I pulled a cell phone out of the glove compartment. There was only one functioning cellular network. It belonged to the military and as a knight of the Order and an officer of peace, I had access.
I stared at the phone.
“Forgot the number?” Raphael asked.
“No. Thinking how to phrase this. If I say the wrong thing, she’ll be dashing down to the ley line in minutes.” Kate had never met a person she didn’t want to protect, preferably by hacking at the hostile parties with her sword. But Kate was also human and needed the rest.
Raphael gave me a dazzling smile. My heart skipped a beat. “Could it be that you want some alone time with me?”
I dropped the safety off my gun.
He raised his hands palms out, still grinning like an idiot.
I put the safety back on and dialed the number.
“Kate Daniels.” My best friend’s voice filled my ear.
“Hey, it’s me. How’s your stomach?”
“Stopped hurting. What’s up?”
“I need to ID a twenty-foot-tall three-headed dog with blood-red fur and burning spit.” That’s right, routine, casual, business as usual, I encounter giant three-headed dogs every day . . .
A small silence filled the phone.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Everything is fine,” I assured her, smiling brightly at the phone, as if she could see me. “Just need an ID.”
“Does the tail look like a snake?”
I considered the long, whip-thin tail with a barb on the end. “Sort of.”
“Are you in the office?”
“No, I’m in our Jeep, out in the field.”
“Look under the passenger seat in a black plastic bin. There should be a book.”
Raphael hopped out, dug under the seat, and pulled out a dog-eared copy of The Almanac of Mystical Creatures.
“Got it,” I said into the phone.
“Page seventy-six.”
Raphael flipped the book open and held it up. On the left page a lithograph showed a three-headed dog with a serpent for a tail. The caption under the picture said CERBERUS.
“Is that your dog?” Kate asked.
“Could be. How the heck did you know the exact page?”
“I have perfect memory!”
I snorted.
She sighed into the phone. “I spilled coffee on that page and had to leave the book open to dry it out. It always opens to that entry now.”
I examined the dog. “It definitely looks similar. Ours was bigger.”
“Ours? Who is there with you?”
“Raphael.”
Kate’s voice snapped. “I’ll be in Atlanta in three hours. Where are you?”
“I said it’s nothing major.”
“Bullshit. You wouldn’t work with Raphael unless the Apocalypse was imminent and that was the only way to prevent it.”
Raphael put his hands over his face and shook, making choking sounds that suspiciously resembled laughter.
“Hardy har har,” I growled. “We’re completely fine on our own, thank you very much. If you want to help, tell me more about Cerberus.”
“He belongs to Hades, god of the Greek underworld, where souls spend their afterlife. His primary function is to guard the front entrance. Also Hades occasionally sends him on an errand, according to myths. He’s supposed to hate sunlight.”
“This one had no trouble with the sun. Can you think of any possible reason he would manifest?”
“Well, a defilement of Hades’ shrine might do it. But Hades didn’t exactly have shrines. The ancient Greeks were scared to death of him. They averted their faces when sacrificing to Hades. They refused to even say his name. So I’m not sure.”
“Thanks.”
“You sure you don’t need me to come?”
“Positive.”
“Call me if anything.”
I hung up and looked at Raphael. “Your mother’s mate, what was his name?”
“Alex Doulos.”
“Was he a Greek pagan?”
A frown twisted Raphael’s face. “I have no idea. It didn’t come up. We had a careful relationship. He didn’t try to be my dad and I didn’t try to be his son. We met at holiday dinners and talked about sports mostly. It was a safe topic. What are you thinking?”
I shook my head. “I’m trying very hard not to think anything. I’m just collecting data at this point. Did you see the way Fido fell?”
“Like he was on a leash and it ran out.” Raphael drummed a quick rhythm on the dashboard.
“It probably means he’s somehow bound to a specific area. I think we should go and look at it.”
“I’m game.” Raphael shivered. “I don’t suppose you have any spare clothes?”
“You should’ve thought of clothes before you decided to go human.”
The sinful smile was back. “I always dreamt of being naked with you. Couldn’t pass up the chance.”
I started the Jeep. “Could you get any more full of yourself?”
“I’m mostly interested in getting you full of me.”
The vision of being full of Raphael zinged through my brain, short-circuiting rational thought. “Come to think of it, there is something on your lips. Why don’t you use that side mirror over there to check it out?”
He glanced into the side mirror and stared, slack-jawed. His lips were solid black. A thick black line of guy liner outlined his deep-set eyes and a little black tear dripped down his left cheek-bone. He touched his cheek, stretching the skin to better examine the tear, his face a flat mask, glanced at me, and exploded with laughter.
I stood atop the Jeep’s hood and slowly swept the vast network of ravines with binoculars. The Jeep itself sat on the edge of a shallow gap, just beyond the spot where Cerberus almost took a bite out of our backseat. Raphael, still gloriously naked, sat in the passenger seat and plucked random Hades-related trivia from the book.
“A fun guy, this Hades. Apparently he bridenapped his wife.”
“Things were much simpler in ancient Greece if you were a god. I’m sure he got himself a harem of mistresses, too.” The wind swirled with Raphael’s scents: the light musk of his sweat, the delicious redolence of his skin . . . I was having trouble concentrating.
“No,” Raphael said, flipping a page. “Actually, Hades didn’t screw around. His wife was the daughter of Demeter, goddess of youth, fertility, and harvest. After Hades stole Persephone, Demeter refused to let the plants grow, starving everyone, and they had to reach a compromise: Persephone spends half of the year with him and half with her mother. The guy only had her for six months out of the year, and he still remained faithful. That must be some sweet sex right there.”