Zeus’ gaze dances on his brother for a moment as he says, “At least someone will finally be able to keep Hades in line.”
Hades chuckles as Zeus disappears leaving me alone with the King of the Underworld.
“Shall I show you to our chambers, my Queen?” he asks.
ALSO BY J. MCCARTHY
FIND J. MCCARTHY ON AMAZON
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RIDE THE STORM
BY TARYN NOELLE KLOEDEN
A GUT-WRENCHING REMAKE OF THE WELL KNOWN MYTH, THE WILD HUNT.
Some wars rage across continents, seas, and dynasties. Others burn within a single heart. My name is Tessa Maher, and this is the story of my war—and what it cost to end it.
Somewhere in America, October, 1976
I stared out the rear-view mirror, watching the rain-streaked pavement fly by behind us. The car ride back from the restaurant had been a silent one, and I wouldn’t be the one to break it. Out of the corner of my eye, Johnny’s knuckles were turning white. He gripped his mustang’s steering wheel like it was trying to escape.
Escape.
It was a concept I knew all too well.
“You’re really just gonna sit there, Tess?” Johnny’s voice was even. He didn’t yell, or growl. No, that would come later. Like any bad storm, Johnny’s rages always began with a calm.
I closed my eyes. Talking him down was like trying to defuse a bomb, and I never knew which wire to cut. “I don’t know why you’re upset.”
He scoffed and made a sharp right turn.
Wrong wire.
“Really? Well, let me enlighten you, darling.”
Outside, lightning forked through the angry purple sky. I counted the seconds until thunder in my head.
“I work hard at the garage all week, saving up enough cash to take my girl out for a nice dinner on our anniversary.”
“I know, Johnny. And I told you how sweet it was—”
“Don’t interrupt me.”
Thunder boomed. The storm was closing in on us.
“I take you out for the works—wine, steak, even a damn piano player—and how do you thank me?”
“Johnny, I didn’t—”
“By spending the whole night flirting with the waiter.” He flashed his perfect teeth like a caged dog.
“I wasn’t flirting, I swear. I was just being nice, polite. I would never!” I turned toward him. “Please, can’t we just forget it?”
He shook his head. A black curl fell onto his forehead and he shoved it away. “Everyone in that fancy restaurant was laughing at me. They saw you smiling at that waiter. You embarrassed me, and want me to just let it go?” He snorted.
“They weren’t laughing, Johnny.” But I already knew where this was going. I’d been with Johnny for two years, and put up with my alcoholic father for years before that. It didn’t matter what I said or did next, Johnny would fly into one of his rages, hurt me, apologize, cry, then make me comfort him. It all stretched out with the same inevitability as the dark road before us.
And all I wanted was to get off this ride.
“Shut up!” He slammed on the brakes and grabbed my hair.
I pulled away with a shriek, leaving a handful of blonde hair in his grip. “Johnny, stop!”
He leaned over the center console, shoving me against the seat. “I’m tired of you making a fool of me, Tessa. I swear to God.” He raised a fist and I braced for impact.
He slammed into the door instead, leaving a dent.
I heaved a terrified breath. “Johnny.”
He closed his eyes, shaking. He may have stopped himself that time, but he’d beat me up more times than I could remember. All of the sudden, my fear morphed into something else.
I looked at him—hunched, trembling, pathetic. How did this become my life? How did he become my keeper?
Slowly, he returned his gaze to the highway and shifted back into drive.
Growing up under my father’s iron, whiskey-tainted rule, I’d always sworn I would get out. I dreamed of an open road, the wind in my hair, and the world at my feet.
When I met Johnny, he promised me that.
Instead, he had trapped me in more of the same.
I was done. I was tired. And I finally knew what I had to do.
“Stop the car.”
Johnny glanced at me. “What?”
“Stop. The. Car.” I met his stare with my own. “Now.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. You want me to let you out in the middle of nowhere—in a thunderstorm?”
