built in 1938 atop an Olympian facility. This elevator travels within a shaft that was cut through the heart of Mt. Evan.”
“I thought you said the Institute was an Olympian base. But the base is beneath the Institute? I’m confused.”
“The Institute is a real college, Ari—with human students and faculty. It has to be authentic or we would call too much attention to ourselves. The base is fifteen hundred feet below the surface.”
“No humans have ever discovered your little secret?”
“Unauthorized entry is not possible,” he states with pride. “From the surface, there is only one way into the base. An interloper would be intercepted and redirected long before becoming a security threat.”
“To the dungeon,” I mutter to myself.
Davin keys a sequence of numbers into a panel on the elevator’s wall. I hear a faint hum. “Hang on, next stop is the main dungeon level.”
“Damn your super-hearing,” I mumble.
“Your hearing is just as super. You just don’t know how to use it. Yet.”
“What?”
“Very funny.”
I gasp as the elevator car begins to descend—rapidly—taking my breath with it. “Wow. That was like a Disney ride.”
The door slides open and we emerge into a cavernous room. Dozens of people in white onesie suits buzz around like worker bees. The ceiling has to be a hundred feet high. The walls appear to be metal—without a visible seam—and are covered with large art deco posters, captioned in a language that is foreign, alien, Olympian. The floors are polished and stone-like, with a gray-black patterned texture.
“Is this the only level?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Davin takes my hand and we walk toward an alcove in the far wall. The walls inside the alcove are lined with counters, divided into workstations. Four people sit in front of holographic displays, which are obviously computers—but unlike any computers I’ve ever seen. Images and words float in space above them. As we get closer, I can see what look like keyboards—suspended inside each of the displays. One of the operators is air-typing. How incredibly cool.
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