7. In Which Our Heroine Sings “Come Sail Away” by Styx . . . Poorly.
Chapter 7
In Which Our Heroine Sings “Come Sail Away” by Styx . . . Poorly.
Modern-day New York Cruise Port to Athens, Greece: Day 1 Aboard the Epic of the Seas
E llie stood in awe of the massive size of the ship before her, rising like a giant, out of the water. A half deck, water slides, and smokestacks towered above the last full deck. She had never in her life seen something so massive. All around her, taxis and large conversion vans dumped cruisers off at the entrance. People bustled by her with their families, some wearing matching shirts announcing family reunions. A crowd of women wearing brightly colored shirts that read “ last fling before the ring ” gathered for a picture with the ship towering in the background. The excitement of a new adventure hung heavy in the air. The din of people calling one another competed with the porters, who threw luggage on overstuffed rolling bins, shuttling them off to their destinations.
Amazed and overwhelmed at the sheer amount of organized chaos around her, Ellie froze. For several moments, uncertainty clouded the otherwise bright summer morning. Penn had always taken care of travel arrangements. Her job on their numerous vacations was not to interfere. Penn was the organizer, the one who paid for the trip. She was to be grateful he had invited her along, since traveling with her always seemed to be a burden to him. Ellie hesitated, taking her first step forward without his incessant voice in her head felt impossible; she stood there, lost in a sea of memories, bustle, and noise, until a man’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
“Do you need help, miss?” He smiled kindly at her. He wore a deep-blue shirt with a name tag, gray slacks, and tennis shoes. Squinting, she closed one eye, straining to read the name tag.
“Yes, um, Rodger, um, I’m not sure where to go. I need to check in, I think. Go through security?”
He pointed with two fingers. “Over there, miss. See where it says terminal; that’s where you go.” A set of crooked teeth peaked behind a wide grin. He turned abruptly to answer a question from another cruiser. Ellie gathered her bags and started making her way towards the terminal. Glancing down at her paperwork, she didn’t see the tall woman until she collided with her in the sea of cruisers aiming for a destination. Glaring at Ellie, she cursed before whirling around in a huff. Ellie weaved through the crowd, her luggage following behind. She came to another porter who tossed luggage into a rolling cart.
Their eyes met, and in a thick bohemian accent, he asked, “Do you want to add your bags?” gesturing to her sizable suitcase. He motioned to throw it up on top of the ever-growing pile.
“Sure.”
Checking the tag to ensure it had her cabin number and paperwork affixed to the handle, Ellie smiled. With the suitcase in hand, he swung it as though he aimed to win a prize at a carnival. It landed and bounced softly atop several others. He continued rolling the huge cart down the line that had grown outside the terminal doors. Ellie adjusted her carry-on bag and purse on her shoulder and stood quietly in the queue. Behind her, a family with small children kept reassuring their brood the pool would be open. Ahead of her was a couple clearly on their honeymoon. They were still kissing thirty minutes later when the agent yelled “next” from behind a counter. They ignored the call, lost in each other.
Ellie leaned forward. “Can you do that and walk? She said next, y’all.”
Annoyed, they moved forward towards the counter. Another agent opened as they moved, and Ellie walked over. Halfway through producing her documents and ticket, Ellie caught sight of a group of men towards the end of the line. The man in the midst of the group had his back to her, talking to someone behind him. His dark hair tousled on his head looked very familiar. Ellie stared harder, trying to remember where she had seen him before, squinting her eyes in concentration.
“Ma’am, your passport.”
She jumped at the sound of the stern agent. “Of course,” she said, reaching into her purse. Her passport wasn’t there. In a panic, she dug again. “Ah, crap! I know it’s here. I just had it in my hand.” She reached back into her purse, frantic. She dumped the contents out on the counter: coins, Chapstick, and a tampon rolled every which way.
The agent at the counter huffed. “Ma’am, please step aside so someone else can come up.” She waved her hand, but Ellie stood her ground; she wasn’t about to be dismissed.