“Yes.”
“You’re ridiculous—”
“Stop the car now, or I’ll jump out anyway!” I shouted at him for the first time.
With a curse, he slammed the car to a stop. “Fine! You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Whatever you say.” I shoved the door open and leaped out onto the gravel shoulder. Cold rain pelted me, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was to be left alone.
“You’ll come crawling back, you always do.” He slammed the door.
Mud and rocks splattered me as the mustang squealed back onto the road. The sound of the roaring engine faded as Johnny drove toward the setting sun.
I was alone.
Despite the cold and rain, I smiled. It was a miserable October evening, and my thin, flowing peasant dress did little to protect me from the elements. But I didn’t care.
It was as if a fog had lifted. I don’t know what it was about that night in particular—Johnny had done much worse—but his abuse had triggered something in me. A long dormant voice whispered in my head, the same word over and over again.
Freedom.
It’s all I wanted. It’s all I had ever wanted. I had longed for it as a little girl in pig-tails reading fantasy books—the kind that were supposed to be for boys only—by flashlight underneath my covers. I had snuck moments of it riding a bike with no hands, and later, on the back of Johnny’s motorcycle.
Wind, the open road, and no one telling me who I’m supposed to be. That was my idea of paradise. Though, I’ll admit, as I started walking down that stretch of lonely highway, reality began to eat away at my newfound peace.
I was a mile or so down the road and my feet already hurt in my platform boots. Goosebumps spread up my arms and the occasional flash of lightning was the only illumination in an otherwise moonless night. I wanted to escape, and getting out of Johnny’s car had been the first step. But, it wasn’t as if I could walk to a new life.
No, truth was, I needed a ride.
The rain plastered my hair to my face. I sat on the ground, not caring about ruining my dress, and waited. Finally, a pair of headlights appeared in the distance.
I jumped to my feet and flipped my hair out of the way. The oncoming truck’s high beams were blinding as I stuck out my thumb.
But the trucker didn’t slow. He blared his horn and sent a hefty splash of dirty water my way for good measure. I cursed. So much for the kindness of strangers.
I walked on for what felt like forever until more light pierced the darkness. This time, the car decelerated. But as I walked toward the rusty station wagon, the teenage driver drove off, cackling.
I laughed too, but it quickly turned to sobs. An hour on my own, and all I had to show for it was blisters and a mud-stained dress. Some grand escape this was. Just when I started to think maybe the smart thing to do would be to find a payphone and call Johnny, the sound of a powerful engine thundered behind me.
In my self-pity, I guess I had not noticed the biker approach. He cut the engine and pulled off his helmet. “Need a ride?”
I shielded my eyes from the bike’s light. A gasp escaped my lips as I took in the man’s appearance. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I had ever set eyes upon. Brunette hair framed his angular face in perfect, Jim Morrison waves, despite the wind and weather. Light stubble shadowed his sharp jawline, but it was his eyes that captured me the most.
He stared unblinkingly through the lashing rain. His left eye was
a frozen, glacial blue. His right was a warm and wild shade of brown. The anomaly made him look almost inhuman, or perhaps, more than human.
“I—” Words suddenly held no meaning for me. I had no thoughts other than awe.
“My name’s Henry.” He set his kickstand and dismounted. He shrugged off his leather jacket and handed it to me. “Here. You need this more than I do.”
I mechanically put my arms through the over-sized sleeves. The worn-in leather smelled of sandalwood and pine. “Thanks. I—I’m Tessa.”
Henry shook my limp hand. “Can I give you a lift somewhere, Tessa?”
I searched my hazy mind for something intelligent to say. “Payphone,” was all I managed.
He nodded. “I know a place just a piece down the road.” He offered me his helmet. “You can warm up there, and make that call if you’d like.”
I secured the chin strap and approached the bike. It was unlike any motorcycle I had ever seen. There was no brand name. It was gleaming silver and dark, forest green.
