Blood Hunt (23 page)

“Great,” I said. “I'll track, you trap. Now, who do we use as bait?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

I was very afraid that Neith might become my hero. Her plan for luring the Rolands was, I thought, nothing short of brilliant. Not that I admitted it in so many words.

Since the misadventure had all started with Ian and Richie's trip to Egypt and their larcenous fascination with Egyptian antiquities, and since we had Isis and Osiris right to hand, Neith proposed to plant a wonderful story. A decade or so ago, the LACMA—Los Angeles County Museum of Art—had hosted the famed King Tut Exhibit that had traveled the world. It wouldn't be a stretch for Yiayia to suggest on her blog that key members of the Egyptian pantheon might be consulting “in person” that very day—because it had long passed midnight and slid into the early hours of the morning—on a new exhibit on Egyptian mythology and magic. She could even drop a hint that they might be presenting certain special artifacts that couldn't be trusted to travel any other way. Yiayia never mentioned names, but posting beside the story a picture of a classic fresco of the green god or of Isis with the sun disk and horned headdress would be hint enough.

I did worry that it might be too obvious a ploy, but then, I wasn't sure the brothers could resist the lure either way. But…we had to plant hints elsewhere as well. If the only whisper of such an upcoming exhibit was on Yiayia's blog, the deception would be as clear as day.

Hermes, in his alter-ego as humor columnist Thom Foolery, had certain media contacts, but they were mostly on the other coast and mostly not of the right sort. Still, he was going to do what he could. Apollo had a few contacts of his own.

I had the business card of a certain reporter who'd been waiting to hear from me. She might be willing to help, but I'd likely have to give her something in return. Like an exclusive. It seemed that my secret was already out anyway. Too late to worry that exposing myself would a) skyrocket me to instant unwanted fame, and b) lead to the discovery of others and further belief, which would fuel myth-hunters (downside) and potentially feed the gods themselves (upside, as far as they'd be concerned). In these days of cell phone and other cameras everywhere, discovery was probably only a matter of time anyway. That didn't mean I wanted to bear the responsibility.

Of course, there was a better than even chance the jig would be up before it ever came time for me to pay the piper. Chaos I could stake no claim to was already busting out all over, and Susie wasn't stupid. If we planted the LACMA story with her, she was going to sense that's where the action would be. If she could convince the network to send her with a cameraman…

Not my problem. My job was to plant the story with her and with Yiayia. It was up to Neith to arrange things on the LACMA end. She really did have contacts with museums through her freelance insurance investigation gig.

I just hoped that by the time all was said and done, the museum would still be standing. Although, with the Page Museum and their rampaging mastodons right next door, the danger was real one way or another. In fact, I was half surprised nothing in the LACMA had yet made the news. Weird modern art statuary grabbing at the unsuspecting smacked of something out of
Beetlejuice
. Perhaps not chaotic enough? Maybe the paintings or statuary would come alive to argue their own merits. Perhaps they already had and no one had realized it wasn't a new form of interactive exhibit.

For about half an hour, there was great sound and fury, everyone walking off to quiet corners to make their calls and then, suddenly, there was nothing to do but wait…for callbacks, for action, for dawn.

“Okay, all,” Apollo said finally, “you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. Everyone should get a few hours of sleep, gird your loins, whatever.” He looked over at me, and I didn't want to show the relief I was feeling, but between the earlier battles, their damage and my healing (still a work in progress), I was about to collapse, and I really didn't want to do it in front of witnesses.

Nick opened his mouth, maybe to protest again about whether he could make it home, but Neith stopped him. “Come with me,” she said.

“But—”

“Don't worry, I won't jump you,” she said quietly, probably for his ears only, but she had a voice better suited for battle commands than intimacy, and even her murmurs carried, “I know a warrior needs to save his strength for battle.”

I couldn't help but watch Nick's face, and for the first time, I understood why the Fates might watch us mortals like others would watch daytime television.

I wasn't sure what expression he was trying to suppress, but his face went through contortions trying to rein it in. “Uh, okay,” he answered finally, “thanks.”

I wondered about the sleeping arrangements. I'd been in Neith's hotel room. There was only one bed, though being a junior suite, there was also a couch. I couldn't remember whether it was big enough for a six-foot cop to stretch out on, but…I was sure they'd work it out, and I was just as certain that I didn't want to know a thing about it.

