Illusions: A Grace Murphy Novel

by Nicole Hamlett

  I looked at Drew aghast and waved the gun between the remaining strangers. "You know these people?"

  He winced at my murderous glare and nodded. "Yeah."

  If eyes were laser beams, Drew would be dead. "I see. Should I apologize for shooting the stupid one?".

  Drew looked at the group and then turned to me, incredulous. "You shot one of them?"

  "They attacked you. What was I supposed to do? Invite them over for tea? What kind of morons start beating on each other instead of the usual greeting of 'Hey what's up? And also,” My voice was becoming shrill, and I couldn’t seem to stop it. “What the hell kind of planet is this where the ground opens up, and monsters swallow you?" I threw up the hand holding the gun in vexation, and all three men threw themselves on the ground.

  "Oh please," I spat, disgusted.

  "Well if you're going around shooting people."

  "I'm probably going to kill you yet." I winged the gun out of my hand toward the men on the ground and heard a very satisfying shriek, followed by a hollow thunk. I didn't have to look to know that the gun was gone and I'd likely given one of the remaining men a concussion.

  "Not very sporting to hit a man when he's down," Drew chided.

  "Don't even talk to me right now. If you can move, we should leave."

  I bent down and started gathering packs while the men behind me started talking. I was getting pissed off. I knew this feeling, and nothing good ever came from me giving into the rage. I felt like Bruce Banner with a nasty case of PMS. I should glamor myself some green skin as a visual indicator when the situation was about to get messy.

  I was angry that I couldn't understand them. I was even more resentful that I still couldn't access my power. Those three wouldn't have been able to sneak up on us under normal circumstances. Nobody likes feeling weak, and I felt incredibly powerless right now.

  Drew held up a hand, silently asking for a boost. I sighed, stomped over, and jerked him upright. He had unidentified foliage stuck to his hair and the dried blood on his neck. I licked a finger and started scrubbing.

  "Uh." He pulled away with a sickly smile.

  "Sorry. Mom habit." I rubbed my hand against the cloth of my shorts and backed away.

  "No worries."

  I shrugged, turned back toward where we'd Rifted in and started walking.

  "Hey where you going there, Badass McShooty?"

  "Home."

  "We've got a mission remember?"

  I stopped. Yeah, I recalled that we had a mission. I also saw how beat up Drew had just gotten, and neither of us had the power to stop it. It was a miracle that the gun had appeared at all. It would be a stunner if I could pull it out again. Unfortunately, I couldn't just go and pick it up. Once we dismissed a weapon, or it left our hand for more than a ten to fifteen second period, it disappeared.

  It’s been explained to me that they go into a little pocket dimension to wait until we call them out again. Technically you're only supposed to have to materialize a weapon from scratch once. Then you just pull it out of your handy hangar and use it every time. I couldn't figure out how to access mine, and so I just kept materializing new stuff. My little pocket must be full to bursting with weapons, tools, forks, (You'd be surprised how often I lose forks. Where do they even go?) and a few items of clothing. Clothing because I tend to catch myself on fire a lot. If I had to buy a t-shirt and jeans every time I incinerated my clothing, I'd be dead broke.

  I refocused on the immediate problem. We were on a strange planet with no power and one weapon I hadn't told Drew about yet. The grass and the ground were more likely to kill us than not, and he and I needed to talk. I didn't want to have this conversation in front of strangers, so turning around, I gave him a meaningful look.

  "Dmitri, I'll meet you in town. I am sorry about Paolo. "

  Dmitri shook his head, then shrugged. "Palace. Apollo wants to meet. And don’t worry about Paolo. If he’s stupid enough to get shot, he wasn’t smart enough to be on the team."

  Drew's shoulder's tightened, and I wondered what was wrong with meeting at the palace. I was going to ask, but he said, "Palace it is. I'd appreciate some privacy with my mate. We do not see eye to eye on this mission."

