Chapter 26

GOD OF THE ZODIAC

Selene caught up with Theo as he got into the elevator, then held the door until Flint could limp in beside them. What followed was easily the most uncomfortable ride of her life. They stood in complete silence, eyes averted. She’d asked Theo to wait for her, and yet he found her in another man’s arms. Nothing had happened, but he must’ve seen the tension between them. Had it not taken less than a minute to travel sixty-eight floors, she might’ve tried to justify herself—but even if she’d been willing to stoop to such measures, she’d never found difficult words with ease. Still, Theo’s expression discomfited her: She wasn’t used to seeing him keep his emotions bottled up, pretending he didn’t have a million questions.

They emerged onto Fiftieth Street and came to an awkward halt on the sidewalk amid the passing crowds of morning commuters. Flint stared at the ground. Theo looked east, then west, with studied casualness, as if trying to decide whether a bus or a subway would be his fastest way to wherever he was headed. Does he come with me? Selene wondered suddenly. Or should I urge him to go back to Ruth’s, where he’ll likely be both safer and happier?

Then Theo’s face froze. “Selene,” he said very low. “Don’t look, but that man is—”

Ignoring his warning, she spun around. A man dressed in a bulky black overcoat stood under an awning halfway down the block. While the other pedestrians rushed from subway to office building, eager to get out of the cold, this man just stared at them. When he caught her eye, he turned quickly aside. But not before she recognized the widow’s peak above his high forehead—this was the hawk-faced man from Governors Island. Without another word, she started running toward him, pushing aside the commuters in her path.

She wondered belatedly if he’d draw a gun on her. Or worse, use his poppy crown to send her reeling into her own memories.

She dared not pull out her bow, not with the street full of pedestrians, but she reached into her pack and broke the head off a wooden arrow, secreting it in her palm. She knew Theo would advise caution, but there was a time to steal up on your prey and catch it unawares, and a time to run it down relentlessly until it fell before you.

The hawk-faced man immediately bolted toward the towering Christmas tree in the center of the plaza. He still hadn’t produced a weapon—no way was he hiding Mars’s spear beneath his coat, and Hades’ helm would be equally hard to conceal. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. Still, she dared not cry out for help—she didn’t want to alert the milling cops in the plaza.

Her prey had his own ideas about drawing attention to himself. He careened down the stairs to the Rockefeller Center skating rink—empty and bloody after the night’s brawl—and jumped the glass barrier wall. He stumbled on the ice, sliding headfirst toward the exit. By then, Selene had vaulted onto the rink herself. She slipped and slid like a rookie on roller skates, all her vaunted grace deserting her as she crashed to her knees on the ice.

By now, the skate rental attendant was speaking into his walkie-talkie, no doubt summoning security guards to deal with the sudden intruders.

Selene resorted to crawling toward the fallen man. As he struggled to stand, she caught a glimpse of the tattoo on the back of his neck: a circle with a dot inside. She pushed herself forward with a grunt of effort and pinned him down before he could move any farther. She twisted his head so his cheek rested against a patch of bloodstained ice.

“Do you see what you did?” she hissed in his ear as she pressed the point of her arrowhead against the small of his back. “This is your fault. Now stand up before I slice you open.” She dragged him to his feet even as the rink attendant raced toward them, his face red with indignant rage.

Suddenly Theo was beside her, sliding in an out-of-control circle before coming to a wobbly halt. Before the attendant could say a word, Theo let out a cheerful yelp. “Wow, Uncle Bob, a little overexcited about skating, huh?” he exclaimed to the hawk-faced man. Selene jabbed the arrow point a little harder, warning her captive not to respond.

Theo spoke to the attendant. “Sorry, man, he’s got early onset Alzheimer’s, you know, and he got it in his head that he was a twelve-year-old on his first trip to the city. We’ll get off the ice and out of your way, okay?”

He turned to Selene and her captive. The hawk-faced man glowered back. “Come on, Uncle Bob, let’s go get you some eggnog!” He waved cheerfully for them to follow and stumbled over to the railing, pulling himself hand over hand toward the exit. He looked back for a moment, as if remembering something surprising, and Selene followed his gaze to the golden Prometheus statue towering over the rink.

Selene dragged her captive along, a forced smile plastered across her face for the benefit of the woman behind the skate rental counter, who stared after them suspiciously. She felt someone else’s eyes on her and glanced upward; Flint stood at the railing on the plaza level above them, clearly about to launch himself onto the ice, crutches be damned. Stay there, she mouthed at him. Getting off the ice without winding up in custody would be hard enough without her stepbrother sliding around beside them.

They made it through the locker area. Theo marched ahead into Rockefeller Center’s lower concourse, threading their way through the commuters rushing to and from the attached subway station. He paused before an “Employees Only” door and raised an eyebrow at Selene. She kept one arm on the captive’s elbow and the other on her arrowhead.

“Front pocket,” she said, gesturing with her chin toward her backpack.

