Tommy Nightmare(81)

“I guess anything can be arranged,” Darcy said.

Seth looked at her, curious. That wasn’t a very Darcy thing to say, unless Darcy had copied it from Ashleigh. Then he got distracted by his Blackberry phone playing a sample of Dr. Dre. Wooly was calling.

“Hey, man,” Wooly said. “Got your text. Where you at?”

“It’s called the Mandrake House. It’s on Battery, right across from the park.”

“Holy crap, we’re like a block from there. We’ll be there in a second. Hope you’re ready to get waaaayy-sted!” Wooly sang the last word.

Wooly arrived with Steven Hunter (whom Wooly called “Skunker”) and Adam Branderford (“Aces”), both guys who’d gone to Grayson. Adam had just finished his first year at Charleston, and his first year as a Sigma Alpha brother.

“What’s up?” Wooly pounced on Seth, knocking him to the couch and scrubbing his head with his knuckles. “Who’s ready to slurp up the mad titty-tang tonight, huh, bro?”

“All right, enough, man,” Seth said. He shook Wooly loose and greeted the other, calmer guys.

“Let’s get crunk, stunk and locked in the trunk.” Wooly unscrewed a thermos, sucked down a shot of vodka, and passed it to Steve. Darcy walked from her bedroom out to the sitting room, and Wooly’s eyes widened when he saw the pregnant girl. “Oh, whoa, the record stops,” Wooly said. “Hey, Seth? Is this your girlfriend?”

“No, this is Darcy,” Seth said. “She’s down here for orientation. Just a friend. Darcy, this is Wooly, Steven, and Adam—”

“Okay, good,” Wooly said. “Because I was about to say, Seth, dude, you gotta wear a helmet when you play ball. Anyway, we gotta roll, because we got some very non-pregnant bitches waiting out there. Darcy, nice to meet you, Seth…” Wooly made clicking sounds with his tongue while pointing back over his shoulder at the door.

“Darcy’s coming with us,” Seth said.

“He said what?” Wooly asked the other two guys.

“No, it’s okay,” Darcy said. “My feet are killing me. I’m just gonna hang out here, you know, find a nice place to read a book.”

“That is so interesting,” Wooly said. He grabbed Seth’s arm. “Come on. Time to get funky now.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Seth said to Darcy, while the other guys dragged him out of the room.

“I’m good right here.” Darcy winked. The heavy old door closed, locking her inside the room.





The night Seth and Darcy left town, Jenny had her last dream of Euanthe.

In the dream, Euanthe walked through the open plaza of the agora, where trade was no longer conducted. Bodies burned on top of a pyramid of wood, and more families were carrying their dead to the fire. The sick filled the temples and the streets, groaning, begging for water and coughing up dark bile. Bloody pustules oozed from their faces and hands, and their fevered and shrunken bodies radiated heat.

So many were sick that no one remained to take care of them, and most Athenians had shut themselves away in their homes, filled with panic at the outbreak of plague, praying to their household gods to protect them.

Only Euanthe did not fear the plague.

She walked past the countless victims and out of the city along the North Wall. This was one of the walls that made the city impenetrable to King Archidamus, stretching all the way to the sea. But she was a weapon that could slip past the wall.

It was a long walk back to the port of Piraeus, forty or fifty stadia. A smuggler waited there to carry her away from Athens and back to her king.

The dream melted forward in time. Now, Spartan hoplites with plumed helmets and bronze shields escorted her again to the tent of King Archidamus, whose army still ravaged Attica, the land on which Athens depended for her agriculture.

It was a cold night, and Euanthe’s hair was still damp from the sea. The fires of the army camp were a welcome sight to her.

Euanthe entered the king’s tent.

Archidamus sat on a lion-footed chair, reading a scroll. More scrolls were stacked on the table at his elbow.

He smiled at Euanthe when she entered.

“We have reports of plague within Athens,” the king said. “The entire city trembles in terror, on the verge of collapse.”

“It is my plague that ravages them.”

“And what of Pericles?”

“He still lives,” Euanthe said. “I released the plague in his household, at a banquet, but he has not fallen ill. I do not know why he survives.”

“It cannot be that the goddess favors him,” Archidamus said. “Perhaps she is only toying with him.”