Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

  My stomach twisted in knots. Demarco had been following me, so he had to know I’d doubted him. I wondered what he thought of me now. “I had to be sure he was telling the truth.”

  “You know I can tell when people lie, and you trust that I would have told you, right?”

  Oh yeah.

  In my wine and rejection-induced meltdown I’d completely forgotten about Tweety’s claims that he could hear the change in heartbeat and smell physical changes when someone lied. “So he wasn’t lying. But…” The specifics of Demarco’s rejection were too embarrassing to share with the kid. “He’s definitely been misleading me.”

  “How?”

  Unwilling to share and tell, I said, “Forget it.”

  Footsteps came pounding down the stairs. Carrying three plates of food, Demarco turned the corner and his gaze instantly found me.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, his expression guarded.

  Tweety stood and grabbed two of the plates from Demarco, holding one out to me.

  In spite of my humiliation, pancakes and sausage awakened my stomach. “Good,” I lied as my head throbbed. I threw back the covers, thankful to see that I was still fully clothed beneath them, and sat up a little too quickly. My vision swam and my brain felt like it might implode, but I managed to stay upright.

  “It’s just a headache, and I already took something for it, so it should be gone soon. Let’s just eat so we can go.” I accepted the plate Tweety offered and got right down to the planning. “We’ll be too late to catch her at the office, but maybe she keeps the essence there. We can break in and check it out and maybe find a home address for her in the system.” I gestured to the computers Demarco had hooked to his forges. “Are you any good at electronics?”

  “I wrote the program to run the forges and another build the molds.”

  I blinked, unsure of how to process this new information. He was a programmer? I looked to Tweety, but the griffin looked confused.

  “There’s not a lot of software out there to control the temperature and duration of a forge, so I made it do what I needed it to do,” Demarco explained. “And I wanted to customize my molds, and the only software I could find for that was extremely limiting.”

  “But you wrote programs?” I was pretty good at computers, but programming was well beyond my capabilities “Where did you learn how to do that?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve always understood the way computers worked and how to get them to do what I want. It’s like it is with metals, but different. Once you learn the facts about a metal—what it reacts to, how hot it has to get to melt, how much it expands when it cools, details like that—it’s pretty easy to manipulate. Computers are even easier to manipulate because they’re basically wired to be commanded.”

  He made it sound so easy, but I knew from experience it wasn’t. I could barely struggle my way through Java script code. “That skill could come in handy. It has to be another gift from Hephaestus.”

  Demarco shrugged again. “I wouldn’t know.” He sat down on the bench by his forge—clear across the room—and Tweety sat on the bed beside me. We ate in awkward silence, letting last night’s ordeal linger in the air. Demarco’s gaze stayed firmly on his plate and Tweety looked anywhere but at me. Without any chitchat to slow us down, we finished quickly, and then Tweety stood and collected the plates.

  “I’ll go put these in the dishwasher so we can get out of here,” he said before escaping the tense room.

  I scooted out of the bed and got ready while Demarco busied himself around the shop. He still wasn’t looking at me. Regardless of whatever had happened between us last night, we were about to go up against gods and we needed to at least be able to communicate.

  “About last night…” Demarco started, but then sputtered out, rubbing the back of his neck.

  As much as I knew we needed to talk about it, I really didn’t want to. Offering him an easy out, I held up my hand and said, “It’s okay. I misread your signs and…it’s not a big deal. I’m already over it.”

  He shook his head. “You didn’t misread anything, Romi.”

  I watched him, waiting for him to continue.

  “It’s just that…all that talk about the gods and how most of them seem to be ruled by their desires. I don’t want that for Doreán, or for us. I am really attracted to you, and as much as I wanted to be with you last night, this eighty-twenty arrangement…it’s not gonna work for me. That’s not the type of relationship example I want to set for Doreán. You don’t want someone taking care of you, and I get that. You want a partnership? Cool. I’m in. But it needs to be fifty-fifty.”

