This is a work of gay-themed romantic fantasy. Some chapters contain graphic descriptions of sexual activity (guess which kind). If this upsets or offends you STOP READING NOW! Likewise, if reading material of this nature would put either of us in legal jeopardy (you know your laws better than me and Nifty reaches a worldwide audience) please click away without reading further. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy Brad's continuing adventures.
CHAPTER 22 Getting In Deeper
Brad and Metis stared in growing horror at the disembodied head, while the open-eyed object in the box looked blankly back, a final expression of horror written on the features. . "Get rid of it, get rid of it, get rid of it!" she exclaimed.
"How?" the younger man demanded.
"Send it away!" the Titaness said. "You're a fucking Olympian! Start acting like it!"
"Where???"
"I dunno--preferably somewhere far, far away! Somewhere that doesn't connect to you or this office!" Metis told him. "The LAST thing we need is the local `Po-Po popping in and seeing that on your desk You'll want to get rid of that thing before it starts leaking and leaves a stain. It won't be good for either of us, but it's likely to be very bad for YOU if someone finds it here!" Brad thought for a moment, considering then discarding several possibilities: in the end the young Olympian translocated the head to the bottom of the Marianas Trench where he hoped the thing wouldn't pop back up at some untoward time. "So--who do you think sent that little gift--and why?" the Titaness asked.
"Got to be Loki," Brad told her. "He's responsible for bringing Chet Delavigne to Olympus: I don't know why he chose to sacrifice one of his pawns but I'd bet everything I own that Loki did it--and we'll probably find out for sure sooner rather than later.
"And if Loki's involved it'll be at the worst possible time!" the woman said.
Brad silently agreed. "I think I'd better let Zeus know about this," he said with a sigh.
"Yeah, he does need to know..." Metis agreed, "and I'm going to have to inform the Titans..."
Sighing again, Brad reached for the phone. It took some time to get through the hierarchy but he finally managed a brief conversation with the head of OlympusCo. He hung up and turned back to the ocean-haired Titaness. "Whoopie!" he said with deep sarcasm, "Zeus wants me to make an appearance on Olympus Island, like, right now!"
"Don't keep the big man waiting then!" Metis told him. "I'll deal with things on this end."
Once he returned to the island, Brad found himself conducted to a boardroom where Zeus, Ares, Athena and Prometheus were waiting. Much to his surprise, the blond young Rancelman saw Hecate and Mnemosyne were also in attendance. "Let's have the story from the beginning," Zeus said sternly, "and don't spare any of the details!"
The young strawberry blond Olympian related his experience to the senior Gods. "Why didn't you save the head?" Hecate demanded. "I could have used that--maybe found out where the body was or who is responsible for separating the two..."
The young man gave the witch a cold, cobalt blue stare. "I'm sorry Ma'am," he said, struggling to keep his voice calm, "I may have the powers of an Olympian God but I'm also a person who led a relatively sheltered life until I came to Olympus Island. I'm not used to dealing with somebody sending me the severed head of the man who sexually assaulted me for years! I just panicked! Metis panicked too--I don't know why! Maybe she hasn't had to get rid of an unexpectedly-appearing body part in a while. For whatever reason, we did what we did and there's no taking it back now.."
"Personally, I think you did the right thing..." Ares offered. (This frankly surprised Brad: he'd have thought the Chief of Police would have come down on the side of retaining evidence.) "Very likely someone would have shown up at your office while the head was there--leaving you in a very awkward place!" Brad gave a sigh of relief. "Now, if more body parts appear at Argus Consulting or at your home, THEN you can send that to Hecate and she can try her magic mojo; maybe she'll get something you missed."
Zeus spoke up, turning his gaze on the two Titans at the table. "Do either of you two have anything? Surely your Powers of Perception are greater than Argus's abilities..."
"Brad has access to all my knowledge." Prometheus told the King of Olympus. "I have more experience accessing my personal data base but please don't discount his powers." This earned the Titan a black look.
"I can trace Delavigne's movements up to his departure for lunch yesterday," Mnemosyne cut in, no doubt wanting to avoid a fight. "After that--he simply disappears."
"I as well," Prometheus told the group. "Obviously his movements have been blocked by some major magic, possibly God level!"
"It would have to be in order to block all three of you," Ares affirmed.
"Agreed," Hecate put in. "I can't think of another Olympian, besides myself--and I didn't do it, with the power do this--not to mention motive! That leaves another pantheon--and there aren't that many individuals with the ability and reason to intervene."
