by T. G. Ayer
Allegra sucked in a breath, trying hard to pull herself free from the vision, but it refused to let her go. Instead, more sounds filtered through to her, and she began to register the smells around her.
Somewhere nearby a wood fire burned, although Allegra could not see the source within the room. A kerosene lamp sat in the middle of a kitchen table, but it was unlit, it’s glass covering stained with soot. The walls of the room were a motley combination of metal sheeting, cardboard remnants and cut off pieces of car-doors, boxes, wood pallets and even a piece of glass haphazardly taped over to cover a multitude of cracks.
The kitchen was comprised of a single hotplate while a bowl and a jug of water masqueraded as a sink and tap. A decrepit sofa sat a foot away, its seats sunken so deep it sat barely a few inches from the floor. Beneath her feet, Allegra recognized the light brown compacted sand and understood she was still within Qusqu.
Turning her attention to the bed, Allegra now understood why she’d been so reluctant to look at it. Perhaps something in her intuition had told her what she’d see.
The body of a woman lay there, her limbs splayed, her torso bathed in blood. Her shell-pink bra and panties were so soaked with blood Allegra could not differentiate between her skin and her lingerie.
The woman’s neck was barely discernible beneath the caked blood, but Allegra managed to make out the jagged slash, the gory opening that revealed raw flesh, torn muscle, and ragged tendons.
Allegra would have been able to identify the women had it not been for the state of her face; battered and bruised and so swollen her features were no longer recognizable.
But Allegra knew her.
Sucking in a deep breath, Allegra let go of the secretary’s hand and took a step back so far she ended up bumping into the door at her back.
The secretary’s eyes widened at Allegra’s reaction and then narrowed as she stared at Allegra for a little too long. Then she took a step away, her lip curling in an expression that to Allegra looked a lot like disgust.
What?
The ambassador’s secretary stalked away, her dark hair swaying as she walked off. She paused at the elevator and punched the call button, then glanced over her shoulder. She met Allegra’s eyes for a long moment, the darkness in her expression sending a cold shiver down Allegra’s spine.
Had it not been for her unusual dress, Allegra would not have recognized her so quickly. In her mind’s eye, Allegra saw the hovel again, saw the garment rail again.
She saw the long white dress sitting on a wooden hanger, its wide skirt patterned at the hem with multicolored Aztec designs.
The elevator pinged, pulling Allegra free from the memory and she caught a flash of the secretary’s skirt as she disappeared into the cage—white fabric and multicolored Aztec designs.
The ambassador’s secretary was going to die a horrible death.
Chapter 5
Max followed Ambassador McIvor inside his office and studied the man as he rounded his desk and took a seat.
He was a man who could easily get lost in a crowd, his features unremarkable, his posture unimpressive. His shoulders were broad, but he didn’t seem to be a man who spent time in a gym so though he could have been muscular, he was, in reality, going to be fat.
His dark brown hair was thinning on top, and his mustache was a slim line, cutting his upper lip in half a little too harshly.
Max took the seat McIvor waved at, although Max would have preferred to stand after the long flight. As he sat, he studied the unusual desk before him. It seemed to be carved from a single piece of wood, a white-gray blend that made Max wonder.
McIvor cleared his throat. “I know what you’re thinking.” He let out a soft laugh, his teeth glinting in the stream of sunshine flooding the office from the wide windows. “This desk is made of bukic wood. And yes, I know it’s extinct, but it was a welcome gift from a local tribe. One I was unable to refuse. My superiors in the States approved my decision to keep it if it ensured the tribe’s cooperation.”
Max smiled. “I was not going to criticize, Ambassador.”
McIvor shrugged. “I’ve heard it before, so perhaps I may be a little too sensitive on the matter. It’s best to get these things out of the way at the start, don’t you think.” When Max nodded, he continued, “So I have to express my disappointment with the way things have been handled. This whole debacle came as much of a shock to me as it must have to you.”
“It has. We are curious as to how it happened and why.”
“We had a call from a Qusquan diplomat returning home from a treaty discussion. He claims to have had a run-in with the Pythia which led to questions as to what she is doing here.”
Max nodded. “As you can understand the Pythia is meant to have global access.”
“It’s exactly what I said, but from what the Qusquan and other Amazonian countries’ representatives have said, her alignment with the NGS is the crux of the problem.”
“You mean me?”
McIvor smiled. “Probably not you specifically, but the fact that she’s consulting for the NGS does pose what they have described as ‘a conflict of interest’ which I am sure you can also understand.”
Max sat back, a little astounded and yet still understanding their point of view. When he’d attended Aurelia, he hadn’t been the only representative in her orbit. She’d had delegates from around the world at her side almost daily, and he could see where his being her sole advisor could be seen as alignment with the NGS.
He nodded. “I can understand that. I’ve only been within her advisory team to bring her up to speed on things because I’d had previous experience with the Pythia Aurelia. I don’t believe the Pythia Allegra would be opposed to bringing on another representative of the Amazonian continent.”
McIvor nodded. “Has this been approved by the President?” The man’s eyes narrowed, criticism gleaming from them.
