“There flash'd, like autumn's star, that brightest shines, when newly risen from his ocean bath.” — Homer
THE DOCTOR AND the magician eyed each other, neither moving. Alexis’s cheek stung, but he was more shocked than in pain. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had slapped him. Or the last time he’d let them.
“What did you do to me? Who the hell are you?” Penelope asked through gritted teeth.
“You are understandably angry, Penelope, and I owe you an explanation.” He gestured in the direction of the kitchen. “Come with me, and I’ll make us something warm to drink while we talk.” They held each other’s gaze a moment longer, Alexis waiting to see if she would yield or run.
He didn’t want her to leave. This human woman with her dark hair tousled by the salt wind was the realest thing that had stepped through the door in over a century.
But she had to choose to stay of her own accord, and he wasn’t allowed to influence her decision as part of his agreement with Nereus.
“I could use a coffee,” Penelope relented, taking a nervous step forward. The door shut silently behind her.
“Me too,” he admitted, giving her a small smile.
Alexis didn’t turn to see if she was following as he led the way to the kitchen; he could feel the heat of her angry aura pulsating six feet from her body. If she stayed, he would have to make sure Phaidros didn’t start rubbing up against her like a cat in heat.
Alexis opened a cupboard and took down his favorite copper cezve pot.
“Would you like sugar?” he asked as if he’d had her around for casual drinks a thousand times before. He wanted her to be at ease, and it surprised him. He should be terrifying her, so she never bothered them again.
“Sugar would be good. Answers would be better,” replied Penelope sharply. She hesitated before sitting down on a stool on the opposite side of the blond timber bar, closest to the door. Alexis tried not to smile at how cautious she was. She was brave enough to walk through the front door and yet drinking coffee worried her. What an interesting creature you are shaping up to be.
“This is a nice kitchen,” she said, likely trying to fill the awkward silence.
Alexis looked around at the mosaic of bluestone tiles, white cupboards, and timber accents. Nereus always liked fresh flowers in the house, and bright blooms sat in crystal vases around them.
“Zotikos redecorates it nearly every time he visits Venice. He thinks himself a chef and insists on a fresh creative space.” Alexis scooped the finely ground coffee and sugar into the pot and mixed it with filtered water before setting it on the stove.
“Zotikos is another…magician?” Penelope asked hesitantly as if she had to force herself to say the word. He could see the questions wanting to explode out of her. So the memory spell has shredded enough for her to remember that we are magicians. Interesting.
“Yes, he is. He’s younger than the rest of us and prefers focusing his art on poetry.”
“Is he any good?”
Alexis took a copper spoon from a drawer as he considered the question. “His poetry is better than his cooking.”
Penelope smiled unexpectedly before she tried to hide it. He poured her coffee into a blue-and-gold ceramic cup and placed it on a saucer in front of her.
“I can’t remember the last time I had coffee made like this,” she said, lifting it to her nose to smell its rich, strong scent. Alexis waited until she had taken her first small sip, taking pleasure in the way her cheeks warmed in response to the heat. “This is really good coffee,” she said begrudgingly. “My mother would love this cup; can I ask where you bought it?”
Alexis touched the ceramic saucer, shutting his eyes a moment as he read its history. “Kotiaion in the 14th century, just before the Ottomans made the city a part of the empire.”
The cup and saucer rattled in her hands as she placed it back on the counter.
“Is something the matter?”
“Fourteenth century Ottoman ceramics should be in a museum, not in a kitchen cupboard,” squeaked Penelope.
“If they were in a museum, what would we drink out of?” Alexis replied. “Drink, Penelope. It has been handled by rougher hands than yours.”
“Extraordinary,” she said, picking up the cup again, her historian eyes taking in the fine golden pattern.
“I assure you, Doctor Bryne, the coffee cups are the least extraordinary thing in this house.”
This time her smile was open as she said, “I’m starting to figure that out for myself. How—why did you take my memories away?”
