Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Text copyright © 2017, Nicole Hamlett
GRACE MURPHY, characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of and © Nicole Hamlett.
Cover by Krista Leemhuis
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Published by Nicole Hamlett.
NO part of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission of publisher.
1st Edition, 2017.
Produced in the U.S.A.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Dedication
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Note from the Author
About the Author
Dedication
This one goes out to my Sunroomies. Not only do you encourage me, make me laugh, and feed me incredible tunes, but you are also the best friends a girl could ask for. You’re my tribe!
Also, to Jill – you always come through in a pinch and I couldn’t possibly appreciate you any more than I already do.
PROLOGUE
Hello, purveyors of romantic entan—wait, I’m not writing a romance novel. You’re my adventurous friends. Goodness. It’s been so long, that I’ve forgotten how to start one of these books.
At first, I thought to start this one by telling you about the chat I’d had with Marisol. She wanted me to go on a book tour. I said no. While I’m still a little nervous about that conversation, it doesn’t have any bearing on this story. Well, okay, with Marisol you never can tell. This could very well be a lesson on how I should just do as she asks. As one of the sister Fates, she’s pretty much got her avaricious fingers in everything. Regardless, the story isn’t about her. I think. I’m sure. Yeah, pretty sure.
I had also thought to write about my new friend Eros. I call him the God of Tinder. He doesn’t find it as amusing as I do, but, that’s on him. I’m hella funny.
Wait, in your head, did you just try to ship Eros and me? Well if you did, stop it! My life has been a train wreck for the last five years, and even if it weren’t, I don’t have the emotional fortitude for a relationship right now. Think about it. First, I get divorced. Then, I find said ex-husband pinned like a skinned butterfly to my foyer wall. I still shudder when I think about that. And don’t even get me started on Adonis, whom I thought I was in love with, but as it turned out, he was still married to my sister.
Oh Lawd, I just burst out laughing. You recall my sister Hope, yes? The one that slit my son’s throat and spent the better part of a year trying to kill me? She’s crazier than a three-ringed circus, and daily, I thank my lucky stars that Hope is safely locked away. The only people who visit her now are Diana, and her husband Adonis aka Drew. I imagine that Heph pops in; if only to ensure that she’s still alive and gets fed.
Speaking of Hephaestus, it’s bad enough that every time I look out my window, there he is, gardening or blacksmithing. But does he have to do it half naked? I see those slick, rippling biceps and abs, and I wonder if I made a mistake when I broke his jaw after he propositioned me like a – well, I’m not going to insult working girls. He still hasn’t apologized for that, by the way. Ass!
Who was the genius that decided to build my new house next door to him?
If I could go back in time, I’d ask them to put the house they built me further away from the palace instead of right next to Hephaestus’ compound. Hell, if I could go back in time, I would have prevented my house in the Springs from getting blown to kingdom come in the first place. That would have negated my need to move to Olympus.
But I digress, while Eros helped me out with some historical information for this new romance novel, it has no relevance to this story. Sure, he’s great and all, but it would have just been filler. And you know, I’m trying to stop tangenting. It’s a flaw in my character. I’m working on it.
In the end, I decided that giving you a synopsis of what I’ve been up to since that Fateful Birthday Trip was probably the best use of your time and mine.
I’d like to say that I’ve been busy saving the world, but the fact is, I haven’t been on many (read any) missions since that little incident with Medusa. You know, the one where she kicked my ass while I was on vacation with my kid. I’ve spent a lot of time hiding and writing. Would you believe that I’ve written eight novels in the last few years? My publishers have never been happier, and Marisol purchased a new condo in Bora Bora if that tells you anything.
Hiding from the world, trying to make amends with my son, and dealing with the fallout of my epic temper tantrum has nearly become a full-time job. Had I known that Medusa’s venom would have sent me into an inexplicable rage, I would have worn plate armor. Well, if I’d known that Medusa was going to be at the amusement park, I wouldn’t have taken my kid there for his birthday in the first place. Talk about the wrong place at the wrong time.
Every day I’m reminded of that trip.
It’s in the tightening of Heph’s shoulders when he feels me watching him. (I can’t help myself. He’s pretty, okay? God, I’ve turned into a creeper.) It’s there in the look my friends get when they try to get me out of the house, and I come up with some lame excuse. And finally, I can also see the damage I did with my son in the way he talks to me now. He’s resigned, bitter, angry. He doesn’t expect me to come through for him anymore.
