Prophecy of the Most Beautiful (41 page)

Her heart thumped with excitement at the prospect of her being right, but before she said anything to the demigods, she had to be sure.

"I think I should read your Kismet now," She said to Dropper. He swallowed nervously, but nodded. "Would the tusk work as a tribute?" She asked Strafford.

He shrugged. "Apollo determines the value of tributes and he is a picky wanker. But who knows, it
is
Ares' tusk."

"So how do we find this out?" Dropper asked.

"Surprisingly, I think I know," Chloe said, taking the tusk back from Swindle.

She cradled the pieces of the tusk in her hands, and thrust them towards the sky. She didn't know how she knew what to do––she just did. Her words came easy, like she had said them a million times before.

"
We offer this tribute to the great Lord Apollon Phoebus, lord of the Oracle, the one prophetic god."
She paused, opening her mind, then,
"We hope it is true to heart, and will forever hold value for the one that seeks your guidance. Accept this now if it pleases you."

The tusk suddenly lifted from her hands, turned over and over in the air as if it was being examined by something they couldn't see, then an aura of bright light surrounded it. A moment later, the light consumed it and it was gone.

Tribute accepted,
she heard Apollo say in her head.

"Wow, it actually worked," She said, bewildered that she’d known what to do. She listened and waited for Apollo to say more, but after a minute, she knew he had split.

"Why do you doubt yourself, Red?" Strafford asked, "You're the Oracle. Your instincts and Intuition are everythin'.
Always trust them
." After a moment, he rolled his eyes and smiled at her. She smiled back, knowing they had reached a truce.

She looked at Dropper. "Ready?" She asked.

"Definitely not," He said with a smile that made her blush. "So how does this work?"

Chloe contemplated for a second. "Ask me what you want to know.
Exactly
what you want to know. Then we'll see what happens." But something occurred to her. "Maybe we should discuss what that is first."

"Can't," said Strafford, "The question has to be formed from his own thoughts and his own desire to know. Won't appear otherwise. It's his Kismet, not ours."

"Sorry, Dropper," She said with a defeated shrug.

Looking a bit deflated, Dropper held out his hand and she cupped it gently in one hand, placing her other palm over his. He thought for only a moment, though it seemed like an eternity, then took a deep breath and said, "Where is the Most Beautiful?"

A warm glow emanated from between their hands. She pulled back and it happened then. The Kismet appeared.

Just like with Strafford, it was as clear to her as if she had written it down herself. The foreign words leapt off of his hand and swirled around her, then through her, implanting themselves into the Knowledge, making her understand them.

From one heart to another, the sacrifice must be pure

A separation of souls, where only one must endure,

the darkness of death and the bright light that is life

The most willing of hearts you seek, is in the god's sight.

As she spoke the last word, the Kismet disappeared and it was like it had never been.

Strafford groaned. "These bloody riddles are gonna be the death of me. You should've been more specific, guy. Broad questions make the prophecies more complicated. Now we have
two
tha' don't make any sense."

"I'm sorry, beautiful Chloe," Dropper said, looking genuinely upset, "I did not know what to ask."

"It's okay," She replied, shooting Strafford a look, "If we put our heads together, I'm sure we'll figure it out."

"Wha' we need is someone who can speed up the process," Ace said, snapping his fingers several times.

They all fell silent.

"I know someone," Strafford eventually spoke up, "He's the reason I brought us here in the first place. But honestly, I shouldn' have. He's trouble."

Ace frowned. "Who's trouble?"

Strafford looked like he couldn't believe he was about to speak the name out loud.

"
Tom Tipsy
."

*****

XXX. Chloe

"That doesn't look much like a nightclub," Chloe said, standing across the street from a building with the name
Verdict
lit above it in neon lights. Not that she had ever been to one before. But she knew that nightclubs didn't look like this.