  His what? I was not going to play the dumb girlfriend in this farce of a game. There were a few chuckles, and I mentally marked down which one had laughed. If it came down to a fight, I wanted to make sure that I hit them extra hard.

  Drew stepped up close and murmured, "Hey we need to do this. Aliana deserves to be brought home if nothing else."

  I gave him a jerky nod and waited for the Neanderthals to leave before I turned back around.

  "Listen, Drew; it took every bit of panic I had in my body to pull in that gun. As a matter of fact, I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt so afraid. The urge to get the hell out of here is overpowering. I want to run as fast as I can, and pray that Diana has a portal open and waiting for us because chances are, I couldn't do it myself."

  He went preternaturally still. "What do you mean, you don't think you can open a Rift?"

  "I've got nothin'. It's you and me, no powers, and a handy little axe that George had made for me. Our best hope is that Olympus realizes that we're not going to check in, and they send someone in to retrieve us."

  "Shit."

  "Yeah. Shit indeed."

  CHAPTER THREE

  "I see."

  That's all he said, and it made me nervous. In the years since I'd taken my place as an Atlancean, I'd been off-world at least five times. After recovering from the effects of the Rift, I always regained what powers I could access. I was counting on Drew to question me because that would mean that I could be wrong. Hell, a flat-out denial would have been welcome.

  I pulled him over to a fallen log and sat us down. He protested, but not as strongly as he usually would, so I just held up a finger and dug into our packs for bottles of water. "Drink this. You're starting to look like death. Moron. Could have said hello with your mouth instead of your fists, yeah? Also, you're bleeding. Jesus, it's like a laundry list of things went wrong."

  Drew unscrewed the cap and tipped the bottle back. His color improved, but only slightly. "I have no earthly idea what is going on here. I've never been attacked without provocation by Dmitri before." He swiped the back of his neck and then grimaced at the sight of his blood, splashed across his fingertips. "Why am I not healing?"

  "I hate to bash the point home, but our powers aren't working. Healing seems to be one of yours. How are you feeling otherwise?"

  "Tired." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  I wanted to look inside his head to see what was going on in there. I’d never heard those words from him. Drew was the energizer bunny of Atlanceans. "I don't like this. I can't seem to make any of my powers work, and you're tired. You never feel tired. Don’t panic, Grace. Don’t panic." Queue the silent panic attack.

  "It just means that there's something wrong here. The key is finding out what."

  I focused on the search for something to staunch the flow of blood. As it turns out, by the time the fighting is finished, we're either mostly dead or reasonably healed, so bandages aren't something that gets packed into a go bag. Also, there's the matter of teleportation. If I'm bleeding out, I can transport myself to Diana's infirmary with just a thought. No need to bandage when you can be at a medical center in the blink of an eye.

  "Sock!" I triumphantly yelled, holding up my prize.

  I startled him out of his introspection, and he cocked his head at me.

  "For your head. We don't have any bandages."

  "Oh. I have some in my bag."

  I stuffed the sock back into my pack, disappointed that I couldn't be the savvy savior. "Well, it would have worked," I mumbled.

  That earned me a smile. "George rarely packs them for obvious reasons, but I've been on enough missions with you to know better."

  I dug through his backpack and pulled out a compression bandage and pad. "Sit down for m
e."

  "You're not winding that thing around my head."

  "I don't know what else we're going to use unless you want me to spit on it before sticking it on your head." I wasn't serious. I wouldn't - yeah okay, I would spit on him.

  He went on grumbling about me squishing his brain, and I hushed him. "It shouldn't take long to stop the bleeding. It's not flowing freely right now. Just some leakage." I prodded the wound, but nothing seeped out. "Oh, it's already stopped."

  "Well, that's one good thing we have going for us. So, what's the new plan?"

  I shrugged. "I haven't come up with one yet. I thought maybe you'd do that."

  He scoffed. "Why me?"

  "I don't know, maybe because you're always the man with the plan?"

  "Like I said, Dmitri has never attacked without provocation before. But I haven't been here in a long time. Things could have changed. I'm more concerned that we're headed directly to the palace."

