Page 3

Chapter three

“ Blyad. ” Odelle cursed so forcefully the two older ladies sitting on the bus in front of her stopped their tittering to stare. Since they looked curious instead of scandalized, Odelle guessed they didn’t speak Russian.

Even if they did, Odelle didn’t have attention to spare them. She jumped off the bus as soon as it stopped and marched up the steps towards the mirrored, kidney-shaped sculpture at the center of the park. Everybody stared as she stopped next to Antony, and she didn’t blame them. The long purple garment he wore, a chiton if Odelle remembered correctly, was interwoven with threads of silver that glistened even in the thin winter sunlight. A city dweller might not bat an eye at Antony in a dress, but the molten silver fabric wrapped around his shoulders as a cloak of sorts couldn’t be ignored.

“What the Hell, Antony?” Odelle hissed, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him towards the street. She definitely didn’t spare a moment to think about how muscular his biceps felt under her hand, despite his slight build.

“I dressed up,” Antony defended as he trailed her to the curb, “I thought making a good impression on anybody we had to question would help our interview go smoothly.”

“You’re the one who’s going to end up being questioned dressed like that.” Odelle scanned the street for an unoccupied cab. “You have to know people don’t dress like that anymore. I mean, you see Adam and Nora regularly.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I own any clothes like that. And Adam is much taller than me. None of his clothes would work.”

Odelle sighed in exasperation but worked to repress her annoyance. She was polite to people she didn’t care for in interviews all the time. She was an adult who could be civil to Antony to fight fear incarnate, not a teenager who refused to meet the eyes of anybody she had ever kissed. Still, something about the sting of Antony’s rejection made her feel more petulant than she had in years, as if he had poked an exposed nerve with Nora’s spear. She shoved the thoughts into a dark recess of her mind, instead herding him into the cab she hailed.

“Well, we don’t have time for a shopping trip. We’ll find something reasonable for you to put on at my place.”

Odelle gave the driver her address and grimaced. The thought of Antony in her space rankled her nerves but bringing him anywhere dressed as he was would cause a plethora of problems.

Antony had the decency to look contrite and stared out the window, avoiding Odelle’s glare. His remorse appeared to be forgotten quickly though, as he nearly pushed his face up against the window, admiring the skyscrapers. His mouth hung open as he craned his neck upwards. Odelle’s heart performed a funny flip in her chest, and she looked away, spending the rest of the short drive staring out her own window.

Besides a few odd glances from her downstairs neighbor, the pair made it to Odelle’s apartment without further mishap. She tossed her keys on the counter and made her way back to her bedroom, leaving Antony standing in her kitchen and looking like he didn’t know what to do with his hands .

It wasn’t long before she emerged from her closet, victoriously clutching a pair of track pants and a gray zippered hoodie that would fit Antony at least passably. She even found two mismatched socks in a bin of odds and ends, a miracle considering that she found putting socks on carbon fiber feet a waste of time.

She tossed the clothes at Antony, who was now inspecting the odd mess of Polaroid pictures and wedding invitations plastered on her fridge. He didn’t get his hands up in time and the clothing fell in a heap at his feet. Bending to pick them up, Antony frowned at the garments.

“Who’s are these?” he asked, “I thought you lived alone?”

Odelle shrugged a shoulder, leaning her hip against the counter.

“Oh, it’s just stuff guys have left here. I couldn’t be bothered to track them all down to give them back.”

Antony’s brow furrowed as he stared at the sweatshirt clutched in his hand. Her gut clenched at the thought that he might be judging her for her promiscuity, but she set her jaw. She refused to be ashamed of going after what she wanted. And besides, weren’t the ancient Greeks the height of promiscuity? Even if Antony thought she was beneath the likes of legendary sorcerers, she didn’t have a hard time finding willing partners. That thought buffed another scratch from Odelle’s armor of confidence.

Antony’s contemplation broke after a moment, and he began unwinding the silver cloak-like garment from his shoulders. His arms were bare underneath, and a tattoo of olive branches encircled one of his biceps. The sight of the olive leaves pulled at a loose string in Odelle’s mind. She had seen a similar pattern on something else recently.

