“Alanya Castle on the Mediterranean Sea,” he says, motioning behind us. “The citadel has a platform where we can get spectacular views of the sea.”
We tour Alanya Castle, then after lunch fly to the nearby ancient city of Perge that has statues of the goddesses Nemesis, Aphrodite, Athena, and Tykhe, which fascinate me to no end. After that, we fly on to Phaselis, which legend credits as the home of the mythical beast Chimera, a fearsome creature made of a lion, dragon, and goat, that spewed flames.
I’m completely caught up in all of it, and I joke that at least I didn’t bring a creature like that back. He gives me a long look but says nothing more.
It leaves me feeling like maybe some of those scrolls he squirreled away, might well contain Chimera secrets.
So full is our day that thoughts beyond the immediate flee, no doubt as he intends, but I don’t regret it. I’m consumed in ancient history, and I can’t get enough.
The sun’s rays are long and orange over Phaselis’s harbor when we finish touring the ancient amphitheater that is just incredible—I feel what it must have been like to be one of those citizens as I sit on the stone seats, watching whatever performance. Between that, the aqueduct, agora, and baths, I’m full to brimming, and I can’t thank Harpoc enough for the gift this day has been.
Shortly thereafter, I’m struck by a hulking, modern hotel complex standing before me when Harpoc’s shadows disappear. The contrast between ancient and modern can’t be more stark.
We approach a central, circular, gray-glass-windowed hub from which protrude two wings. It’s all at least seven-stories tall. I wish I’m taller because I’d love to stick my hand in the gurgling fountain as we pass by.
I can’t find words for the extravagance, more than last night even, as we check in beneath the high-tech, illuminated dome. The floor’s inlaid marble in modern patterns that I can’t get over. What will future archeologists think when they unearth this place?
I’m watching him, watch me, out of the corner of my eye. Harpoc takes it all in stride, but he keeps eyeing me and chuckling as I’m having a hard time keeping my jaw from sweeping the floor.
But Harpoc tenses, and his gaze catches. It interrupts the sensory overload, and I turn my head to follow his line of vision, just as the uniformed front desk guy asks Harpoc a question.
I only barely tamp down a gasp because I swear I spot Zeki. He’s dressed in the hotel’s uniform of gold tunic and off-white slacks. While he doesn’t have a turban, I swear it’s him because the guy’s balding and he has a longish beard, just like Zeki, but more, I spot a tattoo with a fire-breathing dragon sticking up just above the tunic’s collar.
The guy’s eyes open wide for a fraction of a second, just long enough for me to know he’s seen us, too. It’s got to be him.
How did we end up near him, and, no doubt, his cronies, again? I hadn’t paid attention to where we last tripped, but why would we return here?
“We’re on the top floor,” Harpoc says, as the elevator lifts us ever higher several minutes later. He hasn’t said a word about Zeki.
I’ll hold my tongue until we have privacy.
Harpoc opens the door to our room and motions me forward, and I’m again impressed by the posh accommodations. There’s again only one bed, surprise, surprise, but there’s no pool tonight, which means there’s no distractions. And no distractions mean it’s perfect for the inquisition I’m planning. Because I’m going to get answers out of this man, and I’m going to get them tonight.
I take off my coat and lay it on one end of the sectional couch that looks out over the city whose lights are just starting to flicker on in the growing dusk. My boots quickly follow, and I sit down and nest my legs beneath me.
“Care for a drink?” Harpoc asks, shedding his duster and laying it over the back of the couch, then lining up his boots next to mine.
“Please. I’ll have a Mythos Lager if they have one.”
“You really like that stuff, huh?”
“I do.”
I wait until Harpoc’s seated comfortably, ankle atop a knee, and as soon as he takes a sip of whatever amber spirit he fills the bottom part of his tumbler with, I say, “I think I spotted Zeki downstairs.”
He nods. “Yes.”
I turn a furrowed brow on him.
“With the cut I’m taking of his profits, he probably has to work. It beats the government finding out. Not only would he make no money from it, but he’d be sent to prison for who knows how long.”
He has a point.
“Are you worried after this morning’s run in?” he asks.
“Shouldn’t I be?”
He holds up a hand. “He’s predictable. He’ll stick to his word now that he knows I’m serious.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
A corner of Harpoc’s mouth hitches up. “Secrets have a nasty habit of slipping.”
Secrets slipping. Ha. That’s a laugh when it comes to him. I’ll take Harpoc just spilling any of his at this rate, but he’s at least given me a lead in to start digging.
Take it, Pell, take it, make this turkey, I mean canary, sing. My inner voice is practically giddy.
I school my expression like Harpoc—because I’ve learned from the master, himself—and do my best to put on an air of quiet confidence, flipping my hair as I tilt my head back. I can’t quite reach the top of the sectional to stretch an arm across it like he does but, oh well.
My inner self chuckles.
Hey, I may be height challenged, but I can still work it.
“Harpoc,” I say in a sweet voice. “You told me to watch and
