Adam of Albion (4 page)

Adam
scrambled in front of Orpheus, trying to hide him, although it was already too
late. Artemis was gazing straight at the little head, her eyes intent with
fascination.  Orpheus was doing his rock act again, silent and still, but
she must have heard him.

“Ex
cuse
me, but this is, like, my room,” Adam said indignantly.

“Oh,
I hardly think so. You
are
a guest here,” Artemis replied, not at all
abashed.

“That
still doesn’t give you the right to go spying on people.”

“Don’t
be tiresome. It’s not about a
right
—I’m just naturally sneaky, you can
ask anyone.”

She
stood, tossing her hair like a cyclone, and came into the room, pausing to turn
on a dim lamp. Orpheus’s skin instantly started to change tone, still dusky but
lightening enough to blend with the new ambience. He was like a chameleon, Adam
realized—probably a very useful survival skill for someone his size.

Artemis
walked straight to Orpheus, as if Adam wasn’t even there, and knelt on the
floor in front of him.

“The
singing was splendid,” she said.

Adam
was sure he saw Orpheus’s eyebrows rise just a tiny bit, like he was pleased by
the compliment. Uh-oh, Adam thought. Vain as the little guy was, he’d be a
sucker for her flattery, and talking her ear off in no time.

“What
makes you think it was coming from him?” Adam said quickly.

“Quite
obviously, it wasn’t coming from you,” she said, with a glance so withering he
wouldn’t have believed a girl her age was capable of it. It actually made his
mouth go dry.

“He’s
a gadget,” Adam stammered. “He can say a few sentences, knows a few tunes, but
that’s it.”

“Really?”
she said coolly. “I’ve never heard of such a gadget, and I’m rather sure I
would have.”

“They’re
not on the market yet. He’s a . . .” Adam squeezed his memory as hard as he
could—what was that word? “Prototype. This friend of mine, his father works for
the company, that’s how I got him.”

Her
lips twisted wryly in another very adult expression. “You play with dolls, is
that it?”

Damn!
Adam thought. He was used to being one-upped—it happened all the time with
Barry—but that was like getting slugged with a baseball bat. This was more like
a razor slice, so quick and precise you didn’t even know it had happened until
you were bleeding.

“Let’s
stop the charade, shall we?” she said. “I heard every word you both said.”

“I
was practicing ventriloquism,” Adam tried, desperate now.

“Yes,
and I’m Lady Gaga.” She stood up abruptly and plunked herself down on the bed
beside Orpheus, sending him into a bouncing little dance. “Come on, talk to
me,” she said to him. “If you’re who I think you are, I already know quite a
bit about you—I’ve been studying arcane knowledge all my life. You’ve been
worshipped as an oracle since ancient times, isn’t that right? Inspired tons of
legends? Hobnobbed with great minds like Roger Bacon and Albertus Magnus? And
so much more? And now you’re right here in our guest room—how lovely!”

Orpheus
stayed clammed up, but this time a pleased little flicker showed in his eyes.
Adam just sat there astonished—she was acting as cool as if she’d walked in on
Adam and Barry discussing football scores.

But,
sophisticated as she seemed, she was still a girl—which meant that if she found
out the truth, everybody on the planet would hear about it within seconds. She
was probably getting ready to Twitter her friends right now. He groped
frantically for a way to keep the situation under wraps, but nothing came.

“How
about another song—please?” she asked Orpheus sweetly.

Then,
as she leaned coaxingly close to him, one of her earrings swung forward,
finding its way through her hair and dangling in plain sight.

Orpheus
let out a yelp so sharp and sudden that both kids jumped.

“My
love
—can
it really be you?” he cried out.

Adam
thumped the heel of his hand against his forehead in despair. Well, it was all
over now—the secret was out. Only a few hours after his promise to Jason, and
he’d already blown it. He felt like crawling under the bed.

But
wait—what was it Orpheus just said? My love? To an earring?

The
little head’s eyes were glowing as he gazed raptly at the pendant dangling from
Artemis’s ear. It was pretty—about an inch and a half long, emerald green, and
shaped like one of those Egyptian crosses with a loop at the top and flared out
at the arms and bottom. The design was graceful, somehow haunting, and it
definitely suggested female.

But
it was still just a piece of jewelry. Even Artemis seemed taken aback, for the
first time.

