Chapter Twelve
All Apollo wanted to do was close his eyes, suck down several deep breaths, and reset his operating mode. From raging hard-on to straight-up rage wasn’t the simple vibe line he’d always assumed it’d be.
But clearly, assumptions weren’t the proper accessories for this not-so-little adventure.
“Ah. How astute you are, as usual, Your Godship.”
On the other hand, he could’ve put millions down on how well-rehearsed that line would flow out of Rizon. Depending on how long the little shit had actually been without the string, there was a slight chance of the follow-up being as creamy-crooner smooth.
“As you have properly surmised, I am temporarily without the string . . . ”
“Which might’ve your plan all along, anyway,” Irowen rebutted, throwing a hard glare at Rizon’s pitiful ruse of distress. “Easier to unload it for operating cash, right? Unless Ito just wanted a temporary playdate with the thing?”
“Not such an odd concept,” Apollo clarified.
“If Ito is a practicing Shintoist, he believes in us as deities called kami, who are associated with forces of nature both good and bad. Using a supernatural treasure as a temporary tool for power and wealth is one thing, but pissing off a kami long-term is another. He might already be looking for yet another buyer.”
Rizon’s soft but bitter chuckle was an accurate predecessor of his reply. “Oyabun is about as interested in pleasing the kami as weaving his toenail dirt into a new yukata.”
To her credit, Irowen only exposed her disgust in the tightness at the corners of her eyes. Otherwise, those incandescent greens didn’t flinch as she fully regarded Rizon again. “So, he’s gluing down the string for good.”
Before she was done, the worm at his feet had the wherewithal to insert a convincing shudder. At least he hoped Rizon was acting . . .
“Naí,” the asshole mumbled before clarifying his Greek: “Yes. That is his intention.”
“Shit,” Apollo spat. Fine; he’d been counting on Rizon’s charade to be just that, though Irowen actually appeared like she’d clutched big at ultimate bar trivia and scored them a round of top-shelf shots.
The woman swayed side-to-side with mischievous glee, as if she just looked forward to a new round from the trivia machine.
But when she spoke again, after a few seconds that felt like years, it was damn clear she wasn’t playing at all.
“His intention,” she echoed. “Which implies what he plans to do, not what’s already accomplished.” Just as quickly, she leaned over, but only by half. In short, squaring off with Rizon but not stooping to his level. “Because Ito himself doesn’t have the string yet, does he?”
Apollo beat Rizon on the reaction shot to that by half a second. Couldn’t be helped, when the woman’s new insight made so much sense.
“Hellsticks.” He let his tone imply the facepalm to which he was tempted, along with the shit he didn’t give about the pun.
“So if big man obayun doesn’t have it, and you don’t have it”—from his glower at Rizon, he swooped his attention back to the woman at his side—“where does that put us at now? Square fucking one?”
Irowen pushed back up to her full height. While that barely put the top of her inky curls to the middle of his bicep, she looked ready to put her own mark in the doorjamb with the frustrated fire in her greens and the tension in her dirt-smudged neck.
By the damnation of Zeus, how he just wanted to freeze the whole scene and lick that filth off her.
Yeah, even now. Yeah, no matter how nasty it tasted.
Yeah, just to carry more of the sexy little animal around with him.
To haul her into his goddamned sinus passages the same way he ached to hold her in his arms, her cheek against his heartbeat.
They’d both been through so much tonight, and here they were facing a brand-new ordeal . . .
Square fucking one.
“No.” She would’ve had him back at full focus even with half that confidence, but her fresh swagger was an extra boost for the cause.
“Not there. Square one is when there isn’t an eager little Judas in front of you, ready to spare himself the noose.
Isn’t that right, Mr. Byrd?” When her deliberate jab with the mortal alter ego made Rizon hunch again, she rolled her eyes and exaggerated a long pffft.
“Oh, hey. Come on. I wasn’t serious . . .
much. Have I asked you to kiss any cheeks, buddy?
I mean, the one already on my mind has probably put up with plenty of your slobbering anyhow. ”
“Huh?”
“Eh?”
Though there was no way to avoid embarrassed idiot syndrome when his retort slammed the air along with Rizon’s.
At least Irowen got another two seconds for deliberation.
Golden lining, part two: he got the chance to watch, unfiltered about his fascination, as her face conveyed the turns and clicks of her logic.
But as awesome as the sight was, he hoped her conclusion came soon.
