Part 15 (1/2)
Light flickered over his eyelids as Thomas swam toward consciousness. Remnants of odd dreams of traveling through s.p.a.ce and oversize birds wisped through his brain, elusive and misty. When he cracked one eye open, searing pain stabbed under his skull. After rumbling in his chest like a rocket s.h.i.+p about to blast off, a ma.s.sive groan escaped his pursed lips. The hammering in his head almost made him believe he might be hung-over. But his gut didn't churn with the upset that accompanied over-imbibing. He rubbed his fist over his abs and up to the stubble on his chin. The last time he'd gotten rip-roaring drunk was the week after he'd learned of his brother's death.
He didn't remember drinking last night. To be honest, he didn't remember much of anything from yesterday. The entire day echoed of a black hole. Had he eaten something that made him sick? And where was Hailey? He strained his ears to detect any noise through his open door, hearing nothing but eerie silence. s.h.i.+t, he'd forgotten. She'd gone with the Campfire Scouts on an overnight trip.
As he rolled to his back a puff of earthy citrus teased his nose. It reminded him of...something. d.a.m.n, why couldn't he pin that memory down?
Thomas slung his arm over his face and took inventory. The sledge that had been knocking inside his skull receded, leaving a vague ache, minor confusion, and looming emptiness. He breathed shallowly through his mouth and waited for the remaining twinge to vanish. Pus.h.i.+ng himself upright on the bed, the sheet puddled around his hips. What the h.e.l.l? He'd gone to bed in his jeans. Just one more thing he couldn't recall. Bending his knees, he propped his elbows on them and scrubbed his hands over his head and down his face.
Agonizing shards of fire bruised a path from his heel to his already reeling mind once he rose from the bed. He hesitated before taking a second step. Holding his breath, one eye scrunched tight, he moved his right foot in front of his left. Huh? He took another cautious step, then another. The pain that had wracked his body a second ago had vanished. What the f.u.c.k is going on?
He plodded to the master bath and flipped the shower to the tortuous kneading spray he typically avoided, and then adjusted the temperature to just south of icy. He stood under the harsh torrent of cold water long enough to clear his head and clean his body. With a towel knotted low on his hips and another slung around his neck, he gathered clean clothes from his closet. He tossed the garments on the floor by the vanity and grabbed his brush.
As he raised his hand to comb his hair, he caught sight of a longish strand of coppery red hair snagged between the teeth. He pulled it free and studied it, not comprehending for the life of him whose head it had come from. Brows drawn together in a frown, he stretched the glossy filament between his fingers.
Too long and red to be his. Not curly or blond enough to belong to Hailey. And his housecleaners were all brunettes.
A ghost of an image of bright red hair teased his consciousness. But he couldn't grasp any details or identify the owner. He carefully arranged the strand on the vanity, his gaze returning to it frequently as he dressed. Something about that single thread of hair tw.a.n.ged around the edges of his heart.
Two hours later, with the mystery of the hair unsolved and still niggling, he was seated at the breakfast bar. A neglected cup of coffee sat near his open laptop. A webpage on ancient Greek theories on the tides and cycles of the moon occupied the screen. Being on hiatus allowed him to plan for future episodes of Doubting Thomas. On a lark, and needing material for the last of ten episodes, he'd decided this morning to tackle a new myth.
Was it true that individual temperaments could be affected by the phase of the moon? The material he'd reviewed thus far had been entertaining and perplexing. The notebook next to his left hand was filled with hastily scrawled notes and thoughts. He'd printed the word lunacy in large block letters at the top and underlined it three times. Beneath it, he'd scribbled Mayhem. As he'd written it, he chuckled to himself that the word could apply to his dreams from the night before.
The alarm sensor in his pantry bleated just as the front door crashed open. From where he sat, Thomas watched his niece wave goodbye to someone just before she slammed the door closed.
”Uncle Thomas?” Hailey sang out, looking for him.
”In here, munchkin,” he hollered back.
The slap of her footsteps skipped ahead of the silly tune she sang as she headed toward him. ”Thomas, we learned a song about pickles. Do you want to hear it?” Not waiting for his answer, she began a catchy little ditty about pickles and motorcycles, spinning in a circle as she sang.
It put a grin on his face. When Hailey crashed against him, he gathered her up in his arms, settled her on his lap, and hugged her tight. ”Your dad and I used to sing that song when we were boys.” He joined her in the last verse.
The little cutie dissolved into infectious giggles as he pursed his lips and blew through them to sound like a Harley revving.
