Sin City Goddess (8 page)

I groaned.

My brain was fuzzy, thoughts jumbled. I wasn’t wearing any pants under the blanket, but I did have a top on.

“How did I get here?” I whispered.

There was movement beyond the wide brown door. Then a knock.

“Tisiphone?”

I groaned again and shut the drapes on that garish sun. Didn’t the moon ever rise in this vulgar city?

“What?” I snapped.

The door creaked open, and a freshly shaven Archer stepped into the room, hands in his jeans pockets. He was wearing a shirt the color of a ripe plum, with threads of gold throughout that brought out the amber in his eyes. It reminded me of something Apollo would wear—cut to mold his frame, and stylish.

“How you feeling, Sassy?”

“Like I was hit by a truck.” I sank into a plush red chair and wrapped the blanket tighter around me. “You’re looking well.”

Archer smoothed out his shirt. “I think it was Iris who Athena said stocked the suite. She did a fine job on the wardrobe. There should be clothes in your room too.”

He handed me a glass of water. “I ordered room service. Once you get some food and coffee in you, you’ll be good as new.”

The water was cool against my lips. I put the glass to my forehead. “What happened? Were we attacked?”

Archer wove a sly smile. “You don’t remember?”

I shook my head. Then I winced at the pain the movement caused.
No sudden twists or turns, Tisi.

“Well, for starters, you downed three martinis like a sailor who hasn’t seen shore for eighteen months.”

“What’s a martini?”

Archer cocked his head. “What’s a martini?”

“Is it a potion?” All I could remember drinking was one glass of water.

“That clear liquid in the fancy glass.” He crossed his arms. “What did you think you were drinking at the Shadow Bar?”

“I thought it was water. Just thought it tasted different here.” Then I recalled I was holding a cup of the stuff. I sniffed it. No odor. I took another small sip. Tasted like pure water.

Archer guffawed. “Seriously? They don’t have vodka in Olympus? Alcohol?”

“Of course they do. Mostly wine. Some mead. A green elixir, made from juniper berries, called gin. Absinthe. And Hermes makes his own beer.” I took another slow sip of the cool water and held the glass to my cheek this time. “I’ve never heard of vodka, though. I haven’t been in your world in quite some time, remember.”

Then a horrible thought occurred to me. What had I done that I didn’t remember? And where were my pants? I stood and faced Archer, still clutching the duvet.

“Is there anything I should know?”

Archer smiled again, and I so wanted to slap it off his face, but that would require swift movement and energy I didn’t have at the moment.

“You were fine. You got hammered, promised you’d dance at the Shadow Bar, and passed out, and I put you to bed.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Did you unclothe me?”

Archer held up a hand. “Absolutely not.”

“Then where are my pants?”

Archer glanced around the room. He scratched his head. The scent of his cologne, which I had found pleasant the day before, sparked a wave of nausea through me. I sat back down. Archer fumbled under the covers of my bed.

“Ta-da,” he said.

My leather pants were balled into a knot in his strong hand.

A knock at the door made my head hurt.

“That’s room service. Why don’t you wash up and come get some breakfast?”

I watched as he let the door slip shut behind him.

I stumbled into the bathroom, turned on the light, and nearly choked on my own scream. My skin was puffy, my hair
was sticking out on all sides like a rabid clown’s, and my eyes looked like I was wearing some sort of hideous mask.

There was an array of beauty products and toiletries in the bathroom, displayed on a dainty, mirrored tray. Which was one too many mirrors for my liking. The white-marble room was huge, with two sinks, a steam shower, and a two-person soaker tub with jets. I opted for a bar of orange-blossom soap, lavender shampoo and conditioner, and mint toothpaste.

As I washed, something kept nagging at me. Something from last night? Something Archer had said? It was a memory that lay just out of my grasp. I thought of the perfectly sculpted bartender and that Clyde person. There was something about the man I didn’t like, but I couldn’t put my finger on that either.