"Loki was one," Prometheus put in. We know he can black out our Godly sight since he's done it before. We have good evidence Chester Delavigne wasn't planning on leaving town: he left his laptop at work; his car is still parked at the Jolly Roger and there are no signs of him trying to flee the island. I'm not seeing any activity with his finances that would indicate Delavigne was shifting around funds for a scarper."
"Can you confirm this Chief Mars?" Zeus asked.
"I have Officers at his work, the restaurant and casing his home," the other man replied. "It'll take a little longer to gain access to his bank records but I'll get that too."
"There's no point," Brad commented. "You won't find any activity since his trip to Starbuck's yesterday morning and nothing else out of the ordinary."
"You're sure lad?" the Chief said. Brad nodded. "Still we should check--just to be thorough."
"Yes, check all the boxes," Zeus agreed. Then: "be on your guard Bradley. We don't know who's responsible for this but you can expect whoever is to make another attempt to contact or at the very least embarrass, if not outright frame you for murder."
"There's one more thing we should do," the Chief said as the group began making ready to leave, "we need to plant a false trail leading away from Olympus Island. Can you do that Prometheus?"
"I can," the Titan nodded. "It'll be much easier if I work with Hermes. We'll plant evidence to make it look like Chester Delavigne embezzled funds from OlympusCo then skipped to the Cayman Islands."
Chief Mars nodded. "Ordinarily I'd say I wasn't happy breaking the law like this but we need to protect our own..."
Brad made it back to his office shortly before the close of business and Metis was there to greet him. "Guess who popped by to pay us a visit?" the mermaid-haired Titaness with the sea blue eyes said with fake brightness. "I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count!"
"LAPD?"
"Got it in one!" the woman replied. "A Lieutenant Bronski dropped by wanting to speak to you about a missing persons case. I told him you were out servicing a client and weren't expected back today." Metis handed Brad a business card. "He REALLY wants to speak to you..."
"I guess I'd better call him then," Brad said with a sigh. Could this day get any worse? The young man went to his office and dialed the number on the card. Bronski picked up on the second ring and arrangements were made for both men to speak face to face.
The Detective arrived around 5:30 PM, long after the company's employees had departed. Brad was glad the office wasn't fully "up to speed" so he could afford to clear the place out. He even sent Metis home to keep things, at least a bit, under control. Lt. Bronski was a big beefy man in the model of an "old style" LA Cop. He had a broad face, short cut dark brown hair and steely gray eyes in a rugged face softened by some extra flesh. Likewise, his big, broad frame was well-muscled but equally well padded. Still, the older man looked somewhat cuddly and Brad had a sense he was basically honest and hardworking, It was easy to see the Cop liked what he saw. There was something about Bronski that instantly attracted Brad as well, but he knew the Cop was going to be a tough nut to crack. Still, he thought the effort might be worth it so he'd have to see what he could make happen.
Brad extended his hand and got a firm clasp in return along with a warm tingle. That single touch let him know the Detective could be "good" for him among other useful bits of data. "Thank you for making time to see me, Lieutenant--how can I help you?"
"We have a `missing persons' report on a guy named Chester Delavigne," the man said. "Do you know him?"
"Entirely too well!" Brad replied. "He molested me from the age of seven to twelve. We moved out of that neighborhood and I didn't see him again until he showed up on Olympus Island a couple of months ago and tried to contact me... Needless to say, I shut that down! I haven't seen Mr. Delavigne since..." Then: "do you mind if I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead..." There was conflict written on the Cop's face.
"Why are you questioning me?"
"Hearing this Delavigne fella sexually assaulted you as a child gives you one helluva motive!" the man replied, evasion clearly written on his features.
"Aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself Lieutenant?"
"What do you mean?" Now Bronski was confused.
"How do you know `Chester the Molester' is missing?" Brad asked, "Who made the report and why is your department investigating his disappearance? Shouldn't this be handled by police in Washington State? I mean--he lives in the Seattle suburbs so what are you doing with the case? Is there any evidence the dude was even in Los Angeles when he went missing?"
"You got me there kid," he admitted. "Of course, you seem to know an awful lot for someone not involved in the situation..."
"I'm a Business Consultant," the younger man replied bluntly. "Since my corporate mission is to help companies prosper, it is completely reasonable that I can figure things out? Especially when that `thing' concerns me!"
"So, smart guy, how would you do my job?"