“I removed your memories, or tried to, to protect those like me.”
“From me? What possible threat am I to you? I’d never hurt anyone. I’m an academic, I’m as harmless as they come.”
“If that were true, he wouldn’t have been trying to trash your career for years,” Phaidros said as he came into the kitchen, dressed in a gold-silk robe and nothing else.
I am going to kill you. Alexis glared at Phaidros as he took the remaining coffee from the pot. Alexis turned just in time to dodge the cup that Penelope just claimed was priceless. She was shaking with fury.
“What the actual fuck,” Penelope ground out through clenched teeth.
“Whoa! Look at that aura flare!” Phaidros laughed as he stepped over the broken china. “He didn’t tell you? Alexis, you should be more honest. We’ve known about you for some time, Doctor Bryne. Alexis even traveled to Australia to see you a few years ago, and you’ve had him all tied up in anxious knots since.”
Penelope picked up the saucer, and her eyes went wide in sudden recognition. “You. You were that crazy guy at my lecture arguing about magic and trying to make me look like an ass.”
“You pulled the corner of a sacred Tablet from the sea,” Alexis replied, folding his arms. “Of course I asked you about bloody magic.”
Anger and curiosity warred on Penelope’s face. “How do you know it was a sacred Tablet? No one knows what it is. People still want to believe it’s a fake.”
“It’s not a fake at all,” Phaidros said, leaning toward her. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re radiant when you are angry?”
“Has anyone ever told you wearing all gold makes you look like a rejected Christmas tree decoration?” Penelope snapped. Alexis choked on his coffee as unexpected laughter bubbled up through him.
Phaidros grinned like a shark. “We might just keep you yet, Penelope Bryne.”
“Go away, Phaidros. You’ve done enough,” Alexis said.
“He’s done enough? What about you?” Penelope rounded on him, the saucer in her hand trembled as if she was still fighting the urge to throw it.
“I do hate arguments, even if I could just lick all of your lovely energy up,” Phaidros purred. “Ciao bella.” He sauntered out of the room, and Penelope’s hazel eyes narrowed.
“You might want to be careful. If you keep talking like that to him, he’ll fall in love with you,” Alexis teased. “And there is nothing worse than Phaidros in love.”
“Oh, I don’t know, sabotaging someone’s career for no good reason seems a hell of a lot worse to me.”
Alexis leaned against the bench opposite her, trying to make his body language nonthreatening. She was angry, but there was a bruised look in her eyes and her tone, and he knew her career wasn’t the only thing he’d damaged. What did you think would happen? That she would just pick herself up and find another dream?
“You were getting too close,” he admitted softly. “Give me the afternoon to explain. I’ll show you my reasons, and then you may begin to understand.”
“I’m going crazy, aren’t I? This is another fever dream, and I’m back in my hotel, and I’m dying of some viral—”
Alexis took her hand. He did it before even considering the consequences fully. She looked down at his ink-stained fingers covering hers, and Alexis felt the tug of the twisting line of light that connected them. His third eye opened and he saw it reconnecting, pulsing brig
hter than before. It was that line that had led her to his tower during her meditation, like a beautiful Theseus heading into the den of the Minotaur. Her hand curled under his, and the way she was looking at him, Alexis knew she felt it too.
“You’re safe here, Penelope. Let me show you who we are, and why I have been working so hard to protect us,” he said and slowly moved his hand away. “Or I can show you the way out, and you’ll never see us again.”
Penelope studied him silently before finally putting the saucer down. “Okay. You have one afternoon, but I swear you better have the best explanation in the history of explanations.”
“Curiosity wins the day,” Alexis replied as he stepped over the broken china.
“I’m…sorry I broke your cup.”
“But not that you threw it?”
“Obviously,” Penelope said as they made for the kitchen door.
Alexis snapped his fingers behind him, and the broken cup mended itself and moved back to the saucer.
