Rise of the Blood

makeovers.”

“O-kay,” he said, smiling.

I huffed. “You know those sell-from-home cosmetic companies? They’re like legal pyramid schemes. You recruit ten people, and they recruit ten people… The cultish part comes in with the rules on how you should appear in public, because you’re always representing the brand. It’s not just a product, it’s a way of life…that sort of thing. Tina got drawn in a few years ago.”

Nick rummaged in his bag and came up with a catalogue featuring a smiling woman in a faux fur wrap. “Oh, I see, very ominous,” he said.

“Go ahead, laugh. But don’t come crying to me when you get suckered in by their manscaping gel or anti- aging aftershave.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah. Spiro has a whole duffle bag full of product. At one point, I think he was going for customer of the year.”

“How’d that work out for him?”

“Well, he does have some pretty smooth skin. I think Jesus can attest to that.”

Speaking of whom… “Chica, have you seen the stuff in here? Do you know what these samples are worth?”

“No, why don’t you tell me in extreme detail.”

“Sarcasm does not wear well on you,” he answered with a sniff.

“Really? Do they have a cream for that?”

“Don’t make me separate you two,” Nick cut in.

Then it was our turn at the reception desk, where we were very efficiently set up with adjoining rooms.

“Like I’m your child or something,” Jesus complained.

“Heaven forefend,” Nick answered.

The reception guy, thank goodness not another model of female perfection but a maitre de sort of man with a mustache that looked anemic next to Yiayia and Fergus’s facial hair, gave us a map and a schedule along with our keycards. I glanced down at the schedule—production meeting, rehearsal, rehearsal dinner… Production meeting? Were they kidding? All told, it looked like they’d left us maybe an hour and a half to ourselves over the next few days.

“Oh, and you’re expected to dress for dinner,” the reception guy said. “I’m sure they’ll explain everything in the meeting.”

Dress…as opposed to undress? I was about to ask when Nick elbowed me as if he could read my mind. I stuck my tongue out at him, and Jesus looked mildly disgusted at my immaturity. I could live with that. I was on vacation and, anyway, Christos was the head of the PI firm again now that we’d sprung him from the crazy Back to Earth cult, so I didn’t have to be the big boss.

And while I was reminded… “Has Christos Karacis checked in yet?” I asked the reception guy.

He typed a few keystrokes into his computer and said, “Yes, would you like me to connect you to his room?”

I told him I would and ended up leaving a message. He owed Apollo as much as I did…almost. He’d want to repay the debt, and considering that I had no idea exactly where to start my investigation, I could use all the help I could get. Normally, I’d start digging into the victim’s past, but when that comprised centuries and many of the tales had been lost or mutated by time and retellings…it was a tall order. I couldn’t begin with his routines and regular encounters, because he was away from all that here in Greece. He’d traveled from his present back into the land of his past.

So, the past it was. I had at least two primary sources onsite—Hermes and Apollo himself. Yiayia could fill me in on everyone’s more modern escapades. And meanwhile, maybe I could get lists from Uncle Hector and from Tina on anyone involved with the productions, wedding or film. Because with my family, it was always a production.

Fingers snapped before my face, and somebody grabbed my arm to steer me away from the reception desk.

“Earth to Tori,” Nick said, as if maybe it wasn’t the first time. “Lunch?”

“What? Oh, yeah.” Because now that he’d mentioned it, the croissants and grapes I’d had for breakfast hours ago were not cutting it.

“And shopping?” Jesus asked hopefully.

“Have you forgotten that we have a mystery to solve?” I asked him.

“Never fear. I’ll keep my eyes open for anything suspicious. Like a girl who doesn’t like to shop,” he added under his breath.

“I heard that.”

“Heard what?” he asked, all innocence.

“Never mind. We’ll meet back down here in twenty,” I told him. Shopping might not be a priority, but food and caffeination were other matters entirely.

“But—”

“Twenty or we leave without you.”

He gave a longsuffering sigh and a tight nod and led the way to the elevators. Our room was small but nice—photos of the nearby Temple of Apollo at sunset, some of the fallen columns and pedestals peeking out of a springtime profusion of flowers. Any other adornments were unnecessary. Nick headed straight for the window and twitched back the sheer curtain obscuring the view. He whistled, and I took a step back. The view looked out over…nothing. Or, more accurately, nothing but sky. We were above even the clouds, which seemed totally unnatural. Panic started to flutter against my breastbone like a frightened baby bird.

“Could you…?” I nodded at the curtains as Nick’s head whipped around in response to the tension in my voice. Instantly, he let the curtain fall back into place.

“Sorry. Are you sure you’re going to be all right to go out and eat? I could bring you back something.”

“I am not going to let this defeat me. Let’s go.”

He smiled. “That’s my girl. Just let me use the facilities.”

He disappeared into the bathroom. I fought down the baby bird and forced myself closer to the window a step. Then two, then I stopped, told myself it was just stupid and that I could handle this, but I knew I was lying. I made myself take the last few steps without pause. My inner alarms started blaring, my heart started racing, sweat broke out all over. What if this was my precog kicking in, telling me I was right to be afraid?

There was only one way to know. I reached out for the curtain like it was a live snake and twitched it back, flinching as I did, feeling stupid the whole time. Nothing happened. I didn’t get sucked into a vortex or whatever I subconsciously thought would happen. It didn’t lessen the fear.

I looked out. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and, now that I really looked, I could see that the view outside wasn’t an instant drop off. There was a lip of land where the groundskeepers had laid out a little garden with a bench to sit on and enjoy the view (ha) and a fountain gurgling away with a central figure shaped like one of the Korae pouring water out of an amphora.

But the Korae wasn’t alone. I felt something else down there. Someone else. Malevolent, glaring. I couldn’t see him…her…it, but that expression “if looks could kill” suddenly meant something deep down in the pit of my stomach. I momentarily forgot about the height, my need to know stronger than my fear. I stepped forward one more baby step and stared down. Nothing. Paranoia? Ambrosia withdrawal? Reality? I didn’t know. And the not knowing was worse than the growing ball of acid burning its way through my stomach.

“Ready?”

I jumped and spun around, that baby bird all riled up again.

Nick stood between me and the exit, hands up as though I might strike him. That was when I realized I’d ended up in a battle stance, ready to kick his ass from here to Athens and back again.

“You scared me,” I accused.