Evernight Publishing ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2014 Nicola Cameron
ISBN: 978-1-77233-171-4
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
For Colby, Karl, and Cameron—my Baltimore boys.
BREAKER ZONE
Olympic Cove, 2
Nicola Cameron
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
Ian West, God of Storms, stared at the cloudless blue sky over the cove. He hefted his trident, sighting up the shaft as he aimed the dark grey tines upwards, and concentrated.
Nothing happened. He concentrated some more.
Still nothing.
There was a small sigh behind him. “I believe the human phrase is, put your back into it,” an urbane voice said.
“I’m trying. It’s not working.”
Another sigh. “Three days ago you were able to disable a hurricane with no focusing agent or any sort of training. And now you expect me to believe you can’t condense a single small cloud on a bright day?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I expect you to believe.” Ian jammed the butt of the trident into the sand, turning to glare at Poseidon, God of the Seas. “I don’t know how I disabled the hurricane, all right? You want to know how I did it, go ask Gaia. She’s the one who gave me the ability to do it in the first place.”
“I did ask her,” Poseidon said calmly. “She was quite mystified. According to her, you shouldn’t have been able to touch complex energy like that, much less control it.”
Ian repressed a shiver at the thought of the Earth Mother’s attention. “Maybe it was instinctive.”
One auburn eyebrow rose at that. “Instinctive? For a former mortal to control the weather? Another human phrase just came to mind—‘Pull the other one, it has got bells on.’”
Ian swallowed a few choice curse words. Telling the father of his mates to go fuck himself wasn’t the smartest thing to do, no matter how satisfying it would be. “I know you don’t believe me, but it was instinct,” he said instead. “I knew how hurricanes worked, knew I had to shut it down, and just did what felt right. I don’t know how else to describe it.” He pointed his free hand at the turquoise cove. “This is something completely different.”
The other god studied him, then finally shrugged. “Perhaps we’re approaching this from the wrong angle,” he said. “Whereas it would simply be an effort of will for me, it seems to be more of an intellectual process for you, most likely due to your common origins.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“It’s the truth,” Poseidon said, unperturbed. “So. Do you know how a cloud forms over water?”
Still annoyed, Ian thought about the meteorological processes he’d researched for his eco-thriller Greenstrike. “Sunlight warms water and causes it to evaporate. That creates a layer of warm, moist air. Since heat rises, this gets boosted up into the atmosphere. When the layer reaches a certain point, it starts to cool, and some of the water vapor molecules start clumping together. Get enough of them condensing, and you get a cloud.”
“Simplistic but accurate enough for our purposes,” Poseidon said. “And of course when large amounts of water vapor condense, you get rain or snow. And if that warm air mass meets a cooler, drier mass, it can precipitate water vapor condensation over a large area, causing widespread cloud formation that, under the right circumstances, can become a storm.”
“Thank you, Bill Nye.”
Poseidon frowned. “Who?”
Ian repressed the urge to roll his eyes. “Never mind. So what am I trying to do?”
“Focus on the surface of the water. Gather the vapor and force it to coalesce as it rises into the air.”
Grimly, Ian turned back to the water and pointed the titanium trident at the space directly over the waves, narrowing his concentration. One of the more useful things about his new powers was the ability to zoom in and out on objects down to the atomic level. Within moments, he spotted shimmering spheres of water vapor separating from the tops of the waves, dancing up into the sky.
He tried to gather the vapor droplets together as they drifted upwards. It felt like herding fireflies, but he finally managed to shove enough of them together to form a wisp of cloud over the cove. Pulling back his concentration, he discovered he was breathless and dripping with sweat.
“Shit. Is it always going to be that hard?” he panted.
“No. You’ll get better with practice.” Poseidon studied the small drift of water vapor. “Not bad, not bad at all. Now dissolve it.”
“What? Why?”
“You can’t create weather and then just leave it to its own devices. That’s how natural disasters get started.”
Ian boggled at the idea. “I’ve made bigger steam clouds than that cooking spaghetti. What the hell is that tiny puff going to do?”
“At the moment, nothing,” Poseidon said. “But it could drift further inland, gathering water vapor and increasing in size as it goes. It’s a warm, sunny day—plenty of moisture in the air for it to feed on. Next thing you know, it’s grown into a cloud bank, sucking in more water and expanding even more as it drifts over the land.”
He cupped a hand, bringing it to the one holding his golden trident. “And then it meets a cooler, drier mass of air, and tries to rise to get over it. But it reaches its expansion point and starts to cool. Its load of water vapor condenses, turning into rain. The masses of air also create charged ions, so now you have a thunderstorm. The storm moves even further inland, meeting yet another mass of cooler air.”
The trident was shifted to the crook of his elbow and both hands now drew parallel circles in the air. “The masses churn, violently shearing over each other. A rotating vortex of air is created this way, and one end slowly falls to earth. When it reaches the ground, it begins to suck up dirt and debris, turning the vortex dark and visible. The new tornado proceeds to rip apart trees, throwing cars around like toys, erasing homes from their foundations. It kills people and animals, demolishes property, and leaves a raw scar of destruction in its wake. All because you couldn’t be bothered to stop it when it was just a tiny puff.”
