The Hidden Secrets of Lost Gods

My heels clicked on the polished marble floor as I made my way through the almost deserted lobby. The sound reverberated around the two-story ceiling, one heel clicking slightly louder than the other. I cringed as I passed by a small group of men, huddled together and talking quietly. One of my heels had lost the plastic tip, and I worried it was obvious by the sound of my steps.

A tiny piece of me hoped to catch a glance from one of the men in the well-tailored suits. My pride needed the boost after my hiatus from the gym. My curves extra enhanced from my love of cookies. Curves I now squeezed into shapewear to get them under control.

Thank you, oh great inventor of spandex!

It was stupid to be self-conscious about the missing piece on one heel, but it was the only sound being made in this cavernous space. I love these gold studded heels. Partly because they were sexy, but also because I found them on the clearance rack for $12, and they happened to be incredibly comfortable. I stuck out like a sore thumb as I made my way to the parking garage.

This was the wealthy part of town. Women didn’t go out in any less than their best, and I had tried my hardest to fit in with the girls tonight.

I slid a single finger along the shiny marble wall as I approached the hallway leading back toward the elevators. The eerie quiet of the building felt odd, for a place that was booming with restaurants just outside its atrium.

Ducking into the alcove with the parking ticket machine, I rummaged through my purse for the little white ticket. The screen flashed the amount owed once I’d finally managed to stuff the crinkled piece of paper in.

“Twelve dollars,” I groaned at the machine, “like this night could get any worse.”

It did.

As I tipped my head down to search my purse for some cash, someone slammed into me from behind, the inertia bouncing my face against the buttons of the machine. The automated voice started babbling as I spun around to face the jerk who pushed me.

But no one was there. And I hadn’t heard a thing.

“Please insert cash or credit card,” the robo voice called into the silence.

Confused and heart pounding, I turned around to face the machine again, and jumped. A tall, dark haired man leaned on the machine, arms crossed. He wore a Cheshire cat smile, and a suit that didn’t quite fit his frame.

“Hi there,” he said. “Cash or credit?”

“Huh?” I stared at him, face scrunched in confusion. Goosebumps rose on my arms, heart hammering, my body trying to warn me to just turn and run.

He pointed to the machine in response. I blinked, trying to fight past my internal alarms to understand what was going on. Didn’t he just push me?

“Please insert cash or credit card,” the machine spoke again, making me jump.

The creep’s smirk grew bigger. Like he enjoyed this game that only he was in on. I was still trying to process how he had gotten in front of me. I had only a second to contempalte what he wanted, when another person cleared their throat behind me. Shoot. I silently prayed that I wasn’t about to get mugged.

I could feel the heat radiating off of the man at my back, but I was frozen in place. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as he moved closer, and cleared his throat again.

I watched the smile slowly slide off the face of the man in front of me, as he assessed the man behind me. Confusion and dread overwhelmed me, but I needed to get myself in motion, not standing here in a visual standoff with some weirdo.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped to the side slightly as I turned, trying to get both of them into view. Back hitting the cold marble, I made eye contact with the second man, and froze again.

I don't think he even noticed that I had moved. He was staring daggers at the man still leaning on the ticket machine. It gave me a chance to drink this guy in. He was tall, with dark curly hair and deep brown eyes. His suit was cut to perfectly mold his broad shoulders and matching biceps.

“Please insert cash or credit card,” the machine repeated for the third time. At this break in silence, both men launched into action.

I stared, wide-eyed, as the larger man pushed me to the side, slightly behind him. He lunged for the smaller man, who tried to push his way back into the hallway. But he was cornered, and he knew it.

Weird guy - becuase that's what I'm calling him right now - ducked and aimed a punch at the larger man. It landed, but the big guy didn’t even flinch. He just reached for weird guy, grabbed him by the neck, and threw him toward the back of the alcove. The smaller man hit the wall with a sickening thud.

I was too shocked to move, my stomache churning as my mind replayed that sickening crunch. My impulse was to run, but logic said I’d be caught in an instant. Stupid heels!

The larger man still faced the wall, his back to me, as he pulled out his cell and fired off a text. My heart was pounding in my chest as he slowly turned and made eye contact with me.

“Forget.” Was all he said, as I held his hazel gaze. A slightly Greek lilt to his words.

I stared back at him dumbly. Was I supposed to do something now?

He cocked his head to the side, studying me. Clearly waiting for a reaction. When I did nothing, he moved closer. I could smell his cologne, which reminded me of the expensive ones that they sell in international airports.

“What are you?” He asked, his jaw clenching. His chest puffed a little more, like he was readying for another fight.

Perplexed, I thought. Instead of voicing what was on my mind, I opened my mouth and an odd garbled combination of “um,” and “I’m me?,” tumbled out, sounding more like “umime?”

We both started at each other with scrunched up, confused faces. Neither of us knew what I was trying to say. I stifled a laugh at this crazy, albeit awkward situation. I probably should’ve skipped that last glass of wine.

I cleared my throat and tried again. “M-Myla,” I managed to stammer as the man leaned closer.

