“We have plans tonight.”
“I don’t recall making plans.” What the hell was Cori talking about?
“You didn’t, but I did.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “For both of us. We’re double dating.”
“Ian! The old hag has fingered our grandson with her magic. And with a bloody mortal. How dare you let this happen, Faerie King!”
Weary of the matter, Oberon squeezed the hand Tanna placed on his shoulder and only nodded at Odin’s frustrated bellow. Without his wife’s support, he wasn’t sure he would have had the strength for this meeting.
“Cut the crap, Odin.” Aphrodite had said little until this point. “What in Hades do you think goes on in your realm that you don’t know about or have no control over? Besides, it’s not like you haven’t been under the skirts of numerous mortal women, so you have no room to condemn your grandson’s choice in a female.” The goddess pushed a gold lock of hair off her shoulder and glared at the God of Wisdom. “Sometimes, I wonder what I saw in you.”
“I can give you a list of what you saw in me. The question is what did I—”
“Stop. Both of you.” Tanna stamped her foot and glared from one godly face to the other. “We are here to discuss the effect this situation will have on our grandson.”
Oberon didn’t believe his ears. His sweet, gentle wife had just laid the law down to two powerful gods. Her fair skin turned even paler when she realized what she’d done. He knew it was time for him to take matters in hand.
“My Queen is right.” He smiled at his wife and turned to Odin. “As to your reference of a mortal, did you not hear all I said? The woman in question has magical blood in her veins, though she appears to be unaware of it. She’s not a full mortal.”
Done with Odin for the moment, he turned to the Greek goddess.
“Aphrodite, love is your specialty. Isn’t there some way you can counteract this magic?”
The goddess toyed with the bangles on her arm. Her slender arm held so much gold, Oberon often wonder how she could lift it.
“Yes, usually I can. But if what the old hag says is true, and this is directed by the Powers, I can’t interfere.”
That ends this discussion. Better come up with a new plan. “The hag may be a persistent thorn in my side, but she is truthful. I have never known her to lie.”
Odin snapped the patch that covered his all-seeing eye. “And I didn’t see this coming. Something must be wrong with my senses.”
“Get over it, big boy.” Aphrodite sneered at the male she once couldn’t keep her hands off of. “If the Powers had wanted any of us to know in advance, we would have. Now we need to figure out what is best for Ian. Or if he’s even interested is this half mortal.”
“Exactly.” Oberon smiled at the others. “Aphrodite, I suggest you pay Ian a visit to discover his level of interest in this Emma Grant.”
A nod of her golden head gave Oberon a sense of relief.
“And Odin, we should pay a visit to this woman and discover what she feels for our grandson.” He smiled at Tanna, knowing her answer, but still he asked. “Would you like to venture out into the world with us, my dear?”
“I’ll stay here and beseech the Powers for a good outcome.”
“Very well, then. It is decided.”
“What of the faerie Morgana and her insistence to create mischief?” Tanna asked.
His wife’s question dispelled Oberon’s moment of contentment.
Chapter Sixteen
“Holy crap.” Emma winced as she plundered through the bathroom cabinet in search of Cori’s ibuprofen stash. This morning’s headache from hell pounded in her temples, and she needed drugs bad. “At last. Why does the crazy blonde bury the important stuff at the back?” Words passed her lips unfit for children’s ears as she wrestled with the childproof top. A bitch of a hangover always put her in a really foul mood. No, that wasn’t true. Bitter disappointment contributed to her evil temper.
Thinking about Rick’s sweaty hands and dead-fish lips, she shivered in repulsion. Nice guy he might be, but not for her. Her first date since the “Scotland experience” had been a resounding failure.
Success at last. The plastic bottle cap turned, giving Emma access to her cure-all. “If two are good, four should be better.” She tossed the caplets in her mouth, washing them down with tap water that she should have let run longer to get rid of the metallic taste.
Ah, the joys of old plumbing, which of course come with an old house.
She winced at the woman staring back at her in the mirror. Her eyes looked like two pee holes in the snow—sunken depths in her pale face.
Crying yourself to sleep obviously doesn’t qualify as a beauty benefit.
“Are you going to stand there admiring your pasty pallor all morning?” Cori leaned against the door jamb, the scowl on her face matching her tone.
“Nope. Bathroom’s all yours.” Emma headed for the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. While the elixir of the gods brewed, she flipped on the television. The perky weather forecaster made her want to puke as she projected another day of three digit temperature readings.
Bitch! You wouldn’t sound so happy if you had to be out in it all day.
“Great. Just great! Love my life.” She poured the steaming brew into two mugs and doctored the one for Cori with two liberal spoonfuls of sugar and a good dose of half and half. “The woman needs to learn how to drink coffee instead of turning it into a frou-frou beverage.”
“Do realize how much you talk to yourself these days?”
Startled, Emma whirled around and sloshed coffee on her hand from the un-doctored cup she’d just picked up. “Damn. Hot.” Licking her burned skin, she cast a glare at her roommate. “Seems your evening has put you in a good mood this morning. You and Jim were sliding all over each other like mud wrestlers last night.”