Nick flashed me a
Help!
look on the way out, which was totally gratuitous, because he and I both knew that he was a big boy and could take care of himself. If he was going along, it was because he wanted to. Or didn't
not
want to. Or didn't have any clue what he wanted but was willing to find out.

Gah, my brain hurt. I needed sleep. And come to think of it, I also needed to pee…not necessarily in that order.

We got everyone out, and I locked myself in the bathroom. By the time I was onto washing my hands and then face, I unlocked the door so that Apollo could get in alongside me. I secondarily debated going facedown in his bed without even brushing my teeth. I was
that
tired. Dragging a toothbrush around for thirty seconds in each quadrant as Yiayia had taught me, seemed like a monumental task. But in the end, programming won out, and while I might have skimped just a bit, I did end up with fresh breath and a lack of fuzzies on my teeth. All hail the great goddess Hygenia, who I'd just made up. At least, I thought I had. It sounded good though.

I left Apollo behind performing his own routine, and was asleep the second after I slid between the sheets. Then I was awake again as his arm slid around me, and his hot body pressed up against me. I swear that Apollo ran a full degree hotter than the rest of us, probably the whole sun-god thing. It made him impossible to ignore. Even if I wasn't suddenly aware of…oh! A shudder went through me, as I felt him hard against me. He tried to be good; I could feel it through our link. He meant just to cuddle up, breathe me in and let me sleep, but the fact that he couldn't, the fact that just pressing up against me raised his…interest…that was about the sexiest thing I could imagine.

Lazily, I started to turn toward him so that my body could have more access to his. There wasn't much I could do turned away as I was.

“I thought you were tired,” he said, his voice husky.

“So did I,” I answered, running my hand down his chest slowly, circling a nipple on the way down to stroke lower, over his hard, flat stomach, molding to his tight abs, teasing downward. “You're not saving your strength for battle?” I asked him.

He gazed down into my eyes, and the intensity of his feeling hit me through our link, turning my core molten. “Saving myself for you,” he said. “You scared the hell out of me tonight, and the thought that I might lose you…”

“Not going to happen,” I told him. At that moment, I meant it. I felt invincible…unless he made me wait too long to come together, in which case I might spontaneously combust.

He took my mouth then, devouring it. The hand on my hip slid over it as smooth as an air hockey puck on a working table. I giggled at the metaphor, knowing I had to be loopy, knowing I needed that sleep…but needing him more.

His hand circled around to my backside, and he grabbed a good handful and pulled me into him, squashing my chest up against his as he raided my mouth. He shifted his weight to free his other hand to slide his fingers through my hair, nails raking gently against my scalp until he could cup the back of my head and hold me to him like he might never let me go. All the time, his cock pressed between us. The hand I'd been using to stroke him had gotten trapped when Apollo pulled me tight, but now I squirmed to put enough distance between us that I could slide it down and…

My eyes rolled back into my head as my hand closed around his shaft—iron hard and yet as smooth as silk.

He groaned into my mouth as I stroked him, one long stroke from base to tip. Then another.

And then neither of us could wait. I was already wet and aching for him, he was already hot and ready, which made him sound like a pizza, but…

I opened my legs, and he rolled me under him, raising himself to plunge inside…and then all metaphors and coherent thought went right out the window in the face of amazing, explosive sensation. He put his forehead to mine, eyes closed as he slid inside me the first time and the second, overwhelmed by the feeling. And then he pulled back to look deeply into my eyes. I stared back, gasping as he thrust into me again, feeling as though my soul had escaped on the exhale and he'd breathed it in.

Something significant was flowing between us. Through our link, through our look. It felt… It felt…

My body took over where words failed, exploding, fracturing, each shard a whole being's worth of…everything. And when I came back together, it was though some of his shards had bonded with mine. Or vice versa. Or…

We were
more
. Filled up. Replete.
Not
depleted. Not even a bit. I had no idea how the Spartans or any warrior could forego that.

I felt like I could run marathons. Leap tall buildings in a single bound…

Tomorrow.

Tonight…my eyes had already started to close and all of my muscles to relax. Apollo let his forehead drop to mine again, and while we lay there contented, both our eyes shut because we were just too close, he whispered, “
S'agapo
.”

My heart gave a hard knock and my eyes flew open. I pushed on his chest to give me enough distance to see his face, and he opened his eyes to stare down into mine.

S'agapo
…I love you.