It was a giant bricked edifice with a grand entrance and a concrete staircase spanning the width of it, very plain and unadorned. Another awkward thing was the lack of windows. There was only one half-moon shaped window at the very top, which seemed rather pointless. Not much sun could get in through that little window and now, in the dark of night, it was useless and flashes of neon-colored light kept shooting out of it. It really was a strange sight to see in the midst of all the glitz and glamour, but so had been a million other things she had seen in the weeks she had been the Oracle. She was drowning in strange.

"It's all a big joke, Red," Strafford explained as they walked towards it. "The Governor thought it would be funny to name his hottest nightclub the
Verdict
. He's full of jokes."

"Who’s the Governor?"

"Dionysus, god of Wine and Merriment." He replied, confirming that she had seen vineyards on the citadel. "This is jus' the type of thing he would do. It's his way of sayin' tha'
he
is the government, the law, the judge
and
the jury, all of it. In Los Atlas, at least."

"But I thought you said the club was owned by this Tom Tipsy."

"It is, but Dionysus, his Da, is his investor."

Instead of pushing through the throngs of brightly-colored
iceys
and entering through the front of the club, Strafford led her down a side street to an alternate entrance––a steel door built more for a military stronghold than a nightclub. He knocked once, paused, then knocked three more times, another pause, then twice more. A ripple appeared in the center of the door, then morphed into a face. She almost groaned.

It was
Janus.

"It's not Janus, wan," Strafford said, as though reading her mind, "Not exactly. It's like…a computer program of him. He's the god of Thresholds too, so sometimes his essence is used for security purposes."

"
Password,
" Janus's two steel faces, looking east and west, said as one.

"Sobriety sucks."

"Correct. Enter, Prince of the Sun."

The door swung open and blaring music spilled out. After entering, they made their way down a short corridor and hit another checkpoint. A giant
icey
with orange hair and a purple suit was waiting for them. He smiled when he recognized Strafford.

"Law. Heard you were back." He checked her out with a down sweep of his yellow eyes. "And you brought the Oracle."

"Peto." They bumped knuckles. "Long time no see. But I'm sure you understand tha'."

Peto nodded. "No doubt." And that was all he said about it.

"Tom here?"

"Yup. As always.
Drunk
. As always."

"Great."

Peto unhooked the velvet rope and waved them through. "It's a madhouse in here tonight, so be careful." He spoke more to her than to Strafford.

A madhouse was right.

Verdict
was three levels of pandemonium, strobing neon lights, house music, retro fixtures, and out of control emo-types. Literally.
Out. Of. Control.

They were practically climbing the walls in their overindulged excitement. There were
iceys
being tossed into the air, dancing on each other's shoulders and even on top of the numerous bars. Not to mention they were all wasted.
Wasted
.

Strafford had purchased them new clothes at a nearby clothing store before coming. He'd suggested she wear a polka dotted mini skirt––the horror––but had convinced her to do it by shamelessly complimenting her legs.

"You have beautiful legs, wan. You should want to show them off. They're maddeningly long. So shapely and…" He trailed off, but just kept staring at them. By the time his eyes had found her face again, she was so flustered, she'd happily agreed to wear the skirt just to escape his gaze.

At least he hadn't insisted on high heels. What a disaster that would have been. Instead, he'd suggested a pair of black flats with specks of metallic pink in them. They went well with her skirt and fitted, scooped-neck purple blouse, and though she felt a bit exposed, she had to admit that she looked kind of cute.

Strafford far surpassed
cute
. He was, at worse, drop dead gorgeous. He'd chosen all black
for himself––crisp black pants and a black button down shirt that was rolled at the sleeves and fit him to perfection. Black leather boat shoes finished the look. She liked him in his t-shirts and jeans well enough because they expressed his more raw side. But this…this
refinement
…this was a side of him that made her want to propose immediate marriage. Down on one knee and everything. He was that mesmerizing.

As they made their way through
Verdict
, everyone noticed him. As stunning as Strafford looked, she wasn't surprised. No one here cared who she was or why she was even there. She barely got a second glance, unlike Strafford, whom most clubgoers were shameless in gawking at. But maybe it had just as much to do with his so-called disgrace as it had to do with his looks.

