Fates' Folly (10 page)

He leaned against the front door. "What can I
say, Myra, that won't sound clichéd and over done?"

"How about the truth?"

Peter smiled, putting his clasped hands
together over his heart. "The truth, my dear, is complicated and
often dangerous."

"And that wasn't clichéd and over done? Why
bring it up if you're not going to tell me anything?"

"Amusement?" he asked, before disappearing as
if he had melted into the door.

"I've never been able to figure out how he
does that," Riley said from behind me.

I swiveled, sloshing pink
sugary milk over the bowl onto my hands. Riley was standing over me
frowning, but I was more interested in the bag of Krispy Kreme
donuts he was holding.

"Where did you get those? And are you
planning to share?" I asked politely- because that's what you did
if you wanted something.

Riley held out the bag. "I tracked
Sebastian's movements from last night. Unfortunately, it ended at a
gas station near the highway. Some blonde behind the counter sold
me the donuts." A hint of a smile crept up on his face. "She was
very attentive, showed me which flavors were your favorite and was
kind enough to offer me her services if I ever found myself in
need."

"That bitch." I snatched the white paper bag
out of his hand and looked inside. "Awww, what a sweetie, she saved
me two of the chocolate frosted."

Riley shook his head. "I have never
understood your kind."

"What, women?"

"No, southerners."

"Funny," I said, taking my bowl and bag of
donuts into the kitchen.

I was staring at the can of Hershey's syrup
on the top shelf of the fridge.

Riley, who had followed me into the kitchen,
said, "Are you at all concerned that the blonde at the gas station
knew I was staying here?"

I shut the fridge and turned towards him.
"No, I introduced you to Bo this morning…sheesh that seems like
ages ago…anyway, he probably said something to someone, and they
said something to someone else. It's how quaint little towns work,
it's part of their charm," I said, heavy on the sarcasm.

Riley frowned. "I don't think charm is the
correct word. I find it a bit alarming. It was not my plan to
advertise my presence here. I doubt Sebastian is walking around
chatting with your neighbors, but if enough people are talking
about me staying here, he'll know, and any element of surprise I
might have had will be compromised."

"Look, it was unavoidable. If Bo hadn't found
out about you, Mrs. Crowell, my downstairs neighbor and landlord,
would have had it all over town by now. She's probably sitting in
her gaudy apartment right now counting our footsteps and working
out some mathematic equation involving weight ratio and sound
decibels that will tell her your height, age and sexual
orientation."

"She sounds interesting," he said.

"She's a crotchety old hag, but I would never
underestimate her."

He leaned against the kitchen table, so I
continued, "My point is that it would have gotten around anyway,
and at least, if it was Bo who talked, everyone will also hear that
you're my uncle- which isn't juicy enough to keep anyone
interested. By tomorrow, everyone will be talking about something
else."

I reopened the fridge. My plan was to
continue my assessment of the can of chocolate syrup, but Riley
reached around me and shut the fridge door.

"Hey, I was contemplating gluttony. The visit
from Peter of the Pearly Gates has made me reconsider some of my
choices in life."

Riley smirked. “And I was only teasing, but I
guess it’s a good thing I stopped you. Gluttony, really?”

I sighed, "No, not really." I slumped against
the closed fridge. "I was trying to decide if chocolate milk and my
impending donut consumption would make me sick. Unfortunately, my
stomach still hasn't recovered from my Haagen-Dazs binge last
night. But for a moment there, I did think I should reevaluate my
life. Do you think Peter would see me as redeemable?"

"He sees everyone as redeemable, but, in your
case, it wouldn't matter. You're a future Assassin in training. You
belong to Hades. You're even his chosen Champion in the Olympian
Trials. You wouldn't be allowed through Peter's gates even if he
held them open for you."

"Wow. That's depressing."

Riley folded his arms across his chest.
"Except that you don't believe in Heaven and the Pearly Gates."

"I didn't use to, but how can I not believe
it now? I had Peter the freaking apostle sitting on my couch,
belittling me, not five minutes ago. Besides, he said I would have
seen him too, if he had shown up before Sebastian had last night.
So what does that mean?"

