He put down his pen and sighed, trying to return to a less sexual train of thought. “Doesn't it bother you that the mortals have forgotten us? We used to be great. We used to be able to influence the outcome of wars. Now, we're just ... myth."
Dionysus picked at the lapel of his Armani suit and shrugged. “It's not so bad. They may not believe in us, but we still retain our powers."
"Parlor tricks, nothing more."
"Well, I like my parlor tricks.” Like a magician at a child's birthday party, he swirled his finger dramatically through the air and a tall glass of red wine materialized in his hand. He took a sip and smiled at Eryx, waving the glass under his nose. “Don't suppose you'd like some? After all, you're Aphrodite's son. You are the god of love. You're supposed to have some fun."
Eryx pushed the glass away. “You may not believe in what I do, but at least my work ensures the world of ancient Greece lives on. We ought to be remembered in some way."
"Whatever.” He narrowed his dark eyes at Eryx and took another large swig. “But don't flatter yourself I don't know the truth."
"What truth?"
"You work like a fiend so you won't be tempted by women. Tempted by lust. You're just on a misguided quest to save them all. But you won't. Eventually, you'll crack."
"I can't afford to crack."
Dionysus leaned forward in his chair, his gaze calculating. “How long has it been since you had a woman? How long, Eryx, since you spread a plump pair of legs and...?"
Eryx's green eyes flashed in warning. “Don't go there. You, of all people, should know better."
His cousin sighed and pushed himself away from the desk. “Fine, fine. And to think the god of love was forever changed because of a few lost souls. Well, I'll be on my way, then. No wingman for me tonight.” He stood, and then inclined his head toward Eryx's paperwork. “What is your current project anyway?"
Eryx peered back at him, gauging his level of interest. Should he even tell Dionysus? His cousin lived to get him into trouble. Still, each new project filled him with excitement, and he really had no one to share it with. The other gods couldn't care less. His mother, the goddess of love, was too busy being, well, herself, to get involved in her son's projects. As for his father... He was too busy playing soldier.
And it's wasn't as if he had friends the way mortals did.
Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to just give Dionysus a high-level overview. Of all his cousins, he was closest to Dionysus. Even if his influence could be described as debauched on the best of days.
Eryx concentrated on the papers on his desk. He then passed his hand over them. Immediately, a mist formed a few inches above the papers. Within seconds, the mist separated and a tiny 3-D image appeared from it. The image of a museum. “This is the Toronto Museum. They're in the midst of renovating. They have an extensive, important Greek collection. I thought they could use some help."
"Toronto, eh? Sounds cold.” An involuntary shiver passed through Dionysus.
"It's summer, dumbass."
"I'll still be warmer in the arms of my topless waitress. Or five.” Dionysus smiled his most beguiling smile, the one with which he had charmed the pants off mortal women for centuries. And then he disappeared.
Eryx had already forgotten his capricious cousin. He ran a hand through his wavy blond hair and gazed upon the little image of the museum in Toronto. His museum. He'd make it his. And by the time he was done, they'd be very thankful for his guidance.
He indulged himself in a tiny smile, his full lips tightening into the merest of tight grins, and went back to work.
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Chapter Two
Toronto, Present Day
Maia Douglas woke with a start. She looked around, disoriented. Then she remembered. She'd only put her head down on her desk for a minute. Her brown eyes bleary, she peered toward the clock on her office wall. Seven o'clock. “Dammit. Naps at work. Bad idea."
It may have been after hours and the last tourist may have already been long gone, but she knew she was playing a dangerous game. One of these nights, she'd sleep right through and wouldn't get her work done.
It was her fault for insisting on working late. She could work during the day like a normal person, but she loved the tranquility of the museum at night. Besides, she hadn't been sleeping well lately anyway. Might as well work through the night.
She rubbed her eyes and gathered her wits. She took a sip of her cold coffee and stared at the wet spot on her blotter where she'd dribbled a little. “Ugh. Real dainty, Douglas."
She pushed away from her desk. As foggy as she was, she knew it was the perfect time to do her preliminary inspection. She hated doing her work when people were milling about anyway. She gathered up her collapsible stool, a notebook, and her Holly Hobby satchel, the one containing her pencils and various tools of the trade. Thus armed, she stumbled out of her office.
Maia looked around the conservation office. All the other conservators were already gone for the day. No surprise there. She was the only one who kept such ungodly hours.
Taking the stairs up to the fifth floor, she made her way to the new Gallery of Greece. This part of the museum wasn't open to the public yet, and the entrance was still shrouded by opaque drop cloths. She knew it wouldn't open officially until it passed muster with the new director.
His Lordship was due any minute, and everyone at the Toronto Museum was nervous. There was a reason for it. Eric Lord's reputation preceded him. He was from a family of museum experts, although she'd never met him in her travels. She'd read articles by his grandfather—another Eric Lord—when she