A woman's voice hissed in her ear. "What's a pale lil' thing like you doing dating a ladykiller like Strafford Law?"

She turned, flushed to her ears. "I'm not
dating
him…"

The woman, a statuesque beauty in a purple leotard, platform boots and powder pink pigtails, regarded her with jealous eyes. "He's holding your hand."

Indeed he was. Chloe squeezed it desperately to get his attention. He stopped scanning the top of the crowd, turned back, and frowned.

"Got no time for your antics tonight, Stacia," He shouted over the music.

Stacia smiled. "You always had time before you up and disappeared on me."

Strafford was not amused. "Stacia. Only in your dreams did I ever give you the time of day. As you know, I'm not a fan of used goods."

Stacia's smile vanished. "You're no Dionysus yourself, honey."

He shrugged. "Tha's true. I'm not Dionysus nor do I want to be him…or go where he's been." He gave her a look that said,
take a hint
.

Stacia's face turned red. "You think 'cause you get all hugged up with the Oracle that makes you too good for me now?!" She screeched, her eyes getting all boggled, her cheeks flushed with anger.

Strafford's brows were clenched tight with impatience. "
Stacia
. Stop your bloody bellowin' and jus' tell me where Tom is."

Stacia calmed, smiled like a sane person. "Tom is where Tom is,
Your Highness.
" She then turned, her pigtails whipping Chloe in the face, and pushed into the crowd.

"Would I be wrong if I tried to scalp her?" Chloe shouted, pulling a few strands of pink hair out of her mouth.

He laughed. "Not at all. But don't be surprised if she tries to scalp you first. She's a maenad, a lunatic," He explained. He pointed out a few more of them, some in cages dancing horribly off beat, others swimming around them like piranhas, their eyes drinking him in. "As you saw a minute ago, they're bloody mental so it's probably better if you avoid them as much as possible. Oh, and never say anythin' bad abou' Dionysus. They'll have their way with you over him. They have this uncanny loyalty to their lord, but it's only 'cause he's shaggin' all of 'em."

"Did
you
shag any of them?" She asked. She was done pretending she hadn't staked a claim on him. Anyone who tried to get in the way of that would join Radiance.

Strafford laughed and ran a thumb over her pouty lips. “I do seem to attract crazy females, eh?” He winked.

“Hardy, har-har.”

"Your Highness would like a drink?" A voice shouted up from beneath them.

A tray of drinks moved to the side to reveal a dwarfed man with goat legs and little horns.

Satyr
, she thought, knowing.

"Nectar wine? Plum rum? Spicy gin? Nymph water?" The satyr rambled off.

"Ah, wha' the hell," Strafford said, picking the violet rum, "Howya TwinkleWink?"

The little satyr shrugged. "Not too bad, Your Highness, not too bad."

"You're drinking?" Chloe asked, watching him take a sip.

"It's okay," He replied, "It's jus' a lil' plum rum and demigods are immune to the effects. Besides, I'm of age. You, however, will drink water 'cause you're not." He handed her a glass and clinked his against it. "
Sláinte
."

"What brings Your Highnesses to Los Atlas?" TwinkleWink questioned, his amber eyes sparkling in the strobe lighting.

Before she could inform him that she wasn't royalty, Strafford replied, "Duty."

"Yes, yes," TwinkleWink said with a nod of his curly head, "Always duty."

"Aye, you know where Tom is? It's important we see him."

"Mr. Tom is in the area dedicated to Very Important Persons. Should I take you there, Your Highness?"

"Aye," Strafford answered, sipping, "Yes, you should."

TwinkleWink handed his tray off to another satyr in passing. "Follow me.” With a little hop, he started a slow trot into the darker depths of the club.

The satyr paved their way through the masses by kicking emos in the shins with his little hooves. It seemed no one dared to retaliate though and Chloe wondered why. Surely they couldn't be afraid of the satyr. She wasn't even afraid of the satyr.

Satyrs are in the retinue of Dionysus, dear
, said Madame Cee,
Offense of a satyr is an offense of the god of Wine.