The Search for Juno

Chapter XXVII

When Angie returned from the lobby with a vibrantly pink smoothie in her hand, she nearly smacked right into Hermes's broad chest as he slipped out of their third floor hotel room.

Angie recoiled, checking her shirt for stains. "Watch it, dude."

Hermes blinked, before his gaze fell to the smoothie in her hands. "Don't tell me that's your dinner, Angie."

"So what if it is?"

"That pink thing does not count as a meal!" Hermes scolded, eyes going round. "Goodness. Promise me you'll eat something, okay?"

"This is something," Angie said, lifting the curly straw to her lips and taking a long, uninterrupted sip. "I'm just drinking it."

Hermes stared at her in silence.

Angie tipped the plastic cup in his direction, a hand on her hip. "You want some?"

"I—" He stopped, sheepishly taking the cup from her. "Maybe just a little bit."

"How's Alex doing?" Angie asked, leaning back against the terribly wallpapered corridor. It wasn't at all that she wasn't grateful for Hades's assistance, but she just couldn't help wishing he'd booked them at least a four-star place rather than this rundown, discount inn.

"Sulky," Hermes answered, nudging the curly straw out of the way as he took a sip from the cup's rim instead. "Clio's in there with him now. He won't talk to either of us, just spends all his time staring out the window and scowling."

That sounded quite a bit like the Alex she remembered. It was difficult to make him tick—anger, he had told her once, was a massive waste of his energy—but once he was, in fact, ticked, he shut down. He would not speak; he would not eat. He would just glare and scowl and grit his teeth until the silence eventually drove everyone around him mad.

Angie had seen it in action before, when they were younger; once, Conny had borrowed and accidentally soiled Alex's favorite Pink Floyd T-shirt. After about a day of tense silence, Conny nearly had a mental breakdown.

"That's a shame, then," said Angie.

Hermes handed her smoothie back to her, a black eyebrow risen in careful surprise. "What's a shame?"

"That he's not feeling chatty," she said, brandishing her room key with a flourish. "Because we have a lot of catching up to do."

Now Hermes was dubious, a wary tilt to his shoulders. "Angie."

"Like you don't want to know just how he got wrapped up in this?" she said, edging the door open, just an inch. "I'm sure Clio's hungry, too. Take her to get something, will you? Something with a lot of vegetables; I've noticed she gets all teary around meat."

Before Hermes could protest, Angie held up a hand, ordering him to wait there. With that, she stepped into the dimly lit hotel room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Just as Hermes had suggested, Angie walked into a room heavy with an uneasy, terse silence. Though Alex remained tied to the desk chair, Clio or Hermes had flipped him around so he could face something besides the vanity mirror. With the nearly comical droop to his shoulders and the way his eyelids hung low over his eyes, he almost seemed half-asleep.

Clio sat cross-legged on the bed in front of him, hinged slightly forward, scrutinizing him like he was some enigmatic museum exhibit. Her gaze flicked up as Angie entered. "Angie!" she said, though the smile on her face was short-lived. She nodded her head in Alex's direction, who hadn't stirred. "Your friend...he seems sort of sad."

"I think I'd be sad if my demon boyfriend drugged me and I woke up tied to a chair, too," Angie said, casting a brief glimpse in Alex's direction. She approached the bed, brushing Clio's cheek with her thumb. "You go get something to eat with Hermes, okay? I'll take over here."