He inhaled deeply. Was he smelling me? On second thought, maybe I should've called him weird guy.

Grasping my chin in one strong hand, he leaned in so close his hot breath hit my face when he again said, “Forget.” He never took his beautiful eyes off mine, and I swear they darkened at his command.

“Ok?” I said. Hoping that was all the confirmation he needed to let me go on my way. I certainly wouldn’t be in a hurry to talk to anyone about what just happened, that was for sure. But as I tried to slide my body to the side, and out of his grasp, he moved his hand from my jaw to my neck effectively holding me in place with a single move.

Ok. Now it was time to be scared.

“Not so fast, Myla.” He growled, now only inches from my face. "Why were you here with him?"

I tried to remember something from the self-defense class I’d taken a few years ago, but my brain refused to cooperate. Step on his toe? Kick his knee?

As if he registered my thoughts, he pushed himself against me, leaving absolutely no room for deliberation. At least I could still breathe.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I finally said. If I shouted, would someone come to my rescue in this echoey expanse of a building?

He squeezed my neck a little tighter, studying me while deliberating his next move.

Please don’t kill me. I repeated over and over again in my head. I couldn't seem to calm myself enough to think clearly.

The stranger closed his gorgeous eyes, taking another deep breath. When he opened them, he stepped back and let me go.

I glanced from him to the ticket machine, which had spit the little card back out. I eyed it for a second before looking at the stranger again. He pointed to the elevator, jaw clenched, making it clear I needed to leave.

After snatching the card, I walked as fast as my heels would allow and punched the elevator call button. I guess I’d have to hope I could pay at the exit. I didn’t look back when I stepped into the elevator, but I swear I could feel his eyes on me.

A fleeting, wine induced, self-satisfied thought flitted through my head about how great my butt must look in this dress. Okay okay, not the time!

My heart was still racing when I made it back to my beat up old Mazda GTX. I fumbled though my bag, trying to find my keys. It really is a wonder how I always manage to lose things in a bag so small.

A car door slammed a few rows away, making me jump. I jammed the key into the door, and dove almost head first into the drivers seat. I slammed my own door shut while simultaneously stuffing the key into the ignition, the timing belt squeaking. Cringing, I pushed the button to lock all of my doors, put the car in dive, and made my way out of the garage.

The drive home was a blurry combination of fear, anger at getting charged for a full day of parking at the exit, and relief, as the adrenaline worked it’s way out of my system.

“Hey, little one,” I said, stooping down to pet my overly large black kitten as he wove his way between my legs. “I swear, you’re more excited than a dog when I get home!”

He mewed back, his deadpan stare his version of an eye roll.

After tossing him some food, I grabbed an ice pack for my now swollen face, and a bottle of red wine. I almost decided against using a glass, but it just didn’t feel right to drink straight from the bottle.

I unscrewed the top of the cheap bottle of red, and filled a glass to the rim.

Taking a sip, I cringed, and decided it may taste better if accompanied by a nice relaxing bath. Something I only did to unwind, because I never felt completely clean after. If only I had a hot tub.

My apartment was nice, but tiny. A one bedroom, which could probably have passed for a studio if the bedroom didn’t have its own wall separating it from the rest of the space. The rent they charge for that simple partition was laughable. But at least it was in one of the newer buildings. Still in a crappy area, but if I closed my curtains I could pretend otherwise. The floors were a dark faux hardwood, the cabinets a brown-gray color that somehow matched, and the counters were polished granite. This last little splurge was probably the reason my rent was close to twice what it should be for the neighborhood.

I crossed from the kitchen to my bathroom in a few easy strides and turned on the water for a bath. After lighting some candles and setting the wine on the edge near some fluffy towels, it was easy to soak and pretend my life didn’t completely suck.

Usually, baths helped me relax and focus on the things that were truly important to me. Tonight, I just couldn’t seem to do either. Sipping my wine, I counted down from ten, trying to get centered. I felt the tension in my shoulders start to relax, though only a little. The combination of cold from the ice-pack on my face, and the heat from the bath was surprisingly soothing.

My life wasn’t complicated. I graduated college, got a crappy 9-5 entry-level web development job, and somehow scraped enough together to make rent every month. On weekends, I worked odd jobs here and there to try to get ahead of my student loan payments. Just like everyone else my age. Also like everyone else, I blamed the rat race for the fact that I haven’t felt accomplished or excited about anything since making the move to live on my own.

At least, not until tonight.

The longer I lay in the bath, the more I couldn’t help but replay tonight’s events in my mind. Sure, I was terrified like a little mouse.

But for the first time in a long time, I felt alive.

Taking another sip – and grimacing – I closed my eyes and immediately pictured the perfect face of the terrifying stranger. There seriously has to be something wrong with me. I watched him kill someone! At least, I think that other guy was dead.

But didn’t the stranger save me from something potentially awful? And what was with the ‘forget’ bullshit?

More wine. I definitely need more wine. Or a therapist. Maybe both.