This was exactly why I wasn’t a drinker—especially in this realm. Liquor clouded the mind, confused one’s thoughts, and relaxed one’s morals. Too many times, I had seen the aftermath of a human on drink. The laws they broke, the people they hurt, their own lives and families destroyed.

I sat under the scalding water for a long time, washing, lathering, scrubbing, and brushing. When I was finally finished, I stepped out, dried my skin, wrapped a towel around my long curls, and donned a fluffy robe. I wasn’t one for perfumes or lotions, although there were dozens of them in every scent on the planet. I did run a clear gloss across my chapped lips and dab a bit of sunscreen on my already-pink cheeks. I was combing the knots from my hair with a silver comb that I was certain Aphrodite must have provided at some point in time, when the words hit me like an iron fist.

I secured the robe at the waist and rushed out of the bathroom. I found myself standing near a banister, next to a
set of stairs that dipped into a wide, carpeted room. “What do you mean I promised to dance at the Shadow Bar?”

Archer smirked. “I was wondering when you were going to process that.”

He was seated at a round black table, unrolling silverware from a napkin. The aroma of black coffee, salty bacon, and sweet pineapple filled the room, instantly reminding me that I was absolutely famished. When had I last eaten a meal?

“This is a joke, right? You’re toying with me?” I said.

Archer pulled out a chair for me, unveiled a plate of scrambled eggs, poured two cups of coffee, and said, “Sit. Eat. We can discuss this after breakfast. I need you at full throttle.”

He had a point, but I didn’t like to be ordered around. Especially by a mortal. “I’ll sit when I decide, thank you very much.” I poured myself a glass of some orange juice that didn’t quite look like juice made from oranges. I sniffed it. It smelled tangy and medicine-y.

“What is this?”

“It’s a drink that athletes and alcoholics use to replenish electrolytes. Try it. You’ll feel better. There’s no booze in it, I swear.”

He busied himself buttering a piece of toast, and I sipped the drink. It wasn’t instant, but I did feel better after a few swallows.

“What do you know about alcoholics?” I asked, setting my drink down on the table.

A faraway look fell over his face. “After my wife left me, I went on a six-month bender. I had my fair share of waking up in strange places, not knowing how I’d gotten there.”

“You’re married?” I reached for a helping of eggs and a piece of toast, just as Archer reached for a packet of strawberry
jam. My hand grazed his, and I felt a tingle surge up my arm. I pulled away immediately and sat down.

“Was. A long time ago.” He said it matter-of-factly, and I couldn’t help but wonder why humans gave up on love so easily. “She couldn’t handle the job.” He opened the jam, then looked at me cautiously.

At that moment, I wondered how many years he had spent on Earth. He had a few crinkles at the corners of his eyes. His hair was mostly dark, with a hint of gray along the edges. Forty, perhaps?

“What?” he asked when he saw me staring at him.

“Nothing. I was just wondering how old you were when you passed over.” I felt awkward asking that the minute the words left my mouth. What did I care? We were business partners, essentially. No need to muddy the waters by asking personal questions. “Forget I said anything,” I hurried to add.

Archer sipped his coffee and stabbed a piece of sausage with his fork. “No, it’s fine. I was thirty-eight.” He bit into his toast.

So young. Of course, I had seen much younger souls pass through Hades’s realm.

Archer poured me more of the orange drink, which I was growing rather fond of. I took a huge swig. It truly was replenishing.

“So, what about you?” he asked.

I raised an eyebrow at him. Was he asking about my love life? I couldn’t recall the last time I had met a god worthy of more than a onetime physical encounter. I didn’t date much. Didn’t even get out much these days.

“I mean, you look twenty-five, but I’m guessing that’s not right.”

The question took me by surprise. I hadn’t thought of my
age in a long time. The truth was, I couldn’t even recall what it was. “I’m as old as the Fates allow, I suppose.”

Archer considered this. Then he said, “So, how does all this work?”