"I'd start by contacting Olympus Island PD as to whether anyone filed a `missing persons' report," Brad told him. "You'll need some evidence Mr. Delavigne actually left the Seattle area! Then check that asshole's last known address and where he works; unless you have some information you're not sharing... For all you know he could still be at his desk at OlympusCo. I might also take a look at his social media: those are the starting points for pretty much any investigation."
Bronski nodded. "I don't suppose you're connected to Mr. Delavigne...?"
"Are you kidding?" the young man replied, unable to keep the ice out of his voice. "Not no, but HELL no! I have less than no interest in my molester's personal life! You, however, very likely have access to a smartphone or a laptop computer; feel free to check the various platforms! I know he has a Facebook page under his own name: you might be able to look at his posts if Chet hasn't messed with his privacy settings. Why don't you start there?"
The Cop brought out his phone and checked Facebook. "Hmm--here's a post complaining about a Barista at Starbucks..."
"What's the date and time?"
"Yesterday morning..."
"So," Brad said, "does it strike you as the least bit odd that, assuming Chester Delavigne IS missing, he's only been gone for about a day? I mean, this dude is hardly a ten-year old blonde white girl..."
"True," Bronski agreed. "At minimum, Police don't normally even take a report until the individual has been missing for twenty-four hours. That is subject to change if it's a child or someone with physical or mental issues--and I presume Delavigne is neither."
"Not if you don't count his penchant for little boys," Brad said. "So--why does Chester the Molester' get special treatment and why did Captain Kielbasa' direct you to me?"
"I--don't know..." the other man admitted. Then: "how did you know we call him that? I mean, HE doesn't even know! It's a very well-kept secret around the station...""
"Actually, I'm a Greek God," Brad told him, completely straight-faced. "I'm the newly-reincarnated Argus Panoptes! I also know that Glenn Kilbourne achieves his `kielbasa' by a well-placed pair of socks!"
"No shit?" This little tidbit both confused and intrigued the Cop: how could this kid pull out a nugget of info like that--especially when it was true! Captain Kilbourne had gotten a lot "bigger" once he was promoted and quit showering with the other cops...
"His `kielbasa' is a lot closer to a cocktail weenie..." Brad smirked, "thus the socks!"
"How do you know that?" the Cop demanded. "How could you know that?"
"'Panoptes' means all seeing'--in case you're not up on your Greek!" the younger man told him. "I know a lot of things; for example--your Driver's License says your name is Walter' but the name on your birth certificate is Wenceslas'. You got tired of being teased in school so you had it legally changed as soon as you left home: you were tried of the Wenceslas/defenseless ass' jokes." The other man began to look both confused and upset. "You have a Marine Bulldog on your right bicep and a gold star with a rainbow on your left butt-cheek! You got it when you were promoted up from the uniforms. You're 100% gay but deeply-closeted--mainly because of your Catholic faith. What did I get wrong?"
"I don't know how you did that little trick but you hit it on the nose," the Cop replied, half impressed, half angry but one hundred percent suspicious. "You also just raised your profile as a suspect!"
"Really?" the young Olympian replied calmly. "Being all seeing', don't you think I'd have had enough foresight to cover my tracks?" Bronski stared silently at Brad. "Put on your cop hat' for a little while Lieutenant..." Privately, he would really have liked the older man to do that--leaving everything else off except for black socks. "You've got an adult male who disappeared barely a day ago--not to mention the fact that he was two states away IF and WHEN he went missing! Yet here you are--harassing me!"
"I'm not here to harass you kid," the man replied. "Still, if you really are `all seeing' like you claim, you'd surely know that a lot of perps think they can commit the perfect crime--only to have the little details trip them up in the end."
"I don't miss little details..."
"We'll see about that kid!" the man replied. "I've been assigned a `missing persons' case and I have a lot of leads to run down!"
"Yet here you sit in my office," Brad shot back, "questioning me about an individual I haven't seen in literally months without even bothering to do your due diligence! Do you really enjoy my company that much, Detective? I know I'm certainly enjoying yours..."
"Captain Kielbasa--uh Kilbourne--sent me..."
"... and you're a good Cop!" Brad cut in. "So with that in mind, what can I do to help you with your job?"
"Uh..." Bronski replied. This interview had taken a turn toward the surreal for him and he was having a lot of conflicted feelings not to mention more and more questions.
"You need to start at the beginning and work your way to me," Brad suggested calmly. "If you can find any trace of a thread that leads you back to me then just call or drop by and we'll talk!"