Max paused wondering if the question was a test. He wondered too whose side McIvor came down on. Max let out a soft laugh and leaned forward. “I don’t believe the Pythia has to answer to anyone. For all intents and purposes, I am in her employ. I’m not sure the President of the NGS has any say at all in who is seconded to the Pythia in a diplomatic capacity.”
The ambassador’s features tightened, and he went a few shades paler. It seemed his question had burst out without his realization of its ramifications because he now looked uncomfortable.
“Commander, I don’t want you to think I’m the sort of man who will break the rules. I just thought that—given that you do report to the NGS—you’d require the President’s approval.”
Max gave the man a neutral smile. “Not where it concerns the Pythia and the decisions she makes. Those are her own. As is where she wishes to travel.”
McIvor nodded, his spine stiff as he faced Max. “Right. That brings me back to the main point of issue here. The delegates from the continent wish to be apprised of the reason for the Pythia’s visit.”
“Ah. I see. They want to know what she’s seen and if her visions may have ramifications that will impact them.” Max got to his feet at last, unable to endure the confines of the chair any longer. “Yes, I can understand their point of view, but can you explain to them that her visit here is only a matter of checking on something. Many of her visions are like mist in the wind. They come and go, and because time is so fluid and things can change so suddenly, it can happen that a vision never comes to pass. For that reason, the Pythia would not want to alert every person, country or institution of every vision she has. It would be foolhardy to terrify people when there is no real certainty.”
“I was under the impression she’d tracked that plague across the world before she put an end to it.” The man was almost smirking as he sat back, watching Max intently.
“You are correct, but what’s not widely known is fate and the Pythia’s visions are constantly changing. Chasing that plague . . . she had to test her visions almost every day in order to keep track of it sim
ply because people worldwide were changing their normal patterns of behaviors as they were made aware of the dangers. Imagine if we’d made international announcements that the plague originated in chickens? International mass extermination of poultry? What would that have achieved?
“Apart from the constantly changing nature of Fate, we had to be sensitive to the nature of humanity. Hysterical or otherwise.” Max smiled, and the ambassador returned it, but the man’s expression was devoid of all mirth.
“So, I am to tell the delegation that the Pythia is investigating a . . . possible issue, but has nothing concrete yet to discuss?”
Max nodded. “You are also welcome to tell them to choose a delegate to be attached to the Pythia’s team.”
“Ah, yes. I am sure that will appease.” He got to his feet. “Sadly, my hands are pretty much tied. I’m at the mercy of both my superiors and the Qusquan government, and I can’t afford an international incident.”
Max stifled a yawn. He’d already turned and headed for the door when McIvor’s voice stopped him.
“Commander, there is someone else who wishes a word. If you wouldn’t mind.”
Max turned on his heel, hiding his frustration. “Very well. As long as it can help clear things up as soon as possible.”
“Good I’ve arranged for the car to wait for us downstairs.”
Twenty minutes later, Max was ushered into the shaded interior of a second pyramid along the main road, this one appearing more governmental and official than the NGS embassy. Uniformed guards and staff hurried around, and one end of the ground level appeared to be a waiting room with a combination of lines and seats snaking across the floor.
Max remained silent until they were ushered up three levels where they were directed to stone-carved chairs in a sunny waiting area. He took a seat and leaned back as McIvor sat beside him. In the car, the ambassador had revealed he was meeting the Secretary of Internal Security, General Sinchi Qhapaq which made Max wonder what was really going on.
Now, Max sat with his head resting against the wall behind him, struggling to stay awake. McIvor wasn’t exactly the engaging type when it came to conversation, and his questions seemed to all aim at one thing: to find out what the Pythia was doing in Qusqu.
After an hour of waiting, the general’s aide hurried over with a note for McIvor.
“What is it?” Max asked.
The ambassador’s face darkened, his ears flushing pink, which Max was unable to identify as a result of anger or fear. “He’s refusing to see us.”
“I thought he’d requested the visit?” Max was beginning to lose patience.
McIvor got to his feet. “He’s clearly changed his mind.”
Frowning, Max surged to his feet, his frustration almost at boiling point. They’d been put through so much red tape and bullshit since they’d arrived he was beginning to feel like there was more than a mere dispute over the Pythia’s relationship with the NGS.
He managed to bite his tongue, following a silent McIvor to the car.
“I’m sorry. I had thought he’d see us.”
“Does he do this often?”
“What?” McIvor seemed distracted.
“Break engagements without warning.”
McIvor’s smile was thin and almost angry. “Qhapaq is master of his domain. And Qusqu is his domain. He does what he wants. Who am I to say anything? Besides, I need his cooperation, so I have to be on my best behavior with him. I work on behalf of the NGS after all.”
Max nodded, understanding the man’s position perhaps too well.
The drive back was short, and Max hadn’t been able to shrug off his irritation. He’d begun to feel like that wait had been a strategic ploy. A way to impress upon the Pythia as to who was in charge here in Qusqu.
Qhapaq seemed to like games. Which in turn made Max suspect the general could be behind the visa problems.
What was Qhapaq’s end-game? Max had a feeling it was nothing good.