“This
ankh?” she said, touching it with her black-nailed, silver-ringed
forefinger—she wore a
lot
of rings, Adam noticed. “I collect them. I’ve
been fascinated with them since I was a baby, and for quite some time I’ve been
studying the various types of Goddess worship around the world and through
history. So I always wear a symbol in case I meet up with a like-minded
devotee. Which, so far, I haven’t.”

But
while she spoke, Orpheus’s joy faded before their eyes, as fast as it had
appeared. He even seemed to get a little smaller, like he’d somehow shrunk into
himself.

“My
mistake,” he murmured sadly. “It fooled me for a second. I suppose I’m still a
bit muddled from just waking up. It—it reminded me of somebody I used to know.”

Adam
and Artemis exchanged quick, puzzled glances.
Somebody?

“I’m
so sorry—I didn’t mean to upset you,” Artemis soothed. “Do tell us about her.
Does she look like this?” She touched the ankh again. Adam hadn’t yet reached
the age where he paid attention to things like a girl’s eyes, but now he
noticed that hers were almost the same emerald green.

Orpheus
nodded, exhaling a long sigh. “Her name is Eurydice,” he said.

“Of
course!” Artemis exclaimed under her breath. Adam recognized the name, too. In
the legends about Orpheus, she was his beautiful lover who he’d tried to rescue
from Hades.

“She’s
my love, my heart, my very life,” he said hoarsely, with tears starting to
trickle down his cheeks. “We were always together, from the very beginning. But
I lost her. Ever since then, century after century, I’ve searched the world for
her—but all for naught.”

So
that was what he’d been crying about, Adam realized. But besides the weirdness
of his girlfriend looking like a piece of jewelry, how had they managed to
stay
together? Without arms, he couldn’t very well carry her.

“That’s
so sad.” Artemis’s eyes were shining with sympathy—and fascination. “What
happened?”

“I’m
not exactly sure,” Orpheus said, ruefully shaking his head, or more accurately,
himself. “It was during the Third Crusade. I was hidden inside the saddle
pommel of a warhorse, so I couldn’t see what was going on—all I know is that a
battle broke out. I could tell from what I heard that there were Templars
around—they were always spoiling for a fight—along with Richard the Lionheart
and a band of his Crusaders, Saladin and his elite personal guards, and a
handful of Assassins. A thoroughly dangerous mix.”

Richard
the Lionheart?!
Adam thought.
Saladin?!
Templars?!
Whoa!

“But
Eurydice was right there with me, same as always. Then all of a sudden things
went crazy. Somebody grabbed me, I got roughed up for a few seconds—and—and
then she was gone.” He finished with a catch in his voice, and the tears
started rolling again.

“You
poor—” Artemis hesitated—she’d been about to say,
poor little head
—
“poor dear. You must be terribly lonely.”

“Lonely,
worried sick about her—all those things,” Orpheus said sadly. “And then—oh,
never mind.”

“What
is it?” she prompted. “Maybe we can help.”

We?
For a second, Adam was outraged—she was inviting
herself in on this! But then he started thinking that it might be pretty handy
to have someone who knew so much about all this stuff—if he could just keep her
from blabbing the secret.

“Artemis,
please, we can’t let anybody know about this,” he said anxiously. “Will you
promise? No telling your parents, no texting your friends?”

She
gave him another withering stare. “Silly boy. I never tell my parents anything
and I don’t have any friends. Besides, I’m training to be an adept, delving
deep  into the great arcane mysteries. I can keep a secret to my grave.”

Adam
was getting kind of tired of being called boy, but he let it go. He had no
choice but to trust her now, so he might as well try to get along with her.

“Now,
you were about to tell us something more,” she said, turning back to Orpheus.

His
face turned shy, like he was being pushed into revealing something that was
personal and embarrassing.

“Well—Eurydice
isn’t just my love. She gives off an endless flow of energy—it’s her essence,
her nature. And that’s the life force that keeps me going.”

“Like
a battery, or power pack?” Artemis said excitedly.

Orpheus
frowned. “Those are more terms I don’t know,” he said impatiently. “The point
is, I’ve been running on reserves since I lost her—but they’re running out.
That’s why I went to sleep a couple of centuries ago. I was reaching a critical
shortage, and I decided to make it last as long as I could—hoping against hope
that somehow, someday, she’d find her way back to me.”

