Chapter 3 #2
Deimos bites down on his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing at me. “It’s a life? You’re the God of War, for fuck’s sake. When have you ever cared about a mortal’s life?” He rakes a hand through his hair again. “I’m billing you for this conversation. It’s pathetic.”
I remain silent, hoping he will take it as a cue to go away.
Deimos leans back in the chair and widens his legs. “Your heart is hammering. Why is that?” He smiles, and his dimples deepen. “Wait, you are afraid. The god of fucking war is afraid…of what exactly?”
“Stay out of my head, Deimos!” I grunt, and my fist tightens on the armrest of the chair.
“Hmm.” His gaze moves to my hands. “I don’t have to read your mind. I am just listening to the parts of you that are screaming for help.”
He reaches forward and holds the chalice in his hand. It takes all of me not to grab it from him.
Deimos closes his eyes and inhales. “You’re afraid of failing again. Of loving again.”
“Deimos,” I warn.
Deimos throws back his head and cackles, his chains jingling around his neck. “This is fucking rich. So, if you fall for the new girl, you have to kill her to save your old one.”
When he says it that way… “It’s not that.”
Deimos brings the chalice to his nose and inhales. “It is. Love lies; faith lies. But fear, I can smell fear, and it always tells me the truth.”
With that, he puts the chalice back on the table and disappears.
SORAYA
Shit, my head hurts, and my stomach is not happy with my life’s decisions.
This morning, I woke up to a sweet scent that I couldn’t identify mixed with cigarette smoke.
I couldn’t find the chalice. I looked everywhere.
I couldn’t make a police report because I was still “missing.” I think someone may have stolen it while I was sleeping.
That means someone was in my room while I was out. That is dangerous.
I think that tonight may be the last night that I stay at this motel.
“Order up!” the cook shouts out, breaking me away from my thoughts.
I found a newspaper on my way to Gina’s Diner.
I didn’t know if people still read newspapers since our phones have replaced every aspect of our lives.
Nevertheless, I was thankful because the classified section was the only way I could look for a job right now.
I tug my cap lower on my head, keeping my face over the newspaper.
I picked a booth in the far corner of the diner.
It feels safer. I may be free of my marriage, but I am not free from discovery.
Now to find a job. I begin to circle some jobs.
I circle a dog-sitter job and a housekeeping position at a hotel.
What am I even doing? I don’t even know if I should go to the police. Should I go to a news station? I ran away with no plan. I have my cousin’s card and some money left from selling my dress. Eventually, it will all run out. What do I do?
“I love your tote.” I hear a sultry voice beside me.
I look up, and a woman leans casually against my booth.
She’s wearing black jeans and a grey T-shirt with the word “Rival” on it.
I guess it’s a rock band from the design of the font.
Her dark hair falls in a perfect middle part.
It stands out against her pale skin. But it was more than just her clothing and hair.
She has a presence that demands your attention… like a goddess.
Shit. I’m staring, so I smile awkwardly, touching the black and grey tote. “Thank you.”
The waitress hurries towards me with a black tray. “Sorry to keep you waiting, darling.”
She stops at my table and places a cup of my black coffee and buttered toast.
“What, are you allergic to meat or something?” the goddess-looking lady asks.
I chuckle. “No, I, um, I just—” My eyes drift to the grease-sweating cook through the window.
“Cautious because the cook is sweating over your food, and it might drop into your bacon?”
I snort. “Exactly.”
The woman turns to the counter as the cashier asks for her order.
I take a bite of my toast and continue to circle jobs in the newspaper.
“Anyone sitting here?”
I look up, and it’s the gorgeous lady again. “No,” I say.
She blinks at me and raises her eyebrows. “Sooo can I sit here?”
“Sure,” I reply. God, I hope she doesn’t ask too many questions. I should have told her no. My head is still pounding slightly. She could be working for Elias. Shit, I didn’t think of that. The runaway bride thing is not my forte.
I take a sip of my coffee and smile at her. “I’m Raya. What’s your name?”
“Hecate, but you can call me Cate.”
“Hecate, as in the goddess. That’s cool.”
Cate sits up straight against the faux leather booth. “You know Hecate?”
“I know she still has followers, and she happens to be a badass goddess who deals with magic.” I shrug.
Cate drags her finger around the rim of her coffee cup. “Badass goddess. I like that.”
I chuckle. “You should.”
Hecate looks down at the paper and pulls it toward her. “Looking for a job?”
“Um, yes.” I should pack up and leave.
