“Whoo,” a deep voice said. “Petra, darlin’, do you have any matches? Those burritos I had earlier did not sit well.” The man who hobbled out of the bathroom had a hunched back and walked with the aid of a pair of canes. His massive arms were easily as thick as both my legs put together and his shock of dark hair was held back with a leather cord. Scars pocked his face, his nose looked to have been broken multiple times, and a thick unibrow all but covered his eyes. In short, Hephaestus here had fallen out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.
While Aphrodite had clearly dressed to impress, Heph had come in what was comfortable to him. He wore a pair of black jeans, work boots, and a green flannel shirt. His craggy face broke into a smile when he saw me. “Vinnie!” He hobbled over, passed one of his canes into the other hand, and gave me a one-armed hug. I returned it. “You’re looking well, son. How’ve you been?”
“You know how it goes, Uncle Heph. Bad guys need stopping.” Hephaestus isn’t actually my uncle, but he and my father are close friends, which is good enough.
“Mmm hmm. Mmm hmm.” Heph nodded. “All right, son, you know the game. Here it is.” Hephaestus pulled a thick metal padlock from his shirt pocket and held it out to me.
“This ridiculous game again, Hephaestus?” Aphrodite sneered. “Honestly. By now I’d think you’d outgrown such childishness. You know he can Open anything.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t try, dear,” the last word was accentuated. Heph and Aphrodite have an arranged marriage. They’ve broken up and been forced back together more times than anyone can count, and that’s way more times than the myths let on.
Heph offered me the padlock a second time. I took it and nearly dropped it; it must’ve weighed fifteen pounds. The loop at the top of the lock was forged like a Mobius strip; if I ran my finger along one edge, it came out on the same side. Squinting showed tiny runes etched into the body of the lock, and those runes carried all along the Mobius strip as well. The runes glowed slightly when I touched them. “Go on, son, see if you can Open her up.”
I closed my fist around the lock and concentrated. The runes glowed bright red for about two seconds, and in that time, Heph’s eyes were twinkling. Then the lock popped open and his face fell.
“Damnation. I thought I finally had you with that one,” he said as he clapped me on the shoulder. The affectionate blow was almost enough to knock me over. I caught my balance and smiled at him. “Your Opening is just as strong as your father’s.”
“Hardly,” Aphrodite said. “Janus could open your locks from half a mile away, and I doubt your clumsy attempts at enchantment would slow him in the slightest.” Aphrodite is the goddess of beauty, sex, and lust. Manners, tact, and class are not among her domains. “If you are done playing, I would like to see what my daughter has prepared for us.”
Petra led us back to the dining room, where the table was decked out for a full spread. A pristine silk tablecloth covered the table, and white cloth napkins were folded like origami swans. The scent of roasted lamb was strong in the room, and there were three kinds of bread on the table, along with two kinds of chutney. My mouth watered and my stomach rumbled.
So did Uncle Heph’s. “Smells great, Petra darlin’,” he said as he considered his chair. He rapped on it twice with both his canes. Runes spiraled out from them, wrapping around the chair and encasing it in a soft, white light. When the light faded, the chair was a gleaming metal. “Simple transmutation,” Heph smiled as he sat down. “Wood doesn’t hold these old bones so well.”
“If the son of Janus were a true deity, you wouldn’t have to explain that,” Aphrodite sniffed. “I see you’ve laid a peasant’s table, Petra. I understand that is fashionable in this age. Very well. I do hope the food’s flavor is as appealing as its aroma.” She tossed her hair and gestured for Petra to hurry about fetching the rest of the food.
Peasant’s table? The tablecloth alone cost three hundred bucks. C’mon Petra, say something. But Petra’s face was impassive as Aphrodite seated herself.
“And how are the Urisk?” Heph asked me as Petra scurried out of the room. I wanted to follow Petra and help, but she’d reminded me to let her handle everything. If I brought food to the table, it would be an insult to Petra, essentially saying that she couldn’t perform as a hostess. I hate the old ways.
“The Urisk are fine,” I told Heph about the last few months and the steps I’d taken to defend them.
