Sin City Goddess Read online

  “What did you do?”

  I sighed, not wanting to tell him. Not wanting to relive the memory. After a while, I said, “I confronted him one night. Threatened him. Showed him images of Tartarus in his mind, but he didn’t care. He taunted me, just as he had taunted the police. Do you know he would actually invite them to dine with him while he was under surveillance?” I shook my head at the frustration of the case.

  “Jesus. I bet they wanted to kill him.”

  I nodded. “After he was finished laughing at me, he said, ‘You know, clowns can get away with murder.’ That’s when I strangled him with my bare hands.”

  Archer was staring at me, mouth agape.

  “You’d be surprised how much strength is bottled up in fury,” I said. “I wanted to kill him just for making me track him to Chuck E. Cheese’s.” I poured some water. “And for making me watch his absurd clown shows, entertaining at children’s hospitals, if you can believe it.”

  At this, Archer perked up. “Wait a minute. Are you talking about John Wayne Gacy?”

  “You know him?”

  “The entire country knows who he is.” He thought a moment. “But he was executed.”

  “That’s true. After what I had done, the Fates stepped in. They decided that it was best to let the mortal law dictate his punishment. They returned his soul to his body and put me on trial for murder. My mistake could have had immeasurable consequences in the human realm. That’s when the Fates changed the laws. We simply don’t track humans anymore. Only gods. He was caught a year later by the local police, tried, and eventually executed.”

  “Seems like they would have let you slide. You probably saved lives.”

  I had heard that perspective from my sisters and from Hades. But the truth was, what I had done made me no better than he was. It wasn’t my place to take a life. That was the Fates’ job. I could have unraveled our entire system by killing a mortal. Who knows how many strings would have been cut, crossed, or knotted if Atropos hadn’t cleaned up my crime? I was lucky they were watching. The tracking system for assignments hadn’t been implemented then. I might never have made it home.

  And what would that have meant for the mortals? Would my fury have morphed into the evil I’d spent my life fighting?

  To Archer, I said, “Laws are stricter in Olympus.”

  We spent the rest of the afternoon going over the files and what Archer had learned in his investigation. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much. We also studied the list of gods and goddesses in the area. Again, not too many. There was Rumour, whom I despised for her barbed tongue and malicious intent; Molpe, a Siren performing in a show; and Thalia, one of the Graces, who was assisting some comedian.

  After we ordered some sandwiches, Archer looked at his watch. “You better get ready soon. It’s almost showtime.”

  I groaned, ate as slowly as possible, and then got up to crawl into that ridiculous prophylactic the Shadow Bar dubbed a uniform.

  The purchases from the professional shopper were still in the bag on the bed. When I opened it up, a note was resting on top of the pile of shirts, pants, shoes, and underthings.

  It said, Meet me by the Jupiter pool at 6 p.m. It’s urgent.

  It was simply signed Stacy.

  Why did that name ring familiar?

  Chapter 19

  He had another prison dream when he took a nap. The kind that jolted him out of bed, his clothes stuck to his sweat-stained body, his hands trembling, It wasn’t the place itself that was bad—he had made many friends there, friends who shared similar interests. It was the fear of never being able to satisfy the hunger again. Trapped in the endless abyss under lockdown, he had turned to fantasy, daydreams, and writing to satiate his cravings.

  It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

  Now that he was out, he didn’t have to daydream anymore. He was free to do as he pleased.

  He shuffled to the bathroom and took a leak in the dirty toilet, splashing a few drops on the floor because he wasn’t awake yet. He thought maybe he should make one of his playmates clean the place. Maybe the one with the big tits. His partner would be pleased with that.

  He washed his hands, shut off the bathroom light, and went to check on the women.

  The one he had killed was still in the closet. He’d have to do something about that soon, before she started to smell. The other four were all tied to their respective mattresses. He had fed them, given them water and french fries left over from his lunch. He needed them to stay strong for the plan to work. It was probably time for a bathroom break. He wasn’t an animal, after all. He treated his treasures with compassion.

  Except that one with the foul mouth and the temper. He couldn’t believe the stream of obscenities that poured from her lips. Disgraceful. He decided then that she needed some denial therapy. He hadn’t fed her as he had the others. She needed weakening.

  He heard something when he stepped over to her. A mumbling, a faint squeak. No, wait—that wasn’t it. She was speaking. Her eyes were shut tight, her mouth still gagged, yet somehow she was speaking. No, that wasn’t exactly what he was hearing.

  She was chanting.

  He strained to hear the words, but it sounded like gibberish to him.

  “Stop that!” he yelled.

  She opened both her eyes. They were swirls of light, and he could have sworn he saw an image inside them. What was that? A river? Was that a boat?

  He stepped closer, and she snapped them shut.

  That’s it, he thought. This bitch gave him the creeps with those eyes. He couldn’t kill her, because he was still short a cast member.

  He decided there was only one choice. He grabbed the knife.

  Chapter 20

  I emerged from my bedroom wearing the skintight catsuit, black heels, and an overcoat.