"You can be assured I'll be back!" the Detective said with a half growl.
"I'm looking forward to it Lieutenant!"
Thanks to heavy traffic, Brad didn't make it home until almost 8:00 PM. He was tired, hungry and more than a little grouchy by the end of the day but when he pulled into the driveway his mood worsened. The young man could hear the loud thumpa-thumpa bass line of "hip hop" blaring from the open downstairs windows and his Godly sense told him Chase had invited half a dozen football buddies for a party and they, in turn, invited a lot of other people. Could his day get any worse? It seemed the answer was a resounding--YES!
Corey bounced out the back door of the house and stopped Brad. "Dude--I am so sorry!" Dionysus's young Satyr was somewhat more covered up than usual (which was enough to give Brad further pause). "Chase invited a couple of buddies over for pizza and beer--and they decided to have a House Party! Now it's totally out of hand!"
"Oh excellent!" Brad sighed. "After the day I've had I get to come home to--THIS!" The young man wondered why he'd allowed the Carpenter brothers to move in: Corey was proving to be a good roomie but Chase was just as nightmarish as Brad feared.
"What happened?" the blond satyr asked, sincerely concerned. Brad related the "highlights" of his day as Corey listened with genuine concern. "Aw man--that sucks! Can you do anything about it?"
"What can be done, is already started," Brad replied. "Olympus Island is laying a trail away from me but that doesn't mean Loki won't pull another stunt to cause me trouble. Hopefully, he won't try and fuck with you or Chase but there's no way to tell."
"Yeah, it's too bad you're Argus not Janus."
"Janice? Heh, heh, heh..." A hulking form appeared on the back doorstep: Brad knew it was Kurt "the Hurt" Lochner--fullback of the UCLA Bruins. "Hey Janice!" Yes. Brad's day could clearly get worse. "Hey Chase--MOMMY'S HOME!"
The elder Carpenter brother appeared at the back door, looking butch in a tank top and tight-fitting ripped jeans. "Oh hey dude!" he said brightly. "Look--I hope you don't mind--I asked a few friends over..."
"Actually--I'd really rather not have to deal with a bunch of strangers right now..."
"Aww." Kurt the Hurt said with mock sweetness, "Mommy Dearest is on the rag!" Brad briefly considered beating this kid with a wire hanger but decided that he wouldn't get the reference. Instead, he just let out a gusty sigh. "Watch out Chase--Mommy's on the rag!" The footballer might have said more but Brad wished him away, leaving the back yard in blessed silence.
"Where did you send him?" Chase exclaimed in dismay.
"Home!"
"Aw dude--didja have to do that?" Chase demanded. "It took a lot to get Kurt to come here!"
"I could have sent him to the bottom of the Marianas Trench!" Brad shot back. "Be glad for small favors!"
"That seems oddly specific..." The big blond was utterly clueless. Then: "did something happen at work?" Brad gave the other young man a capsule description of his day. "Aw man--that's sucks!"
"It does," Brad agreed, "and not in a good way!"
"So--do you want me to send my friends away?" Chase asked. Brad knew how that was going to go so he simply shook his head. "Thanks dude! You're the best!" The big young footballer bounced back into the house to rejoin the party.
"Please don't freak out when you get inside..." Corey begged. "I don't think you'll be very happy!"
"You got that right..." Inside, over three dozen college students filled the downstairs, chowing down on pizza and drinking. Brad saw a host of empty beer bottles, a few bottles of cheap whiskey and some wine coolers for the girls: some of those had been spilled leaving a mess on his tables and stains on the rug and sofa. He smelled pot and saw a few roaches crushed out on one of his good saucers (since Brad, being a non-smoker) had failed to provide ashtrays). A beer pong game was going on in the Dining Room that had a large group of players all of whom seemed to be having a grand old time. The young man found he recognized the Player with the Ping Pong Ball. "Loki!" he snapped. "Leave--NOW!"
"Oh, hello neighbor!" The Trickster God of the Norse gave Brad a white-toothed grin while completely ignoring the young Olympian's demand. "I just bought the house across the street! Isn't that exciting?"
"Get out of my house--NOW!"
"How rude!" Loki replied indolently as the other players did a pretty good imitation of a "Married With Children" audience, lapping up the whole scene, eager for some more comedic drama.. "You're being a terrible host! My team was winning--and I brought you a housewarming gift..." He pointed at a large, gaudily-wrapped box on the sideboard.
"I already got it. Didn't appreciate it..."
