"Percy…we need to leave."
He didn't respond, seemingly unable to tear his gaze away from dead woman on the bed. His fists clenching and unclenching and his shoulders tense.
"We're not leaving her like this," he said, and before Lara could think to stop him, he reached into his pockets and withdrew a small blade. In a quick, practiced motion, he slashed the first the first binding Dr. Conroy's arm.
"Percy!" Lara hissed. She could understand his grief, his desire to give the woman the respect her death preserved, but he couldn't tamper with the scene like this. It was bad enough that they were trampling all over the apartment, leaving their footprints and whatever else might tie them to the murder, but tampering with the body? It was unthinkable. But in spite of her rationality, she didn't make a move to stop him.
He moved with a mechanical fluidity. Cutting her bindings and allowing her body to fall limply to the bed. He replaced his blade, and fished around in his pockets a moment more. Then, to Lara's surprise and confusion, he withdrew a pair of large, golden coins. With the tenderness of one considerably smaller, he closed Dr. Sylvia Conroy's eyes, and gently placed each coin over each lid.
When he was done, he stepped back, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Lara reached out and grabbed his wrist.
"Percy, come on. We can't be here when the authorities arrive."
"Don't know if they're coming yet." His voice was flat. Even. "We need to look around. Grab what we can."
"What do you mean," she glanced around the ransacked room, "I don't think we'll be able to find anything. If it was worth taking, the bastards probably already took it."
"No, they didn't," he brushed past Lara and strode back into the living room. "Dr. Conroy was smart. She would have hidden the pages somewhere when she found out that someone was after her."
Lara didn't reply, even though she was certain that he was being belligerently obtuse. He didn't need that right now. She followed him back to the living room, as Percy began ransacking the already ruined room. He kicked books out of the way as he darted into the kitchen and began tearing drawers off their hinges, throwing them haphazardly onto the floor. What contents had not been already disturbed were tossed carelessly about.
He turned around, a wild, manic gleam in his eyes. He darted back to the bedroom, not sparing Lara a single glance.
"Percy!" Lara snapped, gripping him around the back of the shirt and yanking him to a stop. "Stop!"
"Like hell!" He roared, "these bastards butchered her! Butchered her, and for what, for what! A chance at fucking immortality? They don't even know what they're dealing with!"
"And you ransacking this poor woman's apartment is your way of respecting her memory?" Lara shot back. "Your idea of avenging her?"
Percy looked murderous, and Lara swore that, for just a moment, his eyes actually glowed. He yanked himself free from her grasp, but his rampage stopped. He wandered over to a nearby window, resting his hands on the sill, his head tucked and his body quivering. He said something in that odd language again, running his hands through his hair.
"There's something here, I'm sure of it," he finally said.
Lara walked over, running her hand down his back, rubbing a soothing circle between his shoulder blades.
"I'm not saying there's not anything here, I'm just saying that we need to be smart about this, and we can find something without desecrating this poor woman's apartment."
Percy nodded. He dabbed at the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand. He passed wordlessly by Lara and began examining the room.
"I'm guessing she likely kept a laptop?" She asked.
"Yeah," nodded Percy, "but I'm guessing that they would have found that." He pressed a hand to the ground and closed his eyes, almost as though he was trying to feel through the building itself. She felt a strange pressure wash over the room, as it became oddly humid. She felt herself begin to sweat, and had to wipe a dollop of liquid from streaming into her eyes. A soft wind blew through the apartment's open window, and Lara shuddered under the cool breeze. But as fast as it started, the wind stopped, and Percy stood up and walked passed her.
"What, you get a vision from the future or something?" She joked as she made to follow him, but he didn't respond.
Sighing she walked after him, she cast one look at the body as she left the room. And in that fleeting moment, she could have sworn that the golden coins over Dr. Conroy's eyes disappeared in a shower of golden mist. But she blinked, and when she looked back, the same silver dollars were there. Shaking her head, she turned her back on the woman, and left the room.
Percy strode through the living room, ignoring the catastrophe as he made his way down the stairs. About halfway down the stairs, he stopped. Turning his head, he glanced at both sides of the staircase for a moment, running his hands up and down one wall. He then turned to the opposite wall and repeated the process. Nodding to himself, he turned his attention back to the steps.
He pressed his foot down on one of the steps about halfway down the staircase. He nodded to himself, then stepped over the plank of wood and down to the step directly below. He ran his fingers on the underside of the step for a moment, before pressing something. He then gripped the step and pulled out. There was a soft clicking noise, as the piece of wood was pulled out. The wall to her left shifted, before depressing inwards.
Lara stared at the wall for a moment, before pressing it. The small square frame swung inwards. The interior of the wall was nothing exceptional. Just a simple cutout of the drywall. Inside the cutout was a small stack of papers. She knew these papers. Recognized the swooping handwriting and faded papyrus.