  Archer was downstairs, fiddling with the laptop. I explained to him that I was off to meet a woman named Stacy.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked. “Who the hell is Stacy?”

  I told him about the shade in the Seahorse Lounge and my encounter with the redhead.

  “Hang on,” Archer said. “I’m going with you.”

  “I think I can handle a harmless woman,” I said, irritated. This hovering business was growing tiresome.

  “You know nothing about this woman. What if it’s a setup?”

  “Archer, I’m growing tired of you questioning my judgment. I know mortals. There is nothing dangerous or even suspicious about this person. Perhaps she saw something; perhaps, because I look so much like my sister, she was reminded of Alecto. Perhaps she saw who took her.”

  Archer looked doubtful. It was a quarter to six. The Jupiter pool was all the way on the other side of the hotel. If I was going to be on time, I had to leave now.

  “If you’re so concerned, look her up on the Internet laptop. It seems to be a wealth of information.”

  “Do you have a last name?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then I can’t Google her, can I?”

  Google her? That sounded vulgar. What did he mean by that?

  He must have seen the cloud of confusion on my face. He explained, “Research. It means research. I need a last name. I can’t just type in ‘redheads named Stacy.’”

  Oh. I hadn’t considered that. We had no use for surnames in Olympus.

  “Fine, you may accompany me.” I said. “But stay out of sight until I’ve finished speaking with her.”

  Archer grumbled incoherently, and we left the suite.

  She was standing near a row of spiky trees when I got there. The sun was just dipping beneath the horizon, staining the sky a vicious mixture of flame red, burnt orange, and magenta. The other pools I had passed on the way to meet the empath were much more populated. There were women in skimpy bikinis sunbathing, men in shorts and flip-flops drinking beer, children splashing their parents, and servants carrying trays of food and beverages to private cabanas shaded away from the sunlight. The Jupiter pool was s
ituated in a quiet corner. It was empty of swimmers, and its wall of greenery provided privacy.

  She seemed much more relaxed than when I had met her earlier. She was wearing a sundress and flat sandals, her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and she wore little makeup. She fiddled with a device in her hand.

  “Stacy?” I asked.

  She looked up, smiled. “Hi there. Glad you could make it.” She held up the gadget. “My grandmother. She didn’t want me to go on this trip, so she’s determined to be a pain in the ass until I check in. Just give me a minute to text her.”

  I nodded. What was texting? Was that like typing? Was that a pocket computer she was carrying?

  The woman’s fingers flew across the electronic device, which was no bigger than a deck of cards. Then she slipped it into her pocket and faced me. She glanced around the area. The nearest humans were several feet away.

  “If I’m wrong, I’d just like to say I’m sorry for dragging you here.”

  I nodded.

  “Is your name Tisiphone?” she asked.

  I noticed she didn’t shake my hand, which was the customary greeting among mortals. Odd, but I was grateful. If she had tried to touch me, I would not have allowed it anyway. As an empath she would be flooded with thousands of images of the mortals I had disciplined over the centuries. And no human should have to bear that.

  “It is.”

  “Okay, then. I have a message for you.” She reached into the other pocket of her dress and pulled out a cocktail napkin. She was about to read what it said, but then she stopped. “Maybe I should explain something first. Earlier, the man you saw—”

  I held up my hand. “You’re an empath for shades, I know.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “An empath for shades?”

  “Ghosts. I believe you call them ghosts.”

  Her eyes widened a bit as she studied me, and I nearly kicked myself. Why did I say that? That’s what all mortals called the dead.

  I rushed to explain. “I’m not from around here.” I hoped she would take that to mean that I was from another part of the human world. Russia, perhaps.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. I got that.”

  Oh Lords, Tisiphone, hold your tongue.

  “Anyway,” she said, eyeing me once more, before her gaze flicked to the napkin, “the message is from Cicely Barnes. Ring a bell?”

  Cicely Barnes. That was the student from Chicago. “You saw her? She escaped?”

  This startled her. “Escaped? Escaped from where?”

  Again, Tisi, shut your mouth. “Please, continue.”

  Stacy’s eyes darkened. What did she know? And what had I just revealed to her?

  “She came to me as a spirit… er, shade. She said your sister is safe, but not for long.” Stacy met my eyes. “Time is different for ghosts. Maybe you know that.”

  I kept my gaze steady. Cicely was dead. Which meant her captor was losing control. Which meant all of them—Alex included—could be killed at any moment. Unless… was that the plan? A sacrifice a day until the eclipse?

  If that was the case, then what was the grand finale?

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” She looked back at the note. “She said there were three others besides your sister. And she kept saying ‘he’: ‘he took us,’ ‘he tied us up.’”

  “Did she say where?”

  “No.” She stepped forward. “Look, is there someone else I need to tell? Should I call the police?”

  “I am the police,” I said.

  Stacy cocked her head. The look on her face told me she knew that wasn’t quite accurate. She crossed her arms, a bemused smile on her face. “Really? A cop who sees spirits. That should come in handy.”

  “I’m not exactly a local enforcement officer. I’m more of a… justice seeker, if you will.”

  She looked at me for an uncomfortably long time.

