That’s new.
Misty fingers picked up my pen, dipped, and began writing into the record. The words disappeared with no chance of review.
Huh, I didn’t think the Vapors wrote entries, let alone ones private from me. Is this for later? Or for Parker? What’s going on here?
With a nod, the form disbanded, and the mist flowed out into the sunlight. Disgruntled, I stared at a blank page.
“I could ask, but screw it. They made a big production about hiding entries. Point taken. That entry may matter later, or they believe I’m Zeus’s roadkill and from their point of view, superfluous.”
Which bugged me more than I cared to admit. October cost me, but I made that stand. Why the theatrics? I slammed the journal back into the drawer with more oomph than necessary.
Fuck it. Time to fix my hair, pay my crew, and get through another day.
Even to me, the plan rang hollow.
The Boogie’s pier, with bikes moving along the entire length, rumbled, and the noise shook the pier with a timber deep rattle.
The sound of money. Halle-freakin-lujah. Keep’em coming. Rinse and repeat.
In the kitchen, I poured a giant coffee and Ralph, with a burst of payday cheer, passed me a fried egg sandwich with plenty of bacon, mayo and tomato. Perfect. I munched while I stuffed checks into each employee’s cubby.
My cell phone pinged. Lester. I scrubbed greasy hands and scrambled to the storage closet, grabbed a hand truck, and bumped across the weathered pier to rendezvous with my shrimps.
“Check out those bikes, we’re jamming,” I yelled over the din, and he nodded, swinging boxes of fresh shrimp from his truck. “Thanks for making these orders happen, Lester. Glad fishing’s been good!”
“Sea gods are smiling on this old shrimper, Darlin’. See you tomorrow. Get some sleep, you look beat.”
It was my turn to nod, and on impulse, I leaned in and gave him a quick hug.
How many of these are last times? I’m not ready to be finished, but it’s part of the job. Guess I never realized I might know when I’m on the way out. At a deep level, I thought it’d be quick, a surprise. Now Zeus revealed himself to Parker, changing the dynamic, and I know better. Crap. Death is coming, long, pain filled, drawn to unreasonable lengths. A straight shot to hell is preferable. At least Hades has a sense of humor.
It took concentration to pull the heavy load along the uneven deck boards, which got me out of my head. I stowed the shrimp crates in the fresh cooler, shooting Ralph a thumbs up as I worked.
“Thanks, Patra. The quality is exceptional; we’re blowing through shrimp like crazy.”
“Gotta be why we’re seeing repeat customers. Keep cranking out the orders, Ralph. The Boogie’s making bank and so is the crew.”
“You know it. Got my eye on a new pickup. This’ll be my down payment.”
After returning the hand truck to the outside storage locker, I stood on the pier and sucked in air. Life. Death. Breath. When?
Today? Tomorrow? Fuck. I can’t do my job with my mind in this space.
“Perhaps that’s the point?” My head swiveled, seeing no one but feeling the familiar electrical current.
Eros.
Knowing they could read my thoughts and thinking that appearing to yammer to myself like a raving lunatic wasn’t a great look, I leaned against the railing.
I’m struggling with fear.
We know, Child. There is no love without it. The fear of losing love is where we grasp its value.
I need to release the power of Zeus’s intentions. I can’t control any of this, and it’s preventing me from thinking with clarity.
How did you approach your first run in with Zeus?
I chewed my lip, staring at the ocean’s rolling waves, flowing, withdrawing, returning.
I did it with friends, with people I loved and trusted.
The electricity coursed through me, raising goosebumps everywhere before subsiding in silence. Alone, the fear diminished, a path of action beckoned.
Is that the way?
No answer; but inside, I knew. Shoulders squared, I palmed the old ship’s door and marched into The Boogey, tapping the charm on the necklace Chelsea gave me three times.
“What’s happening? Are you safe?”
“Could you call Poseidon? We need to talk.”
She rummaged in her waist sack and pulled the wave charm. A giant naked god wavered into view. I tossed a bar towel over his erection and gestured to a stool.
