“If you can’t figure this out, you’ll never get laid again.”
“To hell with that.” Drago’s yellow eyes narrowed. “I’m ready to go for as long as it takes.”
“Ladies! How delightful,” Poseidon oozed charm at the bevy before him.
“Keep your mangy mitts off my kids, sea bum, or I’ll sick every crab in my sea on your balls and tell them to never stop pinching.”
“It’s my sea, you cantankerous curmudgeon. Why deny your daughters the sensational delight of their lives?”
“Delight? You mean the dried up seas of disappointment.”
“Never!” Poseidon boomed, poking a finger into the squishy wall. “A self descriptive of your inglorious past isn’t necessary.” He flexed to a round of watery applause. “Soon enough, sweet Nereides! Once I can push through, we’ll party like it’s 479 BC… victors, spoils, and so much wine!”
The Nereides flashed smiles, and several touched the wall. One, whose fingertip was mere inches from Poseidon’s thick forefinger, shot him a knowing look, eyes deepening and locking to his. Nereus’ irritated punch broke the moment.
“I forbid it! The last thing I need is a grandson from a fuck-happy squid pusher.”
Alarmed crabs flowed onto his shoulders, claws raised in defiance.
“Lust is lust, Old Man. You can’t stem any tides, and that includes jamming the clams.” Poseidon waggled his eyebrows and strutted. “Nereus, chatting up this bountiful sea of gorgeousness or stuck in endless games of rummy with you? Trust me, it’s not close.”
Nereus moved to the back of the bubble as one daughter leaned closer.
“Well? I’ve got a pile of gold riding.”
“We did it, Father. Now it’s up to them.”
I stared at my bare foot, shifting narrowed eyes to Dracena.
“My foot appears to be glued to the floor.”
“Aegeus was working on art projects.” Dracena waved and a bottle of nail polish remover landed on my big toe and fell onto the tile with a clunk.
“Ow!”
“I’ve heard humans can unstick super glue with acetone,” Dracena smiled at me, ringlets bouncing. “Come Aegeus, let’s study on the balcony, this breeze is wonderful.”
Aegeus came over and looked at my foot, face pinched with worry.
“I didn’t use glue here, Mommy.”
“Oh, Honey, I know. It’s OK. Go study and I’ll get my foot unstuck. I have to leave for The Boogey soon.”
Ballard walked into the kitchen and stopped, a grin sneaking across his face. “Dracena strikes again?”
“That witch hates me as much as she wants to bang you.”
Ballard sloshed acetone onto the floor, and with a gentle grip, worked the foot. He massaged the calf, knee, and inner thigh, kissing my sore, reddened knee, green eyes holding mine.
“Baby, I love you.” The glue, skin, and floor separated and I grinned.
“I’ll be up in the morning if you want to test that statement.”
“You always are,” I laughed, mopping up the last of the acetone.
Over his shoulder, Dracena glared.
Screw you, he’s mine and we’re his.
Her eyes widened. So now I knew; even though reading our minds while in our home was forbidden, she did it with impunity. Chelsea and I were having a chat. Talented or not, Dracena wasn’t welcome after today.
“I’m telling Chelsea Dracena is impossible, and we need another option for Aegeus. She may say we don’t have one.”
“Chelsea has Aegeus’ back. She’ll figure something out. I doubt she thought Dracena would pull this crap. Trying to get in my pants the entire time, attempting to turn Aegeus away from you, and impairing your mobility four times in one day? Yeah, I want her gone, Babe.”
I kissed him til my toes curled and stepped backward.
“Time to Boogie.”
Chapter Sixteen
Glenna read and laid the note back next to the ale taps, mixed a double Bat Fizz, and slipped onto her favorite stool, sipping. Parker glanced her way from the human bar, and she raised her cocktail with a cheery grin.
“The last time I tangled with the Nereides, Nereus was stuck in Tartarus. I wonder…”
A faint pop, and Chelsea landed beside her, nose wrinkling. “How you can drink that swill is beyond me.”
“Drinking this swill begat you. A little respect, please.”