"He was messing with your head. Peter likes
to screw with people and see what happens. He's bored."

"He did say that, too, but, I can't help
thinking there was more to what he was saying, or not saying."

"There's always more to what Peter says."
Riley took off his glasses and started using the bottom of his
shirt to clean them. "It will be interesting to see how he reacts
when I find Sebastian before he does."

"Sore loser?"

"I don't know. I've never known him to fail
before."

I knew what he'd say, but I had to ask, "What
makes you so sure he will fail this time?"

He slid his glasses onto the bridge of his
nose and gave me a cocky grin. "Because I will not."

"Hmm. And how will you act if you're
wrong?"

Riley stole a donut from the bag I was
holding. “Trust me, it won't be an issue," he said over his
shoulder as he walked into the living room.

Riley was lounging on the couch, his body
slumped down into the seat with his legs sprawled out in front of
him. He was rubbing his extended belly with both hands, his head
was awkwardly angled to the side, his eyes were closed and his
glasses were resting crookedly at the end of his nose. I had just
finished savoring my donut and was licking the residual chocolate
from my fingers as I sat in my orange chair.

"Comfy?" I asked.

Riley grunted, "No, but I'm determined to
be."

I made a mental note to curb Riley's high
fructose corn syrup and shortening consumption. I've had years for
my body to condition itself against the onslaught of hydrogenated
oils and corrupt molecules that are involved in giving snack cakes
and donuts an eighty year shelf life. Seeing him laid out in a lazy
fog only proved -immortal or not- his body just wasn't up to
it.

Thinking of Riley's immortality reminded me
of several questions about my own life expectancy that had been
skipping around in my mind. However, deciding that I really didn't
have the energy to open up that can of peanuts, I asked, "So…
what's next?"

Riley stayed in his pseudo relaxed pose.
"Tomorrow I will go to Sebastian's workplace and poke around a
little, see what I can find out. I'm hoping, if I figure out what
event turned him rogue, I'll figure out what his next move might
be. I'd like to stay here until he's found. My best bet is still
catching him trying to recapture your soul. But I'm not a
sit-around-and-wait kind of guy."

I smiled, feeling only the mildest of twinges
at the idea of Riley spending several nights at my place. "Me
neither. You said Sebastian's job, I thought his job was to collect
souls."

Riley straightened his body so that he no
longer slouched, propped one foot over his knee, pushed his glasses
up on his nose and said, in a very clipped professor like voice,
"Hades has twenty," he pointed to me, "make that twenty-one,
Assassins. At one time, he had the need of three times that. Even
with the fewer numbers, we don't have enough work to keep us all
busy. Hades' fear that there will no longer be a need for us -for
him- is not without merit."

I swiveled once, stopping again in front of
Riley. "If there is no need for any of us, will we go work for
another deity?"

Riley shook his head. "The consensus in
Olympus is that we'll no longer exist."

"Damn," I said

Riley straightened his glasses. "I have never
been afraid of death, but to just not exist… I'm not sure what
would happen to our souls."

Shit. I'm an endangered species.

"Good grief, Riley. I can't believe you walk
around with that kind of shit running through your head. You have
got to bury that stuff, push it into some hidey hole and never
bring it out unless you're couching it with a high priced shrink.
And even then, I'd think twice about opening up that box- some
things should always stay buried."

"I don't think ignoring the prospect will
make it go away, and neither does Hades. Have you ever heard of the
company Ambros?"

"Yeah, they have a plant here in town. It
smells funny."

"Ambros is short for Ambrosia. Hades owns
it."

"How the hell does Hades run a multi-million
dollar company from the Underworld?"

Riley said, "Stock holders and a good
C.E.O.”

I jumped out of my orange chair. “Oh my Gods!
The Goddess Greek Yogurt commercial! Don't you dare tell me he's
responsible for the Goddess Greek Yogurt commercial!"

"Okay, I won't because he isn't. Bartholomew
is. Bartholomew runs the advertising/marketing department for
Ambros. He is especially proud of that jingle."

