by S. E. Babin
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Out of Eggnog Aphrodite
S.E. Babin
Contents
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by S.E. Babin
Copyright © 2016 by S.E. Babin
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
For Sam Elliott.
I don’t even like mustaches.
But it’s okay.
I still like yours.
Foreword
Thanks so much for joining Abby and the gang again.
If you’re interested in keeping up with her exploits, please check out my newsletter at www.sebabin.com.
If you’ve enjoyed her shenanigans, please consider leaving a review at your favorite retailers! Those are like chocolate cake to authors, yummy delicious cake.
Chapter 1
This year would be my first true human Christmas, and I was already giddy about it. A little sad, too. I’d have Artie here, that was true, but Keto and Hermes were gone. Keto disappeared several months ago and there had been no peep from him since. I knew it had something to do with Hades and our contract, but no one would tell me anything.
Par for the course, that.
Hermes was my fault, like most things these days were. Well...mostly my fault. Typhon had a hand in it. Desperate to save our hides and that of the rest of the world’s, I enlisted his help. But his help came with a price - the chance to win my hand in the games of the olden days. Warriors competed against each other for a maiden’s hand. I was no maiden, but you get the idea. Think Renaissance Festival on speed. Minus the jousting, and you’d be right on target.
Understandably, agreeing to said games enraged Hermes, and he hightailed it out of my life without so much as a how do you do. A few weeks later due to a love spell gone wacky, he was hooking up with Dike and rubbing it in my face. Needless to say, I wasn’t the happiest girl on the planet during Halloween and, instead of doing the mature thing, I kind of sort of forced Hades into one hell of a smoochy-smooch session. I don’t know what it did for him, but it knocked my socks off. Some awkward apologies later and some ninja avoidance skills and I think we were getting back to normal.
All in all, things on Earth were going well. I’d recovered from the disastrous Halloween resulting in Cupid’s death and, as a result, Clotho and I had formed a pretty strong bond of friendship. Granted, she still scared the hell out of me, but shouldn’t people you love scare you just a little bit? I was starting to think so. Everyone I loved was pretty scary.
It was three days before Christmas. The ham was in the fridge thawing out. I had all the groceries I needed so I could avoid the crowds, and I had a small guest list for dinner. Things were going to be normal. Nothing out of the ordinary was going to happen. I could do it for one day, couldn’t I?
Of course I could. I was strong. Mature. Ready to do this!
I snorted. I’m not sure how mature I really was. If I didn’t make it awkward, odds were high I’d at least make it weird.
“Earth to Abs,” an amused voice said.
I blinked out of my one-woman monologue and spun. Artie stood there, looking much softer than usual. Instead of her leathers, staff, and bow slung across her shoulders, she wore a pair of skinny jeans and brown riding boots. A cream colored sweater slid down one bare shoulder. She wore a long chain with an emerald attached at the bottom and her long, gorgeous hair lay loose and swirled around her face like she’d just walked out of a shampoo commercial. There was nary a weapon to be found.
I blinked again. “You look…”
One of her eyebrows rose over her thick framed, stylish black glasses. “Normal. Less Deadly?” She sighed. “Yes. I know. With the start of the new business, I had to tone down my appearance a little.” Artie waggled her eyebrows and lowered her voice to a whisper. “We didn’t want to keep scaring the children.”
The population of Asheville became decidedly weirder once we started to make our home here. Turned out the paranormal loved this town. Clotho set up shop here first with Curiosities and Brambles, a shop catering to the fluffy side of magic and a backroom catering to the hardcore magic users like yours truly and other folks I wasn’t sure I wanted to know about yet. I had no shop but I did have a big ol’ house smack in the middle of the mountains obscured from human view and gifted to me by Hades after my last two houses were destroyed in magical hijinks. I called them hijinks because calling them what they really were - attempted murder - would make me curl up in the fetal position for the next week.
There was no time for that. Christmas dinner had to be made and there was merriment to produce!
“You look great,” I said, and I meant it. “Being a detective looks good on you.”
A vulnerable smile passed across her face, and her eyes glittered with tears. “Thanks, Abs.”
She was proud of it. So far the jobs she took were mundane. Nothing out of the ordinary yet, but I didn’t think Zeus would let it stay that way for long. He was all about using tools where they lay. And he didn’t exactly love us being away from Olympus. Not that he was in power right now, but I knew from my last run in with him, he wasn’t exactly out of power either.
He and Hermes appeared to be in some strange tug of war for control over Olympus. So far it was still friendly, and Hermes was still in the lead due to Zeus’ forced banishment for the next year. From the tiny warning bells sounding in the back of my head these days, the battle for power over that kingdom wouldn’t be friendly.