Ian flinched at the description of disaster. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.” Poseidon leaned on his trident, studying the frail wisp of cloud over the cove. “I’m not teaching you how to control the weather for the fun of it, you know. I’m here because the weather is one of the most important planetary control systems Gaia has, and since you now have control over it you must be taught what you can and cannot do. For all their size, weather patterns are actually quite fragile, and can be changed in monumental ways by relatively small things. I assume you’ve heard the phrase ‘the butterfly effect’?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s quite apt. A small waft of vapor here can spawn into a killer tornado a hundred miles away. Which is why I’m now asking you to dissolve that cloud. Please.”
Dry-mouthed, Ian concentrated on driving the vapor particles apart. Slowly, the cloud melted away, leaving nothing but clear air. “Okay?”
“Perfect,” Poseidon said, hefting his trident. “Well, I think that’s en
ough for today. You need a shower, and I’m in the mood for a drink.”
The god started towards the blue and white Craftsman cottage up the beach. Ian slung his weapon over his shoulder and followed. “Okay, now I’m worried. Don’t you think I should practice some more?” he asked.
“Not really,” Poseidon said, handing his golden trident into mid-air as if giving it to an invisible servant. The trident disappeared, which reminded Ian to put his own away. “You just learned the basics, how to create and destroy a cloud. Almost all planetary weather develops from that. We’ll work on theory next—when and where you should modify weather.”
Ian tried to catch up with the taller god, but the sand kept shifting under his feet. “How do you know when you should change something?” he asked, trying not to pant. “I mean, if the system is so complicated, how do you know that one little cloud isn’t going to create, I don’t know, an ice age or something?”
The majestic head tilted fractionally to one side. “Millennia of experience, plus Gaia’s teaching,” Poseidon said. “You’ll develop a feel for it eventually.”
“Eventually?”
“I suspect you’ll be ready in five hundred years or so.”
Ian stumbled to a halt. “Five hundred years?”
Poseidon stopped as well, giving him an exasperated look. “Perhaps four hundred if you show some aptitude. Now, can we please go back to the cottage? I promised my sons I’d return you in one piece.”
They started off again while Ian tried to grasp the concept of living for another five centuries. Three weeks ago, he’d been a widowed science fiction writer with a novel to finish. After no little urging, his sister had finally talked him into spending the summer at the family’s vacation cottage in Olympic Cove, Florida. Getting away from Chicago and the constant reminders of his late wife Diana had seemed like a good idea at the time, plus he would have all the time he needed to finish his book.
And then he had met the redheaded sea gods Bythos and Aphros and learned to his shock that he was their agapetos, their fated mate. Somehow, falling in love with the twins had also put him at ground zero in a battle with an insane goddess who wanted to remake the Earth in her own diseased image.
If that weren’t enough, he’d wound up being turned into a god by Gaia herself, earth goddess and Mother of All. He was still getting blindsided by the idea that his old life was gone for good.
And his new life, it seemed, was going to be much, much longer than he expected.
As they reached the cottage’s back porch, a delicious scent drifted out to them. Ian’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that breakfast had been hours ago. “Are you staying for lunch?” he asked.
Poseidon hesitated. The god had always been dismissive of Aphros’s love for the culinary arts. “I … don’t know. Aphros probably didn’t make enough to feed four of us.”
Ian snorted. “Are you kidding me? Aph cooks for an army. Trust me, there’s more than enough for you.” He decided to add a gloss of guilt. “And I know he’d like it if you stayed. I think he misses you.”
Poseidon glanced at him, a glimmer of irritation-laced respect in those sea-blue eyes. “Hmph. You’re rather good at that.”
“And it only took thirty-nine years of training,” Ian said drily. “Come on, let’s see what’s on the menu.”
They went through into the kitchen. A tall, bearded redhead in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts stood at one of the counters, stirring something in a crock pot.
He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “So, how’d it go?”
“I made a really, really small cloud,” Ian admitted. “And I sweated like a pig. I need a shower before we eat.”
“Don’t take too long, love,” Aphros said, grabbing a bottle of wine from mid-air and opening it. “Lunch is almost ready. Father, would you like to eat with us?”
The sea god sniffed the air, then smiled crookedly. “I rather think I might, if you have enough.”
“More than enough,” Aphros said, his grin turning into a delighted smile. “I’d better set the table for four, then.”
Satisfied, Ian headed to the downstairs bathroom. One down, one to go.
When he came back, rubbing his hair with a towel and ready to do a face plant into anything edible shoved in front of him, Poseidon was already seated at the kitchen table with a somewhat damp Bythos sitting across from him and looking suspiciously neutral. Ian prodded the connection he had to his other agapetos. It was pretty much what he’d expected, simmering resentment with a barely there crust of politeness on top.