“Antony, the Shadows were going after the Eteria weapons at the museum for a while, right? ”

Antony paused and looked up from where he was untying the silver cord that served as a belt.

“Yes, they were drawn to the power of the Light they possess. They probably hoped they could corrupt them to serve the Shadow’s purposes.”

“So would they be drawn to all Eteria artifacts?” Odelle pressed on.

“Not all of them. They wouldn’t be attracted to my clothes, for example. A weapon or object that was imbued with any amount of Light though—yes, they would be attracted to that.”

Odelle tapped her fingers on the counter in thought.

“Maybe the Shadows are after a new artifact.”

“Then why would they target a political fundraiser?” Antony tilted his head in puzzlement.

“See, I ran into a woman who was wearing this beautiful crown. When I asked her about it, she said it was a Greek antique, recently excavated. I should have asked her more, but that’s when I noticed the Shadow.”

Antony stood as still as a statue, either not realizing or not caring that he was currently halfway undressed. Odelle spun away, looking determinedly out the window over her sink.

“What did it look like, this crown?”

Odelle pursed her lips. The tiara was so striking that it wasn’t hard to picture. “It was shaped like two olive branches, meeting in the front to form a peak. It looked like bronze. Very delicate, but in excellent condition.”

Thankfully, the rustling of fabric indicated that Antony had resumed dressing as he responded.

“That very well could be an Eteria artifact, but that doesn’t mean it’s imbued with any Light. I could tell if I got a closer look at it. Who was the woman who wore it? ”

“I don’t know. I was distracted by the Shadow, and honestly, I didn’t want to know her better. She was incredibly rude.” Odelle shot a glance over her shoulder at another person who had been incredibly rude to her and found that he was dressed. The gray sweatshirt was too big on him and threatened to slip off one shoulder, revealing a generous triangle of bare chest. Freckles dusted his skin there too.

“Well, maybe we can find out,” Antony suggested, pulling her gaze back to his face.

“We could try to track the purchase of the crown,” Odelle voiced her thought out loud. “If it is Eteria, it very well could have been excavated in the same dig as Adam’s sword and Nora’s spear. If we could find a list of artifacts from that, see if any went to private collectors, that might be a good start.”

“And where would we find a list like that?”

Odelle chewed the inside of her cheek. Nora would know more about the archeological expedition in Greece. After all, she had restored several weapons from the dig in her work at the Field Museum, and the weapons had led to her discovery of the Eteria. If Odelle called Nora to ask her about it though, Nora would pry the truth about the Shadow from her and come crashing home to save the day.

“I think I have the name of the lead archeologist on the dig from when I covered the gala at the museum. I may even have their contact information, although it would all be on my desktop at work.”

Antony still stood in front of the fridge holding his purple garb bundled in his arms, clearly unsure what to do with it. Leaving him here alone among her things felt like an invasion of privacy. Giving him the chance to see the pile of dirty underwear on her desk chair and the leftover Hawaiian pizza in the fridge felt like handing him ammunition with which to judge her. To prove that he was right for rejecting her advances. Still, she needed a break from those big eyes.

Odelle marched around the kitchen island into the living room, grabbing the remote off the coffee table. She handed it to Antony.

“This controls the TV over there. Watch whatever you want to entertain yourself while I run into the office to grab the information we need. I’ll be back soon.”

Antony looked as though he might protest, but any argument he may have had vanished when she pressed the power button on the remote for him. He curiously pressed a few buttons and gasped in delight when the picture on the TV changed. In a few short strides, he was across the room, kneeling before the entertainment center and inspecting the television from all sides. He gently ran his fingers over the black frame and hummed in approval, as if he could feel the electricity working beneath the surface.

“Just don’t take it apart while I’m gone,” Odelle remarked as she grabbed her purse.

“So does that mean I can take it apart once you’re back?” Antony asked.

Odelle sighed, about to explain that wasn’t quite what she meant when Antony shot a crooked smile over his shoulder. She smiled despite herself, but quickly schooled her expression into one of mild exasperation. He wasn’t allowed to joke around with her so effortlessly. Before Antony could make any more wisecracks, she headed out the door, leaving him to marvel at modern technology.

