(12) Crucia

It was late, nearing midnight, when Ambrosia put the little girl to bed in the downstairs den.

A cot had been placed by the window where Fabienne could see the posters of Pegasus, where the nearly full moon shone through the curtains and bathed her face in its ethereal cream.

"He won't die?"

"He will not die. He is the son of Poseidon. He is the bearer of Crucia, and she is Beauty. She will heal him, as she will heal you, when the moon is full and the gates of the celestial corral are made by the two crosses that you blessed today. And you know why you are to be healed, don't you?"

Fabienne smiled. "I have the eyes of Medusa," she said happily.

"Yes, you do! And you know who Medusa is, don't you?"

The little girl, yawning, turned on her side under the covers, her smile warm in her sleepiness. "She is the mother of Pegasus," she whispered.

"Yes, she is!" said Ambrosia, stroking the silky raven hair. "Sleep now, and don't worry. You are safe here. There is no bad man, and his wife will never trouble you again. She and the Goat will ride their crosses to the moon. They will breathe their last breath. And Crucia will ride Pegasus to the moon, catch the magical breath, and bring it down to you."

"I'll breathe into me the magic breath and be healed, and strong."

"And beautiful, more beautiful than ever! So sleep. In your dreams you can ride Pegasus all around the world."

Fabienne reached out and touched the white satin blouse. "Goodnight, Crucia."

"Yes, she lives here," Ambrosia said, a hand to her breast. "Here, in my heart, the Spirit of Beauty. It is good and strong, and that is why only Crucia can ride Pegasus."

"And the grapes will be plentiful and sweet, from the kisses of the goddess of fruit."

"Yes, they will! You know that Pomona was not so pretty, not so strong, and the grapes were few and sour. But when Crucia defeated Pomona, how the vineyard thrived! And you will thrive too!"

She kissed the girl's cheek and tucked her in. "Good night, Fabienne, daughter of the goddess of fruit."

Ambrosia turned on the night light above the desk, went out softly and closed the door.

In the sitting room she stood looking up at the second floor landing, the upper hall dimly lit and quiet. She wore a look of frustration. Then she noticed that the library door near the foot of the semi circular staircase was ajar, the narrow space aglow from the green-shaded lamp within. Her expression changed. She was hopeful. She went to the door and opened it expectantly.

Tragos sat facing her in the padded armchair by the lamp. He looked at her as if he had been staring at her all his life and had grown disgusted.

"He asked me to inform you, Ambrosia, that he awaits you in your downstairs bedroom, where he thinks there will be more privacy. It seems that the upper floor is full of vigilantes."

She leaned against the wall, affecting nonchalance, but her heart was pounding.

"Vigilantes? That tall drink of water with the rosy blond hair cut too short, you mean? And who else?"

"Fredrico and the good doctor," Tragos said. He spoke like a man who had given up his life's work, and who lives only to see what mischief he can make in the time remaining to him. He appeared to be exhausted, with not even enough energy to go to bed. Besides, a bed would bring him no comfort. No mischief could be done there. It was better here, seeing the look of bafflement and alarm on the sweet face that he now despised, or thought he did.

"Go to your lover," he advised in a mocking tone, "but remember that just when you feel you are perfectly safe you are at your most vulnerable."

Ambrosia took a deep breath and used her exhale to feign a carefree expression. She stood away from the wall. Crossing her arms, she said, "If I didn't know better, Grigoris, I'd say you're accusing Ricklen of being a coldblooded killer, out to exact your vengeance for you."

"I couldn't have said it more clearly and succinctly myself, Crucia."

"You're delirious. Get some sleep."

"Does Christofer know you're bedding the man who killed Darren Smirnis? Oh, you're not so tardy on the uptake, I see. Punctual in your responses, very good. Mr Saranikos passed the news on to me while Dr Wingate was fooling around at the stables. Mr Saranikos and his two charming daughters whom Christofer has promised a couple of 'super horses.' Surprised, are we? Well, he'll get around to telling you, I would imagine. When I dropped out of the scheme he filled the void with Mr Saranikos, the brother of Berenice, I'm sure you know."

"You're acting crazy," Ambrosia said in a hushed voice. She bumped the door shut and went over to him. "I can't believe you're lying to me about Ricklen Cruor."

"No, no, Sanguineus, my dear. His code name, probably. It means 'blood,' in Latin. He's the assassin. I heard it first from no less an authority than Fredrico. Then Mr Saranikos spoke the name to me. The 'tall drink of water' was interrogated by Christofer, remember? His boy came by earlier to warn you. But little did we know that Sanguineus was right under our noses. Why is he here at your villa, my dear Crucia?"

