Style.
Potion tucked into my pocket, I wandered back to the kitchen and poured a coffee, passing the mug to Ballard as he lounged against the breakfast bar.
“Babe, I’m putting in for emergency leave, which won’t be an issue, then heading here to tackle any weird-ass thing you want.” He tapped his heart.
“If you need a few hours this morning, that’s fine. I don’t head to The Boogie until 2 o’clock. Just doing my part to maintain a normal schedule.”
“I’ll get my neighbor on deck to take care of Brutus and Caesar, and text you when I’m set.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you. Apparently, since forever. Originals, huh?”
“Oh, I have that on the greatest authority.”
Ballard drained his coffee, leaned in, and kissed me. “Don’t need to know your sources, Honey. Your word is good enough. By the way, who sliced up my yacht victims?”
“The mer.”
“Mer? As in mermaids?”
“Oh, they’re not fairytales, more like fury-tailed. Complete badasses, well, if they had an ass. Lethal with knives, though. Chum scum.”
A snort.
“I’ll be here all week; try the veal.”
The plan, to grab another four hours of sleep, didn’t happen. Chelsea arrived first, popping onto the balcony before knocking loud enough to wake the dead, AKA me, asleep on the sofa.
I crooked a finger and squinted at the clock. An hour. Perfect. Healthy REM ninety-minute sleep cycles and I have a ‘ships that pass in the night’ type of relationship, meaning I stand marooned and wave as it floats past.
She eyed the mess and put her hands on her hips. “When are you telling me what the fuck you plan to do?”
“Today’s the day, Chels. But first, coffee.”
Chelsea muttered and tapped a finger; books snapped shut and zipped into their spots on the shelves.
“Thanks,” I said, surprised, pushing a mug across the bar before slurping mine.
Magicals aren’t too hung up on manners or social mores, but rules, vows, and lores matter. A lot. I braced myself for an epic dress down.
“I met Eros.”
“Wow! Will they help?”
Ooh. Good pronoun.
“Yes, and I’ve moved forward based on their guidance.”
“Which was?”
“Love is the key component, Chelsea, so I’m using it as both weapon and shield.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How so?”
With an internal squirm, I blurted, “Eros showed Ballard who we were, and I taught him about the worlds.”
Her gaze ran along the bookcase, then snapped back to mine. “And?”
Shit. She’s so damn smart.
“I revealed the record.”
“WHAT?”
“Not what. Based on the guidance given, I had to, Chels. It came through as a truth. Still does. The record’s entries appeared for Ballard to read, the only circumstances he’d be able to see them.”
“YOU ABANDONED YOUR VOW!”
“Shhhh. I have neighbors. It wasn’t a choice made without evaluation. I understood the enormity. Respected it and expected to die if I followed misguided instincts.”
She paced the length of my apartment, hands knotted in front of her. Clenched, I knew, because she wanted to throw twenty-three spells and snatch me bald. Her red hair burned through the information while I sipped coffee in silence. In my mind, refocusing her rage by reminding her I’m here was an epic-level stupid move.
With a low screech, she whirled to face me, anguish contorting her features. “Are you sure, so damn certain you’d stake your life on it?”
“I am staking my life on it. Remember, the Keeper’s lifetime continues on the whims of the record every day. The solution to the reset threat requires relying on knowledge and alliance, then combining them with love’s power. There is no other way.”
“Gaia created all of us and this life-sustaining orb,” I continued. “Love is separate from the physicality of creation but surrounds its entirety. Within it, we harness our greatest power and drive a balance flexed between the body and the soul. That equilibrium is as old as the primordials.”
I sipped, eyeing my audience. “Gaia’s reset destroys that balance, because one cannot survive without the other. Kill the bodies, and the souls’ weight tips the planet off the scales. Boom, no more Earth. She’s lost sight of love, so how it affects her reset doesn’t register.”
I drained my coffee. “In a way, I’m wagering everyone’s life. It’d be helpful to have your support.”
She stared, unblinking, eyes green with damnation. I got up, grabbed the pot, and refilled both cups. Mug steady in my hands, I met her gaze, relieved to see the green tinge to blue.