  “I don’t even really know you,” I said.

  He chuckled. “Then ask…whatever you want to know. I’ve told you everything, and answered every question you’ve thrown at me. Whereas you…you won’t even tell me who your mom is. You don’t trust me, Romi, and you’re gonna get us both killed.” He closed the distance between us, and pulled me into his arms. Then he released me but tucked a knuckle under my chin and tugged it upward until I was looking at him.

  “Listen to me,” he said, locking gazes with me. “I want to be with you, but I want more than just some drunken fling, and we’d both had too much to drink last night. As much as I want you—all of you—I’m not going there again. Not until you learn to trust me and make this thing between us a real partnership.”

  My throat felt dry under the heat of his stare. I swallowed a couple of times before I could finally speak. “I am literally the first person outside of your mother that you have ever met. Yes we have a kid together, and there are definitely some sparks between us, but…you’re talking about…Demarco, we’ve only really known each other a handful of days. Don’t you think you should see what else is out there first?”

  “I know what I want.”

  Demarco thought he was ready to play for keeps, but we’d both just been dealt a new hand. What if it didn’t go as expected and we had to fold? “How can you be so sure?” I asked.

  He lowered his lips to mine again, kissing me gently, but with more emotion than ever before. I could almost feel his promises and taste his sincerity.

  The sound of Tweety’s feet on the stairs interrupted our moment. Face warm and lips swollen, I hurried to collect my bag and hold out my hands to them. As I wrapped shadows around us, Demarco squeezed my hand. I looked up at him and he said, “Trust me, Romi.”

  I didn’t know if I could, but man I wanted to try. Unable to make any promises, I squeezed his hand back before tugging him and Tweety into the shadows with me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THE JOB I did in Stockholm, Sweden stuck out in my mind because I fell in love with the city. It’s spread across fourteen islands, which are connected by bridges. In addition to being rich in culture and art, Stockholm is one of the cleanest cities I’ve ever visited. When I was stealing an antique necklace from the palace, I remember thinking I’d love to take Doreán there to visit someday. It felt kind of strange to be back there now in hopes of finding one of the pieces to rescuing him.

  Demarco, Tweety, and I stepped out of the shadows and I was immediately blinded by the high sun. Shielding my eyes, I looked up and did a few calculations in my mind.

  “What’s wrong?” Tweety asked. “You look confused.”

  “We left Demarco’s a little after eight thirty, right?”

  They both nodded.

  I stopped a businessman who was walking down the sidewalk and asked him for the time. He checked his watch and informed me it was a little after one.

  “What is it?” Demarco asked.

  I pulled them into a huddle. “Demarco, do you know where your house is?”

  The blank stare he gave me made me realize what a ridiculous question that was.

  “I mean where in the world?”

  “No. Mom said once she thought we were in northern California, but she wasn’t sure.”

  “I would have assumed the same thing, since the ocean is on th
e west. Besides, the climate and terrain…maybe even southern Oregon. But definitely somewhere along the northern Pacific Coast of the USA.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Tweety asked.

  “The time zones don’t match up. There should be nine hours difference, but this is less than five. When we came back from England, the time zones were correct, or at least they were close enough that the difference didn’t make me suspicious. But this… I don’t know what to make of it. I mean, I’m glad it happened, because now, hopefully, we can find Eileithyia still at work, but it’s weird.”

  “You’ve told me before that some of the gods can manipulate time,” Tweety replied. “Do you think that’s what happened?”

  “I don’t know. Probably, but I wish I knew who did it and whether they are trying to hurt or help us.”

  We didn’t have time to stand there and speculate, so we hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address for Elia Eriksson’s maternal clinic. I spent the entire fifteen-minute ride hoping and praying Elia turned out to be Eileithyia and had an essence, because if not, we were back to square one. It turns out I had nothing to worry about, though, because Elia was waiting for us in the lobby.