But for now, Artie had a cozy little building right in the middle of Asheville looking for missing pets and charging a premium for it. There was never a pet she couldn’t find, and people around the town were beginning to realize that.
I motioned her into the kitchen. “Hot cocoa?”
“What kind of ridiculous question is that? The answer is always yes.” Her footfalls were soft against the new porcelain tile. I needed to remember to ask her what kind of boots she was wearing. With that little heel noise, they were bound to be comfortable.
As we walked to the back, the unwelcome thought intruded again. My house was too big for me. I knew it. But I built it at a time when I thought everyone would still be with me. I loved it, but sometimes at night the quiet got me down. There needed to be people here. Life. Happiness. Now it was just me and whatever problems I’d brought home the night before.
Today, though, I had a friend here and we would celebrate. With chocolate.
I took out heavy cream and milk from the fridge, set them on the counter, and shuffled over to the pantry looking for the goo
d baking cocoa and organic sugar. Artie made herself at home at the enormous island and settled back to watch me, her heart-shaped face in her hands and a smirk on her face.
“Shut it,” I told her as I added a little cream to the cocoa powder.
“With a pretty little bonnet, you’d make a great prairie wife.”
I lifted my gaze to hers. “Insults to the chef will result in zero hot chocolate being had.” I waved my wooden spoon at her. “Got it?”
She raised her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying. Some long flowered skirts, a big farm out in Wyoming…” Her voice trailed off but her eyes sparkled with amusement.
“I get the first cup, you monster,” I said.
A slight shift of the air in the kitchen alerted me to the presence of Clotho. With brown eyes, a slight frame, and light brown hair, she looked like one of the many twenty-somethings roaming around Asheville. But there was nothing young about the woman herself. One of the Fates, Clotho had been around longer than most of us, and she’d seen just about everything.
I was proud to finally consider her my friend. I didn’t think she had enough of those. I wouldn’t lie. She was sometimes hard to be friends with, especially because she had a terrible habit of telling you horrible things were about to happen to you.
But...we couldn’t really help our talents now, could we?
“I smell chocolate,” she said and peered over my shoulder to examine the pan full of goodness.
“You can have the second cup,” I told her while smirking at Artie.
Artie’s gaze narrowed. “Watch it, lady. I’m one of the Twelve, you know.”
I stiffened and the smile on my face slipped just a hair. She wasn’t one of the Twelve anymore. Thanks to yours truly. And I hadn’t broken the news to her yet. She never hung around Olympus anymore, but there was something about being in a group that made you feel comforted in the worst of times. You knew people were there to have your back.
Since I’d come raging like a bull in a china shop back into Olympus, Zeus’ Twelve had slowly dwindled down to about seven. I wasn’t sure about Poseidon after our last run in, and it wasn’t like I could call Hermes over for dinner to ask him.
“Right,” I said softly and continued to stir the chocolate mixture.
Clotho’s gaze lingered on me for a moment but she said nothing. I could have kissed her for that. I was going to have to tell Artie, but I hoped to wait until after Christmas.
Three days. I could do this.
Once the mixture was stirred thoroughly, I added the rest of the milk and cream, heating it up to just before the boil. I pulled it off the heat, stirred in a tablespoon of vanilla paste and began to pour the hot drink into the mugs Clotho produced for me.
I let it cool just a bit before I pulled out the whipped cream dispenser from the fridge. There was something about knowing you were using nitrous oxide to make something delicious that made a girl feel powerful inside. I garnished the mugs with a healthy dollop of the cream and pushed the first cup over to Artie.
She winked at me. “I knew you loved me.”
“Always,” I said, unable to keep a touch of sadness out of my voice.
She blinked and gave me a curious stare but the allure of the cocoa was too much for her to bear so she concentrated on that. Thank goodness. She was way too perceptive, and I was weak. I pushed the second mug over to Clotho and picked up the third.
For now, there wasn’t a problem in the world chocolate couldn’t fix.
Chapter 2
The first signs of trouble came the next morning. All three of us were up and munching on bacon and eggs when the doorbell rang. Considering I had a ward on my home the size of Texas, this was a little bit concerning. Humans couldn’t see the land or the home I lived in, but immortals could.
This meant the only person who could be at my door was immortal. Ringing the doorbell was a good sign, though. Most of them barged in like they owned the place. I set the mug I was holding down, wiped my fingers on my napkin and headed over to the front door, my nerves on edge.
I peeked through the peephole and reared back like I’d been slapped. Clotho appeared at my side in an instant, her face concerned. She looked through the peephole and back at me, one eyebrow raised in morbid curiosity.
Hera stood at my door. I looked through one more time to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
Nope. It was Hera, standing there in jeans and a flowery blouse, chewing on her fingernails like a teenager. What in the hell had happened now?
