Rise of the Blood

Chapter Five

Yiayia and her—friend? boyfriend? passing acquaintance?—Fergus joined us at the bar, mercifully cutting off my line of sight to Jesus and my brother and the moment they seemed to be having. At least there wasn’t any sappy music playing. Or a dance floor, though the sun was cooperatively starting to set…the mood. It wasn’t the fact that they were both men that bothered me. I didn’t give a damn about that. It was the fact that either one by himself was a handful. Together, it would be like kerosene poured on a chemical fire.

Maybe I was upset because they were both mine in totally different ways, so they couldn’t possibly become each other’s, but I was pretty sure my concern was more noble than that. Spiro was the king of hook-ups and heartbreaks. Not only didn’t I want to see Jesus hurt, I didn’t want to live through the diva-sized meltdown should Spiro stomp all over his heart. And he would, unless he’d changed a helluva lot since I’d last seen him.

“Fair warning, Lenny Rialto is on his way up,” Yiayia said next to my ear. “I’m sure you will both be on your best behavior, yes?”

“I will if he will,” I answered her, not looking forward to the meeting, despite my casual response. Really, none of the problems had been my fault. If Spiro had just kept it in his pants…or not lied to me about where he was going and who he was meeting so that I hadn’t been so all-fired curious to find out. Or if he’d been any good at discretion. Yet, as good as Spiro was at causing trouble, he was equally good at smoothing it over and staying on good terms with his former lovers, hence the fact that he was still in and I was out.

“If he will what?” Nick asked.

“And this must be your young man!” Yiayia gushed before I could answer him. She grabbed Nick by both shoulders and leaned in for a kiss on each cheek.

Nick looked slightly stunned as she pulled back. I could tell only because I was watching for it. His policeman poker face shuttered his expression almost instantly.

“And this must be yours,” he said to Yiayia, holding a hand out to Fergus.

Fergus gripped his offered hand in a meaty fist and used it to pull Nick in for a chest bump sort of man hug, thumping him on the back before releasing him.

“Nick, eh?” he said, voice gruff. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Although it came out, I’ve ’eard a lot aboot ewe. “If you’re ordering, I’ll have an Oban, straight up.”

“Make that two,” Yiayia said, smiling up at Fergus, an odd twinkle in her eye. I didn’t like it one bit.

“Lorelei,” a voice boomed from off to the side.

We all turned, except Nick, who stepped up to place our order. I thought I might recognize the voice calling out for Yiayia, but it had been so long…

Sure enough, Uncle Hector steered toward Yiayia like a ferry to a dock, their meeting inevitable. He was smaller than I remembered him. Or maybe I’d grown. The last time I’d seen him I’d been just a child. But he was no less powerfully present. He looked, in fact, like the Dos Equis “Most Interesting Man Alive”—incredibly tan, his silver hair and dark eyes contrasting nicely, and his teeth whiter than white, showing in a smile that invited everyone in range to smile with him. Or better yet, laugh, even though he hadn’t yet told the joke that sparked in his eyes.

He held his hands out to Yiayia and froze for a moment as she took them. Suddenly I felt extraneous, just like with Jesus and Spiro. Fergus cleared his throat, and Uncle Hector swept us all with his overpowering attention, as if the pause had never taken place.

“And my favorite niece!” he said to me, drawing his hands back from Yiayia to hug me and kiss both of my cheeks before putting me back from him at arms’ length. “Stunning!” he proclaimed me. The old liar. “Why, you are every bit as beautiful as I knew you would be.”

He treated Nick and Fergus to handshakes—no cheek kissing or chest bumping—and turned back to Yiayia. “And you, Lorelei, you haven’t changed a bit.”

She fixed him with a dubious look. “In what? Twenty years? Fifteen? When was it you last saw me?”

“It seems like yesterday, and yet it’s been far too long.”

Nick rescued us then, turning from the bar with our drinks in hand and passing them around. He asked what Uncle Hector would have, but he held up a flask all his own and wrapped an arm around Nick to move him away from the bar as he would have tried to pay.

“The whole thing’s on me,” he said proudly. “Have to impress the investors, you know.”

“Investors?” I asked, pings of curiosity driving away the jet lag that was starting to tug at me.

“You know about the film, yes? A romance, and it opens at a wedding! We have a wedding, the film has a budget, and voila! We kill two birds with one stone.” Before I could ask any of my million questions, he exclaimed, “Ah, here’s one of our investors now!”

We turned to follow his gaze—straight into the smiling face of Hermes. Of course. I’d been wondering what he was up to at the party. Apparently, he’d been up to helping bring Apollo to Greece and partially financing his new film. But what motivated him—mischief or patriotism? It was hard to believe that he’d invest for completely unselfish reasons. Setting a blockbuster film among Greece’s impressive sites would certainly stimulate tourism and help the floundering economy, but I doubted he was free of ulterior motives. There had to be something in this for Hermes. Were the financial rewards enough? Or did he have something more mischievous in mind, perhaps tapping Christie for a role in the movie, to cozy up to her or to make her indebted to him. Gods thought like that—sacrifice, tribute, tithes. Debts.

“Surprised?” Hermes asked, seeing the look on my face. Before I could respond, he turned to glad-hand my uncle. “Hector, it’s good to see you.”

They did the whole hail-fellow-well-met greeting, shaking hands, pulling in for a chest bump, kissing on both cheeks. And yes, it was a lot of physical contact for a country where the forecast generally called for hot and sweaty with a better than even chance of deodorant fail. But the nice breeze blowing across the terrace made the heat bearable. Truthfully, it was a gorgeous night and, unlike in L.A., you could actually see some of the stars that had appeared in the sky as the sun went down.

“Where are the man and woman of the hour?” I asked, realizing I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Tina and her fiancé.

“Apollo and Serena?” Hermes asked. “Probably still,” cough, “freshening up.”

“I meant the bride and groom,” I said wryly, refusing to let him tweak me.

“Oh,” Uncle Hector answered, “they’ve gone on ahead to Delphi to meet with the set designers and dressers. It all has to be perfect for the big day, you know.”

Apparently, that was Serena’s cue to stumble into the party and collapse into Uncle Hector’s arms, her face drained of color, eyes rolling like a spooked horse.