  The recognition in her eyes threw me off. “Hello, Romi, Demarco. It’s about time you arrived. I have to head to a delivery soon, so I don’t have much time. Follow me.”

  “You…you recognize us?” I asked.

  “I always remember the children I deliver. It doesn’t matter how old they get or how much they change.”

  I still wasn’t certain whether or not she’d delivered Doreán, but I now knew who delivered me, which meant she had to be Eileithyia. Relieved, I let out a deep breath as we followed her through a door and down a hallway. The idea that we could be walking into a trap briefly flitted through my mind, but the midwife was clearly in a hurry, and I feared that if we slowed down we’d lose her cooperation completely. She gestured us in to a cramped examining room. We crowded around the bed as she closed the door behind us.

  “Thank you for seeing us, Eileithyia,” I said, trying to get off on the right foot.

  “Please, call me Elia, and before you start asking a bunch of questions, I don’t have the essence.”

  “But you were expecting us?” I asked, confused. Nobody had ambushed us though, and I didn’t sense any sort of a trap.

  “Yes, Mom asked me to tell you where it is.” She straightened the stethoscope hanging around her neck. “I wish she wouldn’t involve me in her little spats with my father. It’s such a waste of time since she always forgives him, but I stopped trying to understand their relationship years ago. Mom knew she would cave, which is why she didn’t give me the essence.”

  “Then what did she do with it?” Demarco asked.

  The way Elia’s face screwed up told me we wouldn’t like the answer. She grabbed the clipboard from the counter and shuffled through papers, tugging a few loose. “It’s currently in Turkey’s presidential palace. Eris has been spending some time with the president and is keeping the essence in the locked safe in her room.”

  “Eris?” I asked, not wanting to believe my ears. “Hera gave the essence to Eris?”

  Elia winced. “Yes. She knew Eris wouldn’t hand it over to anyone, Mom included. Mom regrets that decision now and she’s asked me to give these to you.” Elia handed me a map of the palace and a picture of the woods outside of it. “The photograph is from yesterday. She said you’d need it in order to get there quickly. She’s marked off Eris’s room on the map and jotted down some details about security.”

  How did Hera know I’d need a recent photograph in order to travel? Did all the gods know of my abilities? My stomach churned as I shuffled through the documents. Out of all of Hera’s children, why did she have to give the essence to the batshit crazy one? “If Hera has all of this, can’t she just waltz right in and retrieve the essence herself?” I asked.

  “And risk Eris’s wrath?” Elia snorted. “No, Mother will not do that. Your best bet is to get in and out of there before anyone sees you and can identify you. My sister has a long memory and she does not forgive.” She grabbed another photo from the clipboard and handed it to me. This one was of a man with graying hair, squinty eyes, a ghost of a mustache, and a crooked nose, wearing a decorated military uniform. “This is what Eris currently looks like. She’s masquerading as the Chief of General Staff.”

  “Eris is whispering sweet nothings into the president’s ear?” I asked. “No wonder Turkey’s been in the news so much lately.”

  I wasn’t a big news junkie, but for the past few months I hadn’t been able to turn on the television without some bulletin about the discord in Turkey. There’d been bombings, a coup, and all sorts of insanity happening.

  “Yes, well, she and Ares are playing some sort of game with the humans. They’ve each chosen a champion and are competing to see how many territories they can get their champion to take over.”

  “Sounds like a game of Risk,” Tweety replied.

  “Of what?” Elia asked.

  “Risk. It’s a computer game that Romi and I play sometimes. You compete and try to take over the world,” he replied, sounding a little too excited about it. The game had been a blast to play, but the idea of those two playing it in real life, using real human lives, was terrifying.

  “Two bloodthirsty gods vying for world domination. Awesome,” I said, trying to bring the kid back into reality.

  Tweety frowned. “Yeah, that’s bad. That’s really bad.”

  “And that’s all I have for you.” Elia glanced at her watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a delivery to get to. Please show yourselves out.”

