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Authors: Lucienne Diver
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very short list of things that could out-stare us gorgon girls. Fish. The occasional owl. Tikis.
“ You brought me into this when you treated me like a suspect—in a slaying I still see in my nightmares. I take that personally. So yeah, I’ve got a client and she’s pretty demanding. If you’re not going to arrest me—” not that I should give him ideas, “—I’d like to get back to work.”
“Does your boyfriend know a former porn star stayed over at your place last night?”
Holy non sequitur, Batman . So that had been him. There’d been rumors that
Apollo Demas, star of stage and screen (hey, the gods had to do something after they’d lost their worship and a great deal of their power along with it) had begun his career in the adult film industry. I might have to stop by the video store on the way home.
“Nick trusts me,” I answered.
“Uh huh. You didn’t answer my question.”
“I didn’t figure it was any of your business. How about you answer one of my questions for a change? If this scene’s already been processed, what are you doing here?”
He eyed me, much like Hermes had, but in the end, he too decided to talk. I was just one of those people, I guessed. Put me on public transport and I’d hear the life story of the lady next to me, whether I wanted to or not. Usually not. There were, after all, limits to my curiosity. “That fissure runs deep and has partially collapsed back in on itself. It’s not possible to see down past a few feet. A team’s coming out from UCLA and we’re going to send a camera down to take a look. I came out to check on the scene and the structural integrity. Now you. Tit for tat.”
I grit my teeth. “No, Armani doesn’t know.”
“It was Nick a second ago.”
“So sue me. Anyway, it’s not what you think with Apollo.”
“It never is.”
I glared and he ignored.
“We’re friends, okay?” I said. “It may seem odd, the actor and the PI, but we share…a common ancestry.”
He raised both brows at that. “You’re related? Like kissing cousins?”
The very thought was so absurd I couldn’t even get angry. “ So no. Not unless it’s back countless generations.” Was Apollo related to Pan somehow? Maybe. It seemed like all the old ones were related somehow—springing fully formed from each others’ heads and that sort of thing.
“He’ll tell the same story?” Rosen asked.
Call me slow, but I only just realized that Rosen could only know about Apollo’s visit if he’d had me watched.
“How exactly is this relevant to your case?”
“Who says it is? Maybe I’m just making conversation.”
“Yeah, well, this one is over.”
His phone rang as I was about to brush past him, and he reached a hand out lightning-fast to grab me by the arm and hold me there. He lifted the phone from a hip holster with his other hand.
“Rosen.” He stopped to listen. “Really?” His voice sharpened, and I knew it wasn’t a checking-in sort of call. “Send them over right away. I’ll stand by.”
“Don’t move,” he ordered me, as if I had a choice. He was hanging on tight, and even if I gave him the gorgon glare, I’d probably have to break his fingers to escape. When he unfroze, I’d have a heck of an enemy. With a badge and a license to kill.
He punched a button on the phone and held it at arm’s length to look at whatever the caller had sent his way. It made him suck his lips into his mouth to the point where they ceased to exist.
“What is it?” I asked, not that I thought he’d tell me.
I was wrong. He turned the phone in my direction, and I wished he hadn’t.
“Another body’s been found—torn apart.”
“Here?” I asked. I didn’t mean here here, of course, but L.A. in general.
“San Francisco area.”
“Uncle Christos.” It escaped my lips before I could think. More of a prayer than a statement, really, that the body not be his. It was hard to tell with the face ripped off.
Chapter Six
“Happiness
“ You brought me into this when you treated me like a suspect—in a slaying I still see in my nightmares. I take that personally. So yeah, I’ve got a client and she’s pretty demanding. If you’re not going to arrest me—” not that I should give him ideas, “—I’d like to get back to work.”
“Does your boyfriend know a former porn star stayed over at your place last night?”
Holy non sequitur, Batman . So that had been him. There’d been rumors that
Apollo Demas, star of stage and screen (hey, the gods had to do something after they’d lost their worship and a great deal of their power along with it) had begun his career in the adult film industry. I might have to stop by the video store on the way home.
“Nick trusts me,” I answered.
“Uh huh. You didn’t answer my question.”
“I didn’t figure it was any of your business. How about you answer one of my questions for a change? If this scene’s already been processed, what are you doing here?”
He eyed me, much like Hermes had, but in the end, he too decided to talk. I was just one of those people, I guessed. Put me on public transport and I’d hear the life story of the lady next to me, whether I wanted to or not. Usually not. There were, after all, limits to my curiosity. “That fissure runs deep and has partially collapsed back in on itself. It’s not possible to see down past a few feet. A team’s coming out from UCLA and we’re going to send a camera down to take a look. I came out to check on the scene and the structural integrity. Now you. Tit for tat.”
I grit my teeth. “No, Armani doesn’t know.”
“It was Nick a second ago.”
“So sue me. Anyway, it’s not what you think with Apollo.”
“It never is.”
I glared and he ignored.
“We’re friends, okay?” I said. “It may seem odd, the actor and the PI, but we share…a common ancestry.”
He raised both brows at that. “You’re related? Like kissing cousins?”
The very thought was so absurd I couldn’t even get angry. “ So no. Not unless it’s back countless generations.” Was Apollo related to Pan somehow? Maybe. It seemed like all the old ones were related somehow—springing fully formed from each others’ heads and that sort of thing.
“He’ll tell the same story?” Rosen asked.
Call me slow, but I only just realized that Rosen could only know about Apollo’s visit if he’d had me watched.
“How exactly is this relevant to your case?”
“Who says it is? Maybe I’m just making conversation.”
“Yeah, well, this one is over.”
His phone rang as I was about to brush past him, and he reached a hand out lightning-fast to grab me by the arm and hold me there. He lifted the phone from a hip holster with his other hand.
“Rosen.” He stopped to listen. “Really?” His voice sharpened, and I knew it wasn’t a checking-in sort of call. “Send them over right away. I’ll stand by.”
“Don’t move,” he ordered me, as if I had a choice. He was hanging on tight, and even if I gave him the gorgon glare, I’d probably have to break his fingers to escape. When he unfroze, I’d have a heck of an enemy. With a badge and a license to kill.
He punched a button on the phone and held it at arm’s length to look at whatever the caller had sent his way. It made him suck his lips into his mouth to the point where they ceased to exist.
“What is it?” I asked, not that I thought he’d tell me.
I was wrong. He turned the phone in my direction, and I wished he hadn’t.
“Another body’s been found—torn apart.”
“Here?” I asked. I didn’t mean here here, of course, but L.A. in general.
“San Francisco area.”
“Uncle Christos.” It escaped my lips before I could think. More of a prayer than a statement, really, that the body not be his. It was hard to tell with the face ripped off.
Chapter Six
“Happiness
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