Her eyes couldn't leave the papers. She needed them. Needed to take them. Needed to touch them. Needed to read them. She needed them back in her possession. She reached out, her fingers trembling in anticipation.
"Don't touch them," said Percy quickly, grabbing her wrist tightly, though not painfully. Lara blinked, staring out at her open hand. She hadn't even made a conscious effort to try and grab the pages. Percy turned Lara around, before opening her backpack and withdrawing a pair of gloves and manilla envelope, he snapped on the gloves before snagging the papers and tucked the pages into the envelope before stowing them safely into the backpack.
"Well…they didn't have these at least," muttered Lara, as Percy zipped the backpack closed. Lara pulled the wall back into place, and Percy moved the spring-loaded step back to its original position.
"Yeah," grunted Percy, "but if Dr. Conroy was looking into the pages, then she would have been taking notes. Anything she had leading to other pages would have been on her laptop."
"Think you'll be able to find anything to help us out in there?"
Percy sighed as he took his gloves off, "I have no idea," he admitted. "But we don't exactly have a choice in the matter." He glanced up at the ceiling for a moment, before turning back down the stairs.
"Let's get the hell out of here."
They waited until they were back on the main road before calling the authorities. They watched from a small cafe as the crowded Grecian street grew thick with police vehicles and as swarms of men and woman began to race up the ancient cobbled street. They stayed for some time, watching the commotion. And when a pair of paramedics emerged from the shadows, a large black bundle carried on a stretcher between them, Percy abruptly stood and silently fled from the store, throwing down a stack of coin on the table as payment.
Lara sighed heavily, and followed silently behind him. She couldn't say that she didn't sympathize with the man, God above knew that she had lost her fair share of friends over the years. There wasn't much she could do or say to help him feel better. Hell, there wasn't much she could think of to make herself feel better. If nothing else, at least they would have plenty of work to do. Nothing was a better distraction than her work, which was exactly what the pair set out the moment they arrived at their hotel.
Percy threw himself into working on the papers, while Lara began calling her contacts in the industry. She wanted to find as much as she could about either Grant or McAvoy as possible. She needed to know if they were going to be going up against numbers. She also desperately wanted, needed, to know why the hell Grant was so desperate for the pages. More importantly, at least for her, was what was her father's connection with all of this? What was his purpose? Why had he gone after the pages, and why had he stolen the one he had?
And then there was the strange power that the pages seemed to have over her. The horrible compulsion that fell over he whenever she neared them. The desire - no, need - to touch the pages. To be consumed by them. It was confusing and terrifying, and the more she dwelled on it, the more confusing and terrifying it became. So, she did her best to ignore it and focused in on her work.
Some hours passed, with little to show for her efforts. As she had suspected, few knew much of anything about the enigmatic Grant. Her father's journal entries were equally unhelpful. The cryptically maddening ramblings of a man at the end of his rope. After some time, she wasn't able to continue. Even after years, reading her father's words was too raw. Too real. She threw the journal down on the stack of papers, loud enough for Percy to look up from his work.
"You good?"
"No," she grumbled, collapsing back into the chair. Percy put the page he'd been investigating down on the bed he'd been using as a desk.
"What's up?" He pulled his surgical gloves off and pulled a chair over to Lara.
Lara huffed, her gaze darting over to the book before back to Percy.
"It's about my father," she said, "I just…I can't figure out what his role in all of this is."
Percy frowned, "What do you mean?"
"I mean," she grabbed the journal and tossed it back to Percy, "that for a solid five years, this was his obsession. It was all he could focus on. All he could think about. Spent millions trotting around the world trying to figure out where these pages were, what they were saying."
Percy shifted in his chair, a fleeting look of worry crossing over his face before turning pensive.
"He couldn't find anyone to interpret the pages?"
"That's the weird thing, is everyone he tracked down refused to tell him anything. Anyone who might have been able to interpret the diary, outright refused or disappeared." She snatched the journal back, flipping through the pages for a moment before stopping at a specific passage. "Like this here, 'January 5, 1998. One week ago, I brought the page to an expert in San Diego. Supposedly Dr. Dreyfus was one of the most accomplished historians of the classical age. I had thought he might be able to interpret the pages, but he all but fled from the room the moment he touched the parchment. Told me to leave and to never bring that page anywhere near him again.' Then there's this." she flipped over the next page. "This is from January 8, 1998. 'Read in the paper this morning that Dr. Dreyfus was found in his office this morning. Dead. The papers are calling it a stroke. I am growing concerned.' Then, three weeks later, he never mentions the pages again."
Percy leaned back in his chair; his arms folded behind his head.
"You're thinking foul play?"