The sleazebag at their feet, profusely sweaty in his fear, stunk like a ganja roach in a Skid Row puddle.
The little monster delivered like a champ. “It’s Natasha, isn’t it?” she declared then, smoothly folding her arms before Rizon jerked up a gawk of wordless confirmation.
“Well, fuck,” Apollo growled. “That makes scary sense.”
“Yep.” She popped the last consonant of the word, never swerving her scrutiny from Rizon.
“The woman is a crafty little cookie. I know that much by shadowing her for the last few weeks. But you probably didn’t know how crafty, did you, demigod?
Not when you first trusted her about who and what you are, yeah? ”
Beneath the bastard’s grimy stubble, a furious flush developed. “She giggled at first, you know,” Rizon snarled. “Giggled. At me, a rightful polítis of Olympus!”
“So when you had the string in hand, you decided to make her see the truth,” Irowen filled in.
“And at first, it was probably worth it. Whatever fancy woo-woo trick you pulled was enough to change her from giggly arm candy into the girlfriend who jumped every time you snapped your fingers. She got what she wanted, as well. You two became the pop-rock golden couple, ready to rule the world together.”
Apollo hummed, but not in a good way. In his thunderheads-about-to-rain-fire way. “And then the girl realized that a solo throne was better for branding.”
“Solo, my ass.” Sure enough, as if lightning itself had hit his ass crack, the bum on the ground lurched up. “Not when she’s about to pick up her golden spoon at Ito’s pretty table.”
“Excuse me?”
“What the fuck?”
It wasn’t so weird to overlap his comeback this time, partnering the sound with Irowen’s retort. He just wished the sound sandwich was filled with something more palatable than their shock and disgust.
“Ito?” she reiterated, also looking ready for Titanomachy II. “Why is she jumping on that bus, considering what she knows about his own secret identity?”
Apollo grunted. “Probably because of that.”
Once more, Rizon’s expression broadcasted dismal affirmation energy.
“I was tired, desperate, and scared shitless, so I probably wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been with the calls and texts to Ito’s team,” he admitted.
“And Natasha’s not as ditzy as the world labels her.
” A shrug glitched along his shoulders. “Wouldn’t have taken much for her to understand why I suddenly possessed an item with such potent power. ”
“Then to contact Ito herself, cutting out the middleman in full,” Irowen supplied.
And cutting herself the sweetest worldwide management deal on the planet.
The proclamation resounded through their brains but not aloud on the air. It grabbed Apollo like a physical clutch and he swung around in time to watch a trio of black forms swoop down into the aviary.
As Quil and the other corvid lieutenant landed on perches behind Kaw’s main position, their captain preened like the guy in a superhero movie who got to drop the kaboom plot revelation.
Brassy motherfucker.
Apollo had never been happier to see him in his life.
Meaning, of course, that skeptical retorts were required on the immediate menu.
“You have actual proof of that, Captain Kleos?” He didn’t wield it as sardonically as usual, but he hadn’t exactly sent out Kaw and the crew on a fried chicken run this time. The insistence was necessary, despite how the bird answered with an insulted ruffle of back feathers.
Does Tweety Bird shit where he eats? The proof is why we’ve come back.
In lieu of a quiet preen because of that, he already returned to military decorum in addressing Irowen with a respectful tick of his beak.
It hasn’t led us to any clues about Genny’s location yet, but I promise we’re looking for them.
I’ve still got half the squad out on patrol.
They’re canvasing every block and every building of Ito’s known territories.
The woman dipped her own head, reraising it with a dimmed but gracious smile. “I believe you, Kaw. And I know they’ll learn something soon. Thank you.”
While Kaw did plume out again, as smitten as any male would be in the glow of the gorgeous monster’s grin, Quil angled over to give a fast bow for Apollo.
We succeeded in accessing Ito’s main offices in Kabuchiko, Anax.
There, we downloaded the files from his personal computer with the signed contracts from Natasha Korra.
“Okay.” Apollo added his own quick nod of praise. “Well done. You know which one of my machines to send updates to. Now make my whole day by telling me where that bitch and her new sugar daddy are right now.”
“Wait. And you’re going to believe them?” Rizon bristled and shifted his weight. “Seriously, Godship? Three birds who claim they cracked Nao Ito’s security system and then broke into his master computer?”
“Shut up.” Apollo’s blood, again ready to boil Maine lobster, tempted him to finish that by tossing the imbecile into Hades’s deepest pit. Irowen bested him to a better clapback.