Bending down to the rolling carry-on, she continued looking. Prying open the side pockets, she shouted, “Ah-ha, yes! I found it.” She popped her head back over the counter, eye level with the ticket agent, and handed her the passport and paperwork. The agent moved aside the myriad of items and processed the paperwork. Working quickly to clean up her mess, Ellie shoved everything into her purse to be sorted later.
They moved through security when Evander noticed her several groups ahead. He kept Ellie in his peripheral while half-listening to Liam’s good-natured insults. A child crying caught his attention, and he took his eyes off her for a second. By the time his gaze swung back to where he last saw her, she was gone.
“I lost her,” Evander mumbled, betraying his concern.
“It’s fine,” Maximus called over his shoulder. “She can’t go far on the ship. We all know her room number. It’s just a matter of making sure she’s gone when we search.” He dismissed any argument with a wave of his hand and continued his conversation.
Furrowing his brows, Evander huffed, annoyed at being dismissed. Valerius showing up outside her house had rattled him more than he let on, leaving him on edge. Ellie was unaware of his world, unaware of the danger she was in. She could turn a corner and come face-to-face with Valerius or his pets. That thought turned his blood to ice. She was a tiny, helpless woman without the expertise to defend herself. The entire idea made him anxious, something he never was.
He fell in step with Camulos, the fourth member of their company and the oldest. Unlike the other three, Camulos was powerful beyond comprehension. No one knew for sure what he was, but it was long suspected he may be a demigod. Maximus was leader of their company, but Camulos was their defender. His powers made him lethal to anyone unlucky enough to be on the receiving end.
“There’s something more to this, isn’t there?” And he was nothing if not direct.
“Maybe.” Eyeing him, Evander puffed out a breath. Cam’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he nodded. His hand touched Evander’s shoulder and concern slid into bewilderment as Camulos’ expression changed.
“Oi!” Evander spat out, shrugging Camulos’ hand off. “Stop that.”
“Valerius knowing about her is troubling.”
Evander paused and faced him. He didn’t bother to question Camulos, that was pointless. “He was at her house, Cam. Athena wants her dead, and Valerius comes sniffing about. I don’t like this. Something isn’t adding up.”
He shook his head. “Nothing is as it seems.”
Evander arched a brow and waited for him to elaborate. When he met the stony silence of the senior member, Evander sighed and boarded the ship. The pair passed cruisers clamoring for the photo area, crossing over the gangplank.
“I just wish we had gotten the book, and this quest could be over.”
Camulos nodded as a knowing smile creeped across his face. One that had Evander momentarily wanting to punch his commander. One of the most infuriating of Cam’s powers was the ability to see the future of anyone he touched. And his inability to share what the future was.
“What?” Evander grumbled as they walked.
“Nothing.”
The men passed through security without setting off the alarms, a neat little trick compliments of Liam, and headed to their staterooms. Evander’s cabin was the smallest, with a sunny balcony off the front. He was helping himself to wine in the quiet when there was a knock at his door. Striding over, he kicked shoes aside and looked through the peephole, frowning as he swung the door open.
“May I help you?”
A small woman with dark-brown hair stood in the hall, her back straight, her shoulders square, trying her best to appear confident.
“May I come in?” she asked, clasping her hands.
Evander looked behind him and then back at her in confusion.
“Who are you?”
“I haven’t much time, so it’s best I come in, Evander; I won’t take long.”
He stared at her intently. “I’m sorry, miss, but you can’t come—”
“Artemis sent me,” she interrupted with a hand on his forearm. She stepped around him, and as the door shut, she turned to face him, twisting her fingers in her hand. Evander was sure his expression was best described as dumbstruck.
“I haven’t much time,” she repeated.
“Who are you?”
She smiled softly. “You don’t remember?”
He flopped into a club chair and motioned for her to do the same. Keeping her back stiff, clearly uneasy in his presence, she said, “I had hoped you’d have remembered, since I am responsible for your arm. We’ve only met a handful of times a century ago. Mostly, you leave your arm for me to adjust—yes?”