  She left through the door, but by the time I leaned into the hall to look for her, she was gone.

  “Eris, huh?” Tweety said, scratching the peach fuzz on his chin as he joined me in the hallway.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “We’re in trouble.”

  “That’s the crazy one, isn’t it?” Demarco asked, catching up.

  “Of course it is. Let’s find a library and do some research.”

  A half hour later we were huddled around a computer and neck deep in current events and mythological lore.

  “Tell me about Eris,” Demarco said, looking over my shoulder.

  “I’m sure you’ve heard of her work, you just don’t realize it,” I said. “When Peleus and Thetis—the parents of Achilles, the hero known for his Achilles’ heel—got married, all of the Olympians except Eris were invited to the wedding. I mean, who wants the goddess of strife and discord at a wedding? Anyway, Eris got all pissy about not being invited, inscribed the words ‘To the Fairest One’ on a golden apple and dropped it in the middle of the party, which happened to be full of Olympia’s vainest. Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite were all three sure the apple was meant for them and they popped off their press-on nails, removed their hair extensions, and started duking it out. Zeus, coward that he is, appointed Paris, Prince of Troy, to solve the dispute. After the goddesses all bribed him, he selected Aphrodite, who promised him the most beautiful woman in the world; Helen, who happened to be the wife of the king of Sparta. Which is how the Trojan War began.”

  “Press-on nails and hair extensions, huh?” Demarco asked.

  “Romi likes to add a little flair to her stories,” Tweety said.

  “Honestly, that’s how I see it happening in my mind.”

  Tweety patted my back. “I know, which is why it’s especially concerning.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So yeah, Eris enjoys turning people against each other, causing wars, and toppling governments.”

  “When do we get to go against the hippy gods who want to sit around a campfire and roast marshmallows?” Demarco asked.

  I started to laugh, but it died in my throat as an image of Turkey’s presidential palace populated on my screen.

  “Holy crap!” Tweety said.

  “That’s where the essence is?” Demarco asked. “The thing looks like a fortress.”


  Worse, it looked like a well-lit fortress with armed guards and a well-guarded layout I couldn’t find online.

  “How are we gonna get in there?” Demarco asked.

  I gave him a hopeful smile. “Think you can hack a security system?”

  “I’ve never hacked anything before. I get the concept, and I could try.”

  “Maybe the next castle. We’ll do this one the old-fashioned way. You two will catch something on fire and create a diversion, while I pop into the room, break open the safe, and take the essence. Easy peasy.”

  “Okay.” Demarco sat at the computer beside me. “But let me look into a few things just in case.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I’D READ ONLINE that the presidential palace had somewhere around eleven hundred and fifty rooms and was about thirty times the size of the White House. Although those numbers registered in my mind, I didn’t truly grasp the physical space that would occupy until I was hiding in the trees outside of a security gate that seemed to go on forever, gaping at the three enormous buildings before me, and seriously doubting my abilities.

  We’d been in Turkey for a little over thirty-two hours now. During that time, Demarco had done some online sleuthing and tried his hand at hacking, discovering which groundskeepers the palace employed. Then we’d conducted a little breaking and entering and stolen uniforms to fit both him and Tweety. According to the badges on their coveralls, Tweety was now Asil and Demarco was Serhat. Tweety was in charge of keeping Demarco’s hammer glamoured, but even with the giant weapon hidden neither of them really looked like Turkish gardeners.

  Surprisingly enough, the gardeners did often work the palace grounds at night, but none were scheduled for tonight, which was good, since the guys wouldn’t run into anyone who knew the real Asil and Serhat. But it was also bad, because if anyone saw them and checked the schedule, we’d probably find out whether or not Demarco could swing a hammer fast enough to deflect bullets. Just in case, he had Plan B (a silenced pistol) holstered inside his coveralls. And Tweety…well Tweety could always morph into a giant furry eagle and give everyone in the vicinity a heart attack.