Pandora (Book 3) (The Omega Group) (4 page)

Pella felt completely different at night. The majesty of the
ruins in the light of day was replaced in darkness by a downright creepy feel.
Mirissa passed through the remains of the city, giving a wide berth to the
mosaic floors. The only security on site was stationed outside the crime scene
and paid no any attention to the surrounding area.

As was the plan, Mirissa’s parents led the others to the
opposite side of the palace. If security became alerted to her presence, they
would create a disturbance to draw away their attention. The hard part for
Mirissa would be teleporting to the proper location. Having never seen the
inside of the tunnel, she had no image to focus on as her destination.

She’d studied the photos of the palace from pamphlets meant
for tourists. If all went well, she’d be able to jump—her new term for
teleporting—to a room on top of the tunnel. From there, she’d have to trust her
abilities to get her inside.

Still holding the pamphlet, Mirissa closed her eyes and
focused. When she opened them, she stood in what remained of the outer palace
building.

So pictures work. Good
to know.

From what they’d seen earlier that day, the entrance to the
tunnel lay in the foundation under the east wall. Other than that, they had no
information. She assumed it angled downward into the earth, as the likelihood
of a hidden chamber going unnoticed above ground was slim. She thought it also
a safe bet that the tunnel ran in a relatively straight line, as there would be
no reason for the original architect to do otherwise.

With that in mind, Mirissa put her back to the east wall, at
a spot three yards from the corner, and walked several paces forward. If she’d
calculated correctly, the tunnel should run directly below her. After a few
calming breaths, Mirissa once again closed her eyes.
Please don’t let me materialize in rock.

She didn’t, although the solid wall stood mere inches from
her. Shaking off the shiver created by her close call, Mirissa fumbled down the
dark corridor. She didn’t dare use her flashlight, as its glow would attract
unwanted attention. Counting her steps, she estimated the tunnel ran at least
the length of the palace and descended to a depth of about twenty feet.

When the tunnel finally opened into a small chamber, Mirissa
went to work. She pulled a blanket borrowed from her hotel room out of her bag
and, using double-sided tape, hastily draped it across the corridor opening.
Not the prettiest solution, but it would get the job done.

She flipped on her flashlight and began searching the room.
Three of the walls were flat and uninteresting, but the fourth was a different
story. A small door, located in the center of the rear wall, opened into
another chamber. As she moved to take a closer look, her right foot stepped on
something soft. Her first thought, irrational as it might have been, was that
the police had somehow left the dead body there. The beam from her flashlight
proved otherwise.

A pile of dust the size of a throw pillow now had her boot
print embedded in it. Needing to remove the evidence of her presence, Mirissa
knelt down and reshaped the pile with her hands. Why someone had bothered to
sweep a five-thousand-year-old floor in the first place escaped her, but how so
much dust and debris had accumulated in a closed room seemed even more of a
mystery.

Refocusing on the task at hand, Mirissa poked her head
though the small door. Another chamber, smaller than the first, sat empty. She
crinkled her nose at the remnants of a foul odor and stepped inside. Much like
the other room, most of the surfaces were unmarked. A rectangular discoloration
in the center of the stone floor seemed the only indication anything had been
there at all. Measuring about two and a half feet long and one and a half wide,
the stain was several shades darker than the surrounding area and contained
some sort of etching.

Mirissa took out her phone and started filming. She recorded
every inch of the room, taking special care to get close-ups of the discolored
area. When she finished, she did the same with the outer chamber. Satisfied
she’d gotten everything she could get, she doused her light and removed the
blanket.

With no need for her to make the trek back up the corridor,
she simply closed her eyes and pictured the outer building in her mind. When
she opened them, she stood topside again.

But this time she wasn’t alone.

Before she could jump back to the ruins, a head peeked
around the door opening. The man was odd looking, with a long face and eyes set
a bit too close together. He casually stepped into the room and confronted her.

“You shouldn’t be here, miss,” he said with the hint of a
Greek accent.

“Oh, sorry. I was just looking around. I didn’t think it
would be a problem.” Mirissa hunched her shoulders so as to lessen their
obvious height difference and, hopefully, put the man at ease. “Are you a
security guard for the excavation?”

“No. I’m an archeologist. I worked here up until a few days
ago.”