  "Why?"

  "Because Dmitri was my contact and we were supposed to meet in town. If we're going to the palace, that means that Apollo knows we're here. None of my dealings with Apollo have ever gone well."

  I wanted the dish on why he and Apollo didn't get along, but we had more pressing matters to attend. "So, what are our options?"

  "We can go to Apollo's palace, or we can run. But if we run, we probably won't get far." He grabbed the pad out of my hand and dabbed it at the back of his head. "Looks better."

  "Do you think Apollo's in on it?" Whatever "it" was. I came into this mission blind. But now I doubt anyone had any idea of how bad we'd have it.

  "I can't say. I haven't spoken to Apollo in nearly a millennium. He's always been a douche, but not necessarily evil. However, you know as well as I do that people change."

  "Yeah, okay. So, let's go on to the palace, but we stick together. I mean it. Tied at the hip, you and me."

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Trying to get me into the sack, Grace?"

  "You wish," I muttered. "I just don't think that we should separate. It will be easier to take us down if we're apart. Logic, dork. Get some."

  "I could use a nap."

  My jaw dropped. "I feel like someone is going to jump out any minute and tell me I’m being punked. When did you start feeling tired?"

  "Probably after the beating I got. I can't believe Dmitri’s men took me down so quickly. I was feeling okay before then."

  "Do you think they could have drugged you when you were down?" I was skeptical, but there weren't any other obvious reasons.

  "Did you see them drug me?"

  I shook my head. "You were pretty bloody. It could have been topical. I was so busy trying to call in a weapon that I didn’t notice. Why didn't you call in one of your swords?"

  "I recognized Dmitri. I didn't even think to pull out a weapon."

  "Can you do it now? I just want to see how utterly hosed we are."

  A frown crossed his face, and I saw the fingers on his right hand twitch. "Nope."

  "Try harder."

  "This isn't like taking a shit, Grace. I can't just push harder, and it happens."

  "Gross." I elbowed him in the ribs.

  "Gross, but accurate. It could be that I'm just too tired."

  "Thankfully, Georgie is like, the original Girl Scout." I dug into my pack and pulled out a metal rod about six inches long. "Here, try this."

  He let go a sigh of relief and snapped the rod down. It made a short snicking sound and then extended to a length of five feet. "This makes me feel better. I'd be happier with my swords, but this will do."

  I grinned and stood up. "Wait 'til you see this." I took the rod from him, depressed a small notch in the center, and two eight-inch curved blades emerged from the edges of each end.

  "Nice!"

  "It gets better." I twisted, and the rod separated into two pieces, giving me dual axes.

  "Damn! Who designed that?"

  "Believe it or not, Georgie did. She gave the specs to Heph about six months ago. She said that I was prone to bad luck so I should have a backup weapon. It's small enough that I can carry it in a purse or big pocket, so it's perfect."

  "How did they get the mass to expand like this?"

  I shrugged. "No idea. Magic, maybe? Laws of Physics don't seem to work where Heph and weapons are concerned." Say what I will about him, and I had a lot of bad things to say about Heph, he was a master weaponsmith.

  "I don't suppose she packed a backup, did she?"

  I shook my head. "Sadly, no. You're better at melee than I am. Keep it."

  "Only slightly better. You've improved significantly in the last couple of years."

  I couldn't contain the flush of pleasure at his words. "Well, I've got a lot of pent up rage. The training helps with that; you know?"

  "You want to talk about that?"

  "No?"

  "I heard a question mark there. You sure? It's going to be a few minutes before the bluebirds stop twitting about my head."

  I laughed at the imagery. "Ever since California, I've been twitchy. I made an ass out of myself Drew. I hurt people."

  "Well, making an ass out of yourself isn't a new experience for you. Hurting people is. Is that why you've hidden away?"

  "Yeah. Can't hurt anyone if they don't see me."

  "Except the kid."

  I winced. "Ouch."

  "Hey, he talks to me."