“You like her?” Henry patted the side as he swung his legs over the saddle.
I mirrored him. “Beautiful.”
The engine roared back to life. A beat passed in silence between us.
“You’re gonna need to hold on, Tessa.”
“Oh.” My cheeks heated. “Right.” I wrapped my arms around Henry’s waist. The hard muscle beneath his flannel made my face burn even hotter. My stomach flipped as we set out. I’d ridden a bike more times than I can count, but I’d never felt anything like this before. We cut smoothly over the pavement and though the raindrops stung, I kept my eyes open as we rode through the storm together.
The ride ended far too soon. Henry coasted the bike to a stop in front of a building I’d never noticed before. A neon sign flashed a howling wolf, but there was no other label on the ramshackle wooden frame.
I removed the helmet and handed it to Henry. “What is this place?”
“A favorite haunt. Come in.” He took my hand and led me onto the porch. “Welcome, Tessa, to the Hunt.” Before I could ask what he meant by that, Henry pushed open the door.
I was not at all prepared for the riotous scene that greeted us. Men and women filled the space—drinking at the bar, leaning over pool tables, laughing, dancing, and generally causing a ruckus. They all wore leather jackets like the one Henry had given me. In the bar’s amber light, I made out a patch on the jackets’ backs: a pair of antlers framing the words “Wild Hunters.”
I had walked into what had seemed a derelict building, and instead found myself in the middle of a chaotic biker bar. “How…?”
“Come on. I’ll introduce you.” Henry offered his hand and I took it. He guided me to the bar and pulled out a stool.
I sat down. Despite my strange surroundings, I was grateful to be out of the rain and off my aching feet. The bar was loud, but somehow comforting. It didn’t have the cigarette-sweat-miasma of a usual joint, either. I took a deep breath. Beneath the surface scent of bourbon, it smelled like a forest after a rainstorm.
Henry smiled as he sat beside me. “You like it here.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “I do. I can’t believe I never noticed it before. We drive this way all the time.”
“We?” He quirked a curious eyebrow.
I swallowed hard. I’d meant Johnny and I. It was the first time I had considered my boyfriend since meeting Henry. What would Johnny have said if he could have seen me there, sitting next to a handsome stranger? I was afraid to even picture it.
“Bridget?”
For a second, I thought Henry had forgotten my name. But a stout, red-headed woman sauntered over behind the counter.
“Henry, honey.” The bar-tender grinned as she said his name. “Who’s the new blood?”
“This here is Tessa Maher.”
I didn’t remember giving Henry my full name, but I supposed I must have. I cleared my throat. “Pleasure to meet you, Bridget”
“You too, dear.” She set down the glass she had been wiping. “What’ll it be?”
“I’m sorry.” I gestured to my muddy, pocket-less dress. “I don’t have any money.”
“I didn’t ask if you had money, sweetheart.” Dimples formed in her ruddy cheeks. “I asked what you would like.”
“I’ll take a soda. Thank you.”
Bridget winked as she handed me a coke, gave Henry a significant look, then sidled over to some other customers.
“She’s nice.” I sipped my drink. “Do you know everyone here?”
“I do.” His two-colored eyes held my gaze appraisingly. “Would you like to meet some more of us?”
When I nodded, he got up and took us to one of the booths. Three men sat laughing around the table. They snapped to attention as Henry approached.
“Hey brother!” One of the men clasped Henry’s hand. His short-cropped hair, white tank, fatigue pants, and dog-tags marked him as a soldier. “Take a load off, man.” He smiled in my direction. “And introduce us to this lovely lady.”
“Thanks Darnell. This is Tessa.”
“Nice to meet you all,” I said.
Across from them, another young man—this one lanky with yellow, scarecrow-like hair—stood up. “Ma’am,” he greeted me with a thick southern accent. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”
The somewhat older fellow beside the polite southerner rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind Orville, Tessa. He has a habit of acting a fool around a pretty dame like yourself.”
