The Greek Hero's Lost Librarian
by Heather Long
Copyright © 2017 by Heather Long. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Prologue
He leaned against the doorway to Heidi’s office, not quite crossing the threshold. If he remained absolutely still, cloaked in the shadows cast by the single lamp on her desk, she wouldn’t notice him. His quarry leaned back in her chair, absently toying with a charm on the end of a long silver chain around her neck. The mind still proved to be the oddest of obstacles. He’d forgotten about the chain, about the charm and about its value until he locked on the way her fingers caressed it.
The stubborn woman confounded him at every turn, pushing him away, rigidly denying him access. But a few weeks earlier she’d given him a gift. Her arrival in the bar had startled him, but she’d joined him for the length of time it took her to drink a glass of wine. Fortunately for him, she’d never been overly fond of alcohol, and had nursed the single drink for hours.
A line creased the space between her brows, but she continued to rub the charm. Hints of sulfur perfumed the air and a hollow popping sound preceded the arrival of the tufted-eared Minion.
“Heidi!” The creature bounced onto his quarry’s desk and flung herself with unabashed enthusiasm at the stage manager.
Intrigued, he drew the shadows tighter around himself. Heidi let go of the charm and wrapped her arms around the miniature being. Barely three feet in height from the top of her head to the tip of her tail, Minion bubbled with vibrant enthusiasm. Her large eyes shimmered and her ears flicked back and forth like a cat’s, though at the moment they were pointed toward the woman giving her a hug.
“Kiki called and there is a shopping trip to Paris and London and Rome and then back to New York, and she will be opening her club and I get to go and I want to go and can I go? Fang Daddy said I could and promised lots and lots of ice cream and protection, but you have to say yes. Please say yes. Please?” The words came out like a rockslide, gaining momentum as they crashed down the mountainside.
Heidi chuckled and everything inside of him stretched toward her, like a candle flame seeking the source of fresh air. The sweet sound of it, so distinctly and utterly feminine, captivated him. Sensuality blended with playful amusement and, he believed, the first glimpse of real affection he’d ever seen her express. She loved the little beast bouncing on her desk and ignored the papers Minion sent skittering everywhere.
“Will you behave yourself?” Heidi asked the imp, stroking a finger down her wrinkled nose.
“What fun would that be?” Minion snorted. But under Heidi’s gimlet eye, her ears flattened and she sighed with such melodramatic gusto he had to suppress a smile lest he betray his presence. “I’ll behave.”
Her soft laughter filled the air and a look of utter indulgence filled Heidi’s expression. “You may go, but—” she held up a finger when Minion began to vibrate with glee, “—you will behave. You will follow the rules. You will not use your powers in public. You will stay with Kiki or—”
“Or Fang Daddy, I got it.”
He frowned, uncertain of the identity of this “Fang Daddy”.
“His name is Richard, Minion. He’s the Vampire Prince of New York; you should give him a modicum of respect.”
“Why?” Minion asked with an impudent lift to her chin. “He said I could call him Fang Daddy ’cause it makes Kiki laugh.”
Heidi shook her head. Exasperation shimmered under that smile of hers. The expression curved her lips, the unguarded affection and joy locking the air in his lungs. He forgot the need to breathe, wary of disturbing the moment. “Fine. Call him Fang Daddy, but do behave. Now, do you want the spell or not?”
“Really? You’ll really do it?” Minion clapped her hands together.
“Yes, I will really do it.” So patient and kind. Heidi rubbed her palms together. The glide of her skin on skin rasped the air and a glow spread over her fingers, heating as she stared fixedly at the little one. Minion didn’t flinch, her trust so absolute in the powerful woman before her.
Intimately aware of the power housed by this woman, the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand up. Energy rippled out from the stage manager as she touched Minion’s face. The magic coalesced, falling on the tiny being like a gossamer web. The flaxen energy draped Minion until it coated her, and between one blink and the next, her ruddy skin vanished along with her tufted ears and too-long tail to be replaced by a young woman with blue-streaked blonde hair and warm blue-gray eyes—a girl who very clearly resembled the manager herself—dressed like any other modern teenager.
Knowledge tingled in the back of his mind, some connection that seemed as obvious as it was elusive, but it vanished before he could fully grasp it.
Minion launched off the desk and tripped over her feet, sprawling on the rug. “Ow.”
“You’re taller now, silly. You need to remember that.” But he hadn’t missed the concern that flashed through Heidi’s eyes or the way her hands clenched. Still, she remained seated and let Minion pick herself up. Rubbing her hands against her new jeans, the young woman walked over to a mirror and inspected her appearance.
“I like it.” The change was startling, even her voice had deepened by several notes. She turned back to Heidi with a grin. “But I can still ’port?”
“Yes, but don’t do it too often. And never…”
“Yeah, never in public. I got it. Thank you!” She started to bounce over, and then seemed to think twice about it, choosing to walk at a more sedate pace instead. Heidi rose from her chair and hugged her younger image. “Will you miss me?” The plaintive note tugged at something in his chest, but he ignored the irritating sensation.
“Not a bit,” Heidi replied and leaned back to comb her fingers through the girl’s hair.
“Liar.” Their matching grins aroused that elusive wisp of knowledge, but it skittered away before he could grab it.
“Sometimes. Now, get moving. I have work to do before the girls wake up.”
“Love you.” Minion kissed her cheek and then—bamf!—teleported out of the room with a much louder bang and heavier scent of sulfur.
Heidi waved her hand to clear the air and sighed. Her smile faded and her sadness was so tangible it struck him from across the room. He took a half step forward without realizing it.
The vulnerability in her expression vanished behind a shield of iron and her gaze narrowed on him. Frost iced over him at Heidi’s glacial glare.
“Spying, Connor?”
“Checking on my investments,” he countered. He gambled that the cloaking spell she’d cast had drained her and crossed over the threshold. No magic shoved at his shields or tried to push him out.
“Uh-huh.” Gone was the tenderness she’d given the little imp, leaving only the brusque, impassive woman he’d sparred with for so long. She retrieved the scattered papers without another look at him. “What do you want, Connor? I have work to do.”
He watched her silently, curious at the sensation of envy stabbing him. She rose, papers in hand, and stacked them together. Her dismissal flicked over him like a cool spray and disappointment rushed into the wounds made by the envy.
“What?”
He shook his head and embraced the cold comfort of his power. “Nothing. Is the new show ready? The theatre has been dark for over a week and the guests have begun to complain.”
“We open Friday. On schedule.” Dismissal hung like stalactites from each word.
Annoyed, he gave her a curt nod. “It better be.”
Power shimmered along his senses. Her energy had returned and it wouldn’t be long before she gave him a shove out the door. Snapping his fingers, he teleported out without another word. In his own rooms high above the Arcana Royale, he looked down through the glass floor, surveying everything below him, every level, seeing all, save for the one blemish in his vision.
The Midnight Mystery Lounge remained hidden, shrouded from his sight. An old anger awoke the Overseer within Connor and shuttered the man.
Far below him, a new threat stepped through the front doors and the paranormal casino shuddered with awareness.
Chapter One
The whispers surrounded him. Dimitri Abraxas had visited each resort along the Las Vegas Strip needing only to step inside to get a feel for the place before moving on. The moment the glass doors parted to reveal the parquet floors and marble columns of the Arcana Royale, a wash of cool air wrapped around him and the scents of figs, apples and pears teased him.
Closing his eyes, he sucked in a deep breath, sampling the flavors on his palate until the fruitiness seemed to coat his throat and lungs. This casino was his destination. He’d heard rumors of such a place since his quest began, but this paranormal palace of debauchery and drunkenness seemed more typical of Dionysus than the mistress Dimitri had served faithfully. Satisfied the location was correct, he took his time surveying the lobby. The interior pageantry leaned towards the decadent and extravagant.
A grotto of sorts occupied the center of the lobby, including a majestic pair of waterfalls spilling into a shimmering pool. Lush tropical foliage offered a natural obstruction to the areas beyond. The Eden effect of the area helped mute the throngs of people making their way to and from the lobby. The elevators on the far right opened and closed regularly, pouring out their passengers and whisking away those waiting.
Despite the lunch hour, the party here seemed to be in full swing, to quote the American colloquialism. Demeter’s knowledge filled him, as it always did, alerting him to the changes in culture, language and common practices, so that he might blend in as needed. Or stand out, if required.
The increased activity was unsurprising, considering the nature of business conducted within these walls. Magic coated everything, adding a glistening sheen to the too-polished exterior. The spells clung like a sticky confection and fluttered behind every person in wisps. Cobwebs of power seeking a purchase—in their minds? Their souls? Their very being?
Dimitri couldn’t determine which, but once aware of it, he took precautions. He would make a poor meal for the magic. The use of guests for sustenance would offend his mistress. In fact, nothing in his current view would appeal to her. But the farther he ventured, the louder the whispers became. He listened to the voices of the past and attempted to separate the threads.
“I lost it all.”
“For a nickel? They trapped her for a damn nickel.”
“You must be able to do something.”
“You forfeited your life the moment you concluded the deal.”
“Can I go? Please? Please?”
“I will not abandon my oath.”
“Fine. Business it is, then.”
“Someone who isn’t what they appear to be.”
“You really thought possessing this girl was the way to do it?”
“We would extend an invitation to you, Richard Casere, Prince of New York, to join us in oversight. Your abilities, your intelligence, your indomitable will serve us all well.”
The echoes spilled over him like so many streams of water, weaving in and out of audible range. But one voice echoed beneath the others and he fought to capture the elusive notes.
“She’s gone. She finally did it. She left me.”
And he could no more ignore the lingering loneliness than he could abandon his quest. Opening his eyes, he focused on the Sphinx sitting high above the foliage, the statue’s stillness a complete lie.
Because when Dimitri gazed upon it—the beast stared back.
“Sir?” A man in a bellhop’s uniform interrupted him. “Can I help you find something?”
“I require a room.” Loath to turn his back on the beast above, Dimitri shifted his position so he could keep the Sphinx in his line of sight. “Whatever you have available will suffice.”
“Sure.” The younger man gave him a wary grin, but pointed to the counter with a long line. “But you check in over there.”
Tugging his wallet out of a back pocket, Dimitri flipped it open and extracted a credit card and several hundred-dollar bills. Money meant nothing beyond what opportunities it could facilitate. He held up the card, but didn’t offer the bills. “Arrange it and the cash is yours.”
“Yes, sir.” The uniformed man took the card and glanced at it. “Mr. Abraxas, sir. One moment.”
Awareness rippled over him. The Sphinx wasn’t the only creature watching. Around him nymphs, satyrs, various shifters—wolves, cats, bears and others he couldn’t readily identify—mingled with humans, witches and at least one vampire. Their veneer of humanity stretched thin, and nothing could disguise the low current of danger running beneath it all—a wicked heartbeat drumming out a peculiar cadence.
Was the building’s almost-alien nature a part of the trap, or was it merely the construct housing an even darker secret?
“Sir?” The young man returned with his credit card, two slips of paper and a keycard for the room. “You’re on the concierge level, suite 4242.”
Dimitri examined the items. They appeared ordinary—but he had never been one to buy into appearances. He passed over the three bills he’d promised for the service. The man’s childlike grin betrayed his youth.
“Can I do anything else for you, sir?”
“How large is this place?”
“Nearly five hundred thousand square feet if you take into account the upper levels and the outdoor resort, sir. Would you like me to arrange a tour?”
Dimitri shook his head. “No.” The Sphinx’s attention withdrew and focused elsewhere. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“Happy to help, sir. Would you like me to take your luggage upstairs?”
“No.” He dismissed the servant and crossed the lobby, careful to keep the great beast in his line of sight. It wouldn’t do to give it his back. Sphinxes were peculiar creatures, and before they migrated south to serve the gods of the Nile Valley, they’d been dedicated to Athena.
No matter where the allegiance of this creature lay, he couldn’t chance word of his presence reaching the Goddess of Wisdom or her Seekers. Strolling with a laconic ease he didn’t feel, he made his way up to the second level and the numerous shops that lined the walk like an open-air mall. He chose one at random because of the clothing featured in the window, gave his measurements to the eager salesman and ordered an assortment of shirts, slacks and jackets—including eveningwear—and had it all sent to his room. As in any society, wealth purchased convenience.
Passing off a lie about misplaced luggage, the clerk assured him he would see to any other toiletries and supplies Dimitri might require. The transaction paid for, he exited back onto the mezzanine and began a slow, patrolling walk. If others were to look at him, all they might see was a man in an expensive suit, perusing possible purchases and opportunities.
