Blue Moon
I woke on a gasp. The world rolled beneath me. The green haze of nausea clogged my throat and made my stomach protest consciousness. Blinking against the darkness, I tried to find my bearings. Unfortunately, the darkness didn’t give me a clue about the time, so I had no idea if I’d slept a few hours or a few days.
I swallowed hard and tried to focus my senses on finding clues.
The rhythmic sound of water captured my attention first. Then the overpowering scent of algae and the chemical odor of a portable toilet made my nausea regain steam. A boat then, I decided. I’d spent a week on harbor patrol duty back during my time as a rookie, and I’d never forget the odor of that fucking chemical toilet.
I moved my fingers and realized my wrists were bound in front of me. My head ached like I’d hit it, and my face felt like someone had tried to tenderize it with their fist. So basically, I was a mess physically. Mentally I wasn’t faring much better.
My thoughts were caged animals in my head, pacing, pacing, pacing. Where was I? What could I use for a weapon? Were Gardner, Mez, and Shadi alive? Where was Morales?
A low groan next to me. I angled my head and saw a large body in a heap to my right.
Hope exploded in my chest. “Morales?”
A familiar grunt reached my ears. “Fuck.”
“Thank Christ,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
“You mean besides the cracking headache, being bound in a strange boat by a madman, and having no weapons?” came the caustic reply. “Yeah, Kate, I’m peachy fucking keen.”
I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile. If he’d been seriously injured he wouldn’t have had the energy for sarcasm. “Injuries?”
A couple of beats of silence indicated he was taking a mental inventory. “Hit my head when I fell. Possible concussion.” His tone was less acidic this time. “And I’ve lost some blood.”
I craned my neck for a better look. He lay maybe five feet away. He was facing me so I got an eyeful of the small pool of blood under his face. I tamped down my instinctive fear and tried to remind myself that head wounds always bled a lot. Made them seem worse than they were sometimes.
“That bad?” His lips screwed up into a forced grin.
I realized then that the skin between my brows was pinched to the point of pain. Forcing my expression to relax, I tried to look into his eyes. But I was too far away to see his pupils. I couldn’t be positive without a closer examination, but it was safest to just assume he had a concussion.
“You’ll live,” I said, more to reassure myself than him.
“What’s your status?”
I took a quick inventory of my pains. “Nothing worth worrying about.” Not like his head, anyway. Between the blood loss and the concussion he was definitely impaired, which meant I’d need to take the lead on escape plans.
“Whatever you do,” I whispered, “do not fall asleep.”
Before he could respond to that, a loud creak overhead signaled that our captor was about to pay us a visit. Morales perked up, his body going alert. “That’s not going to be a problem.”
Heavy footsteps echoed overhead. I sat up straighter, scanning the area for possible weapons. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I could see a small galley kitchen on the other end of the berth, but with my hands tied and dizziness circling my head, I doubted I could make it there before the person coming down the steps arrived.
An instant later the door opened and Dionysus emerged. He’d changed into a long white toga and a wreath of ivy. In his left hand he carried a wooden staff topped by a cluster of pinecones.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” he said in a conversational tone. As if we were guests instead of prisoners.
“You need to let us go,” I said. “Our team will be here soon.”
He shot me a sweet smile that was totally creepy given the circumstances. “Kate, Kate, Kate. It’s been almost twenty-four hours. If they haven’t found us yet, they won’t.” His grin made him look like the god of chaos he pretended to be. “At least, not until it’s too late.”
I looked down at my chest. Mez’s protection amulet was gone. I glanced at Morales and saw that his was, too. Dionysus must have taken them once he’d potioned us. I’d bet my left hand, the backup that arrived way too late would find nothing in the house to lead them to this boat.
I closed my eyes and cursed.
“It’s invigorating, isn’t it?” Dionysus asked.
I opened my lids and glared at him. “What?” I snapped.
“Living life without a safety net. That sweet ache of vulnerability.”
“The only thing aching is my ass.”
“Did you know sarcasm is defense mechanism?” he asked in a light tone. “People who rely on it too heavily tend to be hiding something.” He shot me a pointed look. “It’s a mask.”
“Wow, you really got so much out of the Psych 101 class in college. Did you take it before or after you killed your parents, Scott?”
His left eye twitched. “They killed themselves. I was simply their suicide weapon.”
He sauntered over the galley and pulled a bottle of wine down from the shelf. He didn’t speak again until he was in the process of pouring the red into a glass.
“After I slit both their throats,” he continued casually, “I skinned their faces off their skulls.” He took an experimental sip of the wine. Sloshed it around on his tongue before swallowing. He smiled and nodded at the glass, as if approving of its flavor. “I think that’s what doomed me in the eyes of the jury. I tried to explain that their skin was hiding their true selves, but no one believed me.”
If I worked that nerve, maybe he’d make a mistake. “I find it ironic that you’re ranting about your parents wearing masks when you’re the one parading around as a Greek god.”
He ignored me and took another sip. “The only one who ever listened was the one who told me Babylon was the perfect setting for my plans.”
“Who?” Morales demanded.
“Dr. Flamel.”
I frowned. Then I remembered what Shadi had said about one of Scott’s doctors believing his story at the psychiatric hospital. “Your psychiatrist?”
He nodded dismissively and set down the glass. “Anyway, time to move this little party to a more appropriate location.” With languorous movement, he produced a gun from a hidden pocket in his toga. “If either of you tries to fight, I will shoot the other one in the head. Am I clear?”