Crazy in the Blood (Latter-Day Olympians) (16 page)

I decided not to take the turn, but drove past until those twisted trees gave way to a piled stone fence that I hoped marked the next property line about a half mile down the road. I pulled off to the shoulder and opened my glove compartment. “Gone for Gas,” I wrote in the notebook I kept there for recording mileage, which I always meant to do but rarely actually did unless I was on a paying case and needed it for the expense report. I also grabbed the fanny pack I kept there with a camera, first aid kit and power bars for stake-outs and other emergencies. I added the bottle of water from the hotel, and I was good to go. I tucked the note under my windshield wipers in plain sight of anyone curious about the abandoned vehicle to hopefully keep anyone from calling the cops.

Then I locked the car and crept into the trees. They weren’t humungous, but they were taller than me, which made skulking convenient. If I’d been a country girl, I could have told what type they were from the buds and little white flowers, but there was no fruit yet—it was way too early in the year—which meant no harvesters or whatever to dodge. Still, I kept my ears perked and crept toward the private drive, figuring that if I travelled parallel to it, I’d be sure to hit the complex. I caught sight of the road through the trees and was ready to pull back to make sure nobody who might be on it would catch sight of
me
when I heard a car crunching over the pits and loose stones of the dirt drive.

My heart seemed to kick into overdrive like it knew something I didn’t, and consequently my blood went rushing around like a kid who’d downed the mother lode of Pixie Stix. I took a few steps closer to the path, the better to see what was kicking up my alert system, though it was giving me more of a heads-up than a
duck!

I was just in time to see a big black Town Car with livery plates slide slowly into view, the better to save its suspension. And in the back, through the lightly tinted windows, was an unmistakable figure. Golden hair, wavy and glorious, falling like a lion’s mane or the rays of the sun, broad shoulders, commanding presence, and while I couldn’t see them at the moment, eyes the color of tropical waters. Apollo. Sun god and snake.

I pulled back into the orchard, put my back to a tree, and whipped out my cell phone. I had it out and speed dialed before I knew what I was going to say.

“Where are you?” I asked when he answered.

There was a pause on the other end, then Apollo said, “I’m in the Napa Valley. Where are you?”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why do I want to know or why am I in Napa?”

“The last part.”

“When did you become my keeper?’

“When you stumbled into my investigation.”

I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line and remembered that same breath in my ear. It sent a pulse of crackling electricity shooting through my system that had nothing to do with my prophetic powers.

“You’re
here
?” he asked sharply.

“In the flesh.”

“Where?”

“Did they send a car for you or did you hire your own?”

“I picked up a ride at the airport. Why?”

“Look out the back.”

I navigated around the gnarly trees to poke my head out toward the road and wave one arm.

“Stop!” Apollo shouted, and the car leapt forward as if the driver had been startled and then froze in place, the purr of the engine and the buzzing of bees the only sounds to be heard.
 

“Get in,” Apollo demanded.

I’d faded back into the trees and now stared at the phone in disbelief. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“You’ve got the place staked out,” he said. It was more statement than question, so I didn’t answer. “You want to get inside?”

I wished I could see straight through the phone to his intentions.
That
question definitely demanded an answer, but what? I had no idea how much I’d be able to see of the compound from the outside. Going in through the front gates would definitely give me a better lay of the land and the chance to size up the players so that I knew what I was up against, but it would let them see me as well, limiting my stealth or undercover options. Not that I was a long con kind of girl in any case, but… Well, if what Hades had said about me was true, that “all of Olympus” was buzzing, that ship had probably already sailed.
 

“What’s in it for you?” I asked. Because strings were
always
attached.

“In gratitude, you’ll have dinner with me tonight.”

“I’m traveling with a friend—”

“Alone,” he said, in a way that let me know there was no room for negotiation.

“Fine,” I grated out. “In a nice restaurant. No room service.”

He laughed. “Afraid I won’t be able to control myself in private?”

Put that way it sounded silly. I was hardly irresistible. “Yes,” I answered anyway.

He sighed. “You’re probably right. Coming?”

Not yet
, I thought. Then I spent my brisk walk to the car beating myself up for it.
Not at all
, I told myself. Bad Tori. No cookie.

The door to the Town Car popped open at my approach, and Apollo slid over to make room for me, though not as much as I would have liked. As luxurious as it was, there wasn’t enough room for comfort. Apollo’s presence was huge, overwhelming, like he was a junkyard magnet and I was an old clunker car. I wanted to slide over beside him, feel his heat and his…
heat
. I wanted to—

“Dial. It. Back,” I said from between clenched teeth.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever,” I snapped.

In addition to being the god of the sun, music and prophecy, Apollo imbued the muses with their powers—poetry, literature, all the arts. He himself could inspire a host of wet dreams. I was doing my best to stay dry.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, suspicion giving me a tiny little wedge to drive between us.

“Dionysus and I go way back. I don’t know if you know, but we shared a sanctuary together at Delphi.”

“So you’re old drinking buddies getting together to talk about old times?

“No, business.”

My
oh-shit
-o-meter was going completely off the rails. Suddenly my head felt like a bell with the Hunchback of Notre Dame pulling on the rope. I know, wrong cultural reference. So sue me.

Didn’t Apollo hear the warning bells? He
was
the god of prophecy. Or maybe getting into bed (figuratively) with Dionysus meant something different to him. It was a good reminder that however well he played it on TV, he was
not
human and didn’t necessarily share my agenda for protecting them…us. On the other hand, he had stood with me against Poseidon and the other Olympians when they’d threatened L.A. Possibly he’d earned the benefit of the doubt. If I didn’t have this powerful urge to throw myself on top of him, I’d be much better able to trust that impulse.

