Unamused Muse (Mt. Olympus Employment Agency: Muse Book 2)

by R. L. Naquin

  “I go back to Mt. Olympus in four weeks. So, the meeting after next, I’ll be gone.”

  She frowned. “Then you’ll come back for the meetings. Nobody quits the book club. Once you’re in the club, you’re in it forever.” She glided away without looking back.

  I slumped in my chair, hands over my face. What did forever mean to a goddess?

  By the time I pulled myself together, the caterers were back to clean up the refreshments. I followed them in, since I was nominally in charge of the operation. Silent as the dead—I wondered if that might be a literal description—they moved swiftly to pile the leftovers and dirty dishes on their cart.

  Looking at the pair gave me goose bumps. They were both so pale, and the skin around their eyes was grey and saggy. Other than a mole one had on his right cheek, they were identical.

  I pulled my glance away and rubbed the bumps on my arms. The boa constrictor in the center of the table was missing most of his middle. Crumbs were scattered around it, and one eye was smeared where someone had dipped her finger in the frosting. Verifying the snake was a cake went a long way toward calming my nerves.

  I pointed at a tray of bugs and worms. “Are those real bugs?”

  The creepy caterer next to me stopped piling plates and swiveled his neck in a slow arc to look at me. He frowned and shook his head.

  “Candy, maybe?” My voice was a little too high. This was more interaction with them than I’d planned.

  He nodded and stared at me with bloodshot eyes. “Do you want me to save you some?” To my surprise, he didn’t sound like a zombie. But he did speak with a lisp.

  Across the table, the guy with the mole spoke up. “Get her some cake, too. Shame to waste it.” He didn’t have a lisp, but he sounded perfectly normal, too.

  “Thanks.” I rubbed my arms again, this time because I was embarrassed and wanted something to do with my hands. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  The lisper shrugged. “We got it. I’m Carson.” He stuck his hand out, and we shook. “And that’s my brother, Keatley.”

  Keatley leaned across the table and shook my hand. “Pleasure.” He ducked his head, as if embarrassed, and used a cloth napkin to sweep crumbs from the table.

  Carson cut an enormous chunk of snake cake and lifted it onto a plate with the knife. Beneath the snakeskin-painted fondant, the cake was a rich crimson. I assumed it was red velvet. Something gooey oozed from the center. I hoped it was chocolate or some sort of fruit compote.

  Despite the disgusting visual, it smelled lovely.

  Carson placed a plastic fork and several chocolate—I hoped—bugs next to it, then covered it all in plastic wrap. “Here. I know those dorm kitchens don’t have a lot of variety stocked in the pantries.”

  I took the offered plate and smiled. “Thank you so much.” I shifted feet and watched them clearing up. “Are you sure I can’t help?”

  Keatley peered at me from under the table where he was picking up dropped pieces of food. When I glanced over at him, he ducked away.

  Carson pulled out a chair. “You’ve already done plenty, Miss Greene. Why don’t you have a seat? We’ll be done in a jiffy.”

  I frowned but sat. “I haven’t done anything.

  Keatley’s head popped up for a moment, then bobbed away. Carson chuckled. “Miss Greene, this is the cleanest we’ve ever seen this room, other than the last time you took care of the book club. You’ve already saved us at least an hour. Relax.”

  I had no clue what I’d done to make the ladies less wild. It wasn’t as if I’d threatened them. The previous meeting, I’d yelled at them, but I probably shouldn’t have. I had no idea why they’d behaved this time.

  With me out of the way, it didn’t take long for the pale brothers to finish up. The conference room looked the same as it had when I’d first come in several hours ago. The guys had even switched the black light bulbs for me.

  On their way out, they both gave a little half-bow and pushed their carts out the door.

  No, not at all weird.

  I asked Phyllis what she knew about the brothers when I returned to my room.

  She gave a little shiver of leaves in place of a shrug. “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, for starters, are they dead?”

  “Goodness no, dear. They were born here, and they’re quite alive.”