“I see. Okay, well, it was nice to meet you.” Mirissa
stepped around the little man and headed for the door.

“Wait. Can you tell me what happened here? There are
policemen surrounding my dig site, but they won’t talk to me.”

Mirissa turned around. If he’d been one of the archeologists
on Daedric’s team, he might have information about the chamber. “There’s been a
murder. An archeologist. The news said his name was Jonathon Stapleton. Did you
know him?”

The man squeezed the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh.
“Yes, I did. He led our group. I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but he
was a bit of an ass.”

A giggle escaped Mirissa before she had the chance to stifle
it. “I’m sorry. I take it you weren’t close, then.”

“Definitely not. He fired me three days ago. I came back
today to see if he would reconsider, but I guess that ship has flown the coop.”

“Sailed,” Mirissa corrected. “What were you guys
excavating?”

“Um, nothing special, really. Just more ruins.” The man
shifted his weight from his left foot to his right and didn’t meet her eyes
while he spoke.

Mirissa’s eyes narrowed. “If you say so. I’m Mirissa, by the
way.”

“Phillip Petrakis, but people call me Flip.” He shook her
outstretched hand and passed her a business card.

“Well, again, it was nice to meet you, and I’m sorry for
your loss.”

Flip’s brow furrowed as though he hadn’t understood her last
comment. “Of course. You, too.”

Mirissa smiled as she wandered over to where the rest of her
team waited, keeping an eye on the direction Flip had gone.

“What’s got you smiling?” Greco asked.

“I just met the oddest little man. But I think he might be
our best ally.”

Mirissa’s intuition went on high alert as the team entered
the bustling lobby of their hotel. Throngs of people surrounded each of the
small television sets installed throughout the space. The harried-looking news
anchor babbled about something that appeared to be very important, although
Mirissa couldn’t understand a word of what he said.

When the image changed to a satellite photo, the language
barrier vanished.

“My room. Now.” Mirissa’s mother hurried to the stairs with
the others in tow.

“Was that what I think it was?” Orano asked when they
entered the small hotel suite.

Myrine grabbed her laptop and pulled up the CNN website. A familiar
voice filled the room.

********

CNN
Special Report

Meteorologists
worldwide are reeling after the sudden appearance of six storms over the
Atlantic and Pacific oceans. No explanation for this unprecedented event has
been forthcoming; however, the recent atmospheric disturbances are being
investigated as the possible cause.

The storms, each
currently rated as a category one hurricane, aren’t following the natural
travel patterns normally expected. Of the three hurricanes over the Pacific,
named Apollo, Balthasar, and Chloe, one appears to be headed west toward the
Chinese or Russian coastline. The other two have an easterly course that has
them approaching the west coasts of both the United States and South America.

The Atlantic storm,
Desmond, is making its way to Africa, while Eloise looks destined to hit the
Eastern Seaboard of the United States. Fatima, the last of the storms, is
expected to make landfall somewhere in Europe.

Although not much is
known about the development of these systems, speculation runs rampant as to
what their effect will be. According to expert opinion, all of the storms are
tightly formed, meaning they will most definitely increase in strength as they
near their destinations.

At their current rates
of speed, it appears the hurricanes will make landfall around the globe at
approximately the same time, four days from now. Governments around the world
are urging their citizens to ready themselves for the worst.

Stay with us here at
CNN as we bring you the latest information on what is now being touted by many
as “Stormaggedon.”
 
I’m Julia Saxon, and
we’ll be right back.

********

“Six hurricanes forming at the same time? I think it’s safe
to say Daedric is behind this.” Greco paced the floor as he addressed the
group.

Orano stood at the picture window overlooking the small town
of Halkidona, just outside of Pella. His coffee-colored eyes, almost the exact
shade of his skin, stared intently at the sky. “If that report’s right, we have
less than four days to stop him, with no idea where he is or what he’s got.”

After a moment, Mirissa interjected. “What about Flip? He’s
got to have some information about what Daedric was looking for.”

“Are you kidding?” Orano’s biceps flexed as though they were
about to burst through his taut skin as he spun around to face the team. “He
worked with the man. What makes you think you can trust him?”

“Does it matter? Right now we’ve got nothing. As far as I
can see, Flip is our only shot at getting any answers.” Mirissa glanced to each
person in the room. “Does anyone have a better idea?”