“Yeah, it was great until Rick came back to the car and made some asinine remark about how weird you are, and then Jim laughed at it way too hard. Can’t have a couple of stupid men trash talking my best friend even if she is a nut case. So I told them both to shove it.” Cori shrugged. “He wasn’t that great anyway. If he’d tickled my tonsils one more time with his tongue, I planned to bite it off.”
Look what you’ve done now. You’ve screwed up a chance for Cori to make a connection. “Sorry, Cor.”
“No biggie. Like I said, he wasn’t that great. Didn’t hold a candle to George Clooney.” Cori’s grin changed to a frown. “I’m really worried about you, heart sister.”
Emma gave her friend a one-armed hug. “Goodness, look at the time. We both need to get a move on or we’ll be late for work.” She rushed from the room before the threatening storm of tears broke. Emma in tears would really give Cori something to worry about.
Hot, hot, hot. Emma dabbed at her face with the shredded tissue and tried to ignore the swelter as she focused on the group of twenty people surrounding her. Launching into her spiel on the Brown Palace Hotel, she checked the group with a quick glance to make sure no one was on the verge of heatstroke.
“Rumor has it, when an upscale hotel manager turned Henry Brown away for wearing his boots, he unwittingly opened himself up for competition. The crusty old rancher decided he’d build his own hotel where he could wear what he wanted and not have some sissified dude looking down his nose at him.” She wiped the sweat from her top lip. “Now you know both versions of the story—the one in the history books and the one that is reported to be the actual reason the hotel exists. Some call it a rumor. Your choice on which one you prefer.”
She scanned the back row. As usual on these tours, she’d picked up a couple hangers-on. Should she confront the two or just let them tag along? Today was not a day for confrontation. It was too hot to care if a couple of old guys hung around the edge of her tour group and picked up a little local history.
Besides, the big guy looked like a Hells Angel with that blond beard and eye patch. He was big enough to be
an established part of the Rocky Mountain range, and she really wasn’t in the mood to tangle with him today.
The little guy—from the looks of him, he couldn’t hurt a fly. When he walked, he almost floated, reminding her of the way Ian’s staff moved around the castle. Her chest tightened. No, not going there.
At Union Station, the now hopping remodeled hub of Denver transportation, she still had her extra group members. The big guy leaned down to catch something the little one said. What an odd couple. And a couple they appeared to be, the way they exchanged glances and listened intently to any comment the other made.
Where there gay Hells Angels? Big Boy could have fooled her if he wasn’t hanging with someone so light on his feet. The little guy made Renny, her gay friend who referred to himself as a queen, seem straight.
Big Boy winked when her glance connected with his good eye.
Don’t be coming on to me, you old fart. I’m not ready to have my ass kicked by your short friend for trying to take his man.
“During its heyday, Union Station became a buzzing nest of travelers and the arrival point for the staples a city needed to keep it thriving. Trains brought in hordes of Easterners who hoped to strike it rich in the gold rush either by staking claims or profiting from the needs of others. Denver was a boom town, and with it came problems.”
Curious about what appeared to be a heated conversation between the odd couple, Emma struggled to keep her mind on relating the history of pioneer Denver. When she’d imparted her last bit of information to the group, she directed them toward the Sixteenth Street Mall where they could take advantage of the free shuttle to indulge in shopping, eating, or wandering.
Suggesting a few of the businesses that would give her a kickback on the tourists’ spending, she reminded them to tell the shop owners Emma sent them. Turning, she came face to face with Big Boy.
Uh-oh. “Yes. Do you have another question?”
“We’re new in town and wondered if you would educate us on more of the area over lunch.” Big Boy tugged at his beard and glanced down at this friend. “On us, of course.”
No, was on the tip of her tongue, but Emma paused.
Why are you even considering lunch with a couple of strangers who are—strange? So not like you, girl.
The smaller man looked up at her and smiled, nodding.
What the hell? I’m starving, and a free lunch works. And it means air-conditioning.
“Okay, what sounds good to you?”
“Are there any pubs close?”
It was the first time the short man had spoken, and his lyrical voice surprised her. Distracted by a soft tinkling of bells, she glanced around.
“Sure, there’s one a few blocks over.” A cold Guinness would taste really good.
Unease played across the back of Emma’s neck after they settled in their seats at the Celtic Tavern. The two men stared at her as if they’d never seen a woman. She really didn’t look that weird, did she?
“Excuse me, gentlemen, I need to powder my nose.” In the bathroom she headed for the mirror. A quick check proved her hair was a little messy, okay more like plastered to her head from sweating as much as an iron worker at a blast furnace, and her clothes were limp remnants of what they were when she left the house. So maybe the old boys were right.
“Glad you fellows decided to eat inside.” She couldn’t believe the waitress asked if they wanted a table out on the blazing concrete.
“I’m not much for long periods in the sun.” The little man offered her a smile.
At least she had something in common with him, but she didn’t know his name. They didn’t get around to introductions. Another abnormal thing for her to miss. “I’m Emma Grant.”
The two looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.
Was it so hard for them to remember their names?
