Poseidon was so big he’s easy to pick out, but I couldn’t find him. The surf crashed, regrouped and rushed the shore, and I watched as the sea grew rougher with every new set of waves. There’s nothing subtle about the strengthening.
A deep vertical channel formed at the water’s edge, sucking back in a hard rip current. The lifeguard jeep moved along the beach, under The Boogey’s pier, which I could see from my balcony, and eased to a stop near the rip.
“Leave now, Boogie beach is closed due to dangerous rip tides.”
Tides? As in plural? I scanned the shore; there were several of these and they showed up at the same time. That was unnatural.
The sea grew violent, slamming together on either side of the rip channels, and I picked up the binoculars I kept by my chair and peered at the base of The Boogey.
Shit. A rip! Right on the line!
My pier, taking a relentless beating, rocked. The ocean exploded, enormous waves crashing together and tossing tons of water into the sky. Around the pilings under The Boogey, huge eddies whirled.
It’s an attack! But how? It doesn’t look like it’s happening from our side.
“That’s because it isn’t,” I muttered to the empty balcony. “It’s a Vapor attack from the magic side.”
Was one god enough? No idea. One thing I had was a bell. I raced for the elevator and jumped into my car, hauling ass to The Boogey. The pier heaved, and I stumbled several times, crashing into the high railings and trying to bounce-run the length to reach my office. Outside the wooden door, I’m overwhelmed by a sense of dread.
No. Don’t do it. Go in the regular way.
I jammed the key in the big glass door and stepped in, hanging onto the handle. The decking shuddered under my feet.
Dammit! Now I have to re-nail the entire floor. I may never get her open at this rate, you damned smoggy jackwads.
Halfway to my office, the board under my foot gave way, nails scratching deep into the thigh of my good leg. Teeth gritted, I yanked it out of the hole and crawled, leaving a bloody smear across the bucking boards. Black Vapor mold coated my door.
Oh, fuck no. But, Chelsea said these act as exploration channels, so they couldn’t get through them, right?
Careful not to touch the mold, I unlocked the door and opened the hidden panel that held the book. As soon as I grabbed the bell from the inner recess, I slammed the cupboard shut, magically securing it. The Boogey heaved as I rung the bell, pops filling my restaurant. Chelsea grabbed me by the neck.
“Vapors! Attacking from the magical side. Poseidon left to fight them.”
“You idiot!”
She snapped and I was on my knees, puking.
“Stay here. Listen and do as you’re told.” Chelsea’s eyes blazed green and she was gone.
Based on the size of the puddle in front of me, I judged I was nowhere near Florida. I shoved dirt over the mess and leaned up against a tall tree, breath ragged. Why was she so pissed? This was a coordinated attack, so calling the witches seemed like the best option. When the gods put the Vapors in their place before it was gods, plural. If they now fight a fraction of that power, it’s to their advantage, right?
A raccoon lumbered into view. OK, so I’m in North America? Do they have raccoons in Europe? Woozy, I clambered onto my feet and gazed while limping in a circle, but there’s nothing but trees. I needed to be higher. To the left was a huge fallen tree, as high as my waist. I pulled myself up, wincing at my bloody leg. Good thing my tetanus shot was current. With a groan, I pushed myself upright and checked around for civilization.
That’s a roof. Wait a damn minute, that’s MY roof. She zapped me to woods near my house in the mountains.
“Chelsea told me not to move,” I confided to the raccoon. “Is this a test?”
The raccoon sat on its haunches and chittered.
“You’re friendly for a wild creature.”
Are there raccoon shifters? Is this a guard? Or a snitch? I wore shorts and a tee shirt, and it’s all of fifty degrees. My shivers were deciding for me. I either needed more clothing or to get into my house. I cocked my head at the raccoon trying to sense a signature. There’s something, but it’s muted.
“So, you packing any human clothes to loan a half-frozen Florida girl?”
The raccoon dropped back onto all fours and started moving toward the cabin, looking back at me.
