Chapter 10 : The Pantomath

Theodora's POV

Javier seemed restless when I left him in the alleyway. I couldn't blame him, not when Zeus 9 was a very different place than Ilios. I told him to stay hidden beside the alleyway and that I'd come back for him once the meeting was over.

In case everything were to go to shit, at the very least, I had my comms at the ready. All it took was a little red button on the underside of my comm and I'd give the order to fire up the engines and leave.

If I didn't make it to the ship, leave without me.

I'd be fine as long as I knew my crew was safe. That's what mattered to me. An easy choice for me to make.

I approached the Playhouse, a seedy club, full of high, drunk, fucked out-of-their-minds clubbers. The Pantomath knew I was coming. I'd already sent him a message. He was not the kind of guy I would show up out of the blue on.

Three bouncers waited outside. One was carding clubbers, not that I thought they cared about the age. More so to keep up appearances. The other two I recognized as the Pantomath's bodyguards.

Jarhead and Biter. I doubt their mommas named them that. But even for street names, they were tacky.

Once they saw me, they waved me forward out of the crowd. They were never particularly welcoming, despite being familiar. Jarhead had a shaved head and a massive scar marring the side of his face. Biter was nearly feral, an animalistic glint in his eye along his pointed teeth.

Both are human, even if Biter pretended to be otherwise.

"He's waiting for you," Jarhead said with a rather bored drawl, leading me inside to the thumping music. The bass shuddered against the warehouse walls, banging and thrashing as intoxicated clubbers tried to dance to the inconsistent beat.

The Pantomath was usually in a back room, guarded by a few more heavily guarded meatheads.

A pair of sliding doors opened, leading me into a foyer between the club and the Pantomath's office. Biter gripped my arm tightly. "You know the drill," he just about snarled, shoving me face-first into a wall while Jarhead patted me down.

As usual, they took my gun. But they didn't take the trinket Mads gave me.

Biter kicked my legs apart, making sure I didn't have anything stashed in my boots.

"I'm starting to think you have a crush on me, Biter," I remarked. "Touching me like that."

Biter growled, backing away from me. "She's clean."

"I coulda told you that," I replied, earning a snicker from one of the meatheads guarding the door.

Both the hired guns backed away from me, using their biometrics to open the sealed back room. The Pantomath's eyes snapped up to me.

The warlock wasn't ugly, but he was a Grade-A jackass. "Theodora, nice to see you again," the Pantomath said, watching Jarhead set my Colt on the desk in front of him. "Leave us," he ordered his two henchmen who obeyed without another word.

The door opened and closed behind me, leaving me alone with the Pantomath. He looked much younger than he was. Youth acquired from a lifetime of spells and witchcraft. Deals with devils. A man always searching for something. An ache to fill a hunger inside.

But to me, he always seemed hungry. Never sated by his accomplishments. I was sure he wouldn't be satisfied even if he was given the galaxy on a silver platter. Always wanting more.

Blond hair curled around his head, washing out his already pallid complexion. Almost gray, like clay devoid of nutrients.

Any artist knows that clay is a moveable medium, molding, and morphing into something new. Something perceived as better. But a farmer knows that clay is poor soil. It doesn't offer anything solid to stand on.

The Pantomath reached forward, picking up my Colt and eyeing the obscure metal. I hated it when anyone touched my gun. Greased up its handle with their unworthy fingers. An antique to many. I rested well knowing that not many knew how to shoot it.

"When are you going to get a good gun, Theodora?" he asked with complete disinterest.

"That is a good gun. You've just never seen me shoot it," I replied, folding my arms over my chest.

He glanced over at me, completely black eyes devoid of emotion. More demon than human at this point. I'm sure once upon a time, he looked like a man, back when his name was Alexander O'Connell, but now he looked more like a corpse. Teetering on the line between life and death. Cheating the reaper time and time again.

I had to believe that one day the reaper would take the soul that's overstayed its welcome.

He set my six-shooter back down, tapping her fingers on the desk like an anxious tell. "What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you for, Theodora?"

"I need information," I answered, carefully selecting my words. I won't give away more than I have to.

A grin elongated his mouth like a python opening his gullet to swallow unsuspecting prey. But I knew how he worked. I wasn't unsuspecting. "Of course you are. What is it this time? Interdimensional beast? Train heist? Or…is it a missing girl?" He already knew the answer.

I remained silent. Anything I said would give him a leg up on me.

The Pantomath sighed deeply. "You're no fun. Don't you remember all the fun we'd have together?"

I gave him a droll look. If by fun he meant leaving scars on me as a form of payment, then yes. Lots of fun. Only leaving them on parts of me that Mads would ever see. "You owe me a favor," I stated. "I took care of your competition. You owe me a favor."

Contrary to what he knew, I didn't kill his competition. I just gave the man a one-way ticket off this space station. I'd never seen a man jump for joy ever until that moment. Very few people choose a life of blood and crime. I believe in reform…as long as they're willing.