I kept pushing until Apollo rolled himself to the side and let me escape. Not far. I didn't go far but I needed…a minute.

I knew…I mean, I thought I knew how he felt about me. How I felt about him. But saying it,
admitting
it… If we said it there was no going back. If I internalized it and trusted it and things went wrong, it would… It felt so melodramatic to think “kill me”, and I'd never been melodramatic like that. Not even as a teenager, but… I realized even as I protested, logic flapping around like a bird in a steel cage trying to find the out, that it was already too late. I'd given him my heart. I had no control now of what became of it.

It was what I'd always feared.

“Tori,” Apollo said softly, hand to my shoulder turning me gently to face him. “Talk to me.”

“I love you too,” I said, not able to look him in the eyes. “Dammit.”

He froze for a second, and then his laugh shocked the hell out of me. I finally looked up to glare, which only made him laugh harder. “Not exactly how I imagined it,” he said, his entire face lit up like I'd…okay, like I'd declared my love for him, but better. Bells and whistles and doves exploding into the sky. “But it'll do.”

“Good,” I said, cranky. “Now can I get some sleep?”

“I don't know,” he said, “can you?”

I glared and rolled over, giving him my back. But my body still hummed from what he'd done to it and my soul still quaked. Worse, as soon as I let myself relax again, a smile crept over my face.

He loved me. Damn, damn, damn.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Apollo, unsurprisingly, was up with the sun.

He tried to get up without waking me, but my body was apparently on high alert. I jerked awake as soon as his weight shifted, looked over to see what was going on and groaned at the realization. I kept my eyes open only long enough to watch his naked form head for the bathroom, glorious in the light teasing through his sheer curtains. Then I grabbed his pillow, yanked it over my head and rolled with it into my favorite position.

I must have fallen back to sleep, because the smell of bacon woke me up some time later.

Bacon…

I lay there a moment longer. The bed was so comfortable. And warm. And easy to face.

Apollo not so much.

But…bacon.

I groaned again, even though there was no one to hear me, and reluctantly I tossed his pillow to the side and made myself get up. My body no longer ached. On the contrary, it felt alive, healthy, like I'd just gotten a B-12 shot and lived on a diet full of protein shakes and fruit smoothies with wheat grass kickers…or whatever the starlets-in-training were drinking this week.

I cursed, went to the bathroom to take care of a few things, like personal hygiene, and walked out into the living room wearing a robe meant for someone Apollo's size rather than mine. I swam in his robe, feeling small and yet sexy. What
was
it about wearing a man's shirt…or his bathrobe? I'd only sniffed the collar, which, of course, smelled like him, once or twice while slipping it on.

The television was going in the living room, but I barely noticed.

A stupid smile crept over my face as I peered over the breakfast bar into the kitchen where Apollo was heaping plates full of food.

He turned when he heard me or sensed me, flashing me his million watt smile. “Good morning, beautiful.”

The food wasn't the only thing that looked good enough to eat. Apollo had left the robe for me, and stood there shirtless in nothing but black draw-string pants riding a little low on his hips.

I heard myself gasp and tried to play it off. “The food smells good.”

“I figured that after last night… Well, we'll certainly need our strength today.”

He turned with the plates and put one in front of me. Omelets. Honest to gods omelets, complete with diced tomatoes, onions and green peppers, and folded over a nice thick layer of cheese. On the side, three slices each of thick-cut bacon and two slices of dry toast.

I raised a brow at the sight of that, and Apollo shoved forward two little jars of jam and a stick of actual butter on a cut crystal dish. Silverware and placemats already sat in front of two of the stools, so I propped my butt up on the one in front of me and asked, “Coffee?”

“But of course.”

Apollo set his plate down and headed for a carafe full of the most wonderful scent in the world, second only to bacon and the smell of Apollo himself, especially when a little bit sweaty with exertion…

I had to close my eyes and breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Too much. It was all just a little too much. Too perfect.

He set the mug down in front of me, the sound popping my eyes open.

He watched me as he also placed down a half gallon of milk and a glass container holding packets of every sweetener known to man. White, pink, yellow, blue…

“Green?” I asked.

“Stevia in the Raw,” he said. “All natural.”

“Sounds dirty,” I said.

He grinned and leaned in for a kiss, stopping right before our lips touched to say, “So it does.”