She patted his cheeks. ”You're a silly.” She squirmed on his lap until she faced his computer. She pointed wildly to the laptop. ”Hey, it's Ms. Nia!” She jabbed her finger at the screen over a picture in the sidebar. It promoted another page to click on to read more about the Muse of Astronomy.
”Who?”
Twisting she looked at him, a frown pinching her tiny brows together. ”Ms. Nia. From Helios.”
”Munchkin, I don't know who you're talking about.”
As he studied the image an invisible string jerked his heart into his throat. The woman, dressed in a toga, her hair swept up into a sort-of crown on her head, was stunning and familiar. But it was just an artistic rendering of a model. Deep blue eyes blazed below delicately arched brows in the picture. A zing of recognition jangled his brain, but disappeared before he latched onto it.
Hailey reached out and picked up his mug. She sniffed it suspiciously, wrinkling her nose. ”What did you put in your coffee, Uncle T? Ms. Nia had breakfast with us. You made French toast.”
Taking the cup from her hands, he set it aside. He lifted her off his lap then stood beside her. ”Sorry, kid. Don't remember making a meal for anyone named Nia.” An aggravating tap in his chest told him his words didn't quite ring true. ”We've talked about you making things up.”
”But we did.” Hailey stomped her little foot, eyes squinty and lips tightly seamed in a pout. ”I'm worried about you, Uncle Thomas.”
”Knock it off, munchkin. I'm fine,” he rea.s.sured her.
”Maybe you need more time on your filming break.”
Thomas swept Hailey up under his arm and carried her like a giggly football to the entry hall, where she'd dropped her bag. Lowering her just enough to reach the handles, he waited until she grabbed it before hitching her higher on his side. Holding her like that, he carried his squirming, shrieking burden to her room.
”What do you say we put away your stuff then go grab some lunch? You can tell me what else you did at camp besides riding pickles.”
That produced a fresh gale of laughter. ”No, silly. We sang songs about pickles. We rode motorsickles.”
He mock staggered on the last step. ”No! You're not driving already. You can't even reach the gas pedal.” He let out a groaning whine. ”I thought I had at least eight more years before I had to worry about you behind the wheel.”
When they entered her room, he reached behind her legs and flipped her a.r.s.e-over-head onto her bed. The backpack flew from her grip and plopped right into a laundry basket in the corner.
Thomas whistled. ”Would you look at that?”
”Looks like my stuff is already put away.” Hailey bounced off the bed. ”Can we go to Helios after lunch to say hi to Ms. Nia?”
”Honey, I don't know her. We have some other errands to run. Some other time, okay?”
”But-”
”Stop, munchkin.” He nearly relented at the dawning disappointment in her eyes. But he held firm. ”We'll try to find her when they have the Founder's Day celebration on Sat.u.r.day.”
”But that's two days away.” She stuck out her lower lip and crossed her little arms over her chest.
Thomas held back his laughter at her pouty display. ”You'll live. It's on the grounds at the Inst.i.tute. If there is a Ms. Nia, she's bound to be there, don't you think?”
”Yeah!” Hailey bounced enthusiastically around him. ”The Scouts are having a place there to 'cruit new members. They're giving away chocolate bars and popcorn.”
”We'll add them to our list of things to see before we check out the carnival rides.” Although, riding the kiddie coaster with Hailey after she'd eaten chocolate and popcorn might not be the optimal order.
Hailey grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door, interrupting his mental rearranging of their activity list. Her excited chatter lasted all the way down the stairs, and then out the door to the car.
Chapter 21.
Two days had disappeared with no progress made toward a solution. No other man burst forward to suddenly embrace magic and defeat Pierus. Nia dug deep through all of her previous lifetimes and memories, searching for the answer. Morose best described her mood.
Atlas had materialized in her office three times with updates on his efforts to rehang the moon in the correct spot. They were closer, but he and his employees were struggling with the effort to move mountains, so to speak. He didn't take kindly to her suggestion of using a giant supernatural fulcrum and a little Gorilla Glue to stick it back in place.
Mars had summoned her to the security department meeting at Olympus in the middle of last night. She'd lurched from a dream about Thomas with tears streaming down her face. But she'd trounced on the memories with both feet and moved through the Hollow to the corporate boardroom with renewed resolve.
The news from Mars was that they'd uncovered Cratus's complicity in Pierus's scheme. The G.o.d of strength and power had conspired to incapacitate Zeus to keep him from aiding his daughters in future challenges. Apparently it had p.i.s.sed Pierus off that Zeus had interfered with Clio's round. A bit of a double-edged sword, since Pierus himself was aiding his daughters. Cratus had been sequestered in a s.h.i.+elded cell in the deepest recesses of Hades.