"What do you mean?" Loki looked confused. "I haven't given it to you yet--well, besides stocking your bar! That's just a little bonus seeing how you and I are going to be such good friends! You're roomies have absolutely abominable taste in liquor! I fixed that for you so you can be a proper host in future..."
"I got your--gift--at my Office this afternoon!"
"Wasn't me!" Loki replied blithely. Then: "perhaps we should speak more privately--I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about--but SOMEONE is clearly in a mood!" He turned to the other Players. "Excuse me children--I have business to attend to..." The Norse Trickster walked Brad back out the door he'd just come in. "Now--what the fuck are you going on about?"
"You sent me `Chester the Molester's' severed head!" Brad shot back, as soon as he made sure the pair was alone. "Don't deny it!"
"That is a base canard!" the Trickster bellowed. "I--did--not--murder--Chester--Delavigne! Repeat after me: I didn't murder him!"
"And the Oscar for best performance as a fake-ass liar goes to--"
"Just stop!" Loki snapped. "I didn't do it!"
"And I'm just supposed to believe that?" Brad said.
"There's an old saying that goes facts don't care about your feelings'! Loki shot back. "Believe what you want but, I didn't do it! Put your thinking cap' on, idiot; why would I want to give Chet the chop since keeping him around actually serves my interest? Killing the man does me no good whatsoever!"
"What do you mean?"
"Allow me to elucidate then!" the Trickster replied blithely. "Whether you'd admit it or not, Chester Delavigne's mere presence occupies you! With him being in the world you and your Olympian compatriots have to watch him rather than paying attention to--other matters! Like me..."
Brad examined the data. "You got me there..." he admitted. "Still doesn't mean you didn't do it..."
"Now you're just being stupid as well as obstreperous!" Loki said tiredly. "Use your brain old chum! Surely you know how! Try for me, won't you? How many people have you pissed off in your young career as a God? I can think of several--Aphrodite and most of her Erotes come to mind--so does Thoth! Anubis involved himself in Kyle Kingsbury's replacement so maybe he's paying you back for undoing that bit of mischief! It could well be Eris: she doesn't like you and that bitch is just random enough to want to cause trouble for trouble's sake. Hell--it could be my cursed brother Thor: he'd like nothing better than to cause trouble for me since dear old Daddums let me out of prison!"
Brad nodded. "For the sake of argument, let's assume I believe you," he finally said.
"Thank you!" Loki seemed positively gleeful. "Now we're actually getting somewhere!"
""Why are you bothering me?" the young man asked bluntly. "What do you want? Wouldn't it have made better sense for you to leave me alone and live your life? I've been a thorn in your side: are you looking for revenge?"
"I have so very many reasons old chap!" Loki said. "You spoiled one of my best con games--you owe me for that! Plus--and more importantly--you're actually interesting! You happen to be the first real challenge I've had in quite some time: whether you believe it or not, I appreciate that! Besides--why would I want to frame my boss for murder? That's rather counter-intuitive, don't you think?"
"Wait--what?"
"Bradley--I need a job," Loki said bluntly. "One of the Allfather's conditions for my `early release', as it were, was that I find gainful employment--at least something to keep me occupied1 Naturally I thought of you and your divine little Consulting Firm--and frankly my boy, you need someone like me on your payroll!"
"Uh..."
"SOMEONE has to do the dirty work," the tall Trickster stated bluntly. "You don't have the stomach for it and, judging by what happened with dear old Chet's head, neither does Metis! I have the qualifications you need for when you have a--difficult--client! Besides--if you want to keep an eye on me, what better place than right under your own nose?" Brad wasn't sure he liked this in the least but it made a horrible sort of sense. "Now that someone is trying to frame me for murder and implicate you--I think it's better for both of us if we work together! Don't you--boss?"
Back at work the next day, things continued to go downhill as Brad related what had happened the previous night. "You what?" Metis looked at Brad in absolute blank amazement. "You can NOT be serious about letting Loki work here! That's insane!!! The question isn't HAVE you lost your mind it's WHEN did it happen?"
"Maybe I have," the young man reluctantly agreed, "but, even so, I think hiring Loki is a good thing..."
"I don't see how that's possible..." Metis countered.
"Having him where I could see him...?"
"Well, you're the Boss!" the ocean-eyed, mermaid-haired Titaness finally agreed reluctantly, "but it's still a bad idea..."
"It gets worse," Brad went on, "I think I'll have to take a trip to Hell!"