I stabbed a pineapple chunk with my fork. It smelled like sunshine. “How does what work?” I popped the pineapple into my mouth. It was sweet and tart at the same time.

“I mean your boss. Hades. Is he the devil?”

Oh boy, here we go
, I thought.
The talk.
I’d had “the talk” more times than I cared to count. With shades, mostly, but sometimes with resting souls and very rarely with living ones. It never came without a hundred questions, a thousand arguments, and buckets of tears. It didn’t matter which part of the world a mortal had lived in. All of them were so dangerously devoted to their religion, they wouldn’t accept the truth of it even if was wrapped around their neck like a noose. Believe me, I’d tried it once.

Which was why they were constantly killing each other. In the name of this god or that god, or because this man worshipped the same god as his neighbor, but his neighbor had slightly different beliefs—or, worse,
man-made
rules—they fought to the death. Humans were constantly killing each other over the stupidest philosophies, all of them wrong. I found it maddeningly frustrating.

Zeus, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious. He had a twisted sense of humor, that one.

I studied Archer closely. His eyes were bright, curious—dare I say open to the answers? Would he be the one human who just might listen? Because most of them never had the story right, and no matter how many times you explained it to them, they couldn’t grasp the truth. They
wanted
to blame demons for the atrocities that plagued their society. It was
easier to accept than the truth. But sin didn’t come from outside the soul. There was no evil entity that whispered in the ears of men and women to make them commit their crimes. There was help, certainly, for any who sought it. The monsters that plagued all realms, even mine, gleefully aided those who called to them, gnawing on the twisted impulses of a rotten soul, feeding on the pain and torture of that soul’s innocent victims.

And once you called to the monsters, they were bound to you. Forever.

I said, “There is no devil. Evil exists only in the hearts of men. And demons.”

“Demons?”

I nodded. “Monsters. Atrocities of nature born from the cruel things that mortals and immortals do to each other.”

Archer leaned back in his chair, thinking for a moment. “So you’re saying that monsters exist, but only because people and, er, gods created them?”

“Precisely.”

He looked perplexed. “So everything I learned in Sunday school was wrong. There is no God? No devil?”

“There are many gods, but no devil. Hades is a ruler of the Underworld. He watches over the human souls until they are rested, cleansed, and prepared to return to the mortal world.”

He tapped his foot, grabbed a piece of bacon, then put it back. “So there was no Jesus?”

“Yes, there was a Jesus. A passive preacher man, as I recall. Lived in a desert city like this one.” I helped myself to another piece of toast. “But you killed him.” The bread was crisp and hot; the butter melted instantly.

The FBI man stared at me, slack-jawed. I realized my mistake. “Well, not
you
specifically. You know. People.”

Archer was silent for several moments. Perhaps it was all a bit too much for him. I took a few bites of the toast.

“History lesson is over,” I said after a few moments. “Tell me more about the Shadow Bar, because there is no way I will be dancing there.”

“You have to. Besides you giving Clyde your word, and me trying to convince him that yes, you are an FBI agent who can’t handle her liquor, you auditioned for the gig. He loved it.”

There was a bit more juice left, and I drank it, feeling the last remnants of the prior evening’s debauchery fleeing my skin.

“I can’t dance, Archer.”

“You did great last night.”

Oh, Lords.

“Listen, if you do this, it’ll be a great in with the staff, not to mention you can monitor the patrons without them even seeing you watching them. It’s the best way to find out what happened to your sister.”

It might also draw out the person responsible, since I seemed to fit his preferences.

Archer stood and asked if I was finished eating. When I nodded, he covered up the trays, put them on a cart, and wheeled the cart out of the room.

“You ready to get started?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Great. After you get changed, we’ll head out. Then, later, I want to go over the files with you. They’ve all been transferred to the laptop.” He pointed to an electronic machine with a video screen and type board.

“Where are we going?”
Please don’t let it be a casino
, I thought.

“To the tunnels.”

Chapter 12