* * *

Pounding on my door shook me from my sleep. At some point, I must have fallen asleep in the bath.

I looked down and noticed that both my wine glass, and ice pack were floating in the now chilly, and slightly red water.

Gross. I definitely need a shower now.

The pounding at my door started again, and the nights events came flooding back to me.

“Coming!” I yelled, sloshing my way out of the tub and into one of the fluffy towels. One day, I’d have the money to invest in a robe.

Meowgi, my cat, bolted to the front door as soon as I emerged from the bathroom.

“Silly cat,” I said, scooping him up, “You’re too small to be ferocious.”

Unbolting the lock, I immediately regretted not owning a robe. Or taking the time to get dressed. Or having the common sense to use my peep hole.

“Myla?” The handsome, scary stranger from earlier asked. His frame took up most of my doorway as he pushed the door and stepped inside, not waiting for an invitation.

"Wait, you can't-" I started to say, but cut was cut off.

When he turned to shut it behind him, Meowgi launched from my arms, landing claws out on the strangers back, digging deep holes into the man's perfect suit. He tensed, and grunted, but didn’t howl in pain, as I would have expected him to.

At that moment, I wasn’t sure if I was more impressed with my cat, or this man’s pain tolerance.

“Please, get him off me.” He ground out, not making a move.

“You just barged into my house, so I’m not exactly inclined to remove him,” I said, finally finding my voice, and my confidence.

“I’m sorry about that, but we don’t have much time. Please remove your feline and I’ll explain.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Not until I at least know your name.”

“Seriously?” He grunted as my cat shifted his weight on his back. “Okay, okay, it’s Damien.”

Scrutinizing his frozen frame, I finally decided to call off the guard. I stepped forward, scooping my black protector off this man.

“Hurt me, and I’ll sic him on you again.” I threatened.

He laughed. He freaking laughed!

As he straightened and turned to me, he slid the deadbolt into place, locking himself firmly into my apartment.

Despite the circumstances, I felt nothing but calm, maybe even comfortable in his presence. I should probably be scared, but this situation was so odd I couldn’t quite grasp all the right emotions.

“Why are you here?” I asked, holding my ground and blocking any further progression into my kitchen.

He didn’t answer, taking a moment to look at me from head to toe, before he laughed again, softly this time. I was standing in my kitchen, in nothing but a very wet towel, holding a cat, while a puddle formed near my feet. Oh, and my face. I’m sure that was a hot mess too. Bruised, and with tonight’s excessive eye makeup giving me the look of a raccoon. At least, that’s how I imagined it.

“Do you need a minute?” He was trying in earnest not to keep laughing, but the creases around his eyes gave him away.

“Nope!" I said, my cheeks burning. "Tell me why you just barged into my house, in the middle of the night. And how you found me. And why the hell you’re here.”

“I needed to know.” He shrugged. As if that answered everything.

Jaw clenched, I tried again, slowly this time. “Why are you here?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “As a nymph, I thought you’d have figured it out by now.”

“A what?” I asked, softly this time.

Meowgi scratched my upper arm as he jumped out of my grasp, over my shoulder and on to the nearby counter. He sat, watching the exchange from a short distance. “What did you call me?” The only time I had ever heard that term was in reference to someone of a more, well, deviant nature. As a self-proclaimed monogamist, I certainly didn’t think that insult was warranted.

He cocked his head to the side, confused by my reaction. “Are you something else?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I deadpanned.

“How old are you?” He asked, crossing his arms and making himself comfortable against my wall.

“You’re asking a lot of personal questions for someone who just barges into places. Why don’t you answer some of my questions first?”

He took in my body again, his eyes lingering on the spot where I still clutched the seam of the towel with white knuckles. He pushed off the wall and stepped closer, his body radiating a surprising amount of warmth.

“Why don’t you go dry off and we’ll chat.” His voice was a low growl, and it was hard to hold his gaze. He said it like it was a command, similar to the one he gave when we met earlier.

“Tempting, but I’d prefer if you left and stopped stalking me.” I said it with more confidence than I felt.

“No, little one. Clearly you have no idea what’s going on in your own world. It’s time for a chat. And a quick one, if you don’t mind, we’re just about out of time.”

I felt the rage well up at that term. Using my free hand, I pushed his shoulder, a firm command to stay in place as I took a step bacl. My face betrayed the sudden surge of anger washing over me. I refused to ever let someone make me feel like I was beneath them. If he was going to play hardball, so was I.

“Get out of my house before I call the cops.”

He laughed softly this time, stepping forward anyway. His sweet breath tickling my face. He smiled so earnestly, some of the simmering rage I was trying to hold on to began to melt away.

"You're in danger, and you have no clue what is coming. Get dressed, and I'll explain what I can." His eyes were locked on mine as he spoke. A warm tingle ran down my spine, parts of my body firing up in response.

What the hell is wrong with me? This isn’t right. In fact, this whole situation felt off. Confusing.

This isn’t like me, at all. I need to get this guy out of my apartment before I do something I’ll regret.

But I also really wanted answers. Answers I had a feeling I would only get from him.