“I’m pissed as hell at you. Disgusted. You hold no honor.”
“I’m aware.”
“Gaia is wrong to force the reset, though, and I concur the imbalance destroys everything. I’ve studied this, and I’ll stand with you, but we’re not through with your methods, we’ve not even started.”
I know that, too. Sorry, hair.
After Chelsea popped out with a snap that knocked two pictures off the walls, I hit the shower, dressed, and scarfed a ham sandwich.
Pretty sad last supper. Hell, not much of an outfit for the afterlife, either.
Fortified, I packed a waist sack, magical style. Into it I tucked the journal, my blood, regular ink, a dipping pen, the vials of potion and antidote from Waldo, two of anti-puke potion, and the one from Hades. No need for a label. Black glass, topped with a purple stopper in the shape of a feather. Very low key.
From the kitchen, I grabbed two Snickers bars and a bottle of water. My sack sagged, but everything fit. I pulled the loose boho style top I’d chosen up and let it float over the bag. Better. Ready. Maybe.
A tap, and I looked to see who else was on my Grand Central Station balcony.
Everybody senses it; the shift is upon us.
I beckoned to Poseidon, and he stepped in, stopping just inside the door.
“Keeper,” he said, tone somber. “The mer no longer swim within my seas.”
My arm lit up, and the gold letters etched: ‘Be careful’.
“While I’ll do what I can to help you, it may not be much,” he added.
“If Zeus plans to ambush me and you send a message, I’d appreciate it.”
“Only if the unfolding wasn’t foreseen,” he replied, staring at the ocean. “I cannot change what’s written.”
Huh. Written? Or prophesied? Does that mean Gaia? Isn’t she on the outs with her misty oracle buddies?
“Guess that’s my role,” I reached out and patted his arm. “Thanks for being, well perhaps not a friend, but whatever we share, you make it interesting.”
“I’ve never had a friend. Friendships aren’t in the god job description.”
“Huh. That sucks,” I tipped him a wink. “Guess you have one now.”
With a glimmer of a grin, he vanished.
The last visitor arrived via elevator. Loboli.
“Mayor, let’s sit on the balcony. You’re intense indoors.”
His grin scritched across my skin, and I led the way, choosing a chair that put a table between us while doing my best to suck in a chestful of fresh ocean air in silence.
“The shifters sensed the change, and I’m here for your update.”
Kinda bossy, aren’t we?
I raised an eyebrow, then tapped the table as I outlined the points. “Since we last spoke, I’ve aligned with Eros, and have the support of several Olympians, and the covens. They stand with your shifters. Key to success is bringing humans, and the love they evidence, into the mix. This may be where you’ll be the most effective.”
“So, no actual plan then?”
“It could never work that way, Loboli. Gaia reads every mind. Only in the flux of constant change do I have any chance of success.”
He leaned back and leveled a stare. Not t
he friendliest one I’d been on the receiving end of, but it wasn’t the absolute worst. Small blessings.
A hairy hand smacked the table. “Agreed, Keeper. We’ll stand by for contact and instructions. Send a witch when you need us.”
He rose, smiling at my sweaty brow. “You’re a tough one. I’ll let myself out.”
To the sound of the door snicking closed, I slid from my chair and puddled onto the floor, serenaded by the clink of vials.
I’m toast and haven’t even started yet. Good grief.
My phone’s alarm pinged. 1:45. Time to Boogie.
Chapter 25
The fish stench damn near knocked me flat, and I wasn’t through the front door. The thing about fish is, if you can smell it, fresh ain’t happening. Ergo, eat somewhere else; your intestinal tract will thank you.
What the hell! Did the fresh-catch cooler fail? Crap.
The Boogie reeked like a fish market with no power, but the entire place was packed, crazy jammed, with bikers. Also weird.
“Ralph!” I careened into the kitchen and skidded to a halt in front of the fresh cooler, humming like a champ.