Cool, no need to ask me twice, between the chill and pain my teeth were chattering. I followed the critter, barefoot, hoping that one, Chelsea didn’t kill me, and two, that this wasn’t a trap. I was more worried about the former. An ambush this nuanced wasn’t the Vapor’s style.
I pulled the spare key out from under the rock and unlocked the door.
“Are you coming?”
The raccoon sat and trilled, an alarmed bandit.
“Okay, I’m getting warm clothes, and coming right back. If we need to return to the woods, that’s fine. Not being punished is preferable.”
More trilling followed me into the house and I stopped dead. Vapor mold covered every interior wall. Horrified, I grabbed a sweatshirt, jeans, socks, boots, and my heaviest coat and ran back to the porch, yanking everything on as fast as possible.
“Can you take me to the tree?”
The raccoon lumbered with awkward flops down the steps and I paused in the yard to jam on socks and boots and zip my coat.
Warmer. Better. Also, holy crap. What did these things want with me? The Boogey was one thing. It’s the door. The access point. This was nowhere near the line. It’s confusing, and after today, I doubt anyone’s in the mood to entertain questions. Perfect.
I’d contemplated violent death before, because I couldn’t have dying consume my brain. At some point, peace with death had to happen, or I’d lose my shit. My only tiny prayer was that it’s quick. Who knew if my petition was heard or considered. The raccoon paused at the spot Chelsea dropped me and rubbed his little hands.
“Thanks,” I told the raccoon as I climbed back up on the fallen tree and sat, resting my sore leg. It’s swelling, stretching the leg of my jeans tight.
Ballard. Shit. We just got a new normal, and I vanished. Stuck for who knows how long and going into Vaporfest to use the telephone ain’t happening.
I slapped my pockets with futility, knowing my phone was somewhere on the floor of The Boogie, if not fallen into the sea. If the floor, bar, or world remained at this point. It may be the end of everything I held close.
“Well, that’s dramatic.”
I jumped, locking eyes with a petite, dark-skinned woman emanating a hellacious signature.
“Raccoon shifter?”
A slim finger pointed at the raccoon who looked indignant, if that’s possible with raccoons, and she laughed.
“Okay, that’s a no, may I ask who you are?”
“Of course,” she said, and laughed again.
You can ask but she’s not obligated. Fine.
Chapter 16
My swollen leg was becoming a problem, and I winced, then swallowed a moan as I shifted on the fallen tree.
“What happened?”
“I fell when a board gave away, and the wood and nails messed up my leg.”
“May I see the damage?”
With the swelling I wasn’t sure I’d get these jeans back on if I took them off, but spandex was every woman’s friend, right? I wriggled and pushed the jeans over my bloody thigh, and she bent over the wound with interest.
“That’s a nasty injury. It’s infecting.”
I took a chance. “Are you a healer?”
“Oh, no, but I know someone.”
A crunch of snapping branches announced a newcomer to this little ‘banishment before punishment’ party, and I looked up and blinked. Ho-lee shit.
“You’re hurt?” Liquid dark eyes held mine. “I’m Clep.”
Why yes, yes you are, you enormous mountain man. And you are fine. I was sitting in my panties with my jeans around my knees, but I’ve been caught in weirder situat
ions.
“May I?”
I nodded, voiceless. Mountain had a serious signature with gorgeous dark skin and eyes. This was no run-of-the-mill fae king; he’s way beyond that. As it washed over me, it took everything I had to not quake.
“There is salt in these wounds, and dirt from beyond. How?”
“Oh! Um, I fell on the line.”
This was risky, because I was the Keeper, and I’d never met these magicals. But, I was on deck to receive the punishment of my life, based on Chelsea’s livid green eyes, so I might as well go all in with this Keeper-who-wouldn’t-stay-in-her-lane mode. I hoped Chelsea wouldn’t shave my head or load me up with warts.
“Ah, I see,” he murmured, laying a hand on my thigh. Green tendrils erupted from his palm and laced my leg, wrapping my thigh. One slipped under the elastic of my panties and warmed up my lady bits; it took some doing to remain silent.
The wound on my leg was on fire though, which was a useful distraction. Detritus lifted from the rips and punctures, floating above the skin as he examined the specks, nodding.
