The Search for Juno

Chapter X

The motel room was stuffy with heat, and suffused with the lingering, earthy scent of the cigars its previous occupant had likely smoked. Conny, Alex, and June were crowding around a hastily-drawn Sharpie pentagram in the center of the floor. On each of the pentagram's five points, there was a different item: a stick of beef jerky from Alex's backpack, a free pencil from a Nevada nature reserve, a few blades of dewy grass yanked from the motel lawn, a half-dead cockroach (leg still jerking), and a pack of ginger chews.

    "Forgive me," said June, lowering herself to a crouch, "but it looks more like we're trying to summon some sort of weird country farmer demon—not a goddess."

    Alex shrugged his shoulders. His hair was down, falling in lank, silvery strands down his pinkish neck. "I don't know what else we're supposed to do. She didn't give us a way to contact her."

    "We could click our ruby shoes together and hope she shows up?" offered Conny.

    Both Alex and June turned an acidic glare in Conny's direction. He dipped his head. "I was joking."

    June poked at the cockroach with the nail of her index finger, then got up with a lengthy sigh. "Let's get this over with," she said. "I want to sleep."

    For the long, unbelievable story Alex had told her in the car on the way here, June was taking it all extremely well. Unlike Conny, she didn't question whether Artemis was truly the Artemis or just a crazy woman with a severe case of schizophrenia. Unlike Conny, she didn't question if Poseidon as truly the Poseidon or just a guy who was very good at holding grudges. Conny wondered if it was the cocaine she'd snorted earlier, but after thinking about it, he realized it was just because that's who she was.

    "What are we supposed to say?" asked Alex.

    He was looking at Conny. "What?" Conny snapped. "Like I'm just supposed to know everything?"
     June smirked. "You love to act like you do, mój skarb."

    "I told you. Don't fucking call me that! You know what? Don't talk at all, either of you. I'll handle this."

    He expected at least one of them to protest, but neither did. They just backed away—June drifting towards the grimy window to look out into the vacant parking lot, Alex poking around at the snack bar. It didn't matter that it was nearing one in the morning. Alex was always hungry.

    Conny stood in front of the TV, facing the tiny space between the two full-size beds, where the pentagram was drawn. He drew in a breath, dragging his shoulders up, trying not to look like as big of an idiot as he felt he was. His hair was in his eyes; he brushed it away. "O Artemis, goddess of the hunt," he began, ignoring the snicker he heard from Alex's direction, "I, Constantine Morganthau, in the company of Alexander Morganthau and June Dolinski, humbly summon thee, o great goddess—"

    "Oh, by literally all of the gods, shut the hell up before I shoot you again," came a familiar, honeyed voice, sending an instant shiver down Conny's spine.

    Artemis stood at the motel room's front hall, former floor-length white gown replaced with yet another floor-length white gown, golden hair swept back from her brown face by a shimmering leaf-shaped hair clip. Alex jumped, nearly spilling the pack of M&M's he'd just opened, as June clapped her hands excitedly.

    Conny beamed. "It worked. Alex, I told you it would work."

    "It didn't work, you utter nincompoop," snapped Artemis, striding into the light, her eyes like looking into a flickering flame. "In fact, it was so entirely fruitless that I had to show up just to get you to shut your trap."