“It’s not us, Boss. Something in the pilings? Nobodys sure, but that’s what the wait and bar staff are telling people. Charlie’s encouraging them to drink until they stop noticing. He’s slamming.” Ralph’s laugh echoed in the small room as I slipped to the bar.
“Pour heavy,” I muttered to Charlie.
“Already there,” he grinned. “But damn, we stink.”
It sure as hell did. I forced myself to shift from high-octane to observation. Other than a putrid (borderline on exploding) whale stuck in the timber below, there wasn’t a logical explanation for the odor.
Think, Patra. See the threads.
Since I specialize in the illogical, I let my eyes wander through to The Boogey. Empty, the norm for early afternoon. I eased out to the pier, eyeballing the bikes.
Based on the parking, I should have fifty diners, tops. I’m at capacity, which made no sense.
Time to work the tables; let’s figure out who’s here.
I moved through the diners, chatting and assessing.
“Welcome to The Boogie. How is everything?”
“What kind of dead tuna joint is this?” Raucous laughter greeted this sally.
“Well, it’s a pier, so the part above the water is what I control. The rest relies on the sea’s whims.”
“The fish sandwich tastes good and the old lady likes the shrimp.”
“Fuckin’ A,” his buddy interrupted. “She’s used to munching your little shrimp. These are jumbos!”
They laughed again, and I moved to the next table. The guys in this group were strange. Dressed in typical biker gear, but the clothes were too similar. Not insignia or colors, but the sameness was odd.
“Good afternoon, how are your meals?”
The entire table shoveled shrimp and grunted.
Most bikers get loud and have a good time. Reticence isn’t their thing. Bike talk, tall stories, ass slapping, and shots, that’s much more the norm. I continued walking through the tables, growing disturbed. My place was full of groups of silent, angry men. Not cool.
I hung at the ocean end of the dining room, not focusing on any one group, but absorbing the vibe. Something major was off, and frustration tapped on my brain.
A huge biker stood, turning his head toward the bar then to me. He looked familiar, plus his attitude emanated. The back of my mind tickled with a memory.
Qiton. Oh, shit. The mer are here, inside The Boogie, in human form!
Gaze on a slow swivel, I tapped the necklace three times, then moseyed through the room, heading for The Boogey. Chelsea raised an eyebrow.
“There’s nobody here to serve, Keeper. Maybe I should rethink that charm.”
I pointed at The Boogie through the clear wall. “Sixty percent of those bikers are mer in disguise. I’m open to suggestions before we get sliced up for chum. Qiton is the leader, toward the rear, left table.”
“That’s bold,” Chelsea muttered. “And personal.” She touched her forehead with her pinky, and Glenna popped into the seat next to her.
“Mama, we should have an early drink and watch the show.” A bottle of wine and two glasses zoomed from under the bar, uncorked, and poured.
OK, then. If you’re yanking me up for vow breaking, your timing sucks.
To her raised eyebrow, I slipped back and eyed my people. They were in danger; every human was. Time to call the cavalry. I pulled my phone and tapped Ballard’s name.
“Hey Baby.”
“Have you asked for that leave yet?”
“Headed to do that now.”
“Don’t. Grab a couple of cars and get here fast, I’ve got trouble, and you might bust your mer. They’ve taken a human form, but they can’t shift unless it’s the full or new moon. This is Gaia’s work. Hurry.”
“On my way.”
Fingers crossed that Chelsea and Glenna were doing more than drinking for free and watching the carnage, and also hopeful that Poseidon’s assist meant Qiton couldn’t see me as Keeper, I headed toward his table. A huge shell blade now rested next to his plate.
“Sir, I must ask that you take any weapons out of the restaurant. We do not allow them.” I made a quick mental calculation of how far I’d have to leap to avoid being disemboweled. The math wasn’t in my favor.
“No.”
“No?”
A grunt. I’m thinking Gaia’s transformation trick didn’t extend to a full complement of human language skills.
I stepped away, and went to another table, starting with the ones furthest from the front entry, moving from group to group, pausing at each one that spoke in complete sentences on my earlier tour.
“Hi. We have a situation here. Your tab is on me. Please get up as quietly as possible and leave now. Do not panic or speak to other diners. Police are en route.”