The office hummed with activity, as it usually did, even on weekends. The pressures of the twenty-four-hour news cycle kept the channel operating at a breakneck pace. Somehow, the hustle and bustle of assistants pushing past with paper carriers of coffee and the clacking of keyboards relieved some of Odelle’s tension. Magical crowns and failed romantic liaisons with immortal sorcerers may have put her out of her depth, but reporting was different. She stood taller as she pushed through the bullpen towards her desk. Odelle’s buoyed mood deflated as Ernie spotted her and moved to intercept her.

“Coming in on your day off, and after covering the fundraiser last night? You really are burning the candle at both ends.” Ernie patted her shoulder in a way that was probably meant to be amiable, but she struggled against the urge to shrug him off.

“You know,” Ernie barreled on, oblivious to Odelle’s annoyance, “If you went the talk show route, you would be able to enjoy your days off. Go out and meet a handsome guy.”

“Oh, I won’t be here long,” Odelle assured him, “I’m just here to grab some contact info from my computer.” She avoided telling him she had met a handsome guy who was currently waiting at her apartment, but he just wasn’t interested. After all, the fact that her boss would comment on her love life was preposterous to begin with. She had grown used to ignoring his misogyny over the years as she climbed into her current position.

Ernie gave a shrug that seemed to say, “whatever floats your boat,” even as his condescending smile indicated he thought she was making a mistake.

Odelle brushed off the interaction, sliding herself into her desk chair and waking up her computer. Sure enough, the lead archaeologist from the dig in Greece was listed prominently in her notes from the museum gala coverage. She smiled in victory at the sight of a phone number beneath the name. Odelle snatched up her desk phone and punched in the number. The line rang several times, and Odelle propped the receiver between her ear and shoulder as she idly swung back and forth in her swiveling desk chair.

“Hello, Dr. Darwish speaking.” A cheery female voice answered.

“Hi, Dr. Darwish, this Odelle Zvezda, a reporter from Channel Three News Chicago.” Odelle easily slipped into her plucky reporter voice, the one that Nora teased her for accidentally using on personal phone calls.

“Odelle Zvezda?” The woman’s cheerful tone disappeared so quickly that Odelle momentarily thought she was talking to a completely different person. “Are you the reporter that covered the Field Museum gala featuring Classical Greek artifacts?”

“Yes?” Odelle didn’t intend for the word to come out as a question, but Dr. Darwish’s accusatory tone threw her off balance.

“Well then, I hope you are calling to apologize for not even mentioning the work of my excavation and research crew in your feature of the new artifacts, even though we’re the ones who did the discovering.”

She blinked. It hadn’t crossed her mind that the archeologists would be following the news surrounding the weapons. Apparently, nothing was going to be easy today.

“Actually, you aren’t that far off.” Odelle swung back to her computer, scouring her notes for any other information she might have on Dr. Darwish. “I’m planning a feature on your excavation. I know that the sword and the spear currently at the Field Museum aren’t the only artifacts you discovered, and I’d love to highlight your work.”

“Oh.” Dr. Darwish sounded taken aback, but not quite won over, “Really?”

“Yes!” Odelle’s voice was a tad too enthusiastic. She toned down her feigned excitement as she continued, “We would love to feature some of the discoveries you’ve made. I did want to make sure that we don’t miss any of the fantastic pieces you’ve found, though. Were any artifacts sold to private donors in the area? It would be great if we could photograph those to show as well as the more well-known artifacts. Really paint a picture of the scope of your work.”

“Hmm…”

Odelle held her breath at the sound of shuffling papers on the other end of the line.

“Yes, we did sell to three different private collectors.”

She scribbled down the names as Dr. Darwish listed them out. She probably wasn’t supposed to be giving them to Odelle, but a little bit of flattery went a long way. She scrutinized the names, seeing if any of them rang a bell. She barely registered Dr. Darwish still prattling on through the receiver.

“When would you be conducting the interview?”