  "He used to talk to me too. He doesn't anymore."

  "Is it because he thinks you're not available?"

  "Likely. I'm so afraid of hurting Dylan again. Of losing my temper with him. He's at that age, you know? The one where he doesn't listen to a damn thing, I tell him to do. It's either walk away or crush him."

  "What happened to the middle ground, where you calmly explain to him that he's being a dick?"

  I chuckled. "Do you calmly explain to Dylan that he's being a dick?"

  Drew thought about that for a minute then nodded at me. "Yeah, I do. He's nearly a grown man, so I try not to order him around. But when he's in 'flaming asshole' mode, I let him know that he needs to cut it out."

  "In my head, I can think of all of the right words. But that isn't what comes out. I go from twitchy to rage in a matter of seconds now. Medusa's venom did something to me."

  He scoffed. "It's been too long for you to have any of Medusa’s venom left in your system."

  "Are you sure? Have you dealt with that before?"

  He started to answer, and I held up a hand. "No, you’re right. It's more than that. I think maybe too much changed too fast. I'm off kilter. Sometimes it feels like I'm on a tiny little tree limb in the middle of a raging river. I'm gonna sink, and I don't know how to swim through that."

  Tears gathered at the back of my eyes, but I squelched the urge. I wasn't going to start crying now. I hadn't shared this with anyone because I hadn't wanted to deal with it. It's easier just to hide and avoid.

  "Is there anything I can do to make it better?"

  Bless his heart; he thought anything could make it better. "Yeah figure out a cure? Make me less introverted? Get Lachesis off my case because she's driving me crazy?"

  "This is what you get when you end up with one of the Fates as your agent, Grace. It's like making a deal with a crossroads demon. She owns you now."

  I gasped. "Is that real? Crossroads demons? Is Lachesis one of them? Does she really own me now?"

  The look he gave me said I was clearly a blathering idiot. "No, they're not real. I'd smack you in the back of the head to reset your brainbox if I had the energy. You gave Lachesis, or Marisol as she likes to be called, the power over you when you let her start bossing you around. I'm not that familiar with how publishing works, but from what I have seen, the agent works for the writer. Not the other way around."

  "I was much less afraid of her before I found out that she was a Fate. Now, knowing that she can clip my thread, I'm less likely to say no."

  "You know she can't do that, right? Cut the thread? She can m
ake your life miserable and orchestrate situations where you'll wish you were dead, but you have to be slated to die before she can make that happen."

  "Yeah, but I feel like maybe she'd be more hesitant to let me go if I'm making her a lot of money."

  "She does like the creature comforts. But you realize she can materialize whatever she wants. The Fates have no need of mortal money."

  I scowled, realizing that he was right. "So, what's her game?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine."

  "Is it any wonder that I'm going crazy? I almost wish that Nyx would try something again just to take my mind off my problems."

  "I can't believe you even said that out loud!" Drew covered my mouth with his hand and looked around as if to make sure nobody had been listening.

  When he didn't remove it right away, I licked it. Salty.

  "Gross." He pouted, wiping his hand on his pants.

  "Salty." I countered.

  "You're weird."

  "Well, you brought me!" I finally exclaimed, shooting to my feet. At this rate, we'd be in a full-blown fight in minutes.

  He nodded. "Okay enough. We've got at least one weapon between us, and absolutely no idea what's waiting for us at the end of this road. Shall we get going?"

  I said yes and repacked our bags. Pulling Drew upright, I sarcastically yelled. "Let's do this."

  He gave me a skeptical side-eye but then offered an elbow. "If you start singing Off to See the Wizard, I'm leaving you here."

  I slid my hand through the crook of his arm to give him support more than anything. "I would never do that," I answered solemnly. But, I was already humming it in my head.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "Do you think he's compensating for something?" I asked, nodding towards the largest tower with the mushroom top. "I mean, does that look like a giant phallus to you?"

  "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

  I snickered and plastered an innocent look on my face. "Was it hard being dragged kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century?"