"Excuse me?"
"Since Loki insists he didn't kill Chet Delavigne there's only one way to find out," Brad told her. He couldn't keep the sneer out of his voice when he used the diminutive. "I'm going to have to see if I can persuade Haden to uncork his `God of the Underworld' Aspect and allow me to speak with the departed spirit..."
"You're taking a serious chance there, Bradley!" Metis said. "Hades doesn't care for casual tourists in his realm and he's not going to just roll over for you when you flash your cute little dimples and offer to suck his cock! It's a huge risk visiting Hades and that could very easily end up going south. Really Brad--I wouldn't advise it!"
"It's the only way," the young Olympian told her. "Since his death is blocked to my Godly senses I've got no choice but to seek out the source. If Chester Delavigne can't tell me who's responsible for his death, nobody can!"
"I hope you're prepared for the answer you get..."
"What other option do I have?" Brad asked bluntly.
"Hades will demand a pretty high price if he grants you this favor," Metis said. "It's not going to be cheap! Just let this go! Chester is out of your life--take the win and move on!"
"I think I have an ace up my sleeve," Brad replied.
"And what might that be?"
"I'll locate the current Avatar for Persephone!" Brad told her. "It'll have to be a `service to be retained later', but I think I can do it! If not--I'm going to be in some seriously deep shit with Hades!"
"If you start that you'd better make sure you finish the job!" Metis told him. "Hades ALWAYS collects his debts!"
"Well, I guess I'd better see if I can persuade Hades to meet with me," Brad said. He went into his office and closed the door.
Again, it was a long and painful process arranging a meeting with Hades but that afternoon Brad found himself ushered into the God of the Underworld's Private Office at OympusCo. One floor below Zeus in the penthouse. The young man wasn't sure what he was expecting but the room he stepped into wasn't it.
Zeus's office was "nice" but the Chief Financial Officer's space made the CEO's domain look positively pedestrian. Yes, the vast space was decorated in black, white and gray but there were floor-to-ceiling windows along two walls which let in grand views of the city, harbor and outlying islands. The décor was understated yet undeniably elegant and simply reeked of sophistication, money and power. Even though Brad had donned his best suit, the young man felt underdressed in this space and found himself looking at his shoes to make sure he hadn't tracked in any dirt. He was clean enough but still...
"Hello Bradley!" Haden Gold said, rising and walking from behind his massive desk. "I must say I was surprised, albeit pleasantly, when you asked to see me! What can I do for you, my boy?" The Lord of the Underworld was tall and slim as a male model: his blue-black hair fell in waves, framing a well-sculpted face with pale skin and cool gray eyes. His silk designer suit was black as night and perfectly cut to show off his elegant frame. The charcoal gray shirt under the jacket was also tailored to perfection and a gray, black and red "rep" tie finished the ensemble. Brad estimated the outfit probably cost as much as a mid-priced BMW sedan.
"I suppose you've heard about Chester Delavigne...?" Brad began.
"Everyone has, my boy!" the other man replied. "Imagine my shock when I found out that bastard was embezzling from the Company! It's shocking! Shocking, I say!" Then, in a much quieter voice, "I also heard his bodyless head showed up at your offices down South. Rumor has it Loki was responsible. Remind me to send him a `thank you' note..."
"Loki swears he didn't do it," Brad said. "That's why I've come to you--I need your help as Lord of the Underworld..."
"You know I've pretty much left that Aspect of my Power behind Bradley."
"Yes, Lord Hades, I'm well aware of that," the younger man replied. "But I know you still have access to all the dead souls--if you so choose! Chester Delavigne was murdered--probably here on the island! There's a good possibility someone is trying to frame me for the crime and my powers of perception are blocked. So that leaves me only one choice--speaking to the victim directly..."
"I'd really rather not..." Haden gave his guest a sad look. "Honestly, it's not that important--is it?"
"It is to me Sir!" the young man replied. "Someone offed Chester Delavigne on OUR turf--that's enough to warrant an investigation. Whoever did that contacted the Los Angeles Police Department so they are trying to cause trouble. Either way it's going to raise issues that could affect all of Olympus so it needs to be investigated."
"Not by me." The Lord of the Underworld's statement was blunt and final.
"If you won't help me, who will?" Brad asked. "Do I have to go to Zeus and force him to compel you as King of Olympus? I'd rather not have to do that but..."