“A living city wall, eh?” he said when I told him about Aegeon. “That’s clever, Vinnie. Downright clever.”
Aphrodite tsked. “Please. We’ve been animating objects for thousands of years, and I did it first.”
“If I remember my history,” I said, “Hephaestus created those automaton tripods before you animated Galatia or Petra.”
Aphrodite dismissed me with a wave of her hand. “Don’t believe everything you read. Galatia was the epitome of animated matter, and nothing else created can compare to her.” Aphrodite glanced at Petra, who had stepped back into the room carrying trays of food. “Though, you are a close second, dear.”
Oh, that was a great opening. Go ahead, Petra, snark her!
Nothing.
I ground my teeth as Petra laid out the first course, a tomato soup with toasted bread. I wanted to snark Aphrodite on Petra’s behalf, but directly confronting Aphrodite would be bad on several levels. The biggest of which was that it would upset Petra. For now, I’d keep my mouth shut.
When we finished the soup, Petra cleared the table, disappeared back into the kitchen, and reappeared with the main dish. She set a large platter of lamb down before us. The thing looked like something straight out of Betty Crocker’s personal files. “Wow, looks great, Petra,” I said.
“Yes,” Aphrodite conceded. “And it only took you six minutes to bring it out to us. Galatia never kept me waiting more than five. In fact, the only time I ever had to wait longer was that time she had to butcher the animal herself.” Petra’s face remained calm; being an animated statue let her completely hide her emotions when she chose. Aphrodite snapped her fingers at me. “The salt.”
I levitated it over to her. She sniffed as she plucked the shaker from the air. “No table manners. Not surprising, coming from a mortal household.” Hephaestus tapped the gravy boat, which promptly grew small legs and walked over to stand in front of Aphrodite. She tapped it and the legs vanished as she glared at Heph. “You are incorrigible.”
“On that, dear wife, you are completely correct.”
The rest of the meal passed like that, Aphrodite making snide remarks or tossing out backhanded compliments. I strained to keep my mouth shut. Petra bore it dutifully. After lunch, Heph restored his chair to its original state, then lumbered over to the couch and transmuted that. As he eased his bulk down, he tossed me a small package wrapped in brown paper. “Here ya go, Vinnie. Belated birthday present.” I unwrapped it, and a slender blue-handled switchblade dropped into my palm. It was cool to the touch and was feather light.
“That there is Olympian steel,” Heph said as I snapped the knife open. The blade was about four inches long and had faint runes etched along its length. “Indestructible. You mortals think stainless steel and titanium are strong, well this stuff will survive anything, can cut through virtually anything, and,” his dark eyes twinkled, “it’s enchanted so it won’t set off any of those pain in the ass metal detectors humans keep installing.”
“Sweet. Thanks, Uncle Heph.”
Aphrodite tsked. “Reliance on weapons always struck me as weak.”
“Not all of us can have your charming personality, Aphrodite,” I said. It was out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying. Aphrodite’s brilliant eyes glowed green. Blood pounded in my ears, and I threw myself onto my knees and kissed Aphrodite’s sandals. This woman was everything in the universe to me. My goddess. Mine.
“Anything for you,” I whispered. I desperately hoped she’d tear off my clothes and take me right there. I wanted her. I need
ed her. I would give her my followers, my life, everything, more. “Simply name it, and it will be yours. I will pro—”
“Mother!” Petra shouted.
Aphrodite waved her hand, and my brain rattled in my head. The feelings of lust and devotion left me like water running down a drain. I staggered to my feet and pressed my hands against my temples as I gaped at Aphrodite. It shouldn’t be possible to mentally dominate someone born with a caul. Aphrodite guessed what I was thinking and sneered at me.
“Did you really think that pathetic little veil you were born with would protect you from me?” she asked. “Mortals,” she sniffed. “And you half breeds are the worst of the lot, always afflicted with delusions of grandeur. It is important that you remember your place, son of Janus.”