Speaking of Dylan, man our relationship has tanked. People have explained that it’s because he’s a teenager. You add hormones to cosmic power, and you get a giant mess of angst. Put his angst up against mine, and it’s a miracle this house is still standing.
; We used to be a team, and now I’m just the person who pays for his video games. After discovering that Adonis was his birth father, Dylan started spending more time with him. I don’t begrudge them that time, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little jealous.
I desperately want us to be close again, but I keep doing it wrong. I think I finally took the easy way out and just started leaving him alone when my efforts stopped working. Probably not the best idea, but I wasn’t sure what else I could do. I want to go back to when we were still close - when I hadn’t humiliated him in front of everyone he’s forced to face every day. I want to argue with him about getting ready for school. I want to play Xbox with him or have TV marathons while we eat cold cereal and get snarky.
That’s a lot of “I want’s.” Regret makes you selfish.
I’m never going to get those days back again and the ones since have been stilted. I blame myself. I’ve been living with shame and guilt, and instead of shaking it off, I’ve been wallowing. How do you tell a kid that it’s not him, that it’s you? It sounds like a bad breakup excuse. Like this book, I think up a thousand ways to start a conversation and then chicken out at the last second when he gives me that blank, disinterested stare.
My self-imposed prison currently consists of the four walls of my office. Unfortunately, as I said before, the only window in the faces Hephaestus’ compound. He’s constantly right there in my view every day. You have to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. Maybe he thinks he’s showing me what I could have had?
Idiot.
Dylan is still Heph’s apprentice, so this continued animosity puts a crimp in finding out how well he is doing with his training. I get most of my information second-hand through Drew.
As they say, hindsight is 20/20, and if wishes were horses, the beggars would ride. I’d never quite understood all that mumbo jumbo before, but I get the gist now. When you are so afraid of fucking up the future, you tend to lock yourself away rather than chance it. I can’t change the past, and I’ve been having a hell of a time dealing with the present. (Damn, I just realized that I’m a coward.)
Right then, enough of that maudlin nonsense. Enter my mother. Force of Nature - Goddess of the Hunt – “Not going to take any of your bullshit, Grace” – Diana. To be fair, she has given me plenty of time to come to grips. Every once and awhile she tries to pull me out of the funk by force, but she’s been thoroughly unsuccessful to date. (I have been known to be quite stubborn.) This time, however, she told me she was tired of my crap, and she needed me to go on an assignment.
She got to me while I was writing. I agreed to it simply to get her out of my office so I could finish the chapter. On the one hand, I think that my mother should know better than to ask me for something while I’m in the writing zone. I never remember those conversations, and frankly, I’ll agree to anything just to get back to what I was doing. Or maybe she’s trickier than I realized and waited for me to be engrossed in writing so she COULD get me to agree…
I’m going to have to rethink putting locks on my office door. She’s crafty.
So, there you have it. I’d been isolating, moping and all the rest of those depressive words. Then, my mother took things in hand and sent me to another planet to find a woman who’d been missing anywhere between a few weeks to a few months.
What could possibly go wrong?
CHAPTER ONE
My ass was on fire. No, not literally. That would have been awkward, but not impossible - we are talking about me here, and there have been times when I’ve spontaneously combusted after sneezing. But no, the muscles in my ass, quads, thighs, lower back - everything, just everything hurt. Why? Because I was dreadfully out of shape again. What a surprise! Becoming a shut-in to avoid everyone tended to do that.
"Grace, pick up your feet. You're dragging them."
I scowled at his back as Drew whizzed past me.
"It's been nearly twenty miles! I'm running fine! I'm not dragg-" I lurched as my ankle rolled on a loose pebble. "Oh, blathering bollocks," I muttered softly, hoping he wouldn’t hear.
“What?”
“Oh, you heard that?” I tried for innocent and unaware, but I wasn’t going to earn any Emmy nods for my acting.
“Yes. I heard that.” He sounded like he was rolling his eyes. If rolling your eyes had a sound, that would have definitely been it.
I waved him off. “I’m just trying out new curse words.”
“I’ve heard infinitely more creative curses fall from your lips, dear.”
“For my book, you moron.”
"Mmhmm, sure it was. Regardless, you were dragging your feet, so pick 'em up. And Grace, your outfit is stupid. I told you to wear protective gear." He glanced down at my legs and gave me an ‘I told you so’ look.
“Your face is stupid!” I sneered and stuck out my tongue, which was admittedly immature, and tuned him out as I blatantly ignored his point.