“How about I call you to schedule once we have all the images from around here we need? Probably in a few weeks,” Odelle deflected. Hopefully that would give her enough time to resolve the issue with the Shadow and smooth things over with Ernie.

“Alright then.” Dr. Darwish’s enthusiasm didn’t dim. Maybe Odelle would turn this into a lovely feature piece after all. “I’ll call you on this number if I don’t hear from you.”

Odelle was sure she would, as she rushed through a polite goodbye. As soon as she hung up, she searched the names on the internet. As expected, all were bigshot businessmen, having the type of money to throw around on something that would likely only ever sit in a glass case to start conversations at cocktail parties.

The first name on the list was quickly ruled out as a search showed many pictures of the man on red carpets with his husband. The lady wearing the crown had claimed to be the owner’s wife. She could have been lying, but Odelle couldn’t imagine what purpose that would serve .

The second man on the list lived in New York. Odelle itched to rule him out too, but people traveled across the country for events regularly. He very well could have flown out for the political fundraiser, and Odelle didn’t manage to find any pictures of him with a woman who might have been his wife.

Odelle noted all the names and addresses in case the Shadows started targeting the other artifacts as well. For now, she would focus on the one she knew they were after.

The last name on the list struck a chord in Odelle’s mind. Frederick Whitehall was a prominent philanthropist in Chicago, but she couldn’t find any pictures of him with the woman she had spoken to at the fundraiser. Still, she crossed her fingers that he had bought the crown. Having to track the artifact down in New York would present an even larger challenge. What she would do when she found the crown, she hadn’t even begun to think about.

I’ll burn that bridge when I come to it.

Odelle closed out of the browser and grabbed the paper with the names on it, shoving it into her already overcrowded purse. Antony had spent enough time waiting in her apartment. The vision of her pile of dirty clothes pushed into her mind again, but she shoved it away. Antony already didn’t like her, so his thoughts on her laundry habits were irrelevant. Still, she hurried home.

Antony sat on the floor surrounded by pieces of what had once been her toaster. At least, Odelle guessed it was her toaster from the amount of crumbs now scattered across her area rug. She made a mental note to decrumb her toaster more often—once she bought a new one, that was.

“I told you not to take apart the television, but you assumed kitchen appliances were fair game?” Odelle asked as she pushed into the apartment. The plastic bag of takeout she held rustled as she set it down on the counter. Odelle thought she was demonstrating how she was the bigger person, grabbing lunch for the man who had rejected her. Seeing the state of her living room though, she had second thoughts about the gesture.

Antony looked up from his fiddling. Apparently, he had done some snooping, as he held a screwdriver that Odelle didn’t even know she owned. Seeing her exasperation, he reddened. The blush traveled all the way to the exposed patch of his chest. Odelle turned her gaze back to the takeout in front of her as he spoke.

“To be fair, this looked small enough that I thought I would have it back together by the time you got back,” he defended.

“Well, I’d say you owe me a new toaster, but I don’t think you have any modern money.” She pulled a container of soup out of the bag of takeout.

Antony frowned at the bits and bobs in front of him. He picked up a small spring and examined it, not looking at Odelle as he spoke.

“I’ll get it working again,” he retorted, “It’s just very shoddy craftsmanship.”

Odelle shrugged as she sat down on the couch with her soup.

“That’s probably because I bought it for twenty dollars when I got my first apartment in grad school.”

Antony didn’t respond, squinting at the spring in his hand as he fit it into a slotted metal piece. The pink tip of his tongue stuck out between his lips as he concentrated. Odelle filled the silence so she wouldn’t stare.

“I got ahold of the archeologist from the dig. She was not happy to hear from me, but I did some schmoozing.”

“ Schmoozing ?” Antony repeated.

“You know, using a little bit of flattery to get your way,” Odelle explained.

Antony’s concentration softened as he smiled slightly. “You would be good at that.”

Odelle bristled. She prided herself on being good with people but commenting on her schmoozing capabilities didn’t feel like a compliment. At least not from Antony. Everything he said had a way of getting under her skin, as if his very existence as a powerful immortal sorcerer accentuated her shortcomings. Her normally robust confidence seemed hollow under his gentle, perceptive gaze.