“Interesting.”
When cells repaired and knitted a wound together at high speed, it’s an odd sensation. The body regenerated all the time, but the rebuilding process was slow. Hyper-healing was like pure energy coursing under and through the skin. The buzz of a low grade electric shock rocked through you, but without the fear of electrocution.
“There, I restored your leg.”
Clep pulled his hand away. The tendrils wrapped around the floating dirt and salt pulled from the wound, pressing it into a tiny diamond that bobbed to the woman, who tucked it into the leather bag worn at her waist.
“Thank you, Clep. I am grateful.”
“Tell me of the line.” This was not a request.
“May I show you?”
A perfunctory nod and I slid off the tree, pain free, yanked up my jeans, and walked toward the cabin. The unusual group fell in behind me. At the bottom step of the porch, I stopped and glanced up at Clep, then climbed the steps and opened the door.
The walls were shimmering with black. It’s like they are closer to breaking through here, somehow. But, why?
“How long has this been here?” Clep boomed, making me jump.
“I don’t know. When witch Chelsea brought me to the woods an hour ago, I came here to get warmer clothes. They were here, but not this bad.”
“They.” He shot me an appraising look. “So, you know what they are?”
“Yes.”
“Go back to the yard. Stay off the porch.”
I scrambled because I was getting him, understanding this signature. Think, Patra.
My foot barely connected with the earth before the rumbling sound started, that of a train running through the house. Pebbles bounced as the ground shook, keeping time with a raccoon trilling in fright. The woman and I retreated to the edge of the yard as the walls of my sweet mountain cabin flexed. The low-pitched rumble, accompanied by the shrieks of dying Vapors, filled the little clearing.
Horrified, I watched as my house contracted, then exploded straight up into the air, raining down bits of shattered wood, glass, nails, and personal bits of memorabilia in gravity’s bounty.
Clep strode through the falling chunks of cabin and straight to me, eyes flashing in a way I recognized, cementing my suspicion.
“Tell me everything.” His hand closed around my neck and he lifted me high, glaring.
I squeaked.
“She’ll do better if you release her throat,” offered the woman. The raccoon nodded.
“Asclepius, forgive me,” I wheezed, kneeling on the ground and concentrating on oxygen. “I did not recognize you.”
Clep’s face revealed nothing as I relayed the battle for the line, the timeline, that Poseidon was fighting this threat, and that I’d called the witches, one who banished me here.
“You thought you needed to help a god, human?” Clep’s tone, amused, had a hint of surprise.
“I don’t understand these Vapors, and it felt like a mis-matched fight.”
“Very well.” A long finger tapped my throat and air stopped being elusive. I sucked in a big breath and grinned.
“And you are the Keeper.” He cocked his head and straightened, rising high above. “I thought... Well, that’s another tale.”
Clep shimmered and vanished. I looked at the woman, catching her wink as she faded.
“Just you and me, kid,” I said to the raccoon, who turned and lumbered into the woods. Perfect.
No house, no shelter, and the sun was setting. It’s shaping up to be a long cold night. I hoped Chelsea remembered she left me here. At least I won’t die of gangrene. Yippee.
“You are beyond whiney.”
“Chelsea!”
“What happened to the cabin?”
“Asclepius killed the Vapors and mowed it flat.” I tried to keep my voice light, but I didn’t make it.
“Good.” She reached out, grabbed my hand and snapped.
On hands and knees, I stared at my rug, barfed, and passed out.
I woke on my couch, staring up at pairs of interested eyes peering at me, whirling in a circle. I groaned as unnamed voices swirled around my aching head.
“I may have be a potion to curb that vertigo.”
“Sometimes incapacitating them is useful.”
“But other times it isn’t helpful.”
“True.”
The spinning faces were slowing and beginning to catch, letting me put names to blurs. A pissed off Chelsea, a bemused Glenna, and several other regulars swum into place and stuck as the vertigo settled.
“Ow, my head hurts.”
“More whining,” Chelsea muttered, as Glenna fished a potion from her bag and handed it to me.