“I am not interested in rehashing your boink-fest with ol’ amber eyes. His stubbornness is legendary. And annoying.”
“True,” Glenna smiled as fizz danced on the rim of her glass. “You didn’t get that from me.”
A bottle of wine, the good stuff, knocked against the cupboard door set below the rail. “Why in Hades does she keep locking up the wine?”
“Because you drink it all ‘on the house’ and I run out before Waldo delivers more,” I answered, rounding the corner, slipping behind the bar, and pulling my keys. Half a minute and a heavy pour later, Chelsea had wine, and I had her tab started.
Glenna snickered, and I eyed the Bat Fizz, saying nothing. With a grin, she gestured to the taps. Note in hand, I rubbed the spot between my eyebrows.
“Third eye pain?” Glenna enquired.
“More like third ass pain. If the Nereides visited, my guess is Nereus wants something from either me or the Vapors. They can’t free them, I asked.”
“Nope, no way that works, and Poseidon is aware.” Glenna slurped and burped tiny bat shaped whisps that flew from her mouth, wheeling around her head before splatting onto the bar.
“Nice Bat Fizz.”
“Done well, it’s a fabulous drink.”
“Zeus, help me,” Chelsea muttered. “Hey, did you pay for that?”
“Hers was on me for watching The Boogey until I arrived,” I interjected, wiping the bartop where the wispy bats committed kamikaze for their final hurrah.
Another twinkle from Glenna. I suspected she had an adventure to share, but not with Chels around. Odd. Those two were inseparable.
Chelsea made grumpy faces as Glenna burped bats and I stocked the bar for the evening. Truth be told, the fact they were even here cheered me. Maybe Loboli blew his pitch. From my vantage point, nothing appeared cemented. Yet.
If you want to know, Patra, ask.
“I assume Loboli pitched hard to join the shifters in an alliance.”
Chelsea spun in her seat. A pointed silence stretched as I topped her wine with several loud glugs.
“Freebie,” I announced. “You help me often.”
A smile ticked up one corner of her mouth and she picked up her glass, turning halfway back toward me.
“He asked. His motives weren’t acceptable.”
Hands on hips, I stared at them both, brain churning. “Loboli wants this war. So do the large shifters. They fear losing their lines.”
“A valid concern, I suppose,” Glenna said. “But if fighting is all you know, you fight when you should negotiate. Preservation requires learning and adaptation. Those traits form the cornerstones of magical life.”
“To live in the past, elevating inglorious acts as accomplishments is a specious deception. To lie to another race of magicals is forbidden; it’s an act of aggression. But lying to yourself? That’s idiocy.” Chelsea drained her wine and shoved the wineglass toward me.
Hmm. I grabbed the bottle. At this pace, she’ll get loose. Could be an opportunity knocking. I poured a generous one and did not mark her tab. Glenna burped a bat and grinned.
“One more?”
A beaming smile. I set her up with another double, and the grin widened. Glenna was having fun, and it made no sense. Unless… it’s the note. She’s got a story to share. Cool.
The door banged open, and I jumped, god mojo gripping my skin as my throat dried to a thorny click. Whoever it was didn’t dial down one iota. Arms quaking in my shoulder sockets, I hung on the edge of the bar in a losing effort to remain upright.
“Shit,” Glenna said, ever helpful.
Chelsea stood and smoothed her dress, hands loose at her sides, fooling nobody.
“Lord Ares,” I squeaked as the armored breast plate atop a battle toga skirt thingy that appeared to be overlapping layers of bronze feathers stopped before me and straddled the stool with a clanking thud. A cough and a fresh try. “Welcome to The Boogey.”
Not any better. I held on, certain I’d drop like a stone if I released my hands. Ares looked around The Boogey and nodded, satisfied.
“You,” he pointed to Glenna. “Leave now.”
Glenna nodded and snapped, taking her drink with her. So much for learning her Nereides story. Crap.
“High Priestess.”
“God of War.”
They stared at me.
“Do you require the Keeper,” I scritched, hating my shaking voice. Ares was taking me out.
“She won’t last,” Chelsea interceded.
