Fallen Gods, page 8
“None of this makes any sense. What you describe sounds more like theatre than a crime scene.”
“And yet here we are.”
“So come on, then, Officer Miller, tell me why you think they were there and what they were doing with that sort of equipment.”
“It’s Aaron,” he replied with a smile.
But she waited for him to go on.
“All right. I can’t think of any logical reason, and so I’m looking for other answers.”
“Okay, and what have you found?”
“Those swords, they carry and use them like they’re treasures or carry some power that we’ve never seen before.”
“What are you basing this on, though?”
Aaron shrugged. He couldn’t begin to explain what he witnessed that night, but she could tell he wasn’t giving her the full story.
“What is it you’re not telling me?”
He looked guilty and was scrambling to find his words when a rowdy group of young men staggered toward them, and one knock half a glass of beer over her. It drenched her dress and coat lying beside her. She recoiled back in disgust as she shot up, but before he could apologize, another man leapt on him. A punch struck him square in the face, and he kicked his attacker back. The man fell back into a chair, but in a moment, he was back on his feet with a murderous look about his face. As he got up, he’d drawn a knife without anyone noticing. Aaron leapt into action, not having time to draw his off-duty weapon. He stepped between them, and the man hesitated for a moment.
“NYPD, you don’t want to start this, believe me,” he declared strongly, holding up his hands both to keep him at bay and to be ready to defend.
“Out of the way. This doesn’t concern you!”
“I can’t do that.”
“Get out of the fucking way!”
The man lunged forward. Aaron stopped the knife hand with his hands, one over the other, and locked a vise like grip onto the man’s wrist. This wasn’t police training kicking in. This was seemingly endless hours of medieval dagger combat practice. He stepped forward inside the man’s guard, drove his shoulder up, and pulled his arm down. He let out a cry of pain as a loud crack rang out. The knife wielder’s shoulder was dislocated. The blade dropped from his hands as he crumbled down in pain. Aaron released him and let him drop to the floor. The crowd was silenced, but he quickly drew out his badge.
“NYPD, whatever this is, it’s over!”
He looked over to the other man who was still sprawled out over the table they had been sitting at. Grace was on her feet and had backed away.
“You okay?” Aaron asked the terrified looking man.
“Yeah, I dunno what…”
“It’s fine now. I’m off-duty. I’m going to call this in and get a unit here in no time. They’ll take care of you, okay?”
He picked up the knife and looked down at the wounded man on the floor. With his shoulder in such a way, he wasn’t going anywhere, but it sure made Aaron wish he had cuffs on him. Maybe his partner wasn’t so foolish for doing so. The thought made him smile. He was always happy to be proved wrong.
“You all right, Grace?”
She nodded in agreement, but she looked more than a little shaken. It wasn’t long before uniforms showed up, but she looked more than done with the bar as he handed the situation over and returned to the doctor.
“A lovely place you brought me. Do you bring all your dates to such lively places?”
Her voice was shaky. She was trying to make light of the situation but was just trying to cover up how jumpy it had made her.
“To be honest, I don’t exactly date much. Between my work and my hobbies, I don’t get a lot of spare time.”
“I know that feeling,” she replied with a smile.
“Look, this hasn’t exactly gone like I planned.” He looked at her soaking dress and coat, “My place isn’t far from here. I can offer you some dry clothes and a hot drink. Nothing funny, just that.”
She looked exhausted and disappointed but shrugged.
“Sure, why not?”
She was just glad to be out of there. It was obvious to Aaron now that she wasn’t the sort of woman to hang about rowdy bars, the sort of places normal for him. He gave her his coat and held her soaking one as they walked back to his place.
“Is it always like that in there?”
“It’s not so bad, but things go down sometimes. Sorry about that. In my work you get used to it. It sort of becomes normal.”
“It must be tough being a cop, having to deal with the very worst parts of life.”
“It can be, but there’s good in it, too. You know most people in this city just want to go about their lives. Make the best they can for themselves, and their families and friends.”
“You still believe people are inherently good, after all that you have to see?”
“Yes, I do.”
“That surprises me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you must see so many awful and terrible things all the time.”
“That’s true, but as I said, there is good, too, and most days the good out weigh the bad.”
“But not right now.”
It wasn’t a question and that got him curious.
“How so?”
“Something terrible went down at my museum. Something the police or the press are desperately trying to downplay. I may not see the kinds of things you see every day, but I know this is something way out of the ordinary. That’s why you’re here. You want to try and understand the bizarre turn of events, and you think I can help.”
He smirked; knowing he was caught red-handed, but he also knew it wasn’t much of a secret.
“I wanted to pick your brains, sure, but why can’t two people enjoy a drink and talk a little business at the same time? I bet you don’t get a lot of chances to do that at work?”
“And you do?”
“You kidding me? Cops talk about the job as much drunk as they do at work.”