“You dare speak of places, Mother?” I glanced over and was surprised not to see frost misting from Petra’s mouth. “You have stepped well out of place today. I have followed the old ways of hospitality to the letter, Mother—”
“You made a fair attempt, child—”
“To the letter!” Petra snarled. “And I have kept to the old code, as is expected. But you, Mother, you have not. You have insulted and degraded your host after you were provided with food and shelter.”
The look of confusion on Aphrodite’s face might have been comical another time. “Host? You mean the son of Janus?”
“His name is Vincent. This is his apartment, Mother. His food. Each time you insulted the way the food was prepared or the state of the apartment, you were insulting him and me. The old ways would not stand for such poor behavior and you know it.”
“You forget your place, Petra. I made you—”
“Yes, yes, and you can unmake me, too, how well I know.” Petra mimicked Aphrodite’s dismissive gesture. “Go ahead, do it. If I’m that imperfect, if I’m that much of a displeasure to you, by all means, deanimate me. I’ll go back to being just a chunk of rock, but you, you’ll still be a miserable, superficial bitch who can’t appreciate the true beauty of the things around her.”
Aphrodite’s hand flashed out and struck Petra across the mouth. There was a crack like a batter hitting a home run. Petra didn’t flinch, but Aphrodite pulled her hand back with a yelp. A wicked grin flashed across Petra’s features. Petra may look like flesh and blood, but her skin turns as hard as stone when any significant force is applied to it. Striking her like that would’ve been like slapping a concrete wall. Aphrodite held her hand for a moment and grimaced. Full gods and goddesses can heal nearly instantly on Earth, like what I can do on the Bright Side. Aphrodite’s eyes became solid blazing orbs of green flame, and her hands were enveloped in a wicked black light.
I had a telekinetic shield halfway around Petra when Heph put his hand on Aphrodite’s shoulder. “Now then,” he said gently, “that’s quite enough of that.”
“She has no right to speak to me that way,” Aphrodite snarled without taking her eyes off Petra. Her voice echoed off of itself, making it sound like there were three of her speaking at once.
“She has every right,” Hephaestus said. “More right than anyone else in this world. She is your daughter, Aphrodite, and sometimes the only person who can bring a person into check is their child. Everything Petra said just now is true, and you know it.”
“I—” Aphrodite’s voice cracked as she turned to Hephaestus, then back to Petra. “I will not be spoken to like this.”
“Then you are a fool,” Heph said. “For only a fool does not listen to sense. You have demanded respect from Petra and she has given it. Only when you broke tradition did she.”
“I am above such things,” Aphrodite pouted.
Heph snorted. “Those things are what gave you your power in the first place. You’d be wise to pay them their respective tributes.”
Aphrodite’s eyes flared again, but quickly regained their normal coloring. With a visible effort, she composed herself. “Thank you for a pleasant meal, daughter.” Her voice was tight and it sounded like the words were being dragged out of her. “I enjoyed our conversation and look forward to spending more time with you and your man in the future.” She looked at Heph. “Come, husband. It is time we were on our way. Blessings be upon you.”
She vanished in a burst of pink light.
“Well,” Heph said, his shoulders sagging in relief, “that went better than I expected. She’ll be hellfire for the next few weeks, I suspect, but it isn’t like Olympus hasn’t dealt with that a hundred thousand times before.” He sighed and tapped his canes against the ground. Our couch returned to its normal state. He gave Petra a one-armed hug. “Thanks for the meal, darlin’. You did the right thing, standing up to your mother like that. She’d never admit it, but I could tell she’s proud of you.”
“Proud of me for mouthing off to her?”
“Proud that you stood up and defended tradition and your home,” Heph said. “Very few mortals do, and of the handful of special beings who still walk the Earth from our time, many have renounced the traditions they once held dear. You have lived your entire life among mortals, and you still keep to the old ways.”
“And that’s a good reflection on her, isn’t it?” Petra asked.
Heph laughed. “I doubt anyone would credit your manners or your discipline to Aphrodite, darlin’, but yes. Galatia may have been beautiful, but she was a downright pushover. And she didn’t have half the grace you do. I mean, honestly, would you get trampled by a herd of cattle? I’ve seen you move, Petra. There’s no way that would’ve happened to you. No, you’re superior to your sister in every way.”