“I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” It was a silly piece of showmanship, but the look on her face was too priceless for him to resist.
Alexis walked slowly through the house allowing Penelope to stop and look at the Caravaggio, Titian, and Tintoretto paintings, along with some Athenian vases, marble sculptures, and a set of bronze Minoan bull statues.
“All of this stuff should be in museums,” Penelope said as she studied a perfectly persevered Spartan helmet from the Persian wars.
“These are trinkets compared to some of the other things in the house,” Alexis teased. He was slightly surprised to find how much he enjoyed her curiosity and how much he wanted to show her.
You are getting too old to be this delighted by a stranger. “We had better get a move on. Otherwise, you will be here a lot longer than an afternoon.”
“Fair enough,” Penelope said with a sigh, her head turned awkwardly as she studied the inside of the helmet.
When they arrived at a set of brilliant blue-and-gold doors, Alexis found himself unexpectedly nervous.
“Before you go in I want you to know that you are an incredible scholar,” he said seriously. “Many have studied Atlantis, or tried to, but you are the one that was the closest to the truth.”
Penelope folded her arms. “There are a lot of people out there who would disagree with you.”
Alexis smiled smugly and opened the blue doors. “Trust me, I am the leading authority.”
Penelope’s arms fell to her sides as she took in the contents of the room, her aura flaring in surprise and pleasure.
She gripped the door frame to steady herself and whispered, “Holy Atlantis.”
THE LONG SET of chambers before Penelope was filled with books, scrolls, tablets, sculptures, paintings, films, and music. All of it was on Atlantis. There were vases and sculptures covered in barnacles, pieces of broken mosaic tiles, and fragile papyrus pressed under planes of glass. But that wasn’t what captured Penelope’s attention.
Resting on a coffee table was the Journal for Oceanic Cultural Research Volume 27. Penelope had the same copy on display in her flat in Melbourne. They had accepted a full paper on her research of the Atlantis Tablet. She was a part of his collection like a creepy trophy.
“This is quite the obsession,” she said slowly. In fact, it was the same level of obsessive passion of the killer she had profiled for Marco. Penelope’s hand went to the handle of the oyster knife in her pocket, and she moved away from him, putting a lounge and the coffee table between them.
“Stop, Penelope, your mind is making leaps that are false,” Alexis said.
“You don’t know what my mind is leaping to,” she snapped.
Alexis made a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. “I’m no acolyte of Thevetat, and I’m certainly not the murderer you and Inspector Dandolo are looking for.”
“How do you know about the murders?” she demanded, holding the knife in front of her. “There has been no media, no police reports that you could’ve—”
“I had to know why you were in Venice, so I broke into your hotel room and saw the Bull on your wall and the police reports on your desk,” Alexis admitted.
“You are a next-level stalker, you know that?” Penelope shook her head. “How did you know where my hotel was?”
“You kept seeking me out in meditations. I followed the path you left when you astral projected into my tower. I thought you were here in Venice because of us. I didn’t realize you were helping the polizia.”
“Why would I be here for you? I don’t even know you.” Penelope sat down on one of the plush chairs on the other side of the room. “Who are you people? And don’t give me that vague magician bullshit again. Tell me facts.”
“If you can’t believe that, Penelope, even after what you have seen with your own eyes, then I don’t know if you’re ready to hear the truth.”
“Jesus, you guys are another cult, aren’t you?” groaned Penelope. “I knew it.”
“If I sit down, do you promise not to stab me?” he asked. “I’m letting you keep that knife because it makes you feel safe. I don’t know how else to convince you that you have nothing to be afraid of.”
Penelope wanted to believe him. Everything about him scared and attracted her all at once. She didn’t know why she felt connected to him, but she wasn’t about to trust him. When she’d seen him standing on the other side of the door, it had taken every ounce of bravery she possessed not to run the other way.