  “Oh.” I thought about the strange way they’d been so silent until I addressed them, how reluctant Keatley had been to talk to me, and the strange little bows they gave as they left. “Are they…?” I didn’t know how to phrase it. Normal didn’t seem politically correct. I gave up. “Never mind.”

  “Did they upset you?”

  “No. That’s not it. Forget it. They were a little odd, is all. But most people are, I guess. Especially down here.” I lifted my hand to show her what I’d brought back. “They gave me leftover cake.”

  “Is that a constrictor cake? I love those. So creative. Did you take a picture?”

  I shook my head and unwrapped the plate. “No. Wish I had.” I flopped onto the bed and prodded at the insect with one tentative finger. “Is this a real bug?”

  “What sort of place do you think this is? Of course it’s not a real bug.”

  I snapped a leg off the carapace. Slivers of outer shell fell to the plate, and cream oozed from the hole I’d made. I poked it, then licked my finger. Delicious.

  “Wynter, honey, you’ll never get to sleep if you eat that now.” She sounded scandalized.

  I picked up the nasty looking thing and gave it a closer look. Beneath the chocolate, a thin, dark shell of crystallized sugar hid a sponge cake body filled with vanilla cream. Grinning at Phyllis, I bit off the head. It was how I ate chocolate bunnies at Easter. I saw no reason not to do the same here.

  “Fine,” Phyllis said, drawing her branches in. “Don’t blame me if you can’t sleep. Those things are infused with espresso, you know.”

  That explained why the sponge cake tasted like coffee.

  I hopped off the bed to grab my purse. “I wasn’t planning to sleep yet anyway. It’s not even three yet.” The sugar and caffeine rushed through my veins, and I bounced across the room and flopped onto my bed. “I’ve got reading to do.”

  Phyllis sighed. “You’re not going to stay up all night reading. You do have work tomorrow, you know.”

  “I have to know this book inside and out. I chose it. And I have to lead the group discussion next meeting.”

  Phyllis’s voice went quiet. “You what?”

  I laughed, and it sounded like a cackle. “I’m a hag, now. And I can never leave book club. It’s forever. Isn’t that fantastic? I’m in a book club. With the goddesses of the Underworld. Because my life isn’t out of control enough.”

  I opened the book and read the first sentence of Palindrome Falls out loud. “When David first saw the dead girl, she was surrounded by feral cats, and he thought she was his sister, Paula.”

  “Wynter, this is serious. How are you supposed to go to this book club twice a month once we go home?”

  I rolled my eyes and set the book down. “I’ll have to come back. Every two weeks. So says Hecate. Are you going to argue with her?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  I returned to the book and read the opening again. “When David first saw the dead girl, she was surrounded by feral cats, and he thought she was his sister, Paula.”

  “Wynter, you don’t even have a keycard to get here.”

  I eyed her over the top of my book. “I’ll figure it out. Can you let me read, already?”

  Her leaves brushed together and rustled in a sigh. “You get into the strangest trouble.”

  I read the sentence again, this time to myself. My eyes burned with fatigue. Phyllis needn’t have worried. The sugar and caffeine rush were short lived.

  The second sentence was too long to finish before I fell asleep.

  Chapter 13

  Since it was my third week working in the Underworld,
I was getting used to the routine. Tuesdays were for going to Tartarus.

  Parker didn’t expect me to come in until noon, but I still wandered in around 10:00 AM.

  “How’d it go last night?” His brow creased with worry. “You didn’t yell at them again, did you?”

  I made a wry face. “No, but I’m leading the discussion at the next meeting.” I snatched up the golf-cart key and the list from his desk. “I’m off. Need anything while I’m out?”

  He shook his head slowly. “An explanation, maybe?”

  “If I find one while I’m gone, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  The trek across the Underworld seemed like no big deal, now that I’d been doing it for awhile. I glanced up at the sky, noting the lack of actual weather. I squinted. Now that I thought about it, I never actually saw the sun. It was light out, or it was dark.

  Maybe we really were underground. I’d have to ask Phyllis or Parker what the deal was.

  Hal wasn’t on the boat again. Peter roared up to the dock and helped the newly dead disembark. I waved as I drove past, and he lifted his arm in a vague return wave.