I swallowed, and it was damned near miraculous. A leap off the sofa and running a 5K sounded feasible. The Boogey! I pushed to my feet and tottered to the balcony, relieved to see the bar was still standing.
“No thanks to you,” Chelsea joined me at the railing. “I should pick you bald.”
“For what it’s worth, I was trying to help.”
“A god?” Her tone was incredulous.
“Yeah, that was Asclepius’ reaction, too.”
“Did it occur to you Poseidon could call me if he needed me?”
I blinked. No, it did not. I’m an idiot.
“Pretty much.”
“Chelsea, I’m sorry. The stakes felt overwhelming.”
“To a mortal, sure. To Poseidon? I doubt it.”
I stared at the sea, a fool on a balcony.
“For now, I will hold off punishing you, even though your actions placed the book in peril, disregarding the Keeper’s primary responsibility.”
“I used the human doors. When I reached the magical side, it filled me with fear.”
“Grateful for every glimmer of light you get. Patra, I would not enjoy ending you.”
I shot her a side eye and nodded. “I value this friendship, as improbable as it is, Chelsea.”
We watched the rolling surf, covered in the sense of avoided darkness.
“Tonight, I will create a space to store your bell, away from the book. Screw that up once more and you’re dead.”
“Understood. I’ll add this to my journal.”
The coffee table had a modified hiding spot that’s as secure as the book’s space in The Boogey, so I palmed the table and fetched the notebook. As I wrote the record, the words appeared in the book, while the journal page remained blank. I could write with any tool in the journal, a pen, crayon, a finger dipped in blood as I was dying, anything.
Careful to go slow and get the details, the timing, and the conversations correct, I recorded the episode, ending with Chelsea’s promise. Zero words minced. Down the line, I might save another Keeper.
When finished, I perused the big bookshelves, chose a well-thumbed book of Greek mythology, and looked up Asclepius. Son of Apollo and a mortal, an obligatory soliloquy on the pe
rils of cheating women, death and resurrection by Zeus after drawn out episodes of messy family stuff, resulted in making Clep the god of healing and medicine.
At least he didn’t show up with a big wooden staff full of snakes. Consider it a bonus. To be fair, Poseidon didn’t carry his trident either, his version of being discreet. The vision of his little red speedo crossed my mind, curving my lips into a smile.
Chelsea cleared her throat.
No worries, I’m not falling for Big Red.
He’s not here.
How did you talk in my head? Wait, don’t answer that.
That wasn’t worthy of a response.
Poseidon IS here, it’s not the full.
Suit yourself.
No, wait, I’m sorry, Chelsea. Where did he go?
“Poseidon let himself be pulled into the space between. Now he’s thinning the herd.” Glenna’s voice cut through our silent conversation and I stood, blinking, bare assed and dumb, a Keeper’s given in most situations.
The question of how that’s possible sat on my tongue, but I shut my mouth with a snap. That would not be answered, and I liked my hair. Time to regroup and shift the narrative.
“Anyone hungry?”
Chapter 17
Fresh from my doctor’s appointment and the expected ‘take it easy’ lecture, Charlie looked at me and picked up a hammer. I grabbed the other one and we worked in tandem, beginning on the pier, working toward the front door, and pounded the nails back into the decking. At this rate, it would take at least three days.
“Not gonna mince words, Patra. Damage from a rip seems weird, almost as if the earth had it in for The Boogie. This is worse than Hurricane Matthew.”
“It’s a freak event to have a rip current zip out right under the pilings, Charlie. I’ll give you that.”
I pushed my headphones back on to stop the questions and pounded nails. By one, we finished the entry pier, secured the flooring into the lobby and started the kitchen. A tap on his shoulder put Charlie’s eyes on mine and I pointed to my belly.
“Where?”
“Let’s go to Pico’s, it’s Tuesday.”
Fifteen minutes later we had $1.50 drafts and three $1 tacos apiece. Charlie downed both and ordered another set. A second beer worked for me, and I leaned back on my barstool, fortified. Charlie wiped his mouth and swiveled his stool to face me.
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