My libido and my heart were both doing jumping jacks, vying for attention, and I shoved them both aside for bacon. I always liked to save the best for last, but with
three
slices, I didn't have to entirely delay gratification. The first bite was almost better than ambrosia, better than nectar. I knew, I'd tried both. It was crunchy and salty and applewood smoked and…just the way I liked it.

“Marry me,” I said. It slipped out of my mouth, which immediately fell open in horror. “I mean…”

Apollo laughed. “If I'd known bacon was all it took to make you fall for me, I'd have cooked for you sooner.”

I made sure my mouth was free of food and then stuck my tongue out at him, glad he was making light of the moment. “Now you know my Achilles' heel. I'm sorry, it's too dangerous for me to let you live.”

“I understand. If I could have one last request?”

I flashed him a considering look. “Perhaps. Ask.”

“Wait until after breakfast to kill me? No point in wasting all this good food.”

“You just want to lull me into a food coma,” I protested.

“Guilty as charged.”

I cut into the omelet and took a bite. It was ridiculous. Really. An omelet was an omelet, right? Maybe it was whatever kind of cheese he used. Nothing should be allowed to taste so good.

If this…if
we
continued, I wondered if he'd keep cooking for me or whether he'd start to take me for granted. Or expect quid pro quo.

“Stop,” he said.

“What?”

“Sometimes an omelet is just an omelet,” he said.

“And if it's the best omelet I've ever had in my life?”

“That's a metaphor for sex, right?”

I gave him a
look
. “You fishing for compliments?”

“Honey,” he said, bringing a warm hand to my leg where the robe had fallen away, “I was there. I don't need you to tell me it was amazing.”

His hand slid up my leg, and he leaned in to kiss me again…when suddenly Hermes's face appeared right between us, shocking us both back.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, glancing at the little vee of skin at my throat revealed by the robe. I pulled it tighter around me and he clicked his tongue against the top of his mouth, the sound carrying through the window he'd created. He turned his gaze on Apollo and swept him bare stomach to chest. “Nice. Very nice. You know, Sigyn and I have an awfully big bed… No?” he said at the look on Apollo's face. He glanced down at himself, even though we couldn't see the rest of him through the small message window he'd created. “Perhaps I should get to the gym a bit more. Or maybe I can get the abs airbrushed on, as they did in that
300
movie, hmm? That certainly sounds like a lot less trouble.”

“
Hermes
,” I said, exasperated. “Do you have a purpose in calling?”

He sighed. “I do. We're all set up. Sigyn has set runes to trap the brothers when they come through the central hallway. You might want to get dressed…or not. We'll let you know as soon as they take the bait.”

He winked out, and I stared at Apollo in disbelief. “Did he really just…”

“He really did. It's Hermes. Are you surprised?”

I didn't answer, because the truth was I probably shouldn't be. I had no idea what my friend Christie had seen in him, even if, despite his comment about the gym, he was built like a Greek god.

I turned back to my food, not about to let it go to waste. “Guess we'd better eat fast. As you said, we're going to need our strength.”

I was used to eating on the go or wolfing down fast food during a stake-out, so it was hardly difficult for me, and with Apollo's size, he had his omelet finished off in about three bites. I then took the world's fastest shower to get rid of the remains of yesterday's sweat, grime and any possible remains of poison and dressed in a track suit I kept at Apollo's place—black with a hot pink stripe up the side of the pants. I decided it was too hot for the jacket, and I was just going to have to go with the matching jog bra. L.A. camouflage when you couldn't afford high fashion. Everyone was always coming from or going to the gym, off on a jog, doing pull ups, weights, yoga-lates or crazy acrobatics on Muscle Beach… All I needed was a high ponytail, which I managed, and a sheen of sweat, which I knew would come the second we stepped out into the L.A. heat.

Apollo took his cue from me, changing into dark gray sweatpants, a lighter gray tank top, a baseball hat and sunglasses to hide his identity. I didn't suspect it would matter. Apollo had a certain presence, even when he damped it down. He'd draw attention wherever we went.

I grabbed my phone, the pepper spray and my ID out of my small clutch from the night before and shoved them into pockets.

“Anything on the news before I got up?” I asked. The television had been tuned to one of those soft news morning shows when I'd trudged through the living room seeking bacon.

Apollo was standing in front of what looked like a buffet table—flat on top, just the right height for serving, drawers in front. I wondered why until I saw him lift the top to reveal satin fabric inlaid like the padding of a coffin, only instead of a body, short swords were strapped to the top and more weapons gleamed from the inside.

