The mother was pushing the stroller, just entering the area of the talking-gods statue. She hadn’t spotted us yet.
The bird zipped its wings back and dive-bombed toward the baby with its spear-like beak.
I flew in front of the stroller, kicked it back, somersaulted, and pointed my sword at the Stymphalian’s eyes.
“Indigo, now!”
The dragon breathed a fire so hot, so intense, it melted the bird’s beak right into the floor.
The rest of it twirled and crashed, screaming as it fell. The monster fired off three more feathers as it descended, one of which hit me in the shoulder.
But before it could make a final stance, Cerberus sank his teeth into the bird’s neck, killing it.
Right before our eyes, and the eyes of every human who stayed to watch the entire display, the bird melted into a heap of liquid metal.
There were cheers, applause.
“That was amazing!” said the woman whose hand I suspected had been burned. She rushed toward me.
I glanced down. It seemed to have healed instantly. But I know I had seen it burn. Smelled it, even.
In Olympus, that wouldn’t have happened. She wouldn’t have healed. Perhaps here the laws of the Universe worked differently.
People were applauding and congratulating us on a well-done show. Except for the shopkeeper whose window had been smashed. He was looking for the responsible party. I retracted my wings away, sheathed my sword, and called to the hellhound.
As we ran past the statues of the gods, I noticed that they were still melted. My own injuries still pained me.
Did that mean the humans would be spared devastation by a demon on this plane if a god killed it, but the gods themselves would not fare so well?
I wasn’t certain. I had never battled the monsters of Tartarus in this realm. But I knew one thing for sure.
We were down one portal to get home.
Chapter 30
He was nervous today. His partner had finally showed up in town, but he hadn’t come by to see the girls yet. Said there would be a surprise for him.
He hated surprises. He liked to be the one who did the surprising. Still, it could be something fun for the party. Toys, maybe? Or maybe another girl. That would sure save him a shitload of hassle.
He went to get his to-do list. The playmates had all been fed already. The place was clean. He had gotten the supplies. Looked like that was it. He put the list away.
He wondered how his partner would take it that he’d had to let one go. He would understand, he was sure. His partner knew what it was like. Knew the need. The hunger. You had to feed the beast within, or it would eat you alive.
They’d been working together a long time, and he had done most of the dirty work, after all. His partner owed him. It wasn’t easy finding these girls, getting them alone. Not to mention what he had to do to the friends.
Good thing he had his secret weapon.
He ducked his head into the room to see how everyone was doing. Two of the girls were playing cards. They seemed to enjoy the fact that they could still lead a regular life. Of course, he had to chain them, but you could still play gin rummy with the cuffs on. One thing they had to admit: he treated them well.
Except the troublemaker. He hadn’t carved her eyes out yet, but he was still thinking about it. The strangest thing was, even the lack of food didn’t seem to break her. Nothing did.
Until he had opened the blinds.
She had whipped her head away from that Vegas sun so fast, you’d think it had burned her skin clear off.
So he left them open. Nobody was gonna see her anyway. Not where they were.
And it worked. Before he had done that, he could have sworn the bitch was getting stronger.
How was that possible? How could a girl get stronger when you denied her food, water, and exercise?
She had head-butted him the other day, the fucking whore. He had hauled off and cracked her a good one for that, but she had just looked at him with those creepy eyes like twinkle lights. Damn, did he regret the day he’d picked her up.
She’d had a sister when he found her. But she didn’t fit the profile. His partner insisted on a type, for some goddamn reason.
What difference did it make? That’s what he wanted to know. Broads were broads. They all bled. They all had holes between their legs that needed fillin’.
But his partner had insisted. And now he was one short, goddammit. But there was time. They had a few days before the plan went down.
He went into the kitchen to fix himself a ham sandwich. His cell phone rang.
His partner was here.
It was time.
Chapter 31
I hurried back to the room to tend to my wounds, while Cerberus went outside to take care of business. My left wing was a bit sore, and I couldn’t understand why. Was it because I hadn’t been flying much? Was it muscle pain?
Archer was in the room when we arrived. I was surprised to see him, certain the meeting with Sam would have taken longer.
He glanced up from the laptop when I shut the door. He was wearing a smile until he looked at me.
He stood up. “What happened to you?” He approached me, leading me gently to the sofa by my arm. “Come sit down.”
I did, right after I pulled Indigo from my belt loop. She was still steaming from the blaze but no longer hot. She was resting peacefully, curled around the hilt of my sword.
Archer looked at the sword. It was apparent that he wanted to ask about our new roommate, but he seemed to decide that question could wait. He reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a red Gatorade. He handed it to me, and I drank the entire bottle in three large gulps.
I felt a little better after that, but my wing was still sore, not to mention my shoulder and my thigh where the metal feathers of the Stymphalian had ripped into my flesh.
Archer’s face was contorted into a strange combination of worry and anger. “What happened? Who did this?”
I told him about the bird, the battle, the portal, and the sword as quickly as my lips could move.
He ran a hand through his thick waves. “Jesus Christ, Tisi. You could have been killed.”