“A human weakling,” Ares tempered his mojo, and I slumped against the rail. “Don’t pass out, Keeper.”
“Who me? I’m good.”
Liar, but at least I wasn’t on a countdown to blasting every liquid in my body across the bar in simulcast.
“Gorgon ale, and another wine for the High Priestess.”
Rubbery thighs protesting, I got my feet moving. Ale tapped into a massive leather stein with an ornate carved and pointed lid; I used both hands to carry it to him before bringing the bottle to Chelsea and setting it next to her wine glass. Fingers scrabbling under the bar, I located my bourbon by touch and glugged a fat three-finger pour into a squat highball glass. After a long exhale, I sipped. Well, slugged. Better.
“I foresee a fight,” Ares began, his heavy voice shaking The Boogey as glassware chittered in the racks, “with each piece in play circling, seeking their positions for battle.”
He tapped the stein, and the leather moved, self embossing, a story unfolding on a cylindrical TV. Dragons flew, with the dinosaurs moving below, healthy, whole, and unconcerned with the power zooming above them. A dragon landed and rubbed necks with a T-Rex. My fingers massaged my temples. This was getting weird.
Another tap. Now Zeus, fighting with a female dragon, drew a bolt and slayed her, blood sliding in dark rivulets down the leather stein to puddle around its base as a cloud drifted from the corpse. Ares lifted the cup and drank a deep draught and set it back into the blood.
Why would Zeus kill a dragon? What purpose did that serve? I’m missing something.
Ares tapped again. The dragons flowed along the top, while wolves, cats, and bears massed underneath. A battle raged, but an old one. The scene became one of dragons, separated, herded by magicals. The banishment.
“Pay attention, Keeper.” His heavy finger hit the rim, and the embossing shifted once more.
It’s Waldo! Holy crap.
Chelsea eyed me with a slight shake, a warning to remain silent. Yeah, no worries there.
Waldo walked up to the lifeless dragon, eyed the desecration, then nodded. He pulled his beard away from his chest with both hands, staring at the strands, then pulled one, sliding his tiny thumb and forefinger along the strand as the blood seeped into the dragon’s body.
On my bar, the blood flowed up the stein.
Life returned, and she lifted her head. Waldo ran a hand along the length of her body, and she shook, changing, becoming male and disguised. Campe. Waldo changed the slain dragon into the male Campe I released. Holy Hades. Waldo clapped, and Campe vanished. A shimmer in the leather and Hades strode toward Waldo, hands flung wide in question.
Waldo pointed to the ground. Hades nodded, and the scene faded, returning to smooth leather.
Once again, tons of questions and no answers, but I know who to ask.
“I’m grateful, Lord Ares. Apollo said no Olympian would aid my task.”
Ares drained the rest of his ale in an easy pull. Gorgon was a powerhouse brew that set Dionysis on his ass on the regular, but Ares was no worse for wear. He set the stein back on the bar with a clank that flipped my gut sideways.
“They are mewling children,” he growled, mojo rising and terrifying. “War is necessary. But this one is the whim of cowards and fools. A worthy opponent requires a true battle heart and none who call for this slaughter possess it. I intervene for the war itself, not for you, human.”
He eyed me, glowering, dropped a piece of gold and stood, giving Chelsea a considering glance, and my eyes bugged as she flushed, but held his gaze. The tiniest smile cracked his features as he vanished.
“Ares? Are you kidding me?”
“He is principled; that’s sexy. Plus, in a ferocious way, Ares is a hottie.” She shrugged and sipped her wine.
Under the heavy stein, I’d noticed some blood remained. When Chelsea went to pee, I grabbed a vial, unstoppered it, and watched it flow in with no help from me.
Ares left this for me on purpose. He’s a scary mofo, but I’d take it. When I finished tonight, I’d spend time with the record. These questions weren’t gonna ask themselves.
Chapter Seventeen
So far, I had a word I couldn’t parse and a vial of blood. Gods knew why Ares gave me that, but it’s a clue, and I was determined. Or relentless. Annoying even, it depended who you asked.
