Chapter Thirty-Six
Her smile is taunting, teasing. What secret is she hiding? There’s amusement in her eyes. It’s as if it’s a game to her.
I probably shouldn’t have come to the Louvre alone, but my ticket is still good for today, and it doesn’t close for another hour. I need one last look. Adam Conte had a reason for sending Marek here. There’s a clue hidden in this room.
It’s less crowded than it was earlier. I stroll slowly around the room, stopping at each painting, studying each one like I’m an art dealer, trying to find something that stands out.
A woman with short brown hair in a pencil skirt and dress shirt leads a small group into the room. “I prefer to end my tours with our special lady, the Mona Lisa. I’ll tell you a little history about her, and then you’ll be free to wander the museum on your own for the rest of the hour. She was painted by Leonardo da Vinci. It is…”
I move away from the group, taking measured steps, eyes roaming over paintings—a naked Venus with cupids, two hounds, a wedding, Noah’s Ark—searching for something in them, finding nothing.
Two women, maybe in their fifties, one with short silver hair, the other brunette, hold hands as they stare at the floor-to-ceiling artwork by Paulo Veronese titled The Wedding Feast at Cana. It’s so large the artist had to use a ladder or something to paint it.
The next one I pause at is The Raising of Jairus’ Daughter. It’s the image that Marek and I thought for sure would hold the clue. It’s of a young girl being raised from the dead.
Someone stops to the right of me. I don’t look right away. “I was there.” His voice is soft, but it still makes me flinch. “It wasn’t as dramatic as that. The girl simply awoke.”
“Why are you following me, Ares?” I finally take a look at him.
“I’m only curious,” he says. “The shadows have eyes, even during the day. They inform me of your whereabouts.”
“Why do you want the pieces to the talisman?” I turn my best glare on him. “Don’t you already have power? There’re wars all over the world.”
His head tilts a little as he watches me. “Good question. It’s only a fraction of my power. I need all of it for there to be a war between the immortals. A war mortals have never seen before. One that will return glory to deities around the world. I’m not a selfish god. I want all of us to rule as we did in the beginning.”
Lugh and Oyá wouldn’t let him do that, and I bet other gods and goddesses feel the same way. I decide to tell him just that. “I doubt you can get them all on your side.”
“You doubt my ability to influence others. I’ll demonstrate.” He steps behind the two women standing in front of the marriage painting, leans forward, and whispers.
The brunette says something to the woman with short silver hair, and they argue. It gets heated, arms flail, then they stomp off in different directions.
Ares comes back to my side. “With my full power, I can do that to the immortals. Do you believe me, or would you like me to demonstrate it again?”
“No, I don’t want you to demonstrate it again.” I glance from one woman to the next. “Are they going to keep arguing?”
“Unfortunately, yes. It will end their relationship. If you asked them later in life why they went their separate ways, they wouldn’t be able to tell you.”
I didn’t think I could get any sadder after saying goodbye to Marek, but another wave of it hits me. Crashing. Stinging. Because of me, because Ares felt a need to show me his powers, a couple is breaking up.
I tighten my hands into fists, trying to keep them from shaking. “What do you want?”
“Analiese, I’ve already let you know my intentions. I just thought I’d come and keep you company. Now that the Conte boy is gone.”
I need an escape. Sliding my eyes left, then right, I search for an exit.
“I see you’re up to your old ugly tricks, Ares.” A woman’s voice comes from behind us. I’ve heard her before, and she usually carries a syringe full of poison.
Whirling around on my heel, I almost collide with Inanna. “H-how? Where…?”
“At a loss for words?” She grins like a cat about to stick its claw into a birdcage. “Ares doesn’t believe in love.”
“Now that’s just hateful,” he says. “What do you call what we had a millennium ago?”
“Lust. There’s a big difference. Excuse me, I have to clean up Ares’s mess again.” Inanna saunters over to the woman with silver hair and says something. Inanna’a smile deepens as she passes us, crossing the room to the other woman. Another whispered word, and she returns to us.
“There,” she says.
The women are still ignoring each other.
“What did you do?” I ask. “Nothing’s happening.”
Stay calm. Find a way out.
Inanna’s smile turns into a smug look. “Wait for it.”
Ares chuckles. “You’re losing your touch, my dear. I had them arguing within a second.”
The woman with silver hair looks over her shoulder.
Not too long after, the brunette does also.
With tears in their eyes and longing expressions on their faces, they dart for each other and collide into a hug.
Inanna crosses her arms and gives Ares a disdainful look. “See. Love takes longer to coax than hate.”
I take the opportunity their arguing gives me to slip away and stand next to the tour guide and her group. Safety in numbers. I sneak a glance at Inanna and Ares. Their body language suggests they’re arguing—her foot tapping impatiently, his arms flying up in frustration.
I have to get out of here.
“Yes, some say that,” the tour guide’s confirms. “In 2005, Lisa Gherardini, married name Lisa del Giocondo, was identified as the model for the Mona Lisa. Leonardo was commissioned by her husband to paint her portrait.”
That’s it. What was it? Marek said his grandfather told him there’s always another story behind a painting, not just what you see on the canvas. The clue isn’t the Mona Lisa. It’s the model used for the image.
I need a computer. Or a library. And I definitely need to ditch the stalkers.