Theo reached in for her lock picks, then took hold of the captive so she could open the door. The room before them was a janitorial area, full of mops, buckets, and row upon row of brass polish. As soon as the door closed behind them, she pulled a length of wire from her pack and bound the man’s wrists.

Then Selene slapped him hard across the face. “Who are you? Who sent you? What are you doing to us?” Even as the skin of his cheek burned red, he didn’t speak.

“Wait, Selene,” Theo was saying, but she didn’t listen. This man was responsible for the capture of Mars, for the tsunami and the riots that had killed innocent mortals, for the fear that stalked her twin. He would speak, or he would suffer for it.

“Answer me.” She twisted the man’s arms, feeling the give in his shoulder socket. He winced, even let out a sharp yelp, but said nothing. “Why are you chasing us? Are you the Pater? Talk!”

Finally, a tiny smile pulled at his lips. “I speak to the Pater, for the Pater, but never of the Pater.”

“Selene!” Theo shouted again, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her from ripping the captive apart. “Stop and listen!”

Her head snapped toward him. “Listen to what? He’s not telling me anything!”

“Listen to me,” he replied, exasperated.

“There’s no time. This man knows everything. Look at the tattoo.” She pulled down the man’s collar to reveal a black circle surrounding a dot.

“That’s the astronomical symbol for the sun,” Theo said, his excitement growing.

“Exactly. The guy in the winged cap had a tattoo of the Mercury symbol between his collarbones. I killed a man on Governors Island with Mars and Venus symbols on his wrists. So if we can just get this guy to talk—”

“You asked me to be patient,” Theo interrupted. “Now return the favor. I’m almost there, I can feel it.”

She took a deep breath, as if controlling her rage took a conscious act of will. The captive’s eyes moved from Selene to Theo. He looked unconcerned by his predicament. He’d made no move to cry out for help. He clearly wanted to keep the police away as much as Selene did.

Theo pressed on. “I’ve been trying to figure out what a bull, a snake, a scorpion, a feast, and two torches have to do with each other. And why a cult would pick Rockefeller Center, of all places, as a murder site. Then, on the rink, I noticed the gold oval suspended beneath the Prometheus statue—it’s engraved with symbols of the zodiac.”

“So …” Selene scowled impatiently.

“Ruth and I have a theory that the objects at the crime scene are all astronomical references. And now we know all the cult members have planetary tattoos. There’s a connection here.” He banged a fist lightly against his forehead to shake his thoughts loose. “The sheepskin upstairs. The ram’s horns. The Charging Bull covered in blood.” He felt the pieces slot into place. “When I spoke to Minh Loi at the planetarium, she said the first murder was a reference to the Age of Taurus six thousand years ago. But if these rituals are all about sacrifice, then Hades’ death may represent killing the bull. So what if it refers to the end of the Age of Taurus instead?” He couldn’t restrain the grin that pulled at his lips as the solution became clear. “That would place the scene around 2000 BC, the start of the Age of Aries the Ram. Last night they kill Mars and dress him in ram’s horns—aka the Greek god Ares becomes the constellation Aries. Boom. End of another age, into the next: the Age of Pisces in the first century AD. Smack-dab in the middle of the Roman era.” He gave a triumphant cheer. “That’s why I couldn’t tie the killings to any Olympian cult. At that point, the Romans were already turning to new religions, Eastern cults, even Christianity.”

Selene looked thoughtful. “My father mentioned the Eastern gods at the last Great Gathering. Serapis, the Magna Mater, Mithras—”

“Mithras!” Theo had visited the remains of some Mithraic temples years before on a trip to Rome. Mithraism was a short-lived Mystery Cult religion, its secret practices known only to initiates. With no written sources to consult, modern scholars knew only what could be gleaned from analyzing temple ruins. But the one thing Theo remembered was that their sanctuaries always contained the same image: a bull sacrifice. “Yes, Selene! Mithras might work!”

At the mention of the god’s name, the captive’s eyes widened.

“Is Theo right?” Selene demanded of him. “If you’re not the Pater, then is Mithras?”

“The Pater Patrum is a man like any man,” he recited, his voice even.

Selene gave him a rough shake. “But are you worshiping Mithras?”

“We worship the true God,” he said, maintaining the same unflinching calm. “And he will reign supreme once more—when Pretenders like you are wiped from the earth. He will come to you with his armies, and you will fall beneath his might.”

“Yeah? Just try me, asshole.” Selene punched him in the temple. He collapsed in her arms, unconscious.

“Great!” Theo chided her.

“I didn’t mean to knock him out!” she shouted back. “I’ll just wake him back up—”

“Wait. Let me think for a second.” Theo tried to dredge up his foggy memories.

“Come on, Schultz,” she said. “This is your job. You’re telling me you’ve never studied this Mithras cult?”

“You’re the one who was alive back then,” Theo retorted. “How come you don’t know anything about it?”

“I was a little too busy presiding over millions of my own worshipers to worry about a new god who had nothing to do with me.”