  Farther up the road, I watched for the correct bush so I could turn off the road. They all looked the same—gnarled, twisted, and with a few dry leaves. When I’d first driven here, I’d expected everything to look dead. Now, I wondered why. Was it because the light was artificial? Was it the often noxious fumes from the flaming river?

  Was it because nothing here was real?

  I spotted the bush and pulled off the road and into the hidden entrance to the maintenance tunnels. The huge hallway echoed with the hum of my cart. From time to time, I passed someone carrying a radio or wearing a tool belt.

  None of them were Max, which was a huge relief. He hadn’t called after our disastrous date—not that I blamed him. But I hadn’t wanted to go out with him in the first place. And he’d acted so weird. The grinning, suave guy who’d asked me out was not the guy who’d showed up at my door.

  Then again, he probably thought he’d invited a graceful flower to his friend’s wedding and got me, covered in chocolate, instead.

  I popped out of the tunnel into backstage Hollywood. Two men covered in grey-and-black-striped fur were brawling in the street in front of me. Over the fur, they were both dressed like Musketeers. I tapped the horn on my steering wheel and it made a silly beep. They stopped rolling around on the ground and helped each other up, gave me a wave, and stepped aside.

  It was as if the whole thing had been staged. Or maybe a rehearsal for a community theater production of Puss ’n Boots.

  I parked my cart and hopped out, taking the stairs two at a time. Roxy greeted me at the desk as if I’d been making the delivery for months. Or years.

  “Wynter. Yay! I need your opinion on something.” She moved her body as if nudging out her hip, but I knew she didn’t have hips. She must have undulated her coils. “Have a seat.”

  A chair rolled from behind the desk toward me.

  I grabbed it and sat. “What’s up?”

  She held up two photographs. “Which guy do you think is more appealing?”

  The one on the right had green eyes, a cleft in his chin so deep it kind of looked like an ass, and a smarmy look on his face that made me instantly dislike him. The guy on the left was in dire need of a haircut and a shave and looked past the camera as if he wasn’t sure where the lens was.

  “Well…” I hesitated. One of them could be her brother or boyfriend. Honesty might not be the best idea, here. “What am I looking for, exactly? Who would I leave my kids with in an emergency? Which one would I put on a magazine cover? Which one should you have dinner with?”

  She lowered the photos, eyes wide. “You have kids?”

  I snorted. “No. I do not have kids. I’ll reword that. How about, which one would I trust to water my plant?”

  She nodded. “Phyllis.”

  I frowned. “How do you know my plant’s name?”

  “I….” she blinked several times. “I’m sure you mentioned her. Anyway.” She held the pictures up again. “Which one would make a better date?”

  “So, you’re not related to either of them?”

  “Of course not. Which one?”

  “Well….” I pointed at the left one. “That guy would be cute if he cleaned up a bit. Not sure he’d be able to carry his end of the conversation, though.” I pointed to the other. “And this one is attractive, but I think he wouldn’t let you talk at all, unless it was about him.”

  She pouted and placed the pictures on her desk. “So, neither?”

  “I don’t know, Roxy.” She looked so sad, I felt bad. “It’s hard to tell from a photo. Besides, everybody’s taste is different. And I’m probably not the best judge anyway.”

  She nodded. “Okay. We’ll keep trying.” She picked up the phone and hit a button. “Hey, Nemi? Yeah, I asked her. She didn’t like yours or mine.” She listened for a moment. “Alright. I’ll tell her.” She hung up and smiled at me. “Nemi said to tell you she’s sorry we weren’t successful, and maybe we’ll have someone more to your taste next week.”

  “What?” Were they trying to set me up? Was everyone trying to set me up? “Those guys were for me?”

  “Potentially.” She dropped the photos into a drawer. “Also, Nemi’s in a meeting right now, so she said to leave the list with me today.”

  “Oh. Alright.” I handed her the list and stood to wait while she signed the receipt and handed me back my copy to file. “I guess I should be going, then.” I wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed, angry, or worried that I’d pissed them off. “See you next week.”

