And did he know that, I wondered,because he was an immortal himself?
When the detective turned back to me, his face was grim. “I’m not giving you a choice this time. The skies will turn into a war zone tonight—-”
“I’m an agent in my own right,” I protested. “I can help—-”
“Not if you’re dead,” he said quietly. “One of the golden rules in this game is knowing how to pick your battles – and tonight isn’t your fight. I mean it, Blair. Stay here and don’t give me a reason to worry about you.”
ZEUS’ SO-CALLED MOODswing continued to flay the town with whips of rain outside my window. Only an hour had passed since Paul left, and I was already going out of my mind doing nothing.I was CSI, for the love of Gaea. I had to do something. Didn’t I?
“Hey, She-Ra.”
“Good afternoon, Blair. What can I do for you?” She-Ra was the name I chose for the AI assistant I had installed in all of my devices. The app-based assistant was also agency-issued, like my wand, and it could do everything Apple’s Siri did –andmore, since it had also been developed to provide the necessary assistance for non-humans.
“Is there any bar owned by Dion that’s within walking distance?”
“Let me search that for you.”
Dion was the name the wine god used these days, and one that humans were very much familiar with. These days, Dionysushad his fingers in just about everything, with his business interests ranging from construction companies to industrial factories and, yes, nightclubs as well. Then again, this wasn’t much of a surprise since unlike the other Olympians Dionysus had always preferred to dwell among mortals. If historic texts were to be believed, Dionysus even felt he had more in common with humans than other gods. They were fallible and prone to excessive emotion...just like him.
I chewed on my lip as She-Ra gave me the location of the bar. Should I call Paul and tell him about my plans? But if I were to do that – wouldn’t that make it seem like I had to ask his permission to do my job?
At the end of the day, we were still strangers, and besides, he could be busy with work right now. I was only going to visit one bar.What trouble could I get into – right?
I switched the radio on and tuned in to Iris’ station while I paced the length of my living room, still undecided.
All agencies now on high alert, law enforcers to patrol 24/7 for stray thunderbolts—-
I switched the radio off, knowing I had no choice now. Stray thunderbolts were a sure sign that Zeus’ “mood swings” had gotten worse, and I had to do whatever I could to get myself closer to the truth.
Slippery roads and the need to avoid electrocution-prone areas turned what was supposed to be a twenty-minute walk into an hour-long trek. By the time I made it to my destination, I was tired, hungry, and my mood could only be described as dour at best and irritable at worst.
A neon signage had the words The Voice Factor flashing right above the metal doors, and I could only mentally shake my head while showing my ID to security. Did pesky human issues like ‘copyright infringement’ mean nothing to the wine god? And honestly, did he really have to infringe on - not one but two – voice competition TV shows to give his kitschy karaoke lounge a name?
Management cleared my CSI badge after a minute, and security escorted me to the back of the house, where the employees’ private quarters were located. I had mentally prepared myself for lodgings that were anything from risqué to inhumane, but to my surprise the sirens’ suite of rooms was no different from other cozy homes of Silver Mist.
There were eight bedrooms in total, its doors arranged in a semi-circle around a common living space. A young woman I assumed was one of Dion’s employed sirens was seated alone at the couch, and she laughed upon catching sight of my astonished expression.
“Were you expecting something dingy?”
“Kinda,” I admitted. “Something like those awful drug dens busted on TV, actually.”
“Oh, hon. Drugs do nothing for immortals. The only kind of substance we dig is ambrosia, but one taste is enough. Any more and it would literally drive us insane.” Swinging her legs off the couch, the siren rose to her feet, saying wryly, “I’m the only one up right now, I’m afraid.” She introduced herself as Monica and gestured to the doors surrounding us, adding, “I could wake them up for you, but for the record I want you to know doing so would be a bad idea. Sirens love their sleep, and the only reason I’m up right now is because I skipped work last night.”
Since I didn’t actually have a formal order from my agency that allowed me to insist on questioning, I decided to take her word for it and handed her my card. “I’m Agent Vavrin from CSI.” Unlike INTERPOL’s fancy, magical card, our agency’s was downright mundane. I had actually asked if I could have my name printed using some nice serif font I was willing to pay out of pocket but nope. It was Times New Roman or nothing, unfortunately.
“I was hoping I could ask you a few questions,” I began.
“Oh my Gaea.”Her head jerked up. “Did I read this right?” The siren gaped at me. “You’re a witch named Blair?”
As I waited for the siren to stop laughing, I comforted myself with the thought that my name would never fail as an effective icebreaker.
Questioning the siren took only a few minutes. Not only did Monica claim that she had no idea who my Jane Doe siren was, but she was also certain the siren I was looking for had never worked at TVF.
“I’ve been here since this place opened, and we’re one of the smaller ones in Dion’s empire. By the looks of her, I think she’s probably working for one of Dion’s flashier places—-”
“By the looks of her?” I couldn’t help echoing her words curiously.
“That low-neckline gown she’s wearing,” Monica explained patiently. “I know we’ve gotten a really bad rep over the centuries because of how those stupid Greek scholars made us seem like femme fatales, but the truth is – all of those stories are fake. There was this mortal scholar who fell for one of myancestors, and when she couldn’t make herself love him back he decided to get back on her by spreading rumors about us.”