"‘Slip into your inner goddess by letting
Goddess Greek yogurt slip into you’, Riley, the commercial is
practically soft porn. Have you seen it? Some hunky guy is feeding
a busty model yogurt, in bed, with both of them barely covered by
white sheets.

“It's awful. Though I have to give him some
credit, at least he didn't have the models try to speak. I'm sure
whoever thought it was a good idea to let the Victoria Secret
models talk is making hemorrhoid commercials now- talk about
ruining the fantasy. It ruined it for me, and scantily clad women
in push up bras don't even get me hot and bothered."

"Bartholomew describes his style of
advertising as artistic and edgy."

I rolled my eyes and sat back down. “So Hades
has his Assassins work second jobs on earth, all geared toward
promoting Greek theology. I guess that's pretty clever. How many
Assassins work for Ambros?"

"Only one other- Marcus. He works in
acquisitions.”

"What about Sebastian?"

"Sebastian teaches, well taught, Latin and
Greek mythology at Morgan Hill Academy and Cade County Community
College.”

"Holy shit, Morgan Hill? It's easier to get
into an Ivy League school than it is to get into Morgan Hill. It's
supposed to be the best private K-12 school in Georgia, hell, in
the United States.”

I once overheard Darla Kemp, Dempsey High's
chemistry teacher, tell Erin Laughlin, the band director, that
she'd been required to supply a DNA sample with a four generation
pedigree attached to her resume to even be granted an
interview.

Every day, I drove by the fortress that took
up two square miles, just on the outskirts of downtown. There was
no way I was going to miss an opportunity to step through the gates
at Morgan Hill.

"Was Sebastian at school yesterday?" I
asked.

"He was reported missing by a teacher in his
department when he didn't show up for a late afternoon faculty
meeting. When the fellow teacher went in search of Sebastian, he
found his office in shambles and his belongings, including a set of
car keys, his briefcase and a cup of coffee-still steaming- on his
desk."

It sounded intriguing. Of course, I didn't
know squat about solving mysteries and hunting down rogue
Assassins.

"Hey, how do you know something didn't happen
to Sebastian?"

Riley raised his eyebrows. "Hades said that
Sebastian was agitated and angry when he reported in Friday
morning. He told Sebastian to report back as soon as his earthly
responsibilities were completed. Sebastian did not show, nor did he
answer Hades’ call- which in itself is virtually impossible."

"So he didn't come when Hades called, there
could be a million explanations. Why do you think he went
rogue?"

Riley laughed, "I think it was the stealing
of your soul that led me to that conclusion."

I ignored his chuckle at my expense.

"So, you were originally sent to find out why
Sebastian didn't answer Hades' summons. You had no idea he had gone
rogue. Of course, rogue is just a word meaning disobedient, right?
I guess Sebastian was being that when he didn't answer Hades’
summons."

Riley took off his glasses and started
cleaning them on his shirt again. I wondered if this was a nervous
habit, a sign of his stress. He didn't strike me as the type to get
stressed out. Everything he did was so purposeful. I couldn't see
him acting on impulse or fear. The only time he seemed the least
bit upset or agitated was when he had been dealing with me, but I
brought out that reaction in a lot of people.

"To be labeled as a Rogue is a severe
offense. It means Sebastian chose to break his oath and act outside
the laws of Zeus. I was given the Sword of Peleus, with Hades’
command to ‘Cut the Rogue down’."

I was not going to ask where he kept his
sword.

"So the question is- why did Hades claim
Sebastian had become a Rogue before he had taken my soul? Because,
just not answering Hades’ summons wouldn't put him outside of
Zeus's laws, would it?"

He had to have done something else before he
reached my door.

Riley put his now much polished glasses back
on. His eyes had lost any hint of amusement, his mouth drawn tight,
entire mood turned grim.

"I doesn't matter how Hades determined
Sebastian went rogue."

"But it doesn't make sense, if what Hades
says is true-"

"I was commanded to hunt down and capture
Sebastian. I was told if I could not achieve capture, to end
Sebastian's immortal life, and I was given a weapon to do so. I
will follow Hades' orders."