“Really? Are you good with children?” she asks.
Am I good with children? I don’t know. There was never any reason for them to be present in my life.
“I have no idea.” That was the truth.
Hecate taps her chin. “You see, a poor child with no shoes on steals an apple from a shop owner. The shop owner doesn’t see it, but you do. What’s your next move?”
“I would,” I bite my lips, “tell her to pick up more food and tell her to follow me to the counter so I can pay for it.”
Hecate nods. “You’re perfect.”
“Perfect?”
Hecate sips her coffee and makes a face. “By the gods, it tastes like grill grease and mud.”
She pushes the coffee and reaches forward for my toast. She breaks it in half and eats it. “This is even worse than the coffee. You need this job.”
Common sense tells me that this is how human trafficking happens. A beautiful lady approaches and then tells you, “Hey I have a job for you.” All I’m waiting for is for her to say it’s six figures.
“It’s a six-figure payment,” Hecate says as she wipes her hand with a napkin.
Bingo. There it is.
“My friend has a new ward. He is a businessman, and since it’s the beginning of summer, he needs someone to care for her.”
Everything about this smells suspicious. I think I should wrap it up and let her go on her way.
“Well, thank you—”
“It’s $12,000.00 a month, and you will have your own board and car,” she states. The goddess-turned-wannabe-human-trafficker is pulling no stops.
The bell over the door rings, and two local police officers walk in.
Shit. One is tall and heavily tanned, with his pants hiding under his belly.
The other is short, stocky, and brown. My stomach flutters.
The last thing I need is to draw the attention of cops.
I lower my head to the paper. They both sit on stools and begin to talk out loud.
“So, are you willing to accept the offer?” Hecate asks.
Just as I was about to reject the offer, the police officer shouts, “Charlene, turn the TV up.”
“BTC News. I am Rebecca O’Neil. Media billionaire Elias Thorne is offering four million for the return of his bride.
Soraya Maude, Elias’s fiancée, disappeared just hours before the private ceremony at the Balmont estate.
She was last seen in lower Balmont in her wedding dress.
The distraught Elias is asking for any leads on his fiancée.
No sign of foul play has been confirmed, but the speculations are mounting. Is it cold feet or more?”
The tanned police officer huffs. “Spoiled brat. I’m sure she ran for some stupid reason.”
The other officer chimes in. “Like her ring size.”
They both start laughing.
“Let me see that bride. I’m turning her in ASAP.
“Four million dollars? Shit, I’m wrapping her in a goddamn bow.”
Hecate raises her eyebrow, waiting for my next move. Go with Hecate, or have Dumb and Dumber carry me back to Elias?
“We can leave now, and you can start tomorrow.”
The officer looks at me, and I lower my head.
I should just leave.
The moment I decide to leave, the police officer whispers something to the other, and they walk my way.
Elias or Hecate? Elias will kill me for bringing him shame. Hecate? I have no idea. But my gut tells me there are new adventures.
“We can leave now,” I whisper.
Hecate’s smile widens, and she slides out of the booth, digs into her pocket, and drops money on the table. I gather my stuff, throwing my large tote over my shoulder.
Just when I stand, the two police officers block Hecate.
“My God, I may just have to arrest you for being beautiful.” The taller of the two adjusts his belt and smirks.
Hecate smiles. “Oh, thank you, boys.”
“Who’s your friend?”
Hecate sighs. “Excuse me, officer.”
I keep my head low as I walk behind Hecate.
I see when the office slaps Hecate’s butt.
The slap is so hard that the activity in the diner stops.
Oh God! We can’t afford to get arrested, but I want her to slap the officer back.
No, they will ask for my ID, which I don’t have.
Then they will do a search, and it will be over.
All this would be for nothing. I wait for Hecate to shout or scream at the officers.
Instead, she stops, smiles, and touches his face.
Hecate tiptoes and whispers in his ear. He nods like he’s being hypnotized.
Hecate taps his chest. “Now go be a good boy.”
That’s it?
“Come on, Raya.” I hurry behind Hecate. She stops at a crimson-colored vintage car. I don’t know the brand, but it’s sleek and expensive-looking.
“You like it? It’s a 1955 Aston Martin coupe,” Hecate says as she opens the door and slides in.
I hear a scream, and I look back at the diner. I see the police officer that Hecate spoke to pull a gun out. One sharp pop…Then I hear more screams.
The second officer stands with his hands high over his head. I can see his hands shaking, and he is trying to talk to his friend.
I stand frozen on the spot.