Seven Kinds of Hell by Dana Cameron

Author:Dana Cameron
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 1611097959
Publisher: 47North
Published: 2013-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Why did “cavalli” sound so familiar? And why was Dmitri, a vicious criminal, appearing to help me? If he really wanted to help, where was Danny? And why was he busting out the dead languages?

He didn’t want the guy attacking him—Adam Nichols?—to know what he was saying, or he didn’t want to make it easy for him. It sure wasn’t easy for me; I got through my two years of Latin mostly by the skin of my teeth, picking out the cognates, using rote memory, and peeking at the back of the book.

And yet the word “cavalli” seemed familiar. It was a new memory, but try as I might, I couldn’t place it in any of the conversations I’d had recently. Maybe I hadn’t heard him right or maybe I hadn’t translated it properly. I didn’t understand and it would have to wait. I had a destination.

When we arrived at the airport, I paid the driver, then looked around for potential pursuers. Inside the long, curved stretch of terminal, I was suddenly lost. I was hungry, hunted, and had no idea where Danny was.

Delos it was. It made a kind of sense: Delos was one of the sites Grayling had mentioned to me back in London.

Thing is, a little web search revealed an ancient Greek truth: you can’t get to any of the Mediterranean islands quickly. Delos, in particular, seemed unusually awkward: I’d have to travel to Athens, then to Naxos or Mykonos, then take a taxi or a tour boat to Delos. Part of the problem was that Delos wasn’t actually an inhabited island—it was a holy site, an ancient sanctuary and temple to Apollo. No hotels, no airstrips, no nothing, besides the ruins and a little museum. Apart from the archaeologists living there during work season, no one else was supposed to be there.

It looked wonderful. The more I saw of the tiny pictures on my phone’s screen, the more I longed to be there. I wondered if they were hiring.

“Zoe!”

Spell broken, I whipped my head around.

It was Sean.

“Zoe, wait up!” He pushed his way past a woman wrangling two trolleys, a toddler, and a mountain of luggage. She shouted something angry at him in German. He nodded and waved without turning around.

“How did you get here?” I glanced past him. She was still shouting.

“What do you mean? I was out for a walk, I saw you go running past. I yelled. You didn’t even hear me.” He shrugged. “I had a hard time keeping up with you, but I saw you get into the cab, I followed you in another.”

“What about Will?” His story was a little too pat for my taste. “Claudia, Gerry?”

“What about them—wait! Will’s here? Will MacFarlane?”

“Yeah.” Maybe Sean didn’t know Will’s real job and why he might be on the wrong side of the world with me. “Uh, you didn’t see the fracas in the Pariser Platz?”

“I saw a crowd there, but it’s always crowded. Then I saw you. You sure it was Will?”

“Um, long story.

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