Chapter 7
Calliope stared at the gallery tapes for what felt like the thousandth time. There was not much she and Isabelle had discovered about the theft or the assailant. In fact, after hours upon hours of pouring over footage, there was only two things Calliope did know for certain—
The first, was that the assailant who’d stolen the diviner was someone with magical abilities, as they’d blurred the cameras and caused them to malfunction the moment they walked in front of them.
Their body did not present as human, and instead, was so bright, it blinded the cameras as they turned to static and black and white, eliminating any chance of identification.
The second thing Calliope knew for certain, was that the magical assailant was a shifter of some sort, only by Spike’s admission that the gallery and the display case reeked of a supernatural shifter.
But Spike, being the hellhound he was, could only ascertain this as a generalized hunch.
Typical shifters—wolves, bears, big cats, according to Spike—smelled different than those like him—shifters who were born of a different breed, more rare and in turn, stronger and found more frequently in higher ranking positions.
In Spike’s case, he had been a shifter in Athena’s army, and was kept under the hand of Hades himself, given to Hecate when he’d been injured, where he’d stayed until he found himself human again.
Calliope couldn’t help but feel that whoever this mystery assailant was, the fact they were a supernatural shifter did not sit well with her. Because she did not know many supernatural shifters.
Just one.
The thought of calling up Chuck and asking for his help bothered her more than it should have, but she surmised he could possibly be her only option.
Chuck, like Mars, was a power player. He’d cut his teeth in his youth, alongside the God and Goddess of War, as their chariot horse.
Athena, Mars, and Pegasus were an unstoppable trio, and at the time, Calliope could not deny the draw there.
And Chuck’s supernatural form—a stunning white unicorn with large, feathered wings that were as soft as the clouds themselves—held power all on its own, too.
His pegacorn dust—the remnants of magic dropped by the creature—was as powerful as the smoke the oracles received their visions from.
One only had to be dusted by Pegasus’s magical leavings to receive visions of fate and death.
A tool Athena and Mars had used to both their advantages at many points in their lives.
And then the band broke up. Athena separated from her father, leaving Mars and Pegasus to their own devices, and thus, Olympus’s most prominent bromance was born. Pegasus turned into Chuck, and Chuck became everyone’s favorite winged pony. Except hers.
Calliope paused the tape, a soft knocking alerting her.
She froze, worry grazing her psyche, but she settled momentarily, thinking perhaps Isabelle or Spike had returned, that they forgot something, or perhaps, Spike had an inkling of what they should be looking for—or who—and she would not have to reach out to her ex-lover at all.
But when Calliope reached the door, she felt her blood rush and her heart nearly stop, because it was not Izzy or Spike. It was Theodore.
She blinked, not thinking twice about unlocking the door and pulling it open enough to speak to the man.
“Theo, I did not expect to see you here until tomorrow.”
Honestly, she hadn’t expected to see him at all, since what had transpired between them was awkward enough any man in their right mind would have bailed on the situation.
They’d slept together, before knowing the truth, of course, but the truth remained that they’d crossed a line they didn’t know existed. And then with the news of the theft, and everything surrounding it, Calliope would not have blamed Theo one bit if he had pulled out of the work-study.
“I thought maybe you could use some company?” he said carefully, that awkwardness and adorable shyness rearing its head once more, making Calliope’s insides warm.
She knew she should turn him away. She did not have time or the emotional bandwidth to deal with romantic entanglements in the midst of everything else, but she could not help herself when Theo was looking at her the way he was.
She opened the door wider, motioning for him to come in.
“I suppose I could give you the tour now, if you like. Before I close up, here.”
Theo nodded as he entered, the archway of the door being as thin as it was put him up against her as he walked through.
Calliope tried her hardest to ignore the way her body heated when he walked past her, as if her blood itself was on fire.
Bad idea, Callie. Don’t go there. You know better.
Still, despite her feelings on the matter, she couldn’t help but close her eyes and breathe in his earthy, spicy scent that warmed her to her toes. And when he’d entered the space, leaving her alone in the doorway once more, she hated the feeling.
She closed the door, locking it and turning to see Theo in the room, his hands slipped into his jean pockets, the motion drawing attention to his broad shoulders and neck, his dark hair.