Chelsea promised Dracena was out of my house, and if necessary, she’d protect Aegeus herself. Fair enough. More than fair, but with Aegeus, I pushed hard.
The record lay open on the desk, and I peered at the blank pages, mind flipping the pieces, and sighed. After digging into Drago’s tote, I pulled a decent mythology book and turned to Zeus, reading for understanding.
OK, Gaia stirred a pot, so like her, and convinced Zeus to rise against Cronus and tackle the other Titans to boot. It’s murky, but somebody, and my money was on Gaia, convinced Ol’ Big Bolts that sweet, sweet victory could be his if he harnessed the power of the Hecatonchires and the Cyclopes. Which, to be fair, totally benefited Gaia, since they were her kids, but I imagined having hundred handed warriors wouldn’t hurt.
But Campe, the female version, was guarding the goods. So Zeus killed her, grabbed them, and went on to win the war.
It felt like a sanitized story, the one Zeus wanted told. But Campe, as the revived male, gave me a clue. The sense of missing a key connection filled my brain. Paxizu. Paxi. Zu. Pa-Xizu.
Pax.
Shit, once again, I’m an idiot.
Plume in hand, I dipped the quill in the inkpot, blotted, and wrote:
I wish to speak with the Vapors in person.
This mist arrived, curling under the doors and through the cracks along the sides until the office resembled a blurred picture, every line soft and smudged. Then they pulled together, forming the figure I’d seen before in my living room. The teak chair I kept behind the door snapped open, and it sat, cocking its head.
“Thank you,” I said, surprised at how relaxing and natural chatting with a fog felt. I’ve had weirder experiences, but in this case, holding a shred of Vapor in my body made this resemble an interaction between student and teacher. To be honest, I liked it.
“I have questions, and I hope you’ll help me understand which records are true, and where the perceptions of the times colored a Keeper’s entries.”
The figure bowed and pointed at the page. I dipped my quill and paused, thinking hard.
Where in the history was the role of peace subverted?
The entity stretched an arm forward, tapped the book, and an entry rose in swirls of Vapor language. I leaned over the pages, translating, then looked at my visitor in shock.
“The asteroid was deliberate? Destruction of an entire ecosystem to upend the balance? Why, this early in the world, were the dragons seen as threatening?”
The entry faded, and a single word appeared on the page.
Pax.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Campe said Waldo, as Chaos, allowed the asteroid to strike, changing the Earth forever. Chaos also saved Campe. Not, as the myths proclaimed, imprisoned, but hidden in
Tartarus with Hades’ blessing and kept safe from Zeus. Why?
Gaia told me, before our little underworld adventure, that she’d reset the planet once. What I don’t understand was whether it’s a ham-fisted attempt to end the dragons, or… something else?
The figure nodded, and I grinned. This noodling in my brain I could handle.
“OK, if that’s how things transpired, then the dragons were peaceful. What I’m wondering is if Gaia believed the reset would destroy them as well?”
Pax faded from the page, and another entry, in Vapor whorls, surfaced. Which made sense. Events transpiring before the record passed to Ezekial Kane was a written history preserved by the Vapors.
I stared, translating several pages, then slumped into my seat and gazed at my guest, dumbstruck.
“You are peace, and dragons are also peace because at one point peace inhabited a body? And when the asteroid hit, you adapted? So now you exist as both corporeal and non-corporeal, and nobody, not even the gods, understands they can’t vanquish either form?”
Crap. My track record for missing the point remains unblemished. This peace had to be the reason. Maybe Gaia blew the world apart, but created one that saved, after millions of years, the chance for peace. It’s her creation, and she wanted each species to thrive, even the Vapors.
The Vapor dude (dudette?) leaned back into the teak seat, crossed its legs, and nodded.
“Holy crap! So when did Zeus imprison the Vapors? Was that after the asteroid reset when you and your dragon bodies separated? ”
My mist buddy tapped his temple with a foggy finger.
“Crap. I bet he riled up the magicals to imprison the dragons. His type of plan, to a freaking T. And he told the Olympians his fabricated version of truth. So why is Ares helping me if he believes that garbage?”
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