Adam
had been feeling totally out of this conversation, just sitting there tracking
back and forth between the other two, like he was watching a tennis match.

But
the meaning of this hit him like a kicking heifer.

“You
mean you’re
dying?
” Adam said, horrified.

“You
could put it that way,” Orpheus agreed. “Technically, I’m not alive in quite
the same way you are, but it’s close enough for all intents and purposes. The
end result will be the same, anyway.”

He
closed his eyes and, rather melodramatically, toppled over on his ear.

Artemis
drew herself up very straight and folded her arms coolly.

“Then
we’ll just have to help you find your Eurydice,” she said. “
Won’t
we,
Adam?”

Orpheus
sighed, this time in exasperation, and bounced upright again.

“Out
of the mouths of babes,” he said, rather patronizingly. “Thanks, I do
appreciate it. But what I need is the people who woke me up—not volunteers from
the Children’s Crusade.”

That
stung, but Adam knew he was right. They were just a couple of kids—what could
they do on their own?

Artemis,
however, had a look in her eyes that underlined the word stubborn. It made Adam
nervous about her all over again. Maybe she would keep quiet about this, but
what if she insisted on pulling something stupid?

“We’ll
start looking for those people first thing tomorrow,” Adam said—although he
didn’t have a clue how they’d start looking, or who they were looking for.

But
suddenly, Orpheus didn’t seem to be paying any attention. He tipped himself
back so his small, chiseled nostrils were pointing upward, and they flared as
he took in a deep breath. And in spite of all his troubles, he seemed to be
cheering up.

“Ahhhh—I
detect the fragrance of wine, very
fine
wine,” he declared. “I haven’t
sampled its delights since the Marquis de Sade helped me escape from the
Bastille, disguised as an onion in the executioner’s lunchbox. Had some strange
ideas, the Marquis, but also a certain
je ne sais quoi.
”

“How
can you even drink?” Adam asked.

“I
can’t—I just inhale the aroma. But it’s still intoxicating.” He gave Artemis a
look that was polite, but made it clear he didn’t expect no for an answer. “So,
my dear, might I invite myself to partake of this household’s bottled bounty?
Drown my sorrows, or at least take them for a swim?”

“Well—Daddy
does keep a cellar, and he is a connoisseur,” she said hesitantly. “I’m not
supposed to go in there.”

“Is
that a problem?”

“Of
course not.  I go anywhere I please.”

“So
your hesitation doesn’t seem to be on either tactical or moral grounds,” Orpheus
pointed out, with his nose twitching longingly. “Is there another reason?”

“Yes.
I want a
quid pro quo,
” she said. “If I take you, you have to promise
that we’ll keep discussing this situation with Eurydice. Deal?”

Great,
Adam thought. As if it was tough getting Orpheus to talk anyway, let alone with
wine involved.

“Signed,
sealed, and delivered, as Cromwell was so fond of saying,” Orpheus said,
obviously impatient and not about to argue.

“All
right,” she said, jumping up off the bed. Adam got up, too.

“We’d
better hide him, just in case somebody else is up,” Adam said. “Orpheus, I’m
afraid you’ll have to go back in the pack.”

Orpheus
glared at him sourly. “Come on—if this place can afford a wine cellar, there’s
got to be a classier ride around here.”

“How
about my tote?” Artemis said. “I can cushion you and make you comfortable.” She
hurried to the secret passageway and brought back a black leather bag that
seemed half as big as she was, then quickly arranged some things and gently set
Orpheus down inside.

“Lovely,”
he said, with a contented grunt. Then, glancing snidely at Adam over the rim,
he added, “
Smells
a lot better in here, too.” There was no arguing
that—the fragrance of perfume came wafting out like a mini-mushroom cloud.

They
left Adam’s room cautiously and tiptoed along the long hallway, then down the
back stairways until they came to a final roughhewn flight that led deep into
the musty—and very dark—stone basement.

“Watch
your step carefully,” Artemis whispered. “I don’t want to turn on any lights.”

“I
can take care of that,” Orpheus said, his voice muffled inside the purse. “Lift
me out and hold me in front of you.”