“What business?”

He eyed me, clearly debating what, if anything, to say. “On the QT?” he asked.

“Who am I gonna tell?”

“Your grandmother for one.”

“I promise, my lips are sealed.” I mimed locking them up and throwing away the key, which only riveted his gaze on my lips. Probably not a good thing.

“They’re rolling out a new product line,” he said, still not meeting my eyes. “We’re going to discuss getting some of my talent involved in the promotion.”

“A product line?”
 

I managed to sound only mildly curious, when inside I was screaming. If they rolled out with something mass produced, it could affect thousands…
millions
. Nationally and even internationally.

We were at the gates now, and I had to divide my attention between looking around and pinning Apollo with a piercing gaze. What if promotion wasn’t all they had to talk about? What if Apollo was actually Dionysus’s ambrosia supplier? Or vice versa? Apollo might not even see anything wrong with what Back to Earth was doing. After all, he’d been quick enough to addict me when…okay, when I’d needed it, at least in his opinion.

I kept all those thoughts on the inside as Apollo flashed his ID and we were waved through the compound gates.

As the windows closed again, he answered me. “They’re planning an all-organic version of a grocery delivery service. Today they’re talking about regional distribution of their home-grown products, but they’ve got expansion plans in the works—full gourmet meal delivery via their restaurants, three squares a day with snacks to compete with those diet plans, and once they have more facilities and distributors—” He stopped. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you all this, but at least it’s not a publicly traded company, so you can’t go out and buy stock or anything.”

Oh yeah, because I
so
had the money for insider trading.

I couldn’t ask any of the questions I wanted to. If he was in league with Dionysus, then talking to him would be just like tipping my hand to the enemy. He’d know I knew. And if he was threatened by that knowledge…well, I’d already had Thanatos try to kill me. I figured my odds of actually dying went up with each and every god I crossed. Not that it would stop me from investigating, but it might force me to learn the subtlety that had eluded me all my life.

I made a noncommittal noise, like he could talk or not, it made no difference to me, and focused out the window. As far as I could see, the place was immense. Everywhere there were wooden plank buildings, like log cabins if the logs had been sawed flat rather than left to their natural curvaceous selves. There were a few men and women in natural weak-coffee-colored fabric, rather than the blinding white I half expected of a cult. Although, I supposed that would involve bleach, which was probably a no-no for children of the earth. Some had baskets on their hips, heads or shoulders, and some had children by the hand. But there weren’t as many as I expected. Maybe everybody else was out working in the fields I could see rising in tiers above the compound. Those nearest turned their heads to watch us as we went by, and one of the children pointed excitedly while jumping up and down, but for the most part our arrival went ignored, which demonstrated to me a surprising lack of curiosity.

“Which building?” the driver asked, talking for the first time that I was aware of.

“Anywhere’s fine,” Apollo answered.

The driver stopped short as if
here
suited him perfectly. Apollo paid him, and the driver handed over a business card with the receipt. “That’s my cell number on there,” he said. “You want outta here, you just call. I’ll pick you up or send somebody out for you.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think that’ll be—”

“My sister got sick from somethin’ she ate from these people—one of their stands. Couldn’t prove nothin’, but it was the only thing she ate different. Gave me the heebie-jeebies when you told me we were coming out here. If I was allowed to refuse a fare—”

Apollo looked troubled, and I asked, “Do you have a second card, in case I want to go and he’s not ready to leave?”

The driver met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Sure, doll. I don’t know what you’ve got goin’ on, coming out of the bushes like that, but you be careful,
capisce
?”

Oh, I
capisced
. I wanted to hear more about his sister, but that would have to wait. I pocketed the card, thanked him, and followed Apollo out of the car.

Three figures had come out of one of the central buildings—two beautiful women with flowing hair, one a bronzy copper and the other so dark brown it was nearly black. Between them stood a man who looked like the love child of W.C. Fields and Zack Galifianakis. In other words, tall but round, at least in the belly area. Attractive-ish, but with a red nose that let you know exactly how that gut had come about. Perfectly appropriate for the god of the grape. Yet his dark eyes glittered with mischief and knowledge, calling you to look no further. He had, in a word, presence. In two, charisma. He didn’t look like any kind of health guru, which might explain the need for a spokesperson. On the other hand, he looked exactly like the kind of figure that would lead you into temptation…or a crazy cult.

Apollo stepped forward to greet Dionysus, not with a handshake, but with arms outstretched. They hugged and kissed on both cheeks, then Dionysus held Apollo out at arm’s length to get a good look at him.

“L.A. agrees with you, my friend. You don’t look a day over…thirty-five.”

“I’m supposed to be creeping up on fifty,” Apollo answered.

“Ah, but fifty
is
the new thirty-five.”

“In the city of angels, it’s halfway to dead.”

“It is a good thing we spring eternal, no?”

Dionysus put Apollo aside and turned those glittering eyes on me. “And who is this beautiful young lady you bring with you? One of your rising stars?”

It was all I could do not to roll my eyes or step back when he approached, arms outstretched as they had been for Apollo. I knew what came next—the hug, the kiss…both cheeks. I stood for it all, not finding it as difficult as I should have to smile back. His grin was infectious, and the mischievous glint in his eyes invited me to share a joke to which I hadn’t even heard the punch line.

Apollo returned to my side and hugged me to him, a possessive move. “This is Tori Karacis,” he said. “She’s a…good friend.”