“Cop a squat, Big Red.”
“You too,” I slid Chelsea a side eye.
I stood in front of them, hands on hips, channeling Super Keeper. Well, without a cape.
“Gaia must continue believing I’m hanging out, flaming through Nothingville, and to do that, I need your help. The Vapors masked my signature, but word will spread if I’m working here at night. Taking another free fall into hell is time consuming, plus she could decide to off me, which fucks things up for everybody.”
I looked at Chelsea. “Will you run The Boogey?”
“What about Parker?”
“He’s so green and easy to kill, putting him in while this fluctuation plays out is unwise.”
“I concur,” Poseidon said, scratching. The bar rag slipped. Chelsea waved, and the towel stopped, mid-slide.
“Alright,” Chelsea shot me an appraising look. “I’ll sling drinks. Where will you be?”
“I have to run the other side, which brings me to my second request. Poseidon, can you make me visible only to humans?”
“Always?”
A good question. My skin prickled, and a Vapor symbol rose. Hope. Chelsea’s eyes traveled along my arm.
“No. As Keeper, I must remain part of all worlds. But to avoid Gaia, hide me from gods and magicals whenever I’m working on the pier or at home.”
“Fair enough. When you step through the door, it will be as you ask.”
Huh. Not the toe to toe interaction I expected. Too easy? Am I overthinking again? Crap.
“We finished?” Poseidon shook out his hair as I nodded. He faded, inadequate towel fluttering to the floor.
“What’s the plan?” Chelsea asked, settling in for a chat.
“Still in the works,” I replied, side-stepping. “Thanks for babysitting The Boogey.”
Her face squinched; she wasn’t buying it, and I couldn’t risk saying more. I hugged her.
“You mean the world to me.” I laid a finger on her heart. “Truth.”
The bikes kept coming; The Boogie didn’t close out the last till until 9:45. Fat freaking city. To the sounds of the crew cleaning, I finished the books and walked out with them, under a waning moon, at 10:30. My Beetle turned south, and I drove the short blocks to the condo, turning the plan over in my mind. Am I crazy? Will it even work? Worth the risk? No idea, but it felt, well, solid.
Whenever I’ve stepped up and swung for the fences, this sense of solid surrounded the decision. One of these times I’ll strike out. Maybe that won’t be this time.
Along the edge of the steering wheel, my fingers crossed.
Upstairs, I showered, dressed in a tank top and booty shorts and set a bottle of red on the coffee table. No more stalling. I blew out air and tapped the message.
I’m home relaxing. Can you swing by?
On my way.
After palming to retrieve the journal, I pulled my quill and a vial of my blood, stored for the greatest secrets of the record. I dipped the tip into the red, and wrote out the plan, my reasons, and expected outcomes. The entry vanished, hidden except to another Keeper. I hoped Parker would figure out how to call it forth. It was the best I could do under the circumstances.
The security bell pinged, and I tapped the button to unlock access to the elevators, staring at my face in the foyer mirror. Huge blue eyes loomed over a set mouth, the epitome of terror and resignation.
Here goes, well, everything, There’s no turning back; we’re in the shit now. Screw it, I’m trusting love.
Chapter 23
I yanked the door open, wrecked by the choice. In two steps, Ballard had me in his arms, half a passion-possessed man, and half a drowning one. When his lips brushed mine, it was the kiss of old love, of awakened souls.
“Ballard,” I choked out, the only word I could manage.
“Patra,” his hands held my face, and we stood, transfixed, in sunken wonderment.
“Wine?” I mumbled, heart flipping in my chest, a deranged Olympian gymnast determined to escape the confines of mere ribs.
“Good idea,” his mouth opened and closed, swallowing words.
Deft hands uncorked and poured, and I watched him, trying to see under the determination.
The sense of us is there. I started this, now see it through, Patra.
“Ballard, I get a sense that there’s something you want to tell me, but you’re making yourself hide it. Why not share?”