My “A Woman Needs a Man Like a Fish Needs a Bicycle” shirt was drenched, and there were thin lines of dried blood streaking my exposed legs. Tall grass the color of polished agate rose waist high, swaying gently in a breeze that didn't cool as much as waft the steamy air around us. A narrow path wound through it, but occasionally a swath would catch at my exposed skin, leaving burning, bloodied trails. So obviously, he had a point.
"I can't breathe. Are you sure this is a Class M planet?" I wasn't much of a scientist, but I did watch Star Trek, and my mind, that made me damn close.
He sighed. "If this wasn't an M-Class planet, do you think you'd be alive right now?”
"Oh." I trailed behind him, half jogging, half loping. "I should have stayed home."
He gave me a curt nod. "Yep."
"But Diana…" I trailed off. There wasn't much more to say there. "But Diana," explained a lot.
"Yep." He didn't need to say anymore either. When my mother told you to do something, you did it.
"Go on this mission, they said. It will be great, they said. You'll be back in the game, they said." Back in the game indeed. I’d been on this planet for four hours, and already I wanted to nuke it. I also had a stitch in my side that wouldn't let up. They could shove it where the sun didn’t shine.
Drew stopped and jogged in place as I limped past him. "I know you're not going to believe me when I say this, but the more you bitch, the less oxygen your muscles get. And you're still dragging your feet."
I snarled, stopped, and bent at the waist. My arm shot up, and my middle finger came flying out. "Look, I've got a present for you," I gasped.
I was heaving air into my lungs when I heard a quiet, “"Becky, look at that butt. It is so big."
I shot straight up and whipped around. "You did not!" If my eyes were laser beams, he’d be dead. My lips, however, were trying so hard not to twitch.
"You can't get mad if you laugh. Dylan was very adamant about this rule."
"I can. I can get mad. Real mad!” They'd sent me off-world with Captain Frickin' Awesome. I'd had a hard time justifying arguing with my mother when she announced Drew would be accompanying me, especially since I still had no idea why Diana sent me in the first place. “And I am picking up my feet. So, shove off!" I finally hissed, letting the burn of my muscles feed my annoyance.
"You're not. You're dragging them." He smacked my ass, and shot off ahead, forcing me to run faster to catch up.
"You're a fitness zealot! Who put you in charge anyway?" I winced as my foot hit another loose rock and twisted. Damn it; he was right. I still wasn't picking up my feet. But in my defense, I was exhausted.
"If you hadn't gotten lazy, you wouldn't have such a hard time breathing right now."
He didn't turn back, but I could hear the smarm in his voice. I stopped running again and jammed my hands on my hips.
"I want to burn a hole through your ugly forehead so bad right now." It probably would have sounded more threatening if it hadn't come out as a gasping wheeze. My chest heaved a few times, trying to drag in enough oxygen to keep me
alive. I didn't know how regular long distance runners kept this up.
He stopped and spun on a heel. If I hadn't been staring him down, I would have missed the flash of a smirk on his stupid (albeit gorgeous) face.
"You've gotten complacent." He walked the few yards back to me and held out a bottle of water. I gratefully took a drink and let the water swish around in my mouth before swallowing.
It was quiet on right now on Earth. Of course, I’d gotten complacent.
I wasn't out there trying to stop Nyx from rising from her sunken tomb. There weren't any of her psychotic kids attempting to kill me. I hadn't so much as gotten a hangnail in the last several months. Hell, you don't finish three manuscripts in eight months when your life is full.
"Did you by chance pack any Snickers bars in your bag?" I asked with attempted nonchalance.
"Sorry, only some granola and protein bars. Didn't you eat before we left?"
"I didn't even know I was going off planet until ten minutes before the Rift opened."
"Diana said she'd explained things to you." He frowned.
I waved him off. "I was writing."
"Oh." He gave me a sympathetic ‘yikes!’ look before scanning the surroundings.
See? Drew knew. Why my mother kept forgetting was a cosmic mystery.
None of that mattered. My concern right now was that I was off-world with a madman who wanted me to tone my abs and condition my something or other. All of this without a single Snickers bars in sight. Misery, thy name is Grace Murphy.
Drew heaved a great big, dramatic sigh. "You shouldn't be here. You're not nearly prepared for this kind of mission anymore. I don't know what Diana was thinking."
I couldn't disagree with him as I had been thinking the same thing for the last God-knows how many miles, so I didn't. "Where are we, again?"
"Did you even read your brief?"
I stared at him blankly for a moment and then said, "There was a brief?"
Illusions: A Grace Murphy Novel Page 1