She shifted under the weight of his stare as his eyes widened.
“Hypatia?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right.”
“But you haven’t set foot in the human realm since”—he paused and frowned—“I’m uncertain when you last came to the human realm.”
“It’s been over a decade,” she mumbled. “But I’m not here to discuss that now. Athena refuses to listen, and I hope you can be persuaded a little easier.”
“How so?”
Hypatia straightened in the chair, tucked one leg under her, and leaned forward. The everyday human clothing looked so strange on her. Out of place. She spent her days cataloging artifacts for the library dressed in a chiton. Before him sat a prim woman in jean shorts, a tank, and tennis shoes. Her long hair was tied in a neat little bun at the nape of her neck instead of the braid she wound around her head. It was why he hadn’t recognized her at first, not that Evander had much interaction with Hypatia outside of her tweaking the calculations on his arm when it needed it. It wasn’t until she started talking, he noticed her most striking feature: her eyes. They were the color of a storm, dark gray, and set a bit too wide. When they had met years ago, he had been mesmerized by them as she talked. Hypatia rarely came out from the alcoves of Athena’s palace. It was forbidden for immortal humans to leave Olympus, which made her presence baffling.
“Athena has tasked you with an enchanted dagger and instructions to kill the human?” She pointed her chin, and he nodded. “She is convinced the human is a threat because she possesses the Book of Pandora .”
His frown deepened, but Hypatia continued. “You need to protect her, Evander. The woman. I believe Athena is wrong. Killing this human will not keep Olympus safe. I believe quite the opposite. The Fates have been whispering about the coming of the second Trojan War.”
“So, you believe she’s the savior?”
“I didn’t say that.” She picked at her thumbnail. “Athena is thinking only of Olympus and its protection. But her myopic view may inadvertently set off a chain reaction of events that will be irreversible.”
“How so?”
“That I am unsure,” she mumbled to her lap.
“So, you came here to tell me to go against my goddess? To disobey a direct order because this human may break the curse Pandora put on the gods. But killing her might start the second Trojan War, and you aren’t sure how? If I’m going to risk being sent to the Shadow Realm, I’m going to need a better reason than ‘I’m unsure.’ ”
Hypatia took a quick little breath and adjusted herself in the chair. “I can’t tell you how I know what I do.” Lifting her chin, she locked eyes with him, and a spark ignited in those gray eyes. “My understanding is you are a good man, Evander. Honorable. You believe killing an innocent is wrong. Athena fears the Serathena and is certain she can stop the destroyer before she comes for Olympus. If the legend is true. The Fates are not ones to speak in absolutes, but they whisper. Athena refuses any other suggestion, and she won’t listen to me.”
He had already been wrestling with his orders, especially after running into Valerius. But this?
“Do you think the Serathena is a demigod? As the Pythians have claimed?”
Hypatia blinked rapidly several times and took in another quick little breath, swallowing. “She isn’t a demigod,” she said, her voice suddenly very measured and sure.
Evander made a face, his lips thinning into a tight line. “How can you be sure?”
“You are an honorable gentleman, Evander; you’ll do what’s right.” Altogether avoiding the subject, Hypatia rose to her feet and started for the door. “I’ve stayed too long as it is.” Her fingers touched the handle before he managed to cross the room. She glanced over her shoulder, her face serious. “Artemis is the mistress of your province, is she not?”
“Yes,” he said cautiously. “Your point?”
“You are a part of the Celestial Legion, correct?”
His eyebrows pinched together as he nodded.
“Athena may have created you, but you fall under Artemis and Apollo’s governance as you reside in their province. As Artemis’ right hand, I am asking you to protect this human. Protect, not kill.”
“You are directly ordering me to disobey my goddess?”
“I am trying to save Athena from herself.” She lowered her gaze at him. “Protect her, Evander. That’s all I ask.”
And before Evander could take another step, she vanished.
“Hypatia.” The word fell in the room like a rock.