  “No kidding. So am I. In fact, my last name is Justice.”

  I smiled at her. I rather liked this mortal. “Did she say anything else?”

  Stacy took a deep breath. “Here’s where it gets tricky, Tisiphone. Something… geez, how do I say this?” She looked toward the sky, then to me again. “Took her.”

  I shot her a curious look. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I never would have believed it.” She met my eyes. “And I’ve seen a lot of crazy things.”

  “What did it look like?” Never had I heard of anything pulling a shade into the Underworld. They went willingly or not at all.

  Someone plunged into the pool and splashed Stacy from head to toe. The shock of the water made her suck in her breath. She rubbed her eyes and shook out her hands. Then she pulled the handheld contraption from her pocket to examine it. It was wet. “Dammit!”

  She turned to find a man with no neck, yellow hair, and brown trunks emerging from the pool. “Really, SpongeBob? Thirty-six pools in this place, and you have to cannonball right next to us?”

  The man shrugged and offered her a towel.

  She glared at him, grabbed the towel, and dried herself and her phone.

  The man shook like a dog, and Stacy gave him a look of disgust. She tossed the towel at his head.

  To me she said, “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  She led me through the casino, which was even louder than before, and down a few hallways, until we reached what was supposed to be a replica of Cleopatra’s barge, although it didn’t come close to the real thing.

  She pointed to a painting on the far wall.

  I gasped. No, no, no. It was impossible.

  I turned to her. “Are you certain?”

  Stacy Justice nodded. “Only it was about ten times that size. It grabbed her and flew into the sky. Then it just vanished.”

  A Stymphalian was the centerpiece of the portrait. What was going on? Was there a breach in the Underworld? Was someone trying to break through the gate? Or was someone calling forth the demons of Tartarus? Feeding the monsters?

  Because that would be bad. That would be hell on Earth.

  I had to alert the gods. Had to arm myself.

  “Are you all right?” Stacy asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” I looked at the woman. I could have kissed her. She had confirmed that I had seen that bird.

  But why hadn’t Archer? Having come from the Underworld, he should have been able to see it. Perhaps it had flown away before he had gotten a good look.

  “Thank you, Stacy Justice. You’ve been most helpful. Please find me if there is anything else you remember. Or if you receive any more messages.”

  I didn’t bother to give her the room number; obviously Cicely Barnes had given it to her. I started to rush off.

  “There is one more thing,” she called.

  I turned.

  “The woman? Cicely? She looked just like you.”

  “I know,” I said.

  She nodded, turned on her heel, and faded into a sea of gamblers, her soggy sandals squishing with each step.

  Archer stepped out from behind a curve in the wall. His eyes were filled with determination and worry. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was thinking.

  Was it me the maniac was after? Was I the grand finale? Or just the bait?

  Chapter 21

  “So he killed Cicely Barnes,” Archer said. The anger seeped from his skin like white heat.

  “It would appear that way.”

  “Any more messages from Hecate?”

  “No.” I was still thinking about all that Stacy Justice had told me: the bird stealing Cicely’s soul, the other women seemingly unharmed—not yet.

  I told Archer that it was time to contact the gods, that we might need help and certainly needed weapons. This wasn’t something we were going to be able to fight on our own. Not with my power fading and surging randomly. We would need to go to that portal in the Forum Shops that Athena had told me about. I couldn’t risk having the Graces screw up the signal.

&nb
sp; Archer said, “I think you should keep your shift at the bar. Maybe he’ll show up tonight. If there is something to the five moons of Pluto and the five women, he’ll be looking for new prey.”

  “And I fit the profile.”

  Archer stopped walking, looked at me. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but we’re not going to use you as bait.”

  “Not bait. A decoy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If he does show up, we’ll be prepared. You can collect him.”

  “But what about the drugs or potions, or whatever he used to kidnap the women and make their friends forget all about them? We still don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

  “Leave that to me. As soon as the sun goes down, my power should be revived, if this gods-forsaken city has any kind of heart. I have my own magic too, you know. What I need for you to do is secure weapons. I’ll need a sword to fight the bird. I’ll need time to enchant it as well. And water.”

  “Where the hell am I going to get a sword?”

  I gave him an eye roll. “This is Vegas, Archer—use your imagination.”

  He considered this. “Right. I prefer bullets in my weapons, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be getting myself a gun.”

  “And how will you do that?”

  “I know a guy,” he said.

  “Delivery in twenty minutes or less?”

  He smirked. “Not quite. I’ll get us a couple of phones too. We need to keep in contact. They’re portable now; they fit in your pocket.” Archer looked at my outfit. “Well, maybe not your pocket.”

  “Humorous, Archer.”

  “I think your shift ends around midnight, so I’ll see you back at the suite then.”

  A thought occurred to me. “The laptop. Is there any way to contact the gods via the laptop?”

  He shook his head. “Athena made no mention of that. There was no email program that I found. But you just reminded me that I can probably access my own personal email. It’s a Google account. Archer Mays at Gmail dot-com.”

  “I thought you said ‘Google’ meant ‘research.’”