His perfect, round ass.
Calliope tried to force the thoughts aside. This is certainly not what Theodore Lange came to the gallery for, and she needed to remember where she stood.
She could not become some lust-hungry fool in the midst of such turmoil and unrest. She had a job to do, after all.
“So, typically when we have an exhibition like this, everything remains on display for a few months, but sometimes we display artwork from my classes and the other classes in the art department. And every spring, we do a senior show, where the students get to have their own art show before they graduate, so spring is usually the busiest time here.”
Theo nodded as he walked around, checking out the current items on exhibition.
“And what is this exhibition? The one the diviner was part of?”
Calliope casually strolled up to him, as he looked at a vase that once held magical elixirs.
“It was an exhibition on magical artifacts.”
Theo looked at the vase, squinting at it. “Magic, huh? Like, I put a spell on you?”
Calliope smirked. “Not quite. The artifacts in this show were believed to have aided the gods themselves. Not as vehicles of power, but rather as artifacts of divination.”
“You mean like fortune telling?”
She nodded. “Precisely.”
“But, like... don’t gods and goddesses divine fate themselves?” he asked as he sauntered to the next item, a scrap of a cloak once worn by the oracle of Delphi.
Calliope looked upon it with fond memory. She’d been quite close with the oracles, then, in her youth.
“Misconception,” Calliope said, slowly coming to stand beside Theo once more. “Gods and goddesses are divine beings, and divine beings can not shift fate for themselves. It would go against the laws of fate.”
Theo looked at her with his deep green eyes, twisting his lips. “That kind of sucks. Having all that power and not be able to give yourself what you want?”
His body moved slightly closer to her. She pretended not to notice, though the moment he did so, her insides heated like a flame.
“It is... a nuisance, yes. But... to want is human, is it not?” She licked her lips, staring at Theodore’s reflection in the panes of glass surrounding the cloak.
“To err is human,” Theo said softly. “Everyone wants. Everything wants. The flower wants rain, the dog wants the bone. The kid wants the cookie, and...” His gaze drifted to hers in the reflection of the mirror.
Calliope noted the way he was looking at her.
Like she was the artifact on display, not the scrap of fabric encased in glass.
He looked at her as he had last night, right before he’d dropped to his knees.
Calliope could not help the way this made her feel, nor could she help the way her body responded of its own accord, leaning closer into his space until their arms were touching.
She stared at their reflection as he spoke.
“I want to take you to dinner.”
His words were solid, not confident as he had been before, but hopeful. She could feel the truth in them as he spoke, though she could not truly feel or sense what it was he wanted, and that made her nervous.
Calliope could always sense what a person wanted, what they needed, especially from her. But it seemed with Theodore next to her and all the insanity of this day, Calliope could not sense anything except the rapid beat of her heart from his words.
“What do you want?” he asked carefully.
She closed her eyes, shaking her head as she moved away. “What I want does not matter, Theodore,” she murmured as she opened her eyes and headed toward the empty case. The sun was setting and it cast a golden haze through the windows, bathing the gallery in its light.
“Of course it does,” he said, coming to stand next to her once more.
Calliope hated the fact his very presence warmed her, soothed her. But she loved it, too.
To want is a curse all on its own.
“Theodore...” She sighed, just as her stomach growled, protesting her resistance.
He chuckled. “Sounds like you could use some dinner. Have you even eaten at all today?”
She crossed her arms, shaking her head. “That is none of your—”
“I’m just saying you can’t survive off pineapple wedges, Callie.”
She laughed at his attempt at humor. It was... sweet.
It made her feel warm and cozy, like a fire.
“And what of you, Zorro? Have you taken care of your needs today?”
Theo blushed six shades of red and Calliope found herself wanting to know why. What had she said to irk such a response?
He cleared his throat. “Not all of them.”
Her stomach growled again.
Be quiet you!
“You’re closing up right?” he asked.
Calliope raised an eyebrow. “I am, but how did you—”
“Spike told me.”
Spike. Of course, she’d almost forgotten he’d taken Theo home this morning, forgot they knew each other.
Just another reason why you need to tread lightly, Callie.