  I turned to go and Roxy caught my hand.

  “Hey.” She gave me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, okay?”

  I frowned. “About what?”

  “Don’t worry about anything. It’s all going to come out fine.” She squeezed my hand and let me go.

  All the way out of the building, I wondered what the hell she was talking about. And when I got to my cart, I found a stuffed bear with a big blue bow around its neck. It was so big it almost looked like a human sitting in the passenger’s seat.

  My stalker secret admirer had upped his game.

  ~*~

  I didn’t get far before I had to pull over to avoid being run down by what appeared to be a man with the head of a fish. He was carrying a hatchet in one hand and an eggplant in the other. He smelled like a gym locker room as he sped by, and I held my breath.

  I inched along in my cart, trying to get through the crowd of people and other tiny vehicles, but made little progress. Some sort of event must’ve finished, spilling everyone out of one of the nearby buildings. Usually, I had no trouble getting around. Today, it was impossible.

  A little red light blinked on my dashboard, grabbing my attention. The battery was nearly drained. I’d been inside for such a short time the cart hadn’t had time to recharge from my trip out there. Being stuck in traffic had further drained it.

  As soon as I drew near the next building, I inched the cart to the side, pulled close to a charging station, and plugged in.

  “Well, buddy,” I said to the giant stuffed bear in my passenger seat. “Looks like we’ll have to people watch for awhile to occupy our time.”

  The bear didn’t respond, and his button eyes didn’t change expression.

  I patted his soft tummy. “That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll carry the conversation.”

  Sighing, I sat back against the seat and tried to get comfortable. Out on the street, people bustled about, yelling to each other, waving clipboards, or carrying odd objects—fishbowls filled with dead flowers, baskets of mannequin parts, boxes of plastic penguins—to other locations.

  Two women, a blonde and a redhead, each held an end of a rolled-up carpet. After they passed me, I noted two feet sticking out of the back end of the carpet, wiggling their toes. A harried man in a lab coat led a gorilla on a leash in the opposite direction.


  If I had to be stuck somewhere while I powered up my cart, this was certainly an entertaining place to do it.

  Across the street, a guy in overalls shinnied up a light pole. He unscrewed a bulb, placed it in his tool belt, then screwed in a new one. Someone shouted something up to him and he looked down and behind him.

  My breath caught. “Shit.”

  From that angle, I could see Max’s profile. He slid down the pole to the ground. Without thinking, I bolted out of the cart and around the corner.

  It wasn’t that I was afraid of him, or even all that embarrassed about my chocolate dive. But talking to him right then seemed like a terrible idea. I wasn’t having the greatest morning. Being forced to have an awkward, half-stuttered conversation about why he hadn’t called or how changeless the weather was in the Underworld seemed like it would be torture.

  I pressed myself against the stucco wall and peered around the corner. He had a quizzical look on his face and was looking at my cart with the bear sitting shotgun.

  Then he crossed the street toward it.

  “Sonofabitch,” I muttered under my breath. I stepped behind the building before he could see me. A small door stood a few feet away, and I tried the knob. The door swung open, and I stepped inside.

  The inside of the building was nothing like I’d expected it to look, based on the crazy Hollywood backstage feel of the streets outside. It was more like a museum of natural history than anything else. A wide hallway meandered through the building, dotted here and there with what looked like animal habitats. A few people walked past me, unconcerned by my presence. Apparently, I hadn’t sneaked into a high-security building.

  The first habitat I came to contained a lovely waterfall pouring into a small pond. A woman stood beneath it, sopping wet, one arm straight out to keep her cigarette dry. As I watched, the waterfall stopped, and the woman leaned toward her outstretched arm, pulling in her hand to take a quick drag. She almost made it. The waterfall began, and she flung her arm out to keep the cigarette dry. She cried out in frustration as water poured down on her head.

  The front of the enclosure was a half-wall made of Plexiglas. I ducked down to see what was going on beneath the surface. The water was clear and illuminated by hidden lighting. Both the woman’s ankles were held in place by chains. She couldn’t move an inch.