by Zoe Forward
“Hey, you done yet, Shannon?” Eli yelled. “Because I’ve got to get you on the phone with your father.”
“Yeah, we’re good,” she replied.
“Far from it,” Merck muttered to himself as he scooted into the driver’s seat. He still wanted her more than his next breath.
Chapter Five
Merck powered his boat a few miles offshore until the boat’s tossing on the angry waves reached capsizing-risk critical. He cut the engine and swallowed against nausea, but not from motion sickness. His insides had been as choppy as the ocean ever since he’d driven away from Shannon a few hours ago. The wrongness of not helping her, of not finding out why exactly the warlock had tried to kidnap her, ate at him. Regardless of how ignoring his attraction to her drove him nuts, she was in trouble.
He was no one’s knight in shining armor. She had her own people who didn’t want him around, especially her father, who hated his guts. The moment her father found out where she’d been last night there’d be an angry druid on his front steps with a shotgun and no questions asked before blowing a hole in his chest.
Far off, the sky loomed with gray clouds. Details of the horizon were hazy where the rain had already started. Wind plastered the windbreaker against his body, