“Then—-” I took a deep breath. “What do you do for work? Are you CSI? CIA? NSA? How were you able to—-” I broke off when the smile playing on his lips turned into a smirk.
“I should’ve known you’d ask about that of all things.”
“You said I could ask you anything,” I said defensively. If he was expecting me to flirt, then he was doomed for disappointment.
“I did, didn’t I?” His fingers moved as he spoke, and I found myself gaping as he conjured a plain black card out of thin air. He offered it to me, and as soon as my fingers touched its surface, gold embossed letters randomly started to appear.
PRONELIT
MY BROWS FURROWED.“How do you read this? Prone Lit? PR One Lit?”
Humor gleamed in his eyes. “Tap it again.”
I did as asked, and a tiny gasp escaped me as the letters started rearranging itself.
I...N...T...
Oh.
My.
Goodness.
Paul was an INTERPOL agent?
Chapter Four
WHEN ONE SPOKE OF THEgreatest conspiracies of all time, most people thought of JFK’s assassination and Elvis Presley’s death, Roswell and Roanoke, and more recently, the much talked about Illuminati. All of these, however, paled in comparison to the secret that the likes of Homer, Dante, and even Shakespeare carried to their graves: the immortals of Greek mythology were real, and Mt. Olympus was the gateway to Heaven.
While supernatural agencies like CIA and CSI were concerned about human protection, INTERPOL had another objective entirely, and that was to defend the home of Olympians. INTERPOL stood for the Interdisciplinary Phalanx of Olympus, and consisted of the most powerful immortals and supernaturals.
For Paul to be a part of such an organization...
“Now I know why you always look like a blond James Bond,” I exclaimed unthinkingly.
Paul threw his head back with a laugh, and my face flamed as I realized just how silly my first thought was.
Why, oh, why did I always end up acting like an idiot where this man was concerned?
Dinner should have been intensely awkward after that, but thankfully Mr. INTERPOL Detective was too skilled a conversationalist to let it happen. As we worked our way throughMr. P’s perfectly grilled steaks, Paul left me no chance to feel self-conscious as he swiftly engaged me in shoptalk. “Officially speaking, INTERPOL agents have been instructed to inform the public that Zeus is only having a temporary mood swing, and so it’s nothing to panic about.”
I choked. “A mood swing that can potentially lead to a Category 4 hurricane isn’t something to panic about?”
Paul grimaced. “I understand why you might find that incredulous, but right now, it’s the best we can do to prevent mass hysteria. We didn’t want anyone panicking unnecessarily and remember the last time Zeus unleashed his full wrath.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought of that at all. Paul was talking about the last Great War that the gods fought and eventually won. Theirs was a pyrrhic victory, though, since the recapture of demons came at the expense of the dinosaurs’ global extinction.
“Can it really get that bad?” I asked uneasily.
“Worse,” Paul said grimly, “since this time Zeus will be on the enemy’s side.” He leaned back against his chair, and his gaze turned contemplative as he looked at me. “You mentioned earlier that you were heading out of town. I’m assuming it’s related to Zeus’ case?”
“Yes.” I told him about the photos included in my case file, and how one particular thing stood out in all of them when compared to older photos of the thunder god.
“You’re sure about the gold dust?” Paul asked.
“It would be ideal if I could confirm this in person, but since I’m not allowed on Mt. Olympus, I’m just relying on my guts.” I held my breath then asked, “You know what it could mean, right?”
Paul’s lips twisted into a smile. “I can’t think of any self-respecting immortal who wouldn’t.”