Myrine crossed her arms over her chest. “Call him and get
him over here. Let’s find out what he knows. In the meantime, let’s see if
Julian’s got anything for us.” She dialed his direct number and placed her
phone on the scratched coffee table.

“What?” Julian’s curt greeting didn’t fill the team with
optimism as to his progress on the case.

“Is everything all right?” Myrine asked.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just not getting any traction. I can’t
find a single reference to anything even close to those weird clouds, and now
with the storms …” His voice trailed off.

“We’re all working blind, here, Julian. Keep looking. What
about the writing on Mirissa’s key? Have you been able to decipher it?” Myrine
said.

The group listened to their computer genius tap away at his
keyboard before answering. “Sort of. Some of the symbols are similar to Greek
letters, but others don’t match anything I’ve been able to find. I’ve got Big
Duck running a modified translation program right now. I’ll keep you posted.”

Big Duck was the nickname Julian gave his Cray computer. He
told them he chose the name because, like a duck, a computer didn’t look all
that busy on the surface, but underneath it was furiously working away. Mirissa
thought it might have more to do with the way he often looked like he wasn’t
doing anything other than staring at a glowing monitor.

“I did find something interesting on that video footage
Mirissa took at Daedric’s dig site,” Julian said. “The pile of dust on the
floor wasn’t dust. It was remains.”

“Remains?” Steve asked.

“Yep. Cremated remains. When I blew the image up, I saw the
tiny bone fragments which are always left behind after a body is burned.”

Mirissa subconsciously wiped her hands on her jeans. She’d
touched that pile shortly after entering the chamber to remove her boot print.
“Are they human remains?”

“There’s no way to know without testing a sample, but
considering there were two other archeologists there and only one body, my
guess would be yes.”

“Ew!” Mirissa cringed. “I need to wash my hands. I’ll be
right back.”

The scalding water and excessive amount of anti-bacterial
soap helped ease Mirissa’s mind. Although she’d touched more than her fair
share of ashy remains, they’d always belonged to Kakodaemons, not humans.
Knowing the pile of debris she’d so casually stepped on was once a living
person sent a shiver down her spine.

She re-entered the living area just in time to hear her
mother give one final task to Julian. “Phillip Petrakis. Get me everything you
can find.”

Flip sat cross-legged on the end of his bed, watching the
news anchor on television strive to suppress his glee about the approaching
apocalypse. Humans had the strangest tendency to love the excitement revolving
around horrific events. The fact that they gave a name to every storm that had
the ability to kill, showed just how twisted they could be.

Perhaps he had a twisted streak, too. He couldn’t help his
own feeling of excitement at what was to come. Not the storms, of course. Rather
the wrath of Ares. The god of war had a plan, and his recently freed sister
continued to screw with it. Not only did the key-holder know she had a task to
perform, but the hurricanes gave her ample motivation to figure out how to do
it.

Flip smiled at the thought of all the drama on Mount Olympus
he’d be missing.
 
By now, everyone would
know Eris had been released, and Zeus would be out for blood. For all his
pompous “King of the Gods” crap, he had one glaring weakness. Zeus loved his
humans.

While most of the gods looked at humans as playthings to be
toyed with and laughed about, Zeus seemed to almost admire them. No matter how
often they were beaten down and shown how insignificant and useless they really
were, humans never gave up.

Flip could relate to that, although he knew Zeus felt no
admiration for him.

Tired of being an errand boy for Ares, the most ungrateful
higher god he’d ever had the displeasure of serving, Flip came up with his own
plan. He would play both sides against the middle until such time that he
controlled the outcome. He would help the key-holder achieve her goal—almost—then
use his newfound position of power to force Ares to give him everything he
wanted.

A strange ringing noise interrupted his thoughts. He didn’t
understand how humans dealt with the constant cacophony of sounds assailing
them. Natural noises were one thing, but their multitude of screeching devices
were deafening.

Telephone.

Flip jumped off the bed and ran to the table under the
window, almost knocking the ringing plastic phone to the floor in his haste to
grab it. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mr. Petrakis. This is Mirissa Colson. We met earlier at
Pella.”