"Stop calling me that! It's Fabienne's imaginary mother."

Tragos smiled. It was malicious and gratifying. He straightened his back, his knobby hands on his knees. "According to the girl's teacher, Marianne Limani, your companion on many of your visits to my hermitage on Patmos, well, according to her, you have cultivated the name and the concept of Crucia for ten years now. But Marianne never told me... never did she tell me... until this evening. At the dinner party."

"I snubbed the bitch."

"Of course you did. Ambrosia, did you kill my Pella?"

She gaped at him. Her face paled and her breath came fast and shallow. "Of course not! You ARE crazy! Kill the only mother I ever knew? How can you say that?"

Tragos sobered in an instant. All his cynicism and abhorrence vanished. He slumped in the chair, his hands falling from his knees. "I am goddamned. Just goddamned. Was it Berenice, then? That is what Miss Bern told Christofer. But was it true? Why wouldn't it be? What does he care if Berenice Chora is killed? She married that thug Vaslo, your ex foreman, who Christofer uses how often? To smuggle his drugs to those other horse breeders, once or twice a year, at most? And a drunken lout not worth his weight in horse shit. Easily replaced. Why should anyone care if Vaslo's shyster wife is exterminated? Oh and I'm paying for it. Won't cost Christofer two pisses."

Ambrosia looked away. "Why in God's name would Berenice kill Pella?"

"Why do you think? They were both neck deep in Christofer's super-horse drug business. They must've crossed each other, and Berenice came out on top."

Ambrosia went slowly, reflectively, to the door. She put her hand on the knob and looked back at Tragos, at the slack face and the drool on the yellowed white beard. "You're not to be blabbing about this, Grigoris. You made an oath of secrecy."

"I could hardly care less," he said. "Go to your new lover before he gets discouraged."

Sanguineus sat at one end of an ottoman sofa, rolling a cig in the light of a standing lamp. He did not look up when the door opened. He noted the light from the hall shining on the room's shag carpet, and the shapely shadow that crossed it. Then light and shadow thinned and vanished as the door was closed.

"You're Sanguineus," she said. There was nothing in her voice but a sex-charged curiosity.

He licked the flap, smoothed it out with a finger, put the thin cig in his mouth and reached in his shirt pocket for the lighter. He looked at her as he lit the cig and watched her dim to a ghost beyond the swirl of smoke from his nostrils.

"It might not have been you who shot Pella Markos," he said. "But I was sent here to kill you. I'll be paid for it whether you're the guilty one or not. So let's cooperate, and you might not have to die."

"How do you know I haven't called the police?"

"Because you have no admirers or defenders on the police force. You have mobster acquaintances. And they know better than to interfere in a vigilante action backed up by an international organization of hired killers."

"You flatter yourself."

She walked to her dresser and took off her pearl necklace and blouse. She unbuckled and removed her boots and socks. She wriggled out of her riding breeches, leaving on her black lace panties. She lit the two large candles to either side of the dresser mirror, blew out the long wooden match, and brushed her hair as if she had all the time in the world.

Sanguineus had finished the smoke when she turned to him, considered things, and went over to the sofa where he studied the composure of her face.

One hand on her hip, she said, "You're too smart to kill an innocent person."

"I'm not aware of any innocent persons."

"You know what I mean."

A grim smile crossed his lips. "Even smart people make mistakes," he said. "You can sit on my lap, but don't make any attempt to frisk me."

She sat where she had been invited, one arm across his shoulders. She took his hand and pressed it against her cleavage. "You feel my heart beating? It beats for no one but me."

"I can put a stop to that, Crucia. I'm going to tell you what I think I know. You'll tell me what you think YOU know. But first, tell me this: Did you kill Pella Markos?"

"No I did not."

"An anonymous source says you did. And the information made a lot of sense. But it's not evidence. It would mean less than nothing in court."

Ambrosia breathed a laugh, her lips on his neck. "If it was evidence, it wouldn't be from an anonymous source. Not everyone I know is a friend."

"Berenice Chora is staying in a bungalow on your property. Why is that?"

Ambrosia sat up and searched his eyes.

"You better go first, then," she said. "Tell me what you think you know. But first... Who's Dr Wingate? I called my vet, and this Wingate shows up."

"Your vet agreed to it. Money changed hands. A threat was left hanging in the air. Wingate was here this afternoon sometime. He gave Pegasus an injection that gradually made him semi comatose. Tonight he took a blood sample from the horse. He'll be looking for unusual properties. We know about Christofer Agape's breeding methods. I suspected that Pegasus was the key to all this. Pegasus, and Greek mythology... including Medusa."

Ambrosia looked away.

Now Sanguineus could definitely feel her heart beating.