Artemis
opened the purse and Adam cupped Orpheus in his hands. Suddenly, his entire
head took on a beautiful glow with tones of gold and blue, and his face shot a
more intense beam of it ahead like a powerful flashlight. Both kids gasped, too
startled to move.

“We
could
just stand here all night,” Orpheus pointed out coolly after a few seconds.
“Then again, we could pick up our feet and put them down again—those of us who
have
feet, that is—and move on to our destination, which, my refined olfactory
sensibilities inform me, lies just ahead.
There,
to be precise.” The
light beam pulsed in rapid bursts, illuminating a heavy arched wooden door with
a huge brass knob.

“Yes,
of course,” Artemis said quickly. Adam noted with satisfaction that she was
flustered. She might be able to one-up him, but Orpheus was cutting right
through her snooty veneer.

The
door opened quietly on well-oiled hinges. He’d never been in a wine cellar
before—they weren’t the kind of thing you usually found back home in ranch
country. It seemed to go on for quite a ways, with floor-to-ceiling racks of
bottles lying on their sides and several wooden barrels with spigots along one
wall. The old stones were damp with condensation, and the air had a sharp
sweet-sour smell that hinted of grapes.

It
also looked like somebody liked to hang out here. There was an old overstuffed
armchair, a tattered rug on the rough floor, and a table with different kinds
of glasses lined up and several corkscrews that looked like instruments of
torture.

“Is
that stuff your Dad’s?” he asked Artemis.

She’d
recovered enough to flash him her by now familiar scathing look. “Heavens,
no—Daddy’s far too cultured. It’s Reg, the gardener. Totally unacceptable, of
course, but the P’s turn a blind eye because he does a good job otherwise.”

The
thought of Reg made Adam swallow nervously, remembering that he was the owner
of the moped Barry had stolen. No—that Barry
and
Adam had stolen. He’d
been in on it too, just like Barry said

“Set
me down,” Orpheus commanded. “The table will do fine.”

Adam
obeyed, although Orpheus was getting on his nerves, too. He was awfully pushy
for a pint-sized head, and along with his insults, it was wearing thin.

The
light beam shot out from Orpheus and darted across the bottles, examining the
labels.

“Let’s
see,” he murmured, verbally rubbing his hands in anticipation. The beam stopped
on a dusty dark red bottle. “Domaine Canet Vallette, ‘47—Adam, bring that here
at once.”

That
did it, Adam thought—enough was enough. Even if he
had
gone insane,
imagining that he was in a wine cellar with a blustery little head and a girl
who looked like a satanic Alice in Wonderland, he didn’t have to be an insane
wimp.

“Let’s
get something straight right now,” Adam said. “I’m not your servant, and we’re
going to get along a lot better if you learn to say ‘please.’”

“Oh,
really,” Orpheus said, doing his patronizing act. “Well, I stand corrected by
your superior manners. Never mind that I’ve been around this planet since
humans were wearing skins and finding lunch under rocks. Forget that I’ve been
worshipped by kings and caused more wars than Helen of Troy. What does any of
that matter, compared to the feelings of one scrawny, uneducated boy?”

“Go
ahead and brag about what a cool guy you are,” Adam shot back. “It’s no excuse
for being rude.”

Orpheus
gave him a weary, condescending smile. “Then I’ll say this as
courteously
as I can—I can’t believe I’m wasting my time with you two! Why don’t you take
me back where you found me, and I’ll wait for an
adult
to come along?”

“I’ll
be glad to—and I’ll bet you won’t have to wait long. You were tucked away in
the backpack so you might not know this, but there’s a killer out there looking
for you. I saw two people get shot.”

They
glared at each other.

“Did
you say—somebody got shot?” Artemis asked, with a tremor in her voice.

Adam
nodded curtly. “I’ll explain—if we can ever get him to quit acting like a
spoiled brat at his own birthday party.”

“So
I
did
hear the sound of muskets firing,” Orpheus muttered, settling back
down. “I’d only been awake a minute or two. I thought maybe it was just my
synapses reconnecting.” Muskets? Adam thought. But it made perfect sense, given
that Orpheus was coming from the French Revolution.

Orpheus
exhaled. “Look, I am sorry. But in my defense, let me just say I’ve learned the
hard way that if you don’t have much going for you in the muscle department, it
can pay to be verbally forceful.”