Chapter 6
While Max was busy with the ambassador, Allegra had requested a car to the nearest good restaurant. According to the ambassador’s secretary, a few blocks down from the NGS Embassy was a restaurant famous throughout the world for its seared chicken and blood cakes.
She could have ordered a meal and a drink in her room, but she’d wanted the sun and the bustling of people around her. Like white noise, it kept her mind a little at ease.
Besides, if they had to go home in the morning, at least she’d have seen something of this beautiful city.
Now, she sat on a stone-paved patio, watching the sunlight sparkle off the surface of a pool so blue you’d be forgiven for thinking it was a mirror merely reflecting the clear skies above.
To think Allegra had at one time not believed in gods. It all seemed so preposterous right now. Understandable perhaps, yet so stupid.
When Max had accosted her on the beach in front of her house, accusing her of being some prophetess, she’d thought him mad. Until, of course, Xales had appeared.
A gigantic black boar, for Apollo’s sake. It had snorted and pawed the ground, eyeing Max as if it had intended to tear the fragile man to pieces. Thankfully, and a little too conveniently for Allegra’s liking, it had turned out Max was already acquainted with said gigantic beast.
And Max had lived.
Then, he’d spent a few days working on convincing Allegra of who and what she really was. But it shouldn’t have been hard to assimilate. Though for Allegra it had been.
Despite the sight of the Seer’s Boar, she had still found it difficult to process, thereby frustrating Commander Vissarion’s most ardent efforts.
Fortunately for Allegra, and no doubt for Max too, it was the attempt on her life by Neptune, God of Oceans, that had brought her to her senses. And perhaps the fact that Xales had saved both her and her friend Xenia’s lives.
Neptune had tried to kill Allegra.
She still had to take a moment to process it all.
Now, how many women could lay claim to that statement?
Allegra sighed. It was no joke. To be brutally honest, the memory, and the reality it highlighted, terrified her. Not that it was something she could run from, either.
But, at least one of the pantheon of gods was on her side.
Apollo.
Allegra had grown up listening to her father Aleks take the god’s name in vain in various ways. He’d both cursed and thanked beings who he’d thought were mere mythical figures; throwbacks from a past filled with old wives’ tales and superstition.
Her father had died never knowing that every one of his curses had likely been heard. Her poor father would have been mortified. And even now Allegra still felt a little ashamed on his behalf.
She too had used Apollo’s name all the time, never thinking for one moment he’d be real. She’d even prayed to him for help without believing for a single moment he’d hear her. Or that he’d answer.
That in itself was a contradiction of gigantic proportions. One Allegra preferred to avoid considering, mostly because it would lead to a far too intimate investigation of her philosophical and moral beliefs.
Perhaps whatever she thought and felt didn’t really mean much considering her point of view within the present moment.
She believed in Apollo.
He’d saved her from a horrible torture, coming to her aid in both physical and mystical forms. No surprise when Apollo was the patron god of the Oracle of Pythia. It was probably his duty to look after her.
Or so she hoped.
But despite her shock at Neptune’s attempt on her life, Allegra hadn’t really believed it until she’d met Apollo in the flesh. Then and only then, did she accept that a god—a real live murderous god—had wanted her dead.
Ever since then she’d remained wary on the water, keeping a cold eye on waves she would once have dived into without hesitation. Now she shifted in her seat and stared out at the glimmering waters of the swimming pool.
Allegra tilted her he
ad, ensuring the wide brim of her hat hid her features. In Qusqu, she was determined to remain within the blissful peace of anonymity. Even to the point of smiling brightly at the snippy waiter who’d been so reluctant to provide her with a patio table.
The bark of a dog drew Allegra’s gaze across the breadth of the pool and her heart gave a little expectant jump. But Pepper—adorable retriever and permanent companion to Allegra’s best friend in all the world Xenia Silanyo—was on another continent entirely. She’d called Xenia from the plane, giving her anxious friend the details of her Amazonian stop. The last thing Allegra needed was for Xenia to worry about her.
After the attack of the sea god, and Allegra’s abduction and torture not too long ago, Xenia had gone from mild-mannered and frivolous to serious and motherly.
And Allegra didn’t like the transformation one bit. She wanted the old Xenia back, wanted her nonsensical gossip and afternoons of on-deck cocktails while sunbathing and praying not to fall asleep while tipsy.
The dog barked again, this time the sound a little more excited and a little more familiar. When the high yipping was followed closely by crystalline laughter, Allegra straightened and pulled off her sunglasses, scanning the poolside more intently now.
She knew that laugh.
Xenia strode across the flagstone tiles with the little retriever trotting at her ankles, the skirt of her plum-colored dress flowing behind her, tossed in her wake by an errant breeze. Xenia’s golden-brown skin gleamed in the heat of the Amazonian sunshine, and heads turned to follow in her wake. Xenia knew how to draw a crowd.
Exactly what Allegra did not need.
Allegra’s excitement at seeing her friend overshadowed her trepidation at being recognized. She got to her feet, slid the glasses back up her nose and opened her arms. Xenia made an odd high-pitched squealing sound as she squeezed Allegra so tightly that Allegra was sure she would have burst had she not been released in time.