Flip tried to wipe the enormous smile from his face so she
wouldn’t hear it in his voice. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, this might sound strange, but my friends and I need
your help. Are you available to meet? Like, right now?”

He skipped around his tiny hotel room as his thoughts raced.
“Of course. But I’m not sure what I could possibly help you with.”

“I’ll explain everything when you get here.” She reeled off
the address to their hotel, though he didn’t need it.

“I’ll see you shortly,” he said, ending the call. It took
every bit of Flip’s self-control to not teleport over there immediately. He
watched the clock tick away one minute after another, until enough had passed
for his arrival to appear timely. Then he teleported.

Their hotel seemed far less grand than he’d expected. The
girl was supposed to be Artemis’s secret weapon. Why would she subject herself
to lodgings that were so obviously below her stature?

As he walked through the lobby, ignoring the fearful people
watching the news, Flip readied himself for the meeting. He had to ensure he
didn’t come across as too eager to help, but also needed them to not dismiss
him as worthless. Not an easy task for a lower god of his level of
insignificance.

His breath caught in his throat when the key-holder answered
his knock on the door. “Hi,” was the only greeting his brain would produce. Her
beauty stunned him. In the darkness at the ruins, he’d been unable to glean
much more than her height but, in the room’s electric light, he couldn’t escape
her loveliness. He shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, she’d been blessed
by Artemis.

As she led him through the room, introducing him to her
friends and family,
Flip
felt more and more
uncomfortable. Were they all blessed by the gods? Was he cursed to forever be
surrounded by gorgeous people, even on earth? Every bit of confidence he’d
drummed up earlier drowned in the sea of beauty this group produced.

“Thanks very much for coming, Mr. Petrakis. We’re in a bit
of a tight spot and need all the help we can get,” the girl’s mother said with
a smile that actually seemed genuine. She pointed to the couch and gestured for
him to sit.

“How can I be of service?” he asked.

Mirissa took a seat next to him while her mother answered
his question. “We’re investigating the murder at your former dig site. We were
hoping you could tell us what your group was searching for.”

Flip’s gaze darted from one person to the next before
settling on the enormous man they called Orano. The look on the behemoth’s
chiseled face said he wouldn’t trust a word Flip said.
 
“I don’t really know.”

The big man snorted before crossing his tree-trunk size arms
over his chest.

“I mean,” Flip continued, “Stapleton found some ancient
writing at another excavation that told him where to find some super-important
artifact. He said it would be a bigger find than Tutankhamen’s tomb but didn’t
elaborate more than that. In truth, I don’t think he even knew exactly what we
were looking for.”

“Where was this writing? Do you remember what it said?”
Myrine asked.

Flip leaned forward as though about to impart a secret.
“That’s the strange thing. It was on one of the palace walls, in an area that
had already been reviewed by hundreds of people. It simply appeared one day a
few months ago.”

Mirissa placed her hand on his arm. “Do you remember when?”

Collecting the thoughts he’d lost track of when she touched
him, Flip took a deep breath and said, “The end of May, I believe.”

The girl put her hand to her chest, presumably covering the
key he knew hung there, and glanced at her mother. “Can you show it to us?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” One look at Orano, and Flip quickly
elaborated on his answer. “The writing disappeared again shortly after it was
found. Stapleton was the only one who saw it. That’s why he was able to keep
his dig a secret. No one else even knew there was something to look for.”

“What about the other archeologists in your group? What were
their stories?” Myrine asked.

“Luke Campbell was Stapleton’s right hand man. I’m afraid I
don’t know much more about him than that. He was nice to me, which is more than
I can say for the others.” When he met Mirissa’s gaze, Flip realized what he’d
said. Her look of pity shamed him into glancing away. “Rick Aresson joined them
around the same time I did. He’s a bit of a jerk.”

Flip watched as Mirissa sent a questioning look to her
mother, getting a nod in response. She twisted in her seat to face him. “We
believe Rick Aresson may have been an imposter. We think he wanted whatever Jonathon
Stapleton was trying to find.”

Flip feigned surprise. “I thought I was alone in my suspicions.
Stapleton and Campbell didn’t see it, but I did. Rick is a self-serving twit.”

“So, you thought Rick was an imposter, too?” Mirissa asked.

“I guess great minds think twice,” Flip said with a smile.