Just a little narcissistic, as always, Theo couldn’t help thinking.

Selene went on. “I don’t think you’re on the right track anyway. How can this be about some obscure Roman deity? Who would bother worshiping him if even a classicist like you barely remembers him?”

“Oh, I see. It can’t be about Mithras because it has to be about you.” Theo instantly regretted the vitriol in his tone. Some part of him obviously was still upset about seeing Selene in Flint’s arms on the roof of Rock Center. He reminded himself that he hadn’t seen anything more damning than a look of desire in Flint’s eyes. It wasn’t Selene’s fault if her stepbrother found her attractive—what man wouldn’t? “Look,” he went on more calmly. “I’ve got to get somewhere I can do some research.” Now that he finally knew what to look for, the answers would be easy to find. “Let’s meet back up with Paul and the others and take a second to work through all this new information. When our captive wakes up, we can try interrogating him with a little more carrot and a lot less stick. See if we learn anything new.”

He reached for the knob just as the door flew toward him, nearly knocking him in the face.

Two policemen stood in the corridor.

“Whoa there!” said the first, a young black man with a shaved head and the arms of a linebacker. “Hands up, buddy. You’re breaking and entering on Rock Center property.”

Theo tried to find a suitably confused expression. “Am I?”

“And what’s wrong with that dude?” The cop nodded toward their unconscious captive.

“Our Uncle Bob here had a bit too much nog to drink, and the stuff just knocks him flat. We were looking for a bathroom to splash some water on him, and we must have wandered into—”

The second cop, a white guy whose double chin and rosy cheeks made him appear more Pillsbury doughboy than police officer, barked at Selene in a Queens accent, “Drop the man, DiSilva. We’ve got you on camera picking this lock. And don’t try to talk your way out of this, Schultz. We know who you are.”

Theo knew without a doubt that Selene was about to throw her captive over her shoulder and take her chances outrunning the two police officers. But for once, Theo felt his role as a thanatos would serve them well. Selene had no idea how to deal with mortal authority, while he’d been navigating it his whole life. “Calm down, everybody,” he said. “If you know who we are, then you know this will all be quickly resolved if we talk to Detective Freeman or Captain Hansen.” Selene shot him an angry glance, clearly still intent on keeping their captive for herself, but Theo shot one right back. He reached into the pocket of his coat. “Let me just call them—”

“Keep your hands where I can see them!” The linebacker put his hand on the butt of his gun.

“Hey, no need for that! We’re consultants with the police. And the man Ms. DiSilva apprehended may be an important witness in the murder case up in the Rainbow Room.”

“Don’t worry, he’s coming with us, too,” assured the doughboy. He grabbed Selene by the elbow. “Now, like my partner said, drop the man. You’re under arrest for trespassing, breaking and entering, and assault and battery.” He drew his own weapon and pointed it at her. “And any second now, we’ll add resisting arrest. Now release him.”

Selene snarled, but dropped her captive. His skull made a dull thud on the floor.

“Put your hands in the air.” The cop waved his gun at her.

“Go on, Selene,” Theo said, trying to keep his tone light. “I’ll talk to Hansen and get this all straightened out. Really, it’s not worth getting shot over, is it?” From her glare, he could tell she disagreed.

The policemen cuffed Selene. They took her backpack, not bothering to open it. With a divine bow about to land in police custody, Theo needed to act fast. He slipped a hand surreptitiously into his pocket, fishing for his phone, but the linebacker cop pointed his gun at him.

“You aren’t under arrest yet, buddy, but one more move toward that pocket and I’ll put you there.”

Theo seethed in silence while the cops herded the goddess and the cult member into the corridor and toward the concourse exit. Then he yanked out his phone. Hansen didn’t pick up. Theo left a ranting message. Then he called Freeman.

“Detective, thank God I reached you. Look, two of New York’s boldest just arrested Selene right when she was getting an eyewitness for you.” He explained the situation. “You need to call them and tell them to let her go. This is clearly all a misunderstanding.”

“All right, Professor. Let me take care of this. Hold on … No one called in anything. Did you get their names or their badge numbers?”

“I was a little busy worrying about the gun pointed at my head!” He wracked his brain. “I don’t think … No, I’m sure of it. They weren’t wearing name tags.” Theo’s heart sank. “That’s not normal, is it?”

The hawk-faced cult initiate slumped against Selene in the backseat of the police cruiser.

The doughboy cop looked over his shoulder at her. “You better not have hurt the Heliodromus Primus. That’s going to land you in real trouble.”

His partner snorted. “Hard to be in more trouble than she is already.” He shifted his hands on the wheel, and his coat sleeves rode up. A circle and a cross peeked out from beneath his left cuff. The sign of Venus.

The other policeman—if that’s in fact what he was—followed her gaze to his partner’s tattoo. He gave Selene a wink and opened the collar of his coat so she could see the Mercury symbol emblazoned at the base of his throat.

“Welcome to the Host, Diana.”