But even worse, behind her sat a suitcase.
“I don’t want to open the door,” I whispered to Clotho.
One thin shoulder shrugged. “I don’t think you have much of a choice, child.”
“I hear you in there!” screeched Hera.
My head fell against the door, making a thunk noise. “Why me?” I mumbled to myself.
“Let me in or I’m going to blow the door off,” Hera retorted.
With a deep breath in and a quick prayer for patience, I slowly opened the door to my sometimes nemesis.
“Hello, Aphrodite,” she said as she brushed past me without an invite to enter.
At that moment, I wished she were a vampire.
“Hera,” I said and shut the door behind me, closing out the cool rush of December wind.
She stopped in the middle of the foyer and looked around. “Nice place,” she sniffed.
Is it still considered murder if it’s justifiable? “Thank you.”
“Where do I put my things?” she asked.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Clotho biting back a smile.
“Preferably at your own home,” I said, hoping against all hope that suitcase didn’t mean what I think it did.
She studied me with barely there patience, her bright crystal-blue eyes lingering on my face. She wanted to say something to me, I know she did, but Clotho stood beside me, a silent guardian. Hera held her tongue. Perhaps her sense of self-preservation was stronger than I gave her credit for.
Right on cue, Artie walked out from the kitchen, her hand curled around her coffee mug. She leaned against the doorjamb, a picture of elegant propriety in her striped cotton pajamas and bare feet. Her long hair swirled down her shoulders and lingered at her waist. Artie had a lot less patience for shenanigans than I did. She stared at Hera, her mouth a thin line.
“To what do we owe this pleasure?” she asked and the tone of her voice told everyone in the room her presence was no pleasure.
A flicker of something skittered across Hera’s gaze. If I didn’t know better, I would have said it was fear, but Hera was extremely powerful in her own right. Something was wrong in Wonderland.
“Where’s Zeus?” I asked when a thought occurred to me. A horrible, terrible thought.
She blinked and started to head up the stairs. “I’ll just put my bags in one of your guestrooms,” she said quietly.
We all watched her walk up the stairs and as soon as she turned the corner, we all made eye contact.
Clotho spoke first. “She is vulnerable.”
“I don’t care if she was sawed in half and had to drag her lower half over the doorstep. Hera is a terrible person.” Artie’s eyes blazed with anger.
“She isn’t a person, Huntress.” Clotho’s tone was patient, but I could hear the undercurrent of annoyance there.
My shoulders sagged. I had to let her stay. Hera and I had an odd relationship. We weren’t friendly, but neither were we actively trying to kill each other. At least for now. But the thing that got my wheels turning was why. Why did she choose here?
“Because you are the only one who wouldn’t turn her away.” Clotho’s gaze sparked silver, a hint of her true power coming to the forefront.
“Well lucky me,” I grumbled.
“Tell her to leave,” Artie advised. It was half-hearted, though. She already knew my decision. “You’re going to regret this,” she added and sighed before she crossed her arms. Her face was a mixtu
re of puzzlement and aggravation.
“Oh I know it,” I said and clomped up the stairs after the Queen of the Gods.
I knocked once and pushed open the door. Hera, tall and thin, stood over one of my empty dressers, adding flimsy garments into the drawers.
I tried not to panic. “Staying a while?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.
“If you’ll have me.” She folded a bright pink blouse and laid it gently inside the drawer.
I sat down on the bed and studied her. Immortals are ageless, but stress can take its toll on our appearance. Thin lines of worry creased the top of her forehead and sank into the grooves at the edges of her mouth. Her shoulders sagged, and her posture was hunched. Her light blond hair lay against her shoulders, but it wasn’t the bright sunny color I was used to - it was lank and heavy.
I was going to regret this. I could feel it in my ancient bones. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” she responded. Quickly. Too quickly.
“Hera. If you’re in danger I need to know.”
She was one of the least liked of us all. Hera was possessed of a cruel, vindictive streak and many of us had experienced it in one way or another over the centuries.
“I’m not in danger.” She finished unpacking the rest of her suitcase and took it off the bed to tuck it in the closet. It was a very mortal thing to do. Hera burned through gallons of magic by breakfast and she had yet to use any of it since she’d been here.
“But?” I asked. When she didn’t respond I just came out with it. “Why are you here, Hera?”
“Zeus left me.”
Of all the things I expected her to say, that wasn’t even in the top ten.
“Excuse me?” I repeated, my mouth gaping open like a kid at a magic show.
“You heard me.” Her voice was soft and full of regret. Gone was the angry, cruel Hera I’d known. In her place was a woman. Just a grieving woman.