“Think alike,” Mirissa corrected. “Great minds think alike.”

“Yes, sorry. I mix up my words sometimes. But Rick is a
twit. I don’t even think he’s a real archeologist. You should’ve seen how scared
he got when they opened the chamber. It …” His words trailed off as he realized
his mistake.

Orano stepped forward. “I thought you said you were fired
three days ago.”

Flip’s mind raced to find a plausible explanation for his
lie. He needed them to trust him for his plan to work. “I lied.”

“I knew it,” Orano grumbled.

“Look,” Flip began, staring at his hands. “I was there when
they opened the chamber, but I have nothing to do with the murder. I swear.”

“Then why did you lie?” Mirissa asked. She actually looked
hurt by his deception.

“I was afraid. I didn’t think anyone would believe me. I
can’t go to jail for murder. Look at me. And whoever killed Stapleton could be
coming after me next.”

“Please, Flip, tell us what you know. You’re safe with us.” The
girl once again touched his arm.

The sincerity in the girl’s voice caught him off guard. Flip
had grown accustomed to anger, condescension, belittling, and lots of other
nasty tones. Kindness, however, was a new one. “There was a box in the chamber.
When Jonathon and Luke tried to carry it out, they dropped it and it opened.
That’s when I passed out. I woke up a short while later beside Stapleton’s body.
He looked horrible. I panicked, and I left. I know I shouldn’t have, but ...”

Mirissa squeezed his hand. “We understand.” She gave a look
of warning to Orano before continuing. “We’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“What can you tell us about the box?” Myrine asked.

“Well, it was more of a chest with a hinged lid, like in
your pirate movies. It looked to be made of metal, but I didn’t get close
enough to be sure,” Flip said.

“All right. It’s a start. Is there anything else you can
think of that might help us?” Myrine asked.

“Nothing, I mean, other than the writing near the chamber.”

Mirissa’s eyes widened. “What writing?”

“In the tunnel to the chamber’s entrance. Didn’t I mention
that already?” Flip cringed when Orano growled.

“No, Flip. You didn’t mention that,” Myrine said. “Perhaps
you could tell us what the writing said.”

“Just your basic warning of ‘Do not open the box or everyone
will die.’ The same kind of thing you find at every tomb. Although, the script
is much older than most. I figure it was written about five thousand years
ago.”

Mirissa sat straight, her interest obviously peaked. “And
you can translate the writing?”

“Sure. I’ve got a knack for all things ancient Greek.”

Myrine stood up with her hand outstretched. “Thank you very
much for your help, Mr. Petrakis. We’ll be in touch.”

Taking that as his cue to leave, Flip shook her hand and
said his goodbyes.

“I’ll walk you out to your car,” Mirissa said.

“Oh, that’s really not necessary. I’m fine to walk by
myself.” Flip straightened his spine to show his bravado.

“It’s really no problem. You came all the way out here in
the middle of the night to help us. It’s the least I can do.”

Flip nodded his agreement and trudged out of the hotel with
Mirissa at his side. When he got to the parking lot, he waved his hand in the
general direction of an automobile and said, “That’s mine. You can go back
inside, now.”

“Okay,” Mirissa said. “Drive safe.”

As he walked toward the vehicle, he glanced over his
shoulder, only to find the smiling girl still standing there, watching over
him. He used his powers to unlock the car door and, after sliding into the
driver’s seat, start the engine. Waving another goodbye to the over-protective
Mirissa in an unsuccessful attempt to get her to leave, he noticed the interior
of the car.
Stick shift. Crap.
Resigning himself to yet another show of his stupidity, he gave it his best
shot.

The grinding sound of the transmission, accompanied by the
jerky starts and stops, pierced the quiet night as he slowly made his way out
of the parking lot. In his rearview mirror, he watched the girl laugh, as she
turned to go back inside the hotel. When she moved out of sight, Flip
teleported to his own hotel room, leaving the stalled automobile on the side of
the road.

“Hello, Flip.” Daedric leaned casually against the wall.
“It’s about time you got back.”

Flip cringed at the demi-god’s cruel smile. “Why are you
here?
 
I’m making progress with the
girl.”

“Not quickly enough.” Daedric looked far too pleased for
Flip’s comfort. “Ares sent me to speed things up a bit.”