She laughed and nodded in agreement. They soon reached the door to his apartment and stepped inside the elevator.
“This is nice, you can afford this on a cop’s salary?”
“I got left some money by my folks. They made a lot more in a few years than I’ll make in a lifetime. But they respected my decision to serve the city. They left me everything.”
They reached his apartment, and he opened it up to reveal a surprisingly lavish home. It was spacious and well decorated with art and swords. A mound of martial arts equipment lay near the door. The place wasn’t especially tidy.
“Sorry, I wasn’t planning to bring anyone back here tonight,” he apologized as he began to gather stuff up.
“My room is over there. Grab anything you like from the wardrobe. It won’t exactly look cool, but at least it’s fresh.”
He continued clearing the kitchen as best he could. She carried on through the living room and stopped for a moment to see portraits on the walls. They looked to be from the renaissance, and so had to be prints. Most of them were of men holding swords.
“These are the old masters you study from?”
“Yeah.”
“You really idolize them that much?”
“You telling me you don’t feel the same way toward the greats in your field?”
She shrugged before continuing on to the bedroom. She felt more than a little awkward being in his bedroom, but as she looked back out through the open door, she felt an overwhelming warmth that she could trust him. She closed the door and went back to the clothes. But as she parted some of the shirts and sweaters, her eyes were drawn to a gleaming object propped up at the back of the wardrobe. A mound of folded up clothing mostly covered it, but she pulled them back, and her eyes widened in shock.
Aaron grabbed a controller and put on the news, as the place was so quiet and unwelcoming. A breaking news story was just airing, and it immediately caught his attention.
“Reports of gunfire between unknown gunmen and police, an incident that bears a striking resemblance to the one that took place at the Metropolitan Museum of Art just a few short days ago…”
“Hey, Grace, are you hearing this? Sounds like whoever those guys are…” he began.
As he looked back to the bedroom door, he found it open. Grace was standing in the open doorway. She was frozen solid with a sword held in both hands. The bronze sword he had recovered after the battle. His heart almost stopped. He tried to say something to explain it, but he could find no words that would make any sense.
“What are you doing with this?”
“I…I…” he hesitated.
“You knew what this was all along. What are you involved in here?”
Her voice quivered as she was clearly panicking. He knew he couldn’t lie anymore.
“Look, I was there that night, at the museum. Not intentionally. I was passing by when I saw a crime being committed. I went in to help.”
She looked furious and terrified in equal measure, as if she wanted to bolt. But as she looked down at the artifact, her curiosity was spiked. He took a step toward her to try and explain.
“Don’t move!” She held up the sword ready to defend herself, and looked as though she actually could, as if she’d had some training.
“I don’t mean you any harm. I’m a cop, remember?”
“A cop who fled from a crime. Why? Tell me!”
He sighed and tried to find his words.
“...Because of the things we saw.”
“We?”
“Me and my partner. They couldn’t be explained. We’d have been called crazy for saying what we saw and what we did.”
“Did?”
“I…” he began.
He staggered back and slumped over the counter top as he thought it over. The kitchen was open plan, so he was still in plain sight. He dropped down onto a stool and looked lost.
“Quit messing me around here. I want answers, or I’ll call the cops, and make sure they know what really happened.”
“What do you think happened?” Aaron asked with sadness in his voice.
“I think you saw a chance to take something valuable. You are into swords. Maybe you went in there for the right reason, but you wanted one of these, and you took it.”
“Yes, I did, but not for the reasons you think.”
“Keep talking.”
“Look, Grace…”
“Don’t give me that, just tell me,” she yelled as she shook the sword toward him.
“I saw bullets bounce right off people. Well, they looked like people. They threw people around with super human strength, and could only really be hurt with weapons like that.” He pointed to the sword.
“That’s gibberish. What are you talking about?”
“I’m still trying to understand it myself. But whatever it was I saw, there ain’t no way to explain it with anything that makes any sense.”
“That’s why you came to me? Why you had all those crazy questions?”
He nodded as he reached for a bottle of whiskey and slid a few glasses over so they were in front of him.
“You want one?”
She looked deeply suspicious. He groaned as he drew out his pistol and held it up in a non-threatening manner.
“Look. If I intended you any harm, I’d have done it already.”
He proceeded to put the weapon down and pour the two glasses. She seemed to warm to the idea once the pistol was down on the counter, but she still approached with the sword in hand. She snatched the glass and then moved back to his dining table, well out of reach. She laid the sword down and slumped into a chair. Her eyes moved between the artifact and Aaron. She was as curious as she was suspicious of the entire situation.
“Why not just admit you were there and hand the weapon in?”
“Because I had to fight. I had to use that weapon to defend our lives. I couldn’t let it go in as evidence. But there is more than that.”
“Go on.”