“But I wasn’t.”
He knelt down, studied my injuries, contemplating the best way to extract the weapons. Then he looked up at me, a cloud of darkness in his eyes.
“Could that happen? Could you be killed here? I mean, I know you’re a goddess and that technically you’re immortal, but—” He stopped when he saw the look on my face. “Shit.”
“It’s not likely when we have our full power and I have been gaining strength.” Not to mention using it up as fast as it came. “But yes, Archer. I can be killed in this world.”
He scratched his head, turned it away from me for just a moment. When he faced me again after a while, he wore a mask of determination.
“Then let’s find your sister and get the hell out of Dodge.”
I grinned.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because I know that one. Hickok uses it all the time.”
Archer shook his head, but I saw a smile. He stood up and grabbed my hand. “Come with me, my goddess. Let’s get you patched up.”
I placed my hand in his. The moment I did, I felt an electric jolt that tingled my skin all the way to my wings. They fluttered.
Archer slid a sideways glance at them. “Oh, hell, it got your wing.”
“What?” Oh no, not my wing! Not my source of power!
Archer gently lifted a few feathers. “It’s not bad. Just looks like a few feathers were clipped.”
“A few!” I tried to twist my neck around, but I couldn’t see the wound.
“Is that bad?”
“It’s not good.” I explained that my wings were my source of strength. Even one lost feather weakened me, and without the Fates here to repair it, I was that much less powerful.
“Let’s get you into the bathroom, and you can check it in the mirro
r.”
We climbed the stairs together, and Archer led me into the bath. He gathered some towels and wet one down. Then he paused, assessing my wounds. “I’ll be right back.”
I studied my wings in the mirror. The tank top was bunched up in the middle between them. At home, I had clothing specially fashioned to fit around my wings. If they made such garments here, I was not aware of it. Perhaps I should wear halter tops for the remainder of our mission.
There was just a trickle of blood on the shirt. All my feathers seemed to be there, yet one was lying at an odd angle.
Broken, but not gone. It could be taped. That would help it heal.
Archer came back with two small bottles.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Vodka. We need to disinfect the wound. Those things are metal. You don’t know where that bird has been.” He unscrewed the cap of one of the bottles.
“No way. I don’t want that stuff anywhere near me.” I backed up slowly, put my palm up to shield my face.
Archer looked at the bottles, then at me. “You don’t drink it, Tisi. I’m going to pour it on you.”
I shook my head. “Uh-uh.”
“It has to be done.”
“No. When I return, Hecate will give me a cleansing potion.”
“They could get infected long before that.”
I looked at the feather sticking out of my shoulder. It was dull, with specks of white smeared across it. “Looks perfectly clean to me.”
Archer smirked. “You’re being ridiculous.”
I gritted my teeth at him. “I said no.”
Archer shifted his stance. “Do you really want to be the goddess who conquered the great Stymphalian only to lose an arm from an infection left by its freaking feather?”
I rolled my eyes. It sounded stupid when he put it that way. “Fine.”
He came toward me. “Okay. I’m going to pull the blade out of your shoulder first. Then I’ll pour the vodka on it, then cover it with the towel.”
“Okay.”
He grabbed a washcloth and wrapped it around his hand, then put it on the blade. “Count of three. Ready?”
“Ready.”
“One, two, three.” Archer pulled the blade out, and it stung like a piranha bite.
“Ow!” I slapped him upside the head.
“Hey! What was that for?”
“Sorry. Instinct. It’s what I usually do when someone causes me pain.” The wound was throbbing. It wasn’t too deep. I didn’t think it would need sewing up.
Archer grabbed a vodka bottle. “This might sting.” He backed up. “Do not hit me.”
I nodded.
“You’re going to hit me, aren’t you?”
“I might.”
“Tell you what—squeeze my hand if it hurts.”
“All right.”
He gave me his left hand to hold. I held my breath as he poised the bottle.
“Don’t look,” he said.
I turned my head, he poured the vodka, and I squeezed his hand as hard as I could.
The vodka burned my flesh. “Ow, ow, ow!”
“Yow! Tisi, let go, let go!”
I did.
Archer was white. He shook out his hand and looked at it. “Jesus, I think you broke my finger.”
He wiggled his fingers. They didn’t appear broken. He grabbed the wet towel with his other hand and told me to hold it against the cut.
After he shook his hand out for a few moments, he said, “One down, one to go.” He grabbed another towel, wet it, and reached for the vodka.
I looked at my bloody leg. “Let’s just leave that one in there.”
Archer cocked his head. “You know, for a Fury, you’re acting like a total wuss.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I’m sure I don’t like it.” I shot him a hard stare.
“It means stop being a baby and take it like a goddess.”
I glared at him. “How dare you call me a baby? I’ll have you know I’ve punished more men than you could ever hope to meet. I’ve battled demons the likes of which would have you soiling your pants. I’ve chased monsters that would give you night terrors for all eternity, and I’ve banned souls to Tartarus so diseased that just one encounter would send you screaming into the night.”