"I certainly feel that my father was suspicious," she said, "and it's not like we weren't concerned about this in the first place."
"No," said Percy, "but I can certainly understand your worry. You think someone scared off your father?"
"It's the only thing I can think of," she said, "but I still can't understand why my father was so enraptured with these pages."
"What do you mean?" Asked Percy, "he was an archeologist. Isn't it kind of the job description to get obsessed with the past?"
Lara shook her head. "Not like this. My father was passionate yes, but this engrossed his entire world. For years it was all he talked about, he sunk millions of pounds into finding these pages and then he just gave up? I don't buy it, something happened." She slouched in her chair,
"And worst of all, is that I don't even know why he was so obsessed with this in the first place. I don't know, maybe I'm just reading into this too much. Maybe he was just trying to look for a way to distract himself." She said the last sentence more to herself, and immediately regretted it.
Percy's face scrunched up in confusion, "why would he need to do that?"
Lara shifted, averting her eyes from Percy's. She wasn't exactly comfortable with dredging up these old memories like this, but talking to Percy was comfortable. She felt…safe, and before she was even aware of what she was saying, she was talking.
"My mother passed away in '97. It…it got ugly, for my father. He threw himself into his work, it was…it was the beginning of the end for him."
Percy slid the chair a little closer, their knees almost touching, but he didn't reach out to her.
"Your father's…reputation?" He asked gently, and Lara flinched in spite of herself. Percy hadn't been accusatory or even judgmental, he'd simply asked the question, and the lack of hostility in his tone was refreshing.
"Yeah," she nodded, "people…people started talking. He began looking into…unconventional histories. He became the laughing stock of the community. The reputation he'd built for himself over decades just…eroded." Her hands clenched into tight fists, as memories danced at the forefront of her mind. Even after all this time, she could still see the judgmental stares. Could hear the ridiculing comments. She hated it. Her father had been the single brightest star in her life, and to have him belittled and mocked as he had been…it still hurt.
Percy slid the chair over and draped his arm over her shoulder, drawing her near. She leaned into the embrace, basking in the sense of comfort and solemnity Percy's presence offered her. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Neither saying anything, for which Lara was immeasurably grateful. Percy seemed to understand that he didn't need to say anything, couldn't say anything. He just sat there, rubbing a soothing circle over her shoulder. When he spoke again, his tone was gentle. Probing, but without judgement.
"You said your father threw himself into his work, that he was looking into…questionable things. Do you know what he was looking for?"
Lara stiffened, and she almost pushed him away. But Percy didn't seem to her to be trying to probe her to mock her or her father. He just seemed genuinely curious, and she couldn't fault the man for that.
"He was…he was trying to find a way for mom to come back."
Percy sighed, and drew her in a little closer. She leaned further into the embrace.
"I think I know what he wanted with the pages." He finally said, and Lara looked up at him. He wasn't looking at her, his expression pinched. Pained.
"The Garden of Hesperides…" He said quietly,
"The thing that Sapho keeps referencing in her poems?" Asked Lara, "You mentioned back in London that it's where these Golden Apples are or something right?" Percy nodded, swallowing thickly.
"The Apples of Immortality. A forbidden fruit of the Gods, and something of an inspiration behind the Garden of Eden in the Old Testament. The stories go that just a single bite of the apple is enough to grant a person immortal life."
"Okay…" said Lara slowly, "but what does that have to do with my father?"
"Well…" said Percy hesitantly, "there are…other stories as well. Stories regarding the apples." He closed his eyes, and Lara allowed him a few moments to get his thoughts in order.
"The stories essentially say that…potentially, the apples are powerful enough to even save one from death itself, or even…" He trailed off.
"Save someone from death," she finished for him. "You think he was trying to resurrect my mother?"
"Grief can drive a person to do just about anything," he said, his tone slightly bitter. "But yeah, I think he might have heard the stories and was just desperate enough to try and do anything. Clearly he found something in the pages that gave him hope that there was some truth to the rumors otherwise, he wouldn't have poured as much time and money into the expeditions as he did."
Lara nodded; it was sound reasoning. But something was nagging at the back of her mind.
"You almost sound like you believe him, or at least the stories." She watched his reaction closely. She was not disappointed as Percy flinched. "You do, don't you?"
Percy's face contorted in agitation, though Lara was certain he was more agitated at himself than anything.
"I've had my experiences that…lend me to believe that there is more to our world than is traditionally believed."
Lara extricated herself from his grasp and stared at him. "That sounds like a bullshit way of saying yes," she watched him closely as his expression squished. Should she tell him? Should she tell him about the things that she had experienced on the island? Should she bridge that gap? She had a feeling that he wouldn't mock or belittle her. Hell, it sounded an awful lot like he would believe her. She had hesitated to tell anyone about her experiences. She was well aware of how crazy that entire experience was. Hell, even she had difficult times really believing that what happened was real.