“Anyway.” Odelle brushed away her annoyance. “She gave me the name of a few private collectors.”

She relayed the information to him, along with her suspicions that Frederick Whitehall’s wife was the woman who had worn the crown to the gala. Antony turned to her when she finished. He said something, but Odelle didn’t register his words, as she was too busy gawking at the fully built toaster he held out to her. She couldn’t have been talking for more than two minutes. Dumbly, she took the appliance from him and turned it over in her hands a few times. It looked just like it had when she had pulled her bagel out of it this morning, except with fewer crumbs.

“…food?”

Odelle’s hearing finally cut in again as Antony finished repeating his question.

“Oh— lunch. Yeah, the food on the counter is for you.”

Antony made his way to the kitchen, peeking inside the Styrofoam box and brown paper bakery bag. A smile lit his face as he snatched up the bag, skipping over the turkey sandwich in favor of the brownie. His eyes virtually rolled back in his head as he popped a bite into his mouth, chewing slowly.

“Of all the amazing things humans have come up with in the past two thousand years, I might have to argue that chocolate is the best,” Antony declared. He brought the treat back out into the living room, ignoring the furniture in favor of resuming his place on the floor.

“I’m pretty sure that nature is responsible for chocolate.”

“True,” Antony agreed after swallowing another bite. “Even though it grows on trees, people didn’t really figure out how to eat it well until recently.”

“Recently?” Odelle questioned.

“Well, relatively recently,” Antony amended. “Sure, the Aztecs and Mayans were using cocoa beans as currency in the 1500s, but Adam didn’t bring a chocolate bar to the Sanctuary until less than a hundred and fifty years ago. I lived too much of my life without chocolate. I plan on making up for it now that we’re spending more time outside of the Sanctuary.”

She was tempted to argue that most people didn’t consider one hundred years ago recent, but she reminded herself that Antony’s view of time was relative. She probably seemed as na?ve and inexperienced as a child to him. Her stomach churned at the thought.

“So, you know who has the crown?” Antony prompted.

“Right.” Odelle shook herself. “I think so, but I’m not sure it’s the crown.”

“But you do know he bought something,” Antony pointed out.

“Yes, although I’m not sure how that helps us.”

“Well, you said you told the archeologist you wanted to do a special interest piece and feature the artifacts some private collectors bought. You could keep up the ruse—use it to see their collections and confirm he has it.”

Odelle twisted a lock of hair around her finger.

“We would still need to get you to see the crown though, so you could tell if it’s something the Shadows might be after. You’d need a cover to come with me.” Odelle looked Antony up and down. “I’d have you pose as a camera man, but you would probably end up taking the camera apart.”

Antony had the audacity to look excited at the prospect of dissecting equipment.

“Couldn’t I be an antiquities expert working on the story with you? It wouldn’t technically be a lie.”

“The best lie is the truth,” Odelle conceded. “I’ll need to build you an identity, make you seem legit. What’s your last name?”

“I don’t have one.”

Odelle blinked. “Are you just so iconic that you only need one name, like Madonna or Beyonce?”

“I don’t know who those people are,” Antony admitted. “Last names weren’t common when I was born. People would say who their fathers were, or where they were from. In the Eteria, though, we were each other’s family, and that was enough.”

“Well then, you are from Greece. Why don’t we pick a traditional Greek last name for you?”

Antony clapped a hand to his chest. “Excuse me, I am Athenian.”

“Current day, Athens is in Greece,” Odelle argued. “Ok, choose an Athenian last name.”

Antony drummed his fingers on his collarbone as he contemplated.

“Why not just Athenos?” he asked .

“I’m pretty sure that is a brand of feta cheese,” Odelle admitted, “but it should work fine. You are now Antony Athenos. Nice alliteration. I’ll come up with some credentials for you, maybe even draw up a business card. You just bring your knowledge of Greek—or Athenian, antiquities and try not to act too weird.”

Antony frowned.

“Actually,” Odelle amended, “A little weird is ok. Most history experts are a bit eccentric. Look at Nora.”