"Young man, if you are TRULY the `Panoptes' you know I have Zeus by the financial balls!" Hades said, with a positively evil grin. "Now that Olympus has tied its fortunes to the Mortal Realm he needs what I can provide--cash! I'm sure you noticed my office...?"
"It's lovely..." Brad agreed tentatively. He wasn't sure where this was going but he knew he wasn't going to like it when he got there..
"Why do I have a much nicer work space than the CEO of the company?" Hades asked him.
"Ah--you have better taste...?" Brad suggested hesitantly.
"I control the purse strings!" the dark God said almost gleefully. "I let Zeus handle all the day-to-day administration but the important decisions are made here! Zeus can't presume to order me around--unless he wants to risk me locking the cash drawer!"
"I'd hoped to appeal to your sense of patriotism," Brad said with a sigh, but since you clearly HAVE none I'm willing to pay for access."
Now Haden was interested in spite of himself. "I'm listening..."
"What is it you want more than anything else?" Brad asked. "I think that it is Persephone." Hades gaped. "You know I found Psyche for Eros: I'm sure I can do the same for you!"
"You're making a very tempting offer..." Hades was definitely interested in spite of himself. "But surely you realize I'm going to require stiff payment should you fail to return her to me!"
"Sorry Hades, I'm not agreeing to that!" Brad countered bluntly. "I said I'd provide Persephone's LOCATION! Persuading her to return to Olympus--on a full or part-time basis--is going to be up to you! Persephone left the Olympians in the early 1800s and hasn't felt the need to come back! I don't know why--at least not yet... But I can--and will--provide her location! The rest will have to be up to you."
"I want her home!" the Lord of the Underworld thundered.
"And, for what it's worth, I want that for you," the young man answered calmly. "But I can't make her love you Hades--I'm not Aphrodite!"
"And I wouldn't want her kind of `love' in any case..." the dark-haired man replied. "Ah well--come with me then! The sooner we get this over with the sooner you can find Persephone!"
"We need to work out a contract first," Brad told him. "We both need to know what we're signing up for!"
"Oh my God! Hell is an Amazon Fulfillment Center?" Brad was shocked as he looked around at a perfectly bland office space. Hades had taken the young man to a room that looked like any other front office in any business park pretty much anywhere in the world.
"Jeff Bezos uses our plans," Haden told him. "He appreciates efficiency!" The Lord of the Underworld turned to a perfectly ordinary-looking Secretary sitting behind a desk that could have been found in any office anywhere. "I need to find a newly arrived Soul," he told her. "His name is Chester Delavigne..." The Lord of the Underworld gave the woman an approximate date and location of death.
"One moment please, Lord Hades..." The woman began tapping on a keyboard of what looked like a perfectly ordinary IBM computer terminal. "I've located him," she said after a brief search. "Let me print out his current address..."
Brad caught a look at the printed card the Secretary handed Hades. "Wow, that's a helluva lot of address!" he said.
"Now you begin to understand why I don't spend any more time in the Underworld than I have to," Hades replied. "Those who believe in the Afterlife come here--where they are sorted into their own personal Heavens or Hells! Those who believe in reincarnation are sent to their own holding area until they return to the Material World but that leaves quite a number of `permanent' guests to deal with."
The strawberry blond was genuinely curious. "So--no Pearly Gates with vast hordes seated at the feet of Jesus? Christians must be so disappointed when they get here!"
"There are a host of Heavens" Hades told him. "People that want the same thing get sorted into a single box; it's more efficient that way! There are several Christian-type `heavens' where they can spend eternity praising their God. Likewise, those who need thousands of fellow unbelievers being tortured by horned red demons with forked tails have Hells tailored to their personal kinks! That takes care of a good many Souls but there are those like Chester Delavigne that have their own personal, more--creative, afterlives."
"So--who do you get to do the work?" Brad wondered. "I mean--the lady we spoke to hardly looks like a Demon..."
"Those are Souls," Hades told him. "Some people are never happier than when they can keep busy doing something repetitive: that's their version of Heaven, Likewise someone forced into a deadly-dull job that never changes will find it Hell--but both are equally useful to me; either way, the Underworld keeps humming along and I never say no to free labor!"
"Yeah, you've got to keep the operation rolling," Brad agreed. He was half-impressed, half depressed by the Lord of the Underworld's ruthless efficiency. Then: "please don't tell me Chester is in some perverted `heaven' where he gets to sexually-assault little kids to his heart's content?"