Our gazes locked, his contemplating, then he shook his head.
That’s a no.
“Hey, we’re just beginning, but a bartender that can’t keep a secret flames out early in their career, and I’ve been tending bar a long time.”
Ballard leaned back, eyeing me. “Patra, I keep feeling I’ve known you, like before. Another life, perhaps. The sensation is a constant prickle, a shadow around a corner, but wherever I turn, there’s an empty space. Sounds nuts, but someone or thing is missing; it’s a false echo.”
“I discount nothing, Ballard. Life is not the surface shit, and that’s a hard truth.”
“But I’m a cop and I work with realities. The theory of past lives, well, it’s not how I perceive the world. The entire idea doesn’t jibe with what I see every day.”
“Who knows,” I sipped the wine, treading with care, “whether truth lies within a single space? The Universe is a big place, and souls are whispers, tiny threads of existence.”
“Patra, I interact with people, often during their worst moments. The concept of a side beyond here and now doesn’t fly. Humanity is pain and blood, cruelty tempered with occasional kindness, and on a rare day, a scrap of joy.”
“Love is the common human gift, Ballard. We are all capable, in our own ways, of experiencing it.”
Green eyes held mine for a long tick, then he shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve had dreams, senses of us that are hard to fathom.” His head shook, a half grin tugging up one corner of his mouth. “We just met. I’m not a crazed stalker.”
I breathed in the ocean, the scent of salt shaken, and stepped into next.
“This is not our first time together.” I reached behind me, grabbing the tablet on the sofa. “Look.”
I tapped an icon and pictures flooded the screen. Ballard and I, laughing, arms entwined. Another of him feeding me an oyster with a smarmy grin. One of me sleeping after sex, arms flung wide, a faint smile on my lips. Ballard, his dog, and me at the dog park in Ponce Inlet. It was this photo that stopped him.
“How did you do this? How do you know my dog?”
“Because we had history, Ballard. And those aren’t everything. We’ve been together across time because you and I share an original love.”
I sat back, waiting for the fallout, for him to storm out the door, to believe me crazy, or worse, stalking him.
Instead, the cop took charge.
“What is the name of this dog?”
“Brutus. You have a chubby tortoiseshell cat named Caesar, too.”
“Where was this taken?”
“In your bed, at your Port Orange apartment. You named the stuffed sea turtle Jolly Ollie.”
His eyes cut to mine and back to the tablet. “And this one?”
“We’re on the pier outside The Boogie, laughing at a pair of pelicans who acted drunk.”
It was Pook and Bingo, and they were wasted. But it’s not important.
He held the tablet, scrolling through the pictures, then laid it on the table, chugged his wine, and poured another for both of us.
“You expect me to believe this.”
It was not a question.
“No, my darling, forever love, I expect you to remember.”
The electricity rocketed through my cells, and I gripped his hands. Ballard jerked, pupils going wide for half a minute before reducing to normal, staring into mine as he lifted me onto his lap, face buried in my breasts, hot tears flowing from remembrance to now.
“How did I lose you? What happened to us? None of this makes sense.”
Here we go.
“Humans aren’t the only entities on Earth, Ballard. How many times have you chased criminals who vanished? How often has evidence gone missing? Or records? Remember the convenient pile of plastic that landed on the beach last week, or the way Mayor Loboli deconstructed in office? Or those weird yacht deaths you’re investigating right now? In your work, how many unusual occurrences are shrugged off and let go, unexplained?”
“What are you saying?” Ballard didn’t loosen his grip on me, but his cop face was on tight.
“That humans share Earth with more than animals, gators, and bugs. This planet is home to magicals who resemble us, but they’re different. People like Loboli, or my friend at The Boogie with the long red hair. And thousands of others. We are not alone, Ballard, but they aren’t coming from the stars, they’ve always been here.”
“I’m not sure I can accept that, Patra.”
“Babe, I’m asking for an open mind. There’s plenty to learn, and I need you to hear me out.”