The big guy coughed and met her gaze with his good eye. “I’m Odin, and my friend here is Oberon.”
A couple of Os, nice. Keep a straight face.
“What brings you to Denver? Do you plan to settle here?”
Once again, they exchanged the raised eyebrows look. At this rate, it was going to be a long lunch. Getting information from these two was like pulling teeth, and she’d never wanted to be a dentist.
“We’re checking out the city—more like passing through.” Oberon’s musical voice filled the air.
For a moment, Emma could have sworn she heard bells tinkling again.
“Yeah, we’ve never been in Denver and want to see what it’s all about.” Odin gave her an unblinking stare. “What about you? Have you always lived here?”
“I grew up in Charleston.” They looked at her blankly. “South Carolina.”
“Aaah.” Oberon nodded. “You don’t talk like you’re from the South.”
“I’ve lived here long enough my accent’s gone unless I’m around Southerners.”
“You’re a tour guide?”
Odin’s eye had never left her face and he was really creeping her out.
“Do you guide tours other than here in the city?”
“Yes, I am, and sometimes I do.” Grateful their drinks had finally arrived, Emma took a long gulp of her Guinness. The tickly feeling crawled across the back of her neck again as the two men watched, their beers untouched.
“Do you enjoy your work?”
Why did she hear the tinkle of bells when Oberon said something? The heat must be playing with her mind.
“I do, but enough about me.” Had the inquisition made people in those days feel as defensive as she did right now? This wasn’t a normal getting to know you session. More like a grilling. So far, neither had asked one question about the area. She could play their game.
“What about you fellows? Where are you from?” Once again, with the raised eyebrows each time they glanced at each other. Were they reading each other’s minds or what?
“I’m from here and there.” For the first time, Odin didn’t hit her with the evil-eye and instead checked out the tables around them.
“You must like to travel.” Someday, she’d become as footloose as he sounded, but she’d never return to Scotland. “What’s your favorite place of all the ones you’ve been to so far?”
The big man picked up his beer and polished off half before he set down. “Probably a place that’s very out of the way and doesn’t get a lot of visitors.” He actually winked instead of leveling her with the dead-eyed stare.
“Sounds nice.” There probably weren’t a lot of those spots left, but he obviously had discovered one. “And you?” Emma turned her attention to Oberon who sat quietly listening.
The little man smiled. “I’ve spent some time in Scotland.”
The blood rush from her face left her light-headed.
That’s not exactly the country I want to indulge in a conversation about these days.
“And so have I.” Odin gave a big toothy grin. “Have you been there?”
If she lied, they’d drop the subject, but why should she? She couldn’t spend the rest of her life denying she’d toured Scotland. Did she expect the women she now called friends to forget their time together and never mention it when she heard from them?
Grow up! Everyone has memories they may want to forget.
“Yes, I’ve been in Scotland. It’s a beautiful country.”
“Aye, lass, that it is.” A dreamy expression flitted across Oberon’s face. “How did you like the people? Did you meet anyone interesting?”
Her heart plummeted to her stomach before it bounced back and pounded against her ribs. He couldn’t have asked a more painful question if he’d tried.
“The people were nice.”
“Did you meet anyone in particular?” A sly look spread across Odin’s face.
Who the hell are these guys? It’s like they know exactly what happened and if so, why the hell do they need to ask questions about it?
“It’s time for me to go. I have another tour shortly.” So what if that was
a lie. She needed to get away from them. It didn’t matter that her imagination played games with their questions. She’d had enough.
“What about your lunch, lass?” Oberon appeared concerned. “You must be hungry after the long walk.”
“Sorry, but service has been too slow. You fellows enjoy yours, though. Maybe I’ll see you later.” Not if I can help. She smiled and waved.
Outside in the blistering sun, Emma briefly regretted her decision. Maybe she should have stayed and eaten the fish and chips. But Odin and Oberon had started to make her very uncomfortable.
Odin and Oberon. Holy crap. Those are the names of the characters in the Ian Nordic books! How weird is that? So help me, if Cori put these guys up to pranking me, her ass is grass.
A movement from above caught her eye, and she looked up in time to see a bright ball of light descending directly at her.
Greeted by a blast of cool air when she entered the front door, Emma heard the slam and bang of dishes. She followed the noise to the kitchen and discovered Cori putting together a cobb salad. Crap, Emma had hoped for something more substantial than greens, even if Cori had included some chopped chicken.
Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Cori’s usual idea of cooking is to throw a TV dinner in the microwave.
Cori looked up from her chopping. “How did it go today? Was it as miserable as the thermometer indicated?”
“Yeah, it sucked.” Emma grabbed a couple of baby carrots and munched as she watched the knife bounce up and down on the cutting board. “Think I’ll grab a quick shower and wash off some of the sweat.” She filched a bite of chicken from a bowl.
“Back off, woman. You act like you haven’t eaten in a week. What did you have for lunch?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean?” Cori paused in her chopping and placed her hands on her hips, letting the knife dangle. “If you didn’t eat lunch, what did you do this afternoon?”
Beyond Magic (Magical Love Book 1) Page 14