Seeing Alexis in meditations and hazy memories was nothing like being subjected to the full force of his real presence. He was mesmerizing, making everything around him seem a little duller. It had to be some kind of magic, right? she thought. Even though she was furious with him, she was also struggling to look anywhere else.
Very slowly, Penelope placed the knife on the coffee table. “Truce. For the next ten minutes only.”
“Ten minutes is all I need.” Alexis sat down on the chair beside her, and she tried not to move away. “It’s okay, Penelope. We aren’t a cult. We are magicians.”
“And that’s better? This room feels pretty culty to me. You said you would give me answers so start giving them. Start with why you thought it was okay to crash my career.” This better be so good.
“I can show you if you like. Do you trust me?” Alexis said and held out his hand.
“Not even a little bit.”
“Well, then you might find this uncomfortable.”
Before she could stop him, he took her hand, and she was falling.
Penelope found herself standing in the misting rain of a cold Melbourne night. They stood on the corner of Lonsdale and Swanston Street looking up at the tall gray pillars of the Victorian State Library. It glowed like a defiant beacon of academia amidst the rowdy nighttime shoppers and club goers.
“What is this?” she asked, gripping his hand hard.
“This is a memory. One of mine, in fact. You will know and feel this night as I did.” He looked about him and pointed out a shadowy reflection of himself dressed in a dark blue suit. “I hope you are ready for this, Penelope Bryne.”
“And this is supposed to make me less afraid of you?” she asked, letting his hand go.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” He flashed her an amused look as he crossed the tram line to the State Library. As they caught up to the shadowy version of himself, Alexis nudged her forward.
“Hey, what gives—?” she began but was cut short as she suddenly merged with the second Alexis, becoming him.
A WEEK beforehand an antiques dealer in Florence had told him of a mysterious stone tablet that had been pulled from the sea at Crete. His heart had stopped when he’d heard the name of the lucky diver; Doctor Penelope Bryne. He had been keeping a file on her career as a person of interest, and he was fuming that her discovery hadn’t been flagged earlier. The Journal of Oceanic Cultural Research had already published a paper, one Penelope was going to present to a crowded lecture hall of academics and studen
ts that evening.
He was worried and frustrated, burdened with the knowledge that if she were getting too close to the truth, he would have to kill her to protect his secrets.
Alexis entered the State Library, passing students taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi and warm study space, and followed the small signs that led him to the lecture hall. He took a seat at the back in case he needed to make a quick exit. People filed in around him, his height and dark looks garnering curious glances from a crowd already familiar with each other, either socially or academically. He assumed the air of a wealthy, potential investor as he avoided eye contact and leafed through the glossy brochure that had been left on every chair.
There were photos of the seabed where the dubbed Atlantis Tablet had been found, obscured by sand and rock. How had she even seen it amongst all of that? Photographs and artistic renderings of what they could make out of script were in one corner, and on the back was a picture of Penelope with the people she had been diving with. Her face was ecstatic amidst the crowd, her braid over one shoulder and green eyes shining.
You are going to have to crush that hopeful dream from her eyes, Alexis reminded himself. He shuffled in his seat, the thought making him surprisingly uncomfortable.
Alexis sat patiently as the hall filled up and the dean from a local university announced Penelope and her achievements. She was younger than he expected; too young to have achieved so much. He knew from her file that she was brilliant.
Dressed in a knit dress, knee-high boots, and a black blazer she looked too warm and charming to be an academic. Alexis had expected someone withdrawn, soft-spoken, and aloof. She was a strong speaker; casual with the subject, passion giving her lecture a pulse of excitement.
There was something else that was undeniable; Penelope Bryne was nothing short of obsessed with Atlantis and had a relentless hunger to find it. She silenced naysayers in the crowd with an easy grace, unperturbed by the questions. It would have been better to remain anonymous, but Alexis’s desire betrayed him.
“What about magic?” he interrupted, his deep voice carrying easily through the room.
The Immortal City Page 7