Evander found himself pacing several hours later, wrestling with her orders. He was unable to rid himself of the unease as his head spun with countless unanswered questions. When Hypatia, of all the immortals, risks coming to the human world to speak to him, he knew Ellie needed his protection, even if it meant he would have to protect her from himself.
His right arm ached; reflexively, he rubbed along his metal bicep. Murmuring under his breath, Evander unbuttoned his shirt and walked to the bathroom to find the medicated lotion he used nightly. He caught his reflection in the mirror. Tracing the path of sinewy muscle, his eyes danced across his shoulders, a testament to his battles and workouts. His left shoulder had defined muscles moving down his bicep into his forearm and hands, as if Michelangelo himself had chiseled him. His right was a hum of soft red and green lights, wires, and circuits. Hephaestus had crafted it years ago, but the engineering was Hypatia. This latest upgrade had the ability to feel, sense, and touch just like his left. Hypatia had ensured Evander’s prosthetic arm looked and felt like his other limb, even down to sculpting the metal to his unique muscle pattern. The technology was light years ahead of the wooden one he had worn strapped to him for over a century. It was the best the doctors of 1818 could do, but it always made Evander feel awkward and clumsy. This prosthetic, however, made him whole again.
The night Evander became a warrior, he went straight to Maximus against Liam’s warning. Maximus met him in the parlor of his estate in just his trousers, complaining of the intrusion and annoyed at Evander for interrupting a rather exciting evening with an opera singer.
“Pardon the intrusion, my lord,” Evander bowed, awash in good English manners.
Maximus waved his hand. “I’m not a lord. What do you want, Evander? I have someone I need to get back to, and your intrusion is rather untimely.”
“I was made a warrior earlier this evening, Mr. Lucci.”
“Good for you,” Maximus cut him off. “Now leave.”
“Athena assigned me to your company. You may want to reevaluate when you see what I lack.”
Sighing, Maximus gave in to the young man, who clearly didn’t take a hint. Evander removed his coat and his waistcoat and began untying his ascot. Maximus stopped him when he got to his suspenders.
“Now, see here,” he choked out, holding up his hands in defense. “While I admire your enthusiasm, and I may indeed be Roman, I will not be adding a man to my repertoire.”
Evander said nothing as he removed his shirt. There, clasped with a leather strap around his chest, hung his wooden prosthetic arm.
“You see, this may change things a bit.”
Maximus looked taken aback for a moment but steeled his reaction quickly. A wave of understanding crossed his face, and he met Evander’s determined gaze with his own.
“Can you handle a sword?”
“Yes, I am competent. I can show you if you like.”
“That won’t be necessary. Can you defend yourself?”
“Of course.”
“And write? And dress yourself?”
Evander looked confused. “Yes.”
“Then there is no need for further discussion.”
“But, my lord,” Evander began.
“Again, I am not a lord. And I see nothing here that would inhibit you. If you can dress with minimal assistance and wield a sword, then who am I to tell you that your missing limb will be a hindrance? A man isn’t whole because he has everything the gods gave him. He is made whole by his actions, deeds, and words. Integrity shapes a man, not the number of limbs he has.”
Maximus, Liam, and Camulos accepted him as he was. They never questioned his ability, training him just as hard. He’d always been grateful for their unflinching acceptance of him.
Evander looked at his stub in the mirror and rubbed medicated ointment on it to soothe the ache. He shouldn’t have trained so hard yesterday, but the anxiety needed an outlet. Putting his arm in its specially made container to charge all the working parts so his movements were flawless when worn, he shut off the light. Padding to the club chair in bare feet, he settled himself in for a night of preparation. Tomorrow would bring with it whatever troubles it may, and he would attack them. He’d be dammed if Valerius got his hands on Ellie.
Hypatia might be right. If Athena was being stubborn, he was going to have to disobey his goddess. As much as Athena wanted them to follow orders blindly, killing Ellie over a book—even this one, with all the secrets of the gods held inside—seemed irrational. And with Valerius interested, it could only signify trouble. Humans were incredibly fragile. No, his mind was made up.
For the first time in his two hundred years, Evander would go against Athena.
He just hoped he was right.