Tell Them This When I Die

The Goddess of Chaos

Adam starts with the hallway, the closets—anything big enough to hide bulk in. He pulls open every drawer, every door.

Eris pours out the gin and makes him a new one, with a new glass. She places it on the coffee table with her martini. She puts the stereo on, takes a bag of crackers from the pantry, and settles down on the couch with her book.

Adam opens the door to her bedroom. The bed is perfectly made, the room dark and expensive. The products in the cupboards of the master bath are organized by colour and size. The towels are folded four times.

Adam moves to the walk-in closet. The dresser drawers are mostly filled with black clothing, but there's the occasional colour. The dresses are all silk, the jewelry is all diamonds. He moves back into the bedroom, opening the nightstand drawers. She has a few books in one, some extraordinarily expensive silver lingerie and condoms in the other. Adam has her medical file, so he knows she takes medication for birth control, and she's had the same boyfriend for years. Adam realizes oblivious Nikolas must not be the only man she keeps close.

He leaves the bedroom and passes by the living room again as he goes up the stairs. She's reading a book on the couch, martini in hand. There's no possible way there's nothing incriminating in this house. No possible way. It's just hidden well.

Adam opens the door to the study. This place is slightly less organized, so he sorts through her files. Lawsuits on Nyx, lawsuits on the cops, lawsuits on Adam—Leonardo's case. He thumbs through it. The notes are illegible—Eris' handwriting is neat, but it's in Greek.

Eris flips the page in her book and takes a sip of the drink. Too much vermouth.

Adam moves to her most recent lawsuit on the police. The notes are in Latin, now. The ones on a red-light ticket she's fighting are in Arabic.

"How many damn languages do you know?" Adam shouts from the study.

"Thirteen," Eris calls back as she flips another page.

He's not exactly surprised. No one can crack all these notes by themselves. The business files for Nyx, the profits, the returns, they're all in a different language from the last, none of them in English. Adam tosses the papers away in frustration. He goes to the guest bedroom, the exercise room. There isn't anything incriminating in this house.

Adam goes back down the stairs. Behind the bookcases, between the cushions. He moves every single thing in the house, and he finds nothing. Eris doesn't keep her stores in the penthouse after all.

Adam sits down on the couch across from her. "There's nothing here," he says.

Eris flips another page. "No?" She offers him the crackers. He doesn't take any.

"I don't get it. If you don't have it here, where are you hiding it?" He leans back, his head rolling to the ceiling. It's some of the most incredible carpentry work he's ever seen.

Eris watches him lull. He has this ability to look comfortable even when he's upset or frustrated. He takes the gin off the coffee table and leans back again, propping his feet up on the coffee table. She rolls her shoulders, tempted to tell him to take them away, but she refrains.

He took off his shoes when he came in, which she does, too. She wears the heels in the house, but only because they take nearly an hour to get off. One must be careful with the pearls.

"Some old abandoned airport? Some hotel? Hold on, Nyx owns a hotel, right?"

Eris stretches her feet out on the couch, still in the heels. "Yes," she says. "But there's nothing there."