Dame? I wasn’t sure how to react to their strange behavior. But, they were certainly welcoming. I sat in the booth beside Henry.
“Corporal Jack Harper.” The last man extended his hand to me.
I shook it. “So,” I began. “What’s the deal here?”
“The deal?” Henry asked.
“I mean.” I chewed my lip. “What are you guys? Some kind of biker gang?”
The men looked at one another, before deferring to Henry.
“Something like that,” he said.
“But we’re not really a gang—not like the Hell’s Angels or anything,” Darnell clarified quickly.
“We’re more like…” Orville thought for a moment. “Like a family.”
“A family?” I couldn’t help but frown. “Listen, if this is some kind of Charles Manson thing, I’m not interested.” How like my life to walk away from an abusive boyfriend just to run into a cult.
“Manson isn’t like us,” Henry said sharply. “He’s the worst kind of killer—one so cowardly he made others do his dirty work.”
It was not the most reassuring denial. “All right.” I took another swig of soda. “So, what are you guys like?”
Jack produced a deck of cards. “Why don’t you stay a while and we’ll show you.”
It didn’t take long for me to forget all about making that phone call. A few rounds of poker—and a couple of drinks—with Henry, Jack, Darnell, and Orville later, it was like we had always been friends.
Friends.
When was the last time I’d had one of those? Since running away with Johnny, I’d lost all contact with everyone from that part of my life. Johnny liked me that way—isolated. I suppose it made me easier to control. He had been a jackal, separating me from the herd. Why had it taken me so long to see that?
“Tessa?” Henry touched my arm. “You all right?”
The others were too busy making fun of Orville’s terrible hand to notice my silence, but Henry did.
“Yeah. I’m just thinking.”
“You need change?”
“Yeah. I think I do.”
“No.” He half-smiled. “I mean for the payphone.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “No.” I noticed the jukebox in the corner for the first time. “I think I have a better idea for that quarter.”
Henry gestured for me to stand. “We’ll be back, boys.”
“Take your time, boss.” Jack wolf-whistled before Orville and Darnell could quiet hi
m.
Shaking my head, I led the way to the rainbow-lit jukebox. A few of the other bikers glanced at us as we passed. There was something about all the people in that bar—some shared characteristic I could not quite place. I had never seen a more diverse group—there were men and women, old and young. There were black, white, Asian, and Hispanic faces crowding the joint. And yet, despite their disparate appearances, they all looked alike in some secret way.
Orville had said they were a family, and I was beginning to see the resemblance.
Henry pressed a coin into my palm. “Quarter for your thoughts?”
“I’m thinking about what to play.”
“Is that right?”
I shrugged. “Among other things.”
“Mhm. If I may?” He nodded for me to insert the payment.
Once I had, he continued. “Close your eyes.”
My heart pounded in my chest. But, despite my sudden trepidation, I obeyed. I waited in darkness as the sound of rain and thunder faded into the soft tinkling of piano keys.
“Riders on the Storm,” I whispered. It was my favorite song. How could he possibly have known that? In the black space behind my eyelids, memories streamed by—listening to The Doors after a fight with my dad, or with Johnny, and crying for days when Jim Morrison died.
When I finally opened my eyes, Henry pulled me close. We swayed along to the music. I felt vaguely guilty at first, but soon that washed away, and I was left with only peace and a feeling so unfamiliar I did not at first know its name.
Belonging.
In that moment, with my hands clasped around Henry’s shoulders, his arms around my waist, and his sandalwood and pine scent filling my awareness, I knew with every fiber of my being that I was where I was meant to be.
“Henry.”
“Mm?”
“Who are you, really? Who are all of you?”
He pulled apart just enough to see my whole face. His eyes, one blue and one brown, stared into mine. I realized I had never seen him blink. Not once.
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