“It’s the power the weapon possesses. Thanatos, he told us these weapons can hurt others like him, when our weapons cannot.”
“Thanatos? No!”
“You know him?”
“Well, I know of him, obviously.”
“What do you mean?” He couldn’t believe she recognized the name.
“Thanatos? You met a guy called Thanatos, and you didn’t think to just Google him?”
Aaron shrugged.
“Well, it won’t be the Thanatos, anyway, but it’s very interesting to use that name.”
“Interesting, how?”
“Thanatos means death. He was a figure in Greek mythology. The use of that name might explain this sword. Maybe this gang, or whatever they are, idolize the old mythology.”
“A gang in New York, who read Greek myths, are you kidding me?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
“Sure, but that isn’t just strange. That’s ridiculous.”
“I guess that’s why you are no detective,” she snapped.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“A detective doesn’t discount a theory merely because it doesn’t seem likely or believable. They investigate all leads and possibilities.”
“Right, and you’d know all about detective work,” he replied sarcastically.
“Of course, I would. I basically do the same work. I just deal in events and artifacts in history, not the present day. But the methodology in parts must be quite similar.”
He shook his head and threw back a large measure of whiskey.
“Guess I never really thought about it that way.”
“You want to consider strange possibilities, and yet your mind isn’t open to consider that the answers you are seeking may not be ones that seem very likely, or that you want to accept.”
“Sure. I don’t want to believe there are bulletproof immortals walking among us that we have no idea even exist.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“How’s that?”
“Bulletproof?”
“Now whose mind isn’t open to new possibilities?”
She smiled, accepting his point. She threw back the drink and considered the possibilities of what he was saying.
“You could lose your job over this, couldn’t you?” Grace asked softly, realizing how much he had risked.
“A the very best, yes. Good chance of jail time, too.”
“So why risk it?”
“I had no choice. We were defending ourselves in there. But nobody would have believed what we saw and did.”
“But you kept this evidence. You could have destroyed it, or at least hidden it better.”
“I didn’t bring it here to hide. It would be at the bottom of the Hudson if that’s what I really wanted.”
“Why, then? You’re risking everything by keeping it.”
“Because it’s a weapon, a powerful one. Perhaps the only one that could do any good the next time I have to face whatever it was I faced that night.”
“It’s just a sword. What can it do that a firearm cannot?”
“I don’t know what it was, but it had something I’ve never seen before. When it clashed with other blades like it, they flashed like they were electrified. The energy they possessed was like nothing I’ve ever seen. They could do what bullets could not.”
“You’re saying it’s what, an advanced weapon, or magical or something?”
“I get the idea of magic weapons sounds crazy.”
“It’s not crazy to me. Myths and legends of old are filled with magical artifacts, but those are just stories. You’re telling me that one might actually exist. It’s a hard pill to swallow.”
“Not just one, but many. Those guys, whoever they were, they all carried them, as well as firearms. As if they were to deal with two completely different foes.”
She took a deep breath and shook her head. He hoped he’d won her over, but it was too much to take in, too farfetched.
“You almost had me,” she said with a smile.
He looked confused but waited for her to go on.
“This was a setup from the start. You set me up. You baited me with tantalizing myths and weapons of antiquity you knew I would fall for. That scene at the bar, I bet that was all a setup, too, so you could get me back here. You knew I’d find this sword. If you wanted to go on a date you didn’t have to try so hard,” she said angrily as she shot up from her chair.
Aaron looked alarmed and had no answers for her, and she took that as him being caught red-handed. She rushed to the door but stopped to scold him one last time.
“What happened at my museum was a tragedy. Priceless irreplaceable artifacts lost forever, and people died there. You used that to get a date with me? This is all some elaborate ruse. You make me sick. You’re a disgrace to the uniform and the NYPD, and I don’t want to see you again.” She left, slamming the door on her way out.
He got up to go after, but he knew it would only make matters worse. He sighed as he slumped back down and poured another glass. It was absurd to think anyone would believe him without evidence. He knew for a fact Luca would never have believed him if he’d not seen it with his own eyes. At least this encounter did cement his belief that he was right to run from the scene. Nobody would have believed such an outrageous story. He went over to the dining table and picked up the sword. He studied it once more, as he had done every night since acquiring it. He was looking for some sign of its origin or source of power, but each time he came up short.
I need more evidence. I need something.
That’s when he thought back to what the doctor had been saying.
Thanatos. Why didn’t I think to look him up before?
He shook his head, kicking himself for not doing so. He spent so many hours researching history, and it had never occurred to him to research this character. It still seemed ridiculous that the story the man had given could be true, and yet he had no other explanations. He grabbed his laptop and lifted the lid as he poured another glass. He searched on Thanatos’ name and began to delve into various articles.
“Death?”
He soon came to the realization that there really was very little written about the mysterious figure in Greek mythology.
“What am I doing?”