The Pantomath shrugged. "I suppose. My life has been much easier without the competition. But what you want will not come for free." He paused, tapping a pointed finger against his chin. "A daywalker off Ilios flying somewhere in the galaxy. And not just any daywalker, the future Empress. Sol Lucia is worth more to me in a warehouse than with you. So make it worth my while, Theodora."

"You have her?" I nearly growled. A young girl trapped in the Pantomath's warehouse is a fate akin to death. He'd bleed her until her veins ran dry. Trap her in a cage, force-feeding her to get the best quantity like she was the finest duck prepping for fois gras.

"Not yet," he answered. "But I will. Soon." His eyes flickered down to his desk, to the drawer I know held his documents. All I had to do was get a good look at one of them. The VIN number on Sol's ship.

Then I could trace her. Get her home away from this psychopath to the beautiful and safe mountains of Ilios.

"I'll tell you what. I'll stop all my patrols searching for the little daywalker. I'll give you all the information your little heart desires as long as you give me one, little, itty bitty soul," he requested, grin widening to an inhuman length. He knew I'd refuse, but he pressed my buttons every time.

"No deal," I replied instantly. It was the same request he made every single time I came here. I'd give him anything else. But not Ellie.

"Stop doing this dance with me, Theodora. Just give me the nymph and I'll give you anything you want. I promise her fate will be quick. Easy even."

"No." No way in hell.

The Pantomath scooted his chair back with a loud screech as he stood up. "Suit yourself. But a little birdy told me that you didn't come alone."

My heart skipped a beat. But I maintained my composure. "I always come alone."

"So Javier Lucia doesn't ring a bell to you?" he raised both of his eyebrows coyly.

"What is this about?" Give it to me straight. I didn't like playing his games. Always games.

"You won't give me the nymph so how's a daywalker for a daywalker? I'll get everything I want from him. I won't need to seek out little Sol."

I don't deal with people. Never. "Pick something else," I replied. "You can take what you want from me. From my bones. But I will not give anyone over to you."

"I admire your gumption, Theodora, but you should know that you no longer have leverage. I will take what I want with or without your permission." The Pantomath tapped the call button on his desk. "Bring him in."

The double doors slid open, revealing both Jarhead and Biter dragging Javier in by his shoulders. His head lolled back and forth, limp, but visibly unharmed. His eyes were reeling as if he couldn't focus on one point.

Jarhead shoved the bulky man forward and he crumbled by my feet, barely catching himself. All of his reflexes shot. Daywalkers and vampires were physically superior to humans. He should have been able to take on brainless henchmen like Jarhead and Biter with no problem.

But now it seemed like he couldn't even hold himself upright.

I leaned down, outstretching my hand to pull him to his feet, but he couldn't take it. His head bobbed back and forth, rich sunset orange-hued skin, oddly lacking color. He pressed his forehead against the metal floors, visibly trying to get control over himself.

He couldn't move. I didn't know where he was, but he wasn't with me.

Then I saw the pinhole against his throat. Ruby red. Perfectly circular like a syringe.

He was drugged.

"Javier," I murmured, his powerful frame unusually boneless. Crumpled. He reacted to my voice, lifting his forehead only slightly to seek my leg, to find a source of safety that I offered.

He struggled to lift his head, gazing up at me with instant relief. But that wasn't all. As his glassy eyes gazed up at me, golden and confused, I felt like he still saw me.

I saw him, too. The uncertainty clouded his vision. He had never been in this position before. Drugged and useless in the crosshairs of danger.

He couldn't mask how he felt.

Vulnerable.

Helpless.

I'd seen that look before. In the eyes of soldiers under my charge, right before they were struck down for simply following my example. I shouldn't have fought against a force bigger than myself.

I led those soldiers to their death.

I had led Javier to his death.

My hands began to shake, a high-pitch ringing echoing in my ears. I could hear the reverberations of explosions rocketing through my bones. Ghosts as real as the grinning crimelord in front of me.

I could still hear my soldiers screaming for me to help them as the galactic military overwhelmed us.

But I couldn't help them.

I could only listen to them die.

"You can't save them. You can't save anyone," an intrusive thought speared its way into my head. I blinked hard, fighting the flashback. But it was winning. Circling my mind from the depths of my memory.

Pulling me under. Sucking me into a whirlpool of dark water.

No.

No.

No.

Focus.

I'm not on the Hermes Cluster. I'm on Zeus 9.

Javier was not dead. He's relying on me to get him out of this.

My whole crew was relying on me right now.

Sol was relying on me.

Okay…okay…I'm here. I'm back.

I gripped my hands into fists. I slowly opened my eyes, not even realizing I had closed them. A white-hot rage washed over me, anchoring me in the here and now. I had to focus on the anger, and not slip into the despair of my past.

"The serum won't last for long, Theodora," The Pantomath said, humor flickering in the darkness in his eyes as I visibly seethed. "So you have a choice to make. You can give me the nymph or the daywalker."