A reddish eyebrow lifted.
“Be as skeptical as you want, my love. But don’t walk out until the whole play is complete.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Patra, and I can deliver on the skepticism, no problem.”
Fair enough, I’ll take it.
Two bottles of wine and forty books off my shelves later, I knit the history, watching the lights go on as the pieces clicked together. At 2:30 in the morning, he threw his hands in the air, flopping back into the sofa cushions.
“Patra, how the hell did you figure this out? Why are you certain you’re right?”
Hoo boy. Time to break the biggest fucking rule of them all.
“I know, because I am the Keeper. I write the history, picking it up from where the previous Keeper stopped, recording the worlds. My other job is uniting them, and so far, I’m getting pushback.”
“Setting aside how insane that sounds, I bet you would be. Who’d forgo being the boss?”
“I freed the Vapors, and within that, restored peace into power’s balance.”
“The who? Do you have more wine?”
“It’s easier to show you.”
I palmed the secret drawer, pulling out the journal as it slid into view.
“I’m breaking a vow to share this with a human, Ballard, because I believe that unfolding events require I do so. If I’m wrong, they’ll punish me with death, and this journal’s page will stay blank. Otherwise, we both have an important part to play.”
“Why take the risk? Why, out of everyone, me?”
“Because the sole force able to defend us from Gaia is love.”
I opened the journal.
“Show me the passage about freeing the Vapors from Zeus.”
Under his breath, Ballard muttered, “Holy shit.”
The entry rose to the surface, and I turned the book to him. “Read it.”
He read, swallowed, read it a second time, and punched the sofa, hard.
“Zeus. Are you serious?”
“I embarrassed him that night, and he’s still pissed. A new seismic shift rises, and once again, I’m battling on two fronts. And I’ll need our original love as a protective shield.” I turned to the record. “Show me Gaia and the reset.”
I handed the journal to Ballard and watched him read. When he finished, he scratched the top of his head and laughed; the sound bounding around the room, tinged with shock and a crumb of hysteria.
“You need me to help you fight Mother Nature? Plus a god that throws lightn
ing bolts and holds a grudge? Do I have that right?”
“Yes. Are you busy tomorrow?”
“Oh, fuck, Honey. Count me in. I won’t lose you again. If it takes going Greco on a couple of oversized egos, I’m down for a fight. But now, I want us to fuck to exhaustion.”
I reached over, palmed the drawer and stashed the journal. Hands out, I pulled him to his feet and wrapped my arms around his neck. Ballard scooped me up, marched into the bedroom, and flung us both onto the bed.
Forgive my sins, it’s done.
A mere human has not only seen, but touched and read the record. After halfway expecting death on the spot, I’m here and have Ballard with me. We hold no secrets. Tonight is ours, and tomorrow we take what comes, together.
Chapter 24
Ballard untangled from my sheets at 6:30, and I brewed coffee while he showered. Memories of last night tugged, softened with typical morning blurriness and tempered with a touch of surreal. Evidence, in the form of mounds of books strewn across the sofa, floor, and table, said otherwise. A tap came from the balcony, and I jumped. Hades.
Fuck. Is he here to reckon?
I opened the door and stepped out as he raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I have company.”
“No one can see me but you,” he replied, squinting into the sunrise before donning rock star level shades. Death had style.
“The plan’s in motion,” I told him as the sun crept off the horizon’s edge.
“Excellent, both for having one and initiating.”
My eyebrows drew together.
“Lighten up, Keeper, this gift is for you.” Hades withdrew a vial from his front jeans pocket and twirled it between his fingers. “Don’t open it until you fear a death. The contents will save a single soul.”
I stared at him, my understanding keeping pace with the dawning sun. “Ah, I see.”
“Be smart. Bold might help, but the underworld is littered with brave fools.”
“Duly noted. Thank you.”
Hades shimmered, fading to a purple metallic mist that dispersed off the balcony in a glittery finale.
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