Archer just stood there, smirking. “And yet you’re afraid of vodka.”
Oh, the man could exasperate me! “Just get on with it.”
He looked at my jeans. The feather was embedded high in my thigh. Nearly to my hip.
“Pull your pants down.”
“I will not.”
“Tisi, pull your goddamn pants down so we can get this over with and get on with the business of stopping bad guys.”
“Oh, all right!”
I unzipped my jeans and carefully slid them down, lifting them up and over the bird feather.
They fell to the floor, and I stepped out of them. Archer slid his eyes down my legs, pausing briefly on my lacy black panties, and back up again.
I put my hands on my hips. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a leg man. And I’ve never seen a pair that went on for quite so many miles.”
That tingling sensation filled me again. How could one person be so irritating yet so charming at the same time?
“I don’t know if I want to slap you or kiss you,” I said.
Archer froze in place. His face took on a color of surprise. “You want to kiss me?”
Damn. Did I say that out loud?
“No. It’s the vodka talking.”
“You didn’t drink any vodka.”
I waved my arm. “Doesn’t matter. It seeped into my blood through osmosis.”
He didn’t say anything more, just wore a cocky smile as he held the towel and the bottle and knelt down near my thigh. His face was practically at the level of my panties, and I could not control the pulsating going on beneath them.
I hoped he didn’t see it. Or hear it.
He pulled out the feather without warning, cleansed the wound, and held the towel to it. I yelped softly, but this time it didn’t hurt nearly as badly. My body was electrified, heated through and through. I glanced down at Archer. He looked up at me, still kneeling, his face still dangerously close to the most sensitive part of me.
Not only was this city draining my power, it was robbing me of good judgment. Do not get involved with a mortal, Tisi. It can only lead to trouble.
At least, that’s what my head was saying.
My body, apparently, had not received the memo. My nipples hardened as Archer pressed the towel to my wound. He held it there, looking up at me as I gazed down at him. He was so frustratingly sexy. So tender and caring. I had never known a man or god like him.
His breathing grew a bit heavy, his eyes a bit darker, and I couldn’t stop staring into them. My lips parted slightly.
Archer kept his eyes focused on mine, his hand still holding the towel to my wound. He grazed his other hand across the outside of my panties, and my heart pounded in my chest. I groaned softly. He cupped my backside, still holding my gaze. When I didn’t object, he kissed my inner thigh, one and then the other. He moved to my outer thighs, still holding the towel to my injury. He hesitated, glancing at me again, and I closed my eyes, tilted my head back. Slowly, he kissed his way up the curvature of my body, leaving no crevice untouched. His lips traced my hips, stomach, ribs, until he finally (finally!) reached my breasts.
His hand was still pressed against my thigh, so close to my panties, I felt certain he could hear my body hum.
Without saying a word, Archer curled his other hand through my hair and pressed his lips to mine.
A thousand tiny explosions erupted all over my body as I felt the firm sweetness of his mouth, his lips, his tongue. I didn’t want him stop, didn’t want him to pull away; I just wanted to feel his body pressed to mine, his skin on my skin. I wanted to feel him inside and out. He could have taken me right the
re, right on the counter, in the shower, on the marble floor, even, and I wouldn’t have protested.
I dropped the towel I was holding to my shoulder, and my arms found their way to his shirt and ripped it open. He moaned softly as I traced the muscles of his chest, his stomach, his hips. I wrapped my good leg around his waist, and I felt the cold barrel of his gun there, but I didn’t care. He dropped the towel he was pressing against my thigh and lifted my other leg, careful not to touch the cut. I expanded my wings and cupped them around us like a cocoon. He groaned, louder this time, and pushed me against the wall, kissing and sucking my neck, my breasts, my shoulders, every inch of me that he could reach.
I wanted him. I was more than ready for him to fill me, to feel him inside me. I needed to put out the fire that had been building ever since we’d met.
And just when I thought we were going to, there was a knock at the door.
Chapter 32
Archer whispered, “Damn.”
“What?”
“I forgot. Sam had to postpone our little meeting. That’s probably him.”
“Damn.”
He smiled at me and set me down, his chest heaving. He put his hands flat against the wall on either side of my head and said, “I’m not done with you. Not by a long shot.”
“Well maybe this was a one-time-only offer.”
“Oh, no, I don’t think so, Sassy.”
Another knock.
Archer sighed. “Better go answer the door.”
I nodded at him. He kissed me one last time, sighed, and left the room.
Frustrated, I folded my wings away and took a quick, cold shower. Rummaging around in the bathroom, I found some bandages and patched up my cuts, making a mental note to ask Archer to tape my feather later.
There was a pair of shorts and a baggy T-shirt in the wardrobe, so I threw those on and joined the men in the common room. I had forgotten all about Indigo until I saw her. I picked her up and tucked her behind the sofa, out of Sam’s line of view.
The men were sitting at the large table, a notebook between them. There was also a large jar filled with blue liquid.
“Is this all of it?” Archer asked.
“Yes, yes, sir,” said Sam.
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