“Ooh,” I said, approaching.

“Nothing much on the news,” he said, answering the question I'd nearly forgotten I'd asked. “A lot of confusion about what went on yesterday, everyone with theories—including mass hysteria, something in the water, killer-slash-hallucinogenic smog like something The Joker might cook up, Mercury in retrograde…”

“Is it?” I asked.

“How should I know. I don't keep track of these things. Anyway, choose your weapon.”

I tried not to feel like a kid in a candy store, but, really, the array of weaponry was pretty impressive. But then I remembered… I looked down at my sports bra and tight track pants. I didn't exactly have anywhere to conceal anything. Damn, I guessed I was going to have to deal with my jacket after all.

I reached for a triangular sort of dagger that called to me and a blade not quite long enough to be a sword or short enough to be a dagger.

“The xiphos,” Apollo commented. “Good choice.”

Xiphos.
I'd have to remember that.

I gave it a few test sweeps, checking out the balance, how it moved in my hands. It felt good. Much better than my gun ever had. Practically like I'd been born to the blade.

Ours was a rescue mission though. If all went well, I'd never have to use it. I didn't want to examine the fact that it disappointed me the same way I didn't want to examine our relationship.

“We should get started,” I said to Apollo, retrieving Sigyn's sundial/compass. “That way we can be on the spot to rescue Thalia and the others as soon as the boys take the bait.”

“If they spot us, that will blow the whole thing,” he said.

“They won't. Besides, we'll need to do some recon, and I'm antsy.”

He studied me. “Okay, fine, but I'm taking a cup of coffee for the road.”

“Get me one too?” I asked. I went back to the bedroom for my jacket and came out to an offering of a travel mug's worth of Apollo's amazing coffee made just the way I liked it. I tried not to tear up, but after the bacon and omelets, I was feeling a little emotional.

“Okay, already, you're perfect,” I grumbled. “Will you just stop?”

“All right, more coffee for me,” he said, reaching to take back the mug.

“Do it and die,” I said, hugging it protectively to me.

He laughed. “Thought so.”

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I saw Apollo reach for his as well. When I drew mine out, I saw I had a new text from Hermes.
Boys have breached perimeter.

“Looks like we're on,” I said.

We didn't waste any time getting to Apollo's car in the garage beneath his building. It was a silver Lexus and a thing of beauty, but it was going to be a tight squeeze getting all of our rescuees inside. I shrugged. If need be, I could fly back, even bring a passenger if the brothers had kidnapped more than our count. I let Apollo drive, since he was most familiar with the car…and anyway, I had to concentrate on the tracker.

As he pulled out—only one exit, so no mystery which way to go until we were out on the street—I nibbled on a hangnail until it bled. Mom would have slapped me upside the head for it, but she wasn't here, and Sigyn had said the little rune disk activated with blood. I smeared what little welled up on the dial, closed my eyes and thought really hard about Thalia, the one missing person we were absolutely certain the brothers had taken. If they'd managed to kill her and dump her body this whole thing would be in vain, but I couldn't think that way. As Set had shown, the old ones were fiendishly hard to kill, and anyway it seemed like the world would be a sadder place if such a light had gone out of it. I couldn't believe we wouldn't all feel
the loss.

When I opened my eyes again, it was to see the dial turning, turning… “Right out of the garage,” I said.

My precog hit me like a physical thing, like a slap in the face, wanting to whip my head around to the left.

I looked to Apollo.

“I feel it too,” he said.

“What do we do?”

“We already know the brothers are at the museum, maybe Jessica too. We know there's danger. Hermes will call if they need us.”

The dial in my hand swung a complete one-eighty. “Turn left as soon as you can,” I said. I hoped Sigyn's little dial would work. It was something like a GPS, but with no warning at all on upcoming directional changes. Worse, it pointed the way, but that only went so far. Roads weren't straight lines. They veered or dead ended, became one-way streets. I really didn't like this plan. My precog was only amplifying my need to be in on the action, on the capture.

Even as Apollo drove, looking for the next left, I pulled out my phone.

“Eyes on the prize,” he said. “You don't want to lose focus on the kidnap victims. If you start thinking about what's going on back at the museum, that dial might lead us right there.”

“So I'll multitask. Women can do that, you know. I'll focus on Thalia while I put in a call to Hermes, just to make sure everything is okay. Plans can change.”