"When I was eighteen, I found some of my father's old work. I thought it might have been related to his…" she took a shuddering breath and composed herself, "I ended up on an island called Yamatai in the Japanese Dragon's Triangle. There was a legend about the island, that it was ruled by a Shinto Goddess, the Sun Queen Himiko. I didn't think it was real, thought it was all just a joke. An urban legend. But…but it was real. I know it sounds ridiculous, I know, but it was real! She…she took over the island. Was the island…I barely escaped it with my life."
She grabbed him by the hands, clutching them firmly.
"So trust me when I say, that if you have experienced something that would make my father's work possible, I will believe you. So please, don't keep me in the dark here. Please."
Percy's eyes closed; his shoulders stiff. After a moment, he collapsed in the chair, his joints losing all rigidity.
"I've…had experiences," he said stiffly. "Experiences with…beings calling themselves gods. Greek Gods, and…monsters." He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "You remember that bombing in St. Louis?"
Lara felt her stomach drop, but nodded, her mouth dry.
"It…it wasn't a bombing, and-and it wasn't just an issue of being in the wrong place at the wrong time." He swallowed thickly, and Lara reached out and wrapped her hand around his, squeezing it tightly. "There was this…creature. She called herself a monster, I…" he trailed off, his eyes growing distant. Lara thought he must have been trapped in old memories. "I don't want to say her name." He finally said after a moment.
He opened his eyes again, "it wasn't the last time I ran into something like that. Not even close. So yeah, I believe that the Garden is real. I believe that your father found something linking these pages to the Garden. I've thought so since the beginning, ever since I got my hands on the page."
His grip tightened around hers.
"I think your father heard the stories about the Apples of the Garden being able to resurrect the dead, and he was just desperate enough to try and find them."
It made sense. A painful amount of sense. Her father had been in a terribly dark place after her mother's place. She hated how much it made sense that he would try and bring her back from the dead.
"Which is why you were so intent on coming with me," she said. Percy nodded.
"I'm positive the Garden is real. I'm certain. We can't have Grant getting to the Garden, mortals aren't meant to be anywhere near the divine. It's…it becomes a problem. Nothing good ever comes from messing with immortality."
"Why didn't you say anything to me?" She finally asked after several tense moments of silence.
"Because it sounds insane," said Percy desperately, pulling his hand free and striding to the other side of the room. "The same reason you didn't tell me about the island. Because I know how ridiculous it is. Because gods, monsters, myths? It's absurd. It shouldn't be real, but it is," he peered out through the darkness, of the window. His shoulders stiff. Lara didn't comment, what was there to say? He was right. It was ridiculous, she had said as much herself.
"Where do we go from here?" She asked. Percy turned around; his expression stony.
"I have no intention of stopping, Lara. Even if I didn't believe in all of this crap, these bastards butchered Dr. Conroy and I'm not letting that go."
"I was worried you would say that," she sighed.
"You going to try and talk me out of it?"
"No," she said evenly, "because I know you're every bit as stubborn as I am."
"Good," said Percy, "then we should get back to work."
Lara nodded, and swiveled back to her own makeshift work station. She heard Percy snap on a pair of gloves and begin working behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. She was thankful for his opening up to her as he had, but she couldn't help but feel that he was still keeping things from her. Like he wasn't telling her the full scope of the story. But she refrained from saying anything. He had his reasons, and by this point she was willing to trust that if he had something important to tell her, he would let her know when he was ready.
She settled in and began to get to work. After half an hour of fruitless digging her phone dinged, as a banner for an email from Jonah, one of her closest friends, popped up. Jonah didn't bother her on an expedition for no reason, so she readily clicked on the message. There was no subject matter and no text accompanying the message, only a single attachment. Clicking on the attachment, she was redirected to what looked like an advertisement for some kind of black tie even being held in Paris.
That was odd, Jonah didn't bother her with these kinds of things, it wasn't his style. But as she scanned the contents of the advertisement, her eyes widened in shock.
"Percy!" She said, shooting up out of her chair.
"Yeah?" He asked over his shoulder,
"Catch," she tossed the phone at him, and he caught it without turning. He scanned the contents briefly, before swearing lightly under his breath.
"I'll start packing the bags,"
"I'll make some calls."
Percy tossed the phone back to her and began quickly packing things back up. Lara's eyes darted back down to the phone in her hand, her gaze landing squarely on the small print at the bottom of the page.
"One night only, a set of poems from the classical poet Sappho herself."
AN: As always, thanks to my boy Double for being the best Beta of all time. Hit up the link in my bio to join the Emerald Library where I hang out with some of the best authors out there. Thanks again for all the love and support, and I'll see you next week.
Love,
LilDB