He’d perfected the skill of blending in over the years. The quest demanded it of him, whether he played the role of street urchin in Nice, a gawky teen in New York or a young sophisticate in Monaco. Born to complete this quest, Dimitri fine-tuned his reactions and appearances to fit the situation.
Exploring the whole of the Arcana Royale would take time and patience. Fortunately, he had both. A poster on the wall below caught his attention and he made his way to the railing. Perfectly black with only white, glittering letters slashing through the darkness, the Midnight Mystery Lounge announced a grand reopening on the thirteenth. The darkened theatre was like a smudge, a shadow against the sparkling decadence of the casino and resort.
Shadows hid secrets. He would plunder them all. The scent of apples, pears and figs grew stronger, beckoning him. It’s here…I know it is.
The hairs on the back of his neck rose and the weight of the Sphinx’s stare swept over him. Pausing, Dimitri canted his head up and for the barest flicker of a second, the beast’s eyes moved.
Yes. It knew what he wanted, what he sought from the moment he first drew breath.
Let the game truly begin.
Awareness stabbed through the fractures in her attention. She nearly had the puzzle sorted. Nearly. But the distraction irritated her and she studied the lobby below, trying to track whatever kept interrupting her. Didn’t they realize she had work to do? Didn’t they know that every time she approached an answer, she couldn’t afford the diversions?
Pain lanced through her mind like an ice pick digging into her brain. The headache shattered her concentration. The answer flitted away, a butterfly that had alighted for mere seconds and then was gone in a breath. Studying the people milling about, she couldn’t see who it was until she studied the second floor.
Danger lurked around the sun-kissed man staring up at her. Despite the cut of his suit, she saw the warrior beneath the surface. Flames flickered in the depths of his mahogany gaze. Like a moth, she wanted to reach out a hand and touch the face housing the fiery eyes, but she didn’t dare.
He saw her.
Shying away from the intensity of the knowledge, she let her eyelids drop, shielding herself from his seeing. It was impossible for anyone to see her. No one did.
Not true. She knew I was here. She never forgot and she swore she wouldn’t leave me.
But then she did.
Agony pulsed through her as the whispers came, flooding through her. A declaration. A promise. A bond. A farewell. She stood in the lobby, her head tilted back with a streak of pure white in her otherwise midnight-colored hair. A man stood behind her, an arm wrapped around her waist.
A whisper so faint it seemed to drift away before it even registered—“Wake up… You have to wake up… Call me and I will come. I swear it.”
Grayness clouded her vision and the woman, the man holding her and the lobby faded away. Twin flames flickered in the endless sea of nothing…a pulse of heat—her eyes snapped open as waking struck her a physical blow.
Waking was different for every one of the dancers and wrenching pain always accompanied Cerveau’s. Her first gulps of oxygen burned, the air almost brutally cold in her lungs. Every day a spell put her to sleep at dawn and leached the life and light from her body. At sunset, the spell released and flooded her with air, made her heart pound and she was reanimated once more. So had been her life, night in and night out for so long she’d forgotten what it was to not live this way.
Beyond the door of her little cell, voices echoed in the hallway—greetings and laughter and feminine sisterhood. She belonged to these other women and they to her, but the bonds were too thin to be seen and with the passing of each day those bonds frayed.
Whatever strange fire had preoccupied her sleep darted away with waking. Tonight they had to practice the new show they would be performing in the Midnight Mystery Lounge. A change demanded by the final closing of Roseâtre and Anthony’s white-tiger show.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on her muscles and she took the time to stretch, easing the cramps in her arms and legs. Her hands hurt more than normal and she studied her palms. Surprise rippled through her at the crescent-moon-shaped cuts she’d made with her nails.
Why had she been clenching her fists? The wounds closed over, fading from sight as she stared at them. The swiftness of the healing barely registered. The spells binding her to the lounge solved so many issues, but unlike her sisters, she didn’t go into the gray day unknowingly. Her life didn’t pause.
She always dreamed, but waking chased away whatever she’d learned and she would have to wait for the sun to retrace her steps. But where did she need to go? A bang as more doors opened and footsteps in the hall as dancers hurried to get ready. If she didn’t join them, they would come for her and the stage manager might punish her with a more complicated role on the stage.
That would never do. Cerveau grabbed a towel and headed for the showers. She preferred the chorus line, and her placement away from the audience. Behind the curtains, no one noticed her.
She preferred it that way.
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