I got six tables moving before the shit hit. Qiton stepped in front of a woman on her way out, separating her from her companion. He turned, eyed the knife and pulled his own.
“Step away from my wife, asshole.”
Qiton’s blade flashed, and the man dropped, blood pumping in a squirting arc from his neck. Across the restaurant, mer rose, blades sliding out, primed for murder.
A bullet blew through the roof of The Boogie.
“Police! Don’t move,”
The mer, unversed in lead, didn’t give a shit, and one lept toward Ballard, who dropped him with a head shot. Humans, knowing a fair bit more about firearms, fell to the decking, crawling under the tall wooden tables. The air shuddered with panic, shrieks of terror whipped through The Boogie.
A heavy hand gripped my shoulder, and the blade felt cool against my neck.
“Go,” Qiton growled at Ballard.
“I can’t do that,” Ballard replied, calm tone masking his intensity.
“Go!” Chorused several more mer, and the officers exchanged side eyes. These bikers were weird.
“Get on the ground!” A cop tased a mer, whose water acclimated body shook, rigid from the electric shock.
Ballard eased toward Qiton in measured steps as the other cops tased the closest mer, rendering three of them helpless, shaking and foaming a salty stench as they fell. The odor was incredible, fishkill-9000. The Boogie rocked with the pounding sea, air thick with fear as mer lept toward the trapped, screaming humans.
Qiton jerked, Ballard’s taser landing just as the blade bit my neck; we both dropped in a twitching heap. Fingers gripping my throat, I felt my skin nip together.
Chelsea.
A taser materialized in my hand, and I rolled to my feet, blasting the nearest mer. His head snapped back. I yanked the wire out and shot again, figuring this was a witch-made weapon, one I hoped had unlimited shots.
A man yelled, and I pivoted to see a mer slash a woman whose arterial blood splashed across The Boogie.
Gloria! Oh, the gods!
I nailed anoth
er mer, trying to drive them away from the cowering humans, but more blood sprayed through the room.
“Patra, get down!” Ballard’s voice roared, and I dropped as shots ripped, mer oozing blue goo, stumbling and staggering as the lead pierced their bodies.
Chelsea materialized next to me on the floor, whispering, “Gaia is here,” before vanishing.
In an instant, The Boogie was half full. Mer scrambled to the windows, the uninjured carrying the incapacitated. In a surreal scene, legs knitted together and scales layered their tails as they dove into the sea. Humans cowered under tables and window seats as cops yelled, running toward the fleeing mer.
“You’re not going anywhere, motherfucker!”
I rolled over on the floorboards in time to watch a biker, arms the size of a running back’s legs, grab onto a heavy, thrashing tail, feet braced to yank Qiton back inside the window. The tail’s powerful slap sent him flying across the room.
Senses shook, I crawled over the sticky, blood-spattered boards to Gloria, grateful to discover that Chelsea semi-sealed her wound. She’d lost a bunch of blood, but her eyes focused and found mine. I held her hand.
“It’s not too serious, you’re going to be OK,” I said, tears welling. Her grip on her throat, bloody and clenched, did not relax. “Ambulances are on the way. I’m so sorry you were hurt. I’ll take care of everything.”
Including that primordial-sized creation sensation, Gaia. I promise you, Glo, I’ll find the balance or die trying.
More cops poured into the scene, creating order from chaos, as paramedics stabilized and transported the humans. I squeezed Gloria’s hand as they prepared to move her to an ambulance.
“I will see you soon. Thank you for being so brave.”
One human, the first attacked, did not survive. Qiton’s massive throat slash nearly severed his head. The mer Ballard shot also died, two sheets covering the body as the tail returned. Cops buttoned the scene, bug-eyed and shook.
The bone I’m picking with Gaia just super-sized. That bitch is going down. Nobody fucks with my people.
Chapter 26
Crime scene processing takes time. So does removing blood from raw timber, leaving no choice but to close The Boogie for the foreseeable future. The frustrated expressions on my team’s faces told me they saw their bonuses sliding away.
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