“Then why the hell does Aphrodite treat her like this?” I asked.
Heph sighed as he leaned forward on his canes. “Just because Galatia was inferior doesn’t mean that Aphrodite didn’t care for her, Vinnie. Aph’s never said for sure, but I’ve lived with her long enough that I have a pretty good read on her. I think she feels that if she actually showed Petra the affection she deserves, she’d be betraying Galatia’s memory. Even though Petra’s faster, stronger, and smarter than Galatia ever was.” He stifled a belch. “A better cook, too.” He grinned. “Well, I’d best be heading home,” he said as he checked his pocket watch. “Aphrodite will probably wind up in Ares’s bed tonight.” He said the last part to himself.
“Doesn’t that bother you?” I asked.
Heph laughed again. “Are you kidding? Some nights it’s the only way I can get work done. Thank you again for the meal and conversation.” With that, he disappeared in a flash of green light.
I turned to Petra and put my arms around her. “Way to go, love.”
Petra cuddled into me. “I almost couldn’t do it,” she said. “She showed up, and all of a sudden it was just like every other time. But then she went too far. It’s one thing for her to insult me,” she said. “I’m her daughter; I expect that to a point. But I couldn’t just sit there and watch her toy with your mind. That and the way she was violating the old codes…” She trailed off. “So. We’ve eaten. Our company has left early. I just told off my mother, and you have the rest of the day off.” Her eyes were suddenly very inviting. “What shall we do with this free time?”
I rubbed my chin. “We could watch the rest of Doctor Who, season 3.” Petra grinned at me.
We did something else entirely.
Chapter 7
Bargain 19895621, Addendum A – Using sycophants to protect the target is proving too resource intensive. Two primary factors influence this – first, the nature of the target’s work requires the sycophants to expend much more energy to defend against paranormal threats. Second, the target possesses a pocket dimension that causes interference with the portals the sycophants use for traveling. It is possible that the pocket dimension itself may stop the sycophants from entering the target’s realm, and thus, impair or prevent them from protecting her. I will not fail to uphold my end of the bargain with the godling, and so am changing the nature of her protection. The godling need not be made aware of this; all that matters
is that she be kept fine.
—From Keeper Laras’s Transaction Journal
The next morning, I rolled out of bed, tripped and face-planted on the carpet. Petra stuck her head out of the closet. “Oops. Sorry about that, love.” I hauled myself to my feet and carefully stepped over the suitcase that was lying open on the floor.
“Already?” I asked, nodding to the suitcase. “How long will you be gone this time?”
“Just a week or so. We’re shooting in Antigua.” I helped Petra pack and called a cab to take her to the airport.
“Be careful,” I said as she grabbed her coat and bag.
“Don’t you worry,” she replied. “When I get back, we are going to celebrate.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Driving my mother from the apartment. I think Hallmark should make cards for that.” She kissed me, long and hard, and I most definitely returned it. “See you in about a week,” she said when we broke apart. She winked at me and left.
As the door closed behind Petra, I opened my mind to my followers. There weren’t as many prayers today, as some of the Urisk were already encased in their protective chrysalises. Those who were praying were saying daily litanies to me, while others were asking for protection during the coming eclipse. Daimin’s voice stood out as the loudest, repeatedly thanking me for saving his family and asking for the Urisk to be kept safe. I blessed him and the rest of my followers and stretched.
The apartment faded from my view and was replaced by a dim gray light. Purple mist swirled around me, completely obscuring my vision. When it settled, a figure in a rumpled dark suit stood before me. “Why, Orcus, fancy meeting you here.” The god of oaths has always reminded me a bit of a gorilla. It could be because he’s built just like one and nearly as hairy.
Orcus shook his head at me. “You must think you’re real clever, kid.”
“Well, yeah, actually.” Orcus openly scowled at me. “Look, what do you want to hear?” I asked. “I found a way to keep the promise. Megan stays fine; I don’t go to Tartarus; everybody wins.”
Promise: Caulborn #2 Page 12