Artemis
nodded sympathetically. “He
is
a bit height-challenged, after all,” she
murmured to Adam. That made him feel guilty. He hadn’t even tried to put
himself in the place of someone who went through life the size of a navel
orange, without a body to carry him around.

“We
don’t need to be forceful with each other,” Adam said. “Let’s just all be
reasonable, and maybe we can get somewhere. So which wine was it again?”

The
light beam streaked back to the bottle of Canet Vallette. “Just lay it down in
front of me with the cork under my nose, and I can inhale the bouquet right
through it.” Orpheus paused, then added, “If you would be so kind.”

Adam
got the bottle and positioned it on the table. Orpheus closed his eyes and
breathed in deeply for what seemed like a full minute. Then he opened his eyes
again, looking happy and slightly dazed.

“Exquisite—much
obliged,” he said, with a slight hiccup. “Just by the way, if you think
I’m
grumpy, you haven’t seen anything. Take Vlad Dracula, for instance. All you had
to do was look at him wrong and next thing you knew, you’d be a human scarecrow
on a stake. Horrible breath, that chap—only had two front teeth, the rest had
rotted away. No wonder he was always in a bad mood.

“Then
there was Ivan the Terrible. Rub
him
the wrong way, and he’d nail your
cap to your skull. I ought to know, I did a stint hidden inside the mallet
head. Messy work, let me tell you.

“
Grumpy?
How about Bloody Mary? One day she was this, next day she was that, and whoever
wasn’t this or that at the same time was all of a sudden on their way to their
own barbecue—”

Just
as Adam had feared, now that Orpheus had a couple of snorts in him he seemed
prepared to ramble on all night. But Artemis interrupted tactfully.

“Yes,
you’re an angel compared to those famous serial killers,” she said. “Now, it’s
time for you both to tell me how all this happened.”

“Go
ahead, Adam,” Orpheus said—obviously making an effort to be nicer, or maybe it
was just the wine.

But
as he was about to start, Orpheus’s eyes suddenly flared in warning, like they
had when he’d heard Artemis’s secret door sliding open.

“There’s
somebody else in here,” he hissed.

Then
came a sound that the kids heard, too, from farther inside the wine cellar—a
grunt like a bear tearing into a rotten log to find grubs.

They
stared in horror at the burly shape of a man appearing in the gloom, staggering
forward with an open bottle clutched in his hand, grabbing the wine racks to
steady himself.

Reg!
He must have been passed out back there!

“Somebody
playing games with me, is it?” Reg snarled. “Come on out, I ‘eard you.”

“We’ve
got to book!” Adam whispered, grabbing for Orpheus.

But
Orpheus whispered back, “No time! Disappear—I’ll handle this.” His glow cut off
abruptly, plunging the room into darkness.

Artemis
caught Adam’s hand and yanked him over to the big chair. They crouched behind
it, trying to stifle their panicked breathing. How on earth could the tiny head
handle
a hulking, drunken, angry brute?

“No
use ‘iding,” Reg said. “I’m going to give
you
a ‘iding.” He laughed
coarsely, apparently thinking he’d made a good joke.

For
several more seconds, nothing happened. But Reg was bound to turn on a light
any time now, and Adam braced himself to scuttle forward, grab Orpheus, and
make a run for it.

Then—a
faint, low moan started echoing through the old stone chamber, so creepy and
menacing it made Adam’s scalp bristle.

“Oooooohhhhhhwowowooooohhh
. . .”

It
was coming from where Orpheus rested on the tabletop.

Reg’s
clumsy footsteps stopped dead. “Wot the bloody ‘ell is this?” he said. But
there was no laughing now—his voice had turned uncertain.

“WAAAHHHHaaaahhhhoooowowowowOOOOOHHHH!”

Orpheus
started to glow again—this time, a hot flickering red the exact color of
burning coals. In the surrounding darkness, he appeared to be hovering in
mid-air, with a fiendish scowl and his eyes slanting wickedly. He’d even
somehow twisted up locks of his hair so they looked like little horns sticking
up from his forehead.

Crash!
The bottle that Reg was holding dropped from his petrified hand and shattered
on the floor.

“
Regggg—iiii—nallddd,
”
Orpheus intoned in a slow, hoarse growl. “Thou art a sinner—and the wages of
sin is death. I am come to carry you away—to eternal fire!”