Hades glanced down as they entered what seemed to be a standard elevator. "Oh no," he said, even as he began punching in the symbols, numbers and letters. "Judging by this code, Delavigne has a rather--interesting personal Hell that I think you might enjoy..."
Brad nodded. "So each one of those characters represents a different aspect of the Underworld?" Brad asked.
"Most people don't really have enough imagination to come up with something truly unique in an Afterlife," Hades told him. "We organize the Souls into categories for better storage and service. Surely you must realize how many, many BILLIONS of clients we have here--either temporarily or permanently. Since there are a growing number of atheists whose spiritual candles simply goes out, our population isn't rising as fast but it is still rising."
"Ah,"
The door opened and the pair stepped into a blank gray hallway that curved off to the left and right. Hades glanced at the card and led Brad down the leftward branch. "Chester is about two hundred doors down on the left." Nearly a thousand steps later they stopped in front of a door just like all the others except for a few letters and numbers. "He's in there..." Hades handed Brad a key. "Take as much time as you like: I'll be waiting for you out here."
Brad used the key to let himself into Chester's private Hell and instantly found his senses under assault: the room's size was impossible to determine since every surface--walls, ceiling and floors--were covered in mirrors. Bad thrash metal was playing at ear-splitting volume and painfully-bright lights swirled and strobed (out of synch with the "music"). Chester himself was hanging in an iron frame being "attended to" by several naked young cherubs. Brad was about to get seriously angry when he saw the naked angelic tykes came with interesting little additions like rows of incredibly sharp metal teeth, long claws that would have done Wolverine justice and gigantic cocks tipped with scorpion stings. These were oozing dribbles of what appeared to be precum but Brad knew it was actually a burning acid. Chester was bruised and bleeding. The little creatures turned to the new arrival and began moving toward him, sensing new prey.
"Back off!" Brad held up the key Hades had given him. "I've got business with Mr. Delavigne!" Grumbling, the horrific little homunculi moved back. "While we're at it--shut off that noise and lower the light level by about fifty percent!" The room quieted and the lights became softer and steady.
Chester turned his bruised and battered face to the new arrival. "My God Brad--please! Help me..."
"I can't--even if I wanted to." The words were blunt.
"Even if you're a God now--you can't be that cruel!" Chester was desperate. "You know I'm stuck here for eternity! Don't you have an ounce of pity? Look--son--I'm sorry for hurting you! I have no excuse--but you've got to give me a chance to atone! Please..."
"You belong to Hades now," the young man told him with a touch of genuine regret. "I don't want to see anyone suffer but I had to make a contract with Hades in order to even visit you--and one of the conditions I had to agree to was that I wouldn't try IN ANY WAY to get you free! The best I can give you is a little break from torment! So--you want to talk or should I just leave?"
"Fine!" the hanging man said, grateful for the respite, however short it might be. "Get on with your business..."
"I just have two question..." Brad said. "Who killed you and where is your body?"
"It's going to take a bit of explaining..."
"I thought it might," Brad told him, "but, please, be as brief as possible! My time is limited! That contract you know..."
"Fine!" Chester panted, "here's the story... I was contacted by someone who called herself Althea Gold: she said she worked for Titan Security!" Althea Gold, Brad knew, was the current name used by the Titaness Theia. "She wanted to talk to me about you! She offered to help me get revenge on you for the trouble you caused me..." The man paused for breath. "I'll admit--I wanted that so I agreed! We met--and she brought two other women with her--another redhead named Phoebe Sund..." the Titan Phoebe, "The last one didn't give her name but she had one of those mermaid hairstyles and turquoise eyes. She didn't say much--but she was the one who chopped my head off!" Brad went through all the Titans but came up with only one match--Metis...
END CHAPTER 22
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Thanks to those of you who sent pleasant comments as I re-enter the world of online writing. Big Shout out to Billy D. who sent me a very nice letter on a day I really needed a boost. Another shout-out to Paul in New South Wales: it's nice to know my stories are traveling so far. Some of you used to be notified when I produced new content but I've lost my email list. If you'd like me to let you know when I publish something new please send me an email to HonableRonable@gmail.com or RonVenable@hotmail.com and I'll insure you are notified. Likewise, if you have questions, comments, suggestions or complaints you can use either of those addresses and I'll get back to you. Every interaction is a learning experience for me: hearing what you like, what you don't, what you think about my writing style and where you think I can improve is grist for my creative mill. With all your help and the kind assistance of my crack Editorial Staff (without whom this would be complete crap) I might one day become a halfway decent writer.
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