Time to do some defusing. “Hey, baby,” he said, circling around to Bythos’s chair and bending over for a kiss. The demigod’s mouth softened under his as he’d hoped. “How’s the coral doing?”
Bythos smiled up at him, fully aware of what he was doing. “Barring any last-minute disasters, the next batch should be ready for transfer in a week or so,” he said. The pollution-eating coral that the demigod had engineered was the secret behind the cove’s crystalline waters, and was currently being seeded throughout the Gulf of Mexico as an attempt to counteract the disastrous oil spill of 2010.
Ian firmly put the thought of what else was in the Gulf out of his mind. Food first. Approaching apocalypses later.
Lunch turned out to be slow-cooked pork tenderloin in a sinfully delicious BBQ sauce, heaped onto fresh hoagie rolls and served with coleslaw, pickles, and what Ian suspected were homemade potato chips, thick and chewy under their fried crust. Poseidon seemed dubious about the food at first, but his eyes went wide with surprise after he bit into his sandwich.
“This is marvelous,” he said after he swallowed.
Bythos shook his head. “I told you Aphros was an incredible cook, Father. You should try his roast leg of lamb.”
“Oh, God, and his rogan josh,” Ian moaned happily around a mouthful of pulled pork. “I don’t know where you learned to cook Indian food, angel, but it’s amazing.”
“I’ll make it sometime this week,” the bearded twin promised. “If you like, Father, I’ll let you know when so you can join us.”
Bythos paused in mid-chew, taking a quick sip from his water glass. “Not on Friday, though. Mother’s coming then,” he said.
Both Ian and Aphros winced at Bythos’s lack of tact. Poseidon stiffened as well, but visibly forced himself to relax. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said after a small cough. “I’m afraid I’m very busy these days, what with all the hot spots on the equator. I may not be able to make it.”
The hope in Aphros’s eyes dimmed, but he nodded. “I understand, Father.”
Ian focused his attention on his plate. He didn’t know what had split up his mates’ adopted parents, but from the little he’d gleaned from By and Aph it had been Clash of the Titans bad. Poseidon and Amphitrite had only just started speaking to each other again in the last few weeks after literally millennia of separation. Their rapprochement was solely due to Amphitrite’s sister Thetis, who had been poisoned and driven insane as a result of the BP oil spill. Now, the whole family had been forced to band together in order to stop the mad Nereid from destroying humanity and the rest of the planet.
But first, they had to get over their internecine warfare. “It’s a standing offer, Poseidon,” Ian said, wanting to be generous. “You don’t need an invitation. Just come by when you can.”
The twins eyed him in disbelief, and even Poseidon seemed surprised. “Thank you, Ian,” he said, clearing his throat. “I, er … I do appreciate that.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and then Bythos jerked slightly. Ian suspected a kick under the table was the reason. “So, um, Father,” the demigod finally said, “how is Ian coming along in his lessons?”
“Well enough for a beginner,” Poseidon admitted.
“I created a cloud,” Ian said. “Granted, it was a really, really small cloud. I think tea kettles have done better.”
“Yes, but it was a genuine cloud,” Poseidon said. “Once you
have a solid grasp of how to concentrate vapor, we’ll—”
A tinny blare of music interrupted him. He glanced around in confusion. “What in the world is that odd noise?”
“Sorry, that’s my phone,” Ian said, scooting his chair back. “I need to get that.”
All three gods nodded, and he headed into the living room where he’d added a charger for his phone. He didn’t bother to look at the caller ID. There was only one number that had Motley Crue’s “Dr. Feelgood” as a ringtone.
He swiped a thumb across the Call Answer screen. “What’s up, doc?”
There was a heavy sigh on the other end. “How old are you, twelve?” a gravelly voice said. “Never mind. Are you home?”
Ian leaned against the table with the charger. “No, I’m still in Florida.”
“I meant Florida, dumbass. Are you at the cottage?”
“Yeah. Why?”
There was another sigh. “Because I need to know how to get to your place from Olympic Beach.”
Ian straightened up, grin disappearing. “What the hell are you doing in Olympic Beach?”
“Trying to find your place, which apparently managed to slip Google Maps’s notice. Look, could you just give me directions?”
“Uh, yeah.” He rattled off the instructions, glancing into the kitchen where By and Aph were still eating with Poseidon, and lowered his voice. “Are you okay? You sound like hell.”
A long pause. “I’m just really tired. I’ve been driving since yesterday, and I’m getting too old for that shit. It’s okay if I crash there, right?”
“Yeah, of course.” He heard a sharp bark over the line. “Is that Norma?”
“Yeah. She’s why I drove. I’ll explain everything when I get there. See you in a bit.”
The call ended, leaving Ian staring at the phone in his hand. Before he’d left for Florida, he’d told Nick that the doctor was welcome to come down anytime if he needed a break.
Olympic Cove 2-Breaker Zone Page 1