“Does that mean I can wear my chiton ?” Antony looked hopefully at the pile of folded purple and silver cloth on the kitchen counter.

Maybe showing up in classical garb would sell the eccentric antiquities expert bit, but Odelle doubted that wealthy philanthropists would jump to let a pants-less man poke around their belongings.

“No, we’ll have to get you something professional to wear.” Odelle started to twirl her hair between her fingers again but stopped herself before she could irrevocably separate the one lock that she chronically fiddled with from her styled bob. They could go shopping, but something about picking out clothes for Antony struck her as intolerably domestic. Something she would do for a person she knew and cared for—not for somebody she was desperately trying to keep at arm’s length.

Odelle pulled out her cellphone, scrolling through the contacts before finding the one she wanted.

“I think Drew is off today. He’ll be able to help you with menswear better than I will,” Odelle lied. If left to his own devices, Drew wouldn’t wear anything besides scrubs or flannels with jeans. Still, he was familiar with the oddities of the Eteria and would ensure that Antony at least had pants.

True to form, Drew rang the buzzer less than an hour after Odelle texted him begging for assistance. She sprang to her feet and rushed to answer the door, grateful for the reprieve from Antony’s presence. They had passed the time with Antony poking around Odelle’s apartment and asking her seemingly endless questions about modern life.

“What’s this?”

“A can opener.”

Antony turned the lever and watched the gears rotate pensively before putting it back in the drawer. His attention turned to a wine glass, which he turned this way and that to examine. Staring at Antony’s nimble fingers manipulating the delicate stem made Odelle wish she had her own glass of wine right then.

“At what speed was this glass tempered to ensure its structural integrity?”

“I have no clue,” Odelle admitted, much more equipped to simply identify household objects.

Now, she was grateful to have a moment to breathe as she trudged downstairs to let Drew in. After an hour of observing Antony’s fascination with the world around him, Odelle had begun to relax, even to find his wonder endearing. It had taken constant reminders of how Antony really felt about her to keep him from charming her with his curiosity. She had mistaken his playful manner with romantic interest before, but she wouldn’t make the same mistake again—wouldn’t let him trick her with that dreamy smile.

Odelle ushered Drew into the building and out of the blustery winter air. He greeted her with a sideways hug, a quick squeeze of his strong arm around her shoulders.

“You said there was some Eteria business you needed help with? I’m not used to being called for help for anything besides stitching people up when magical herbs aren’t doing the trick,” Drew joked.

She slapped him on the shoulder .

“Hard to believe that we keep you around for more than your medical skills, huh?”

Odelle was glad for the casual banter. Drew had become a fixture in her life after dating Nora for years. Odelle hadn’t wanted to admit that she missed him after he and Nora broke up, afraid of being selfish. She was glad he was around again though, always a calm presence in the storm that seemed to surround Nora and the Eteria.

“Then what do you need me for?” Drew asked as he followed her up the stairs.

“Antony and I are investigating some Shadow activity in the city, but he draws way too much attention traipsing around in a toga,” Odelle explained.

“I’m pretty sure he’d take offense to you calling it a toga,” Drew interjected. “I mean, he’s Athenian not Roman.”

“I’ve heard,” Odelle commented dryly. “I was just hoping you could take him shopping. We’ve got to go interview some people, so make sure he looks sharp—maybe a suit.”

Drew shot Odelle a quizzical look as they stopped on her landing.

“You’re avoiding the opportunity to go shopping? It’s not like you to pass up dressing somebody like him. I mean, he does look like he belongs on a runway somewhere with those spidery long legs.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Odelle said flatly. “Anyway, I have other things to set up. I have to schedule the interview after all, handle the paperwork, build a false identity.”

“Whatever you say.” Drew shrugged. “He could probably use a break from your charms anyway. After two thousand years of isolation, your flirting would knock any man flat on his ass.”

The glare Odelle shot Drew made him look at his shoes as she opened the door to her apartment. Still, as Antony and Drew left, she shook off the feeling that her apartment was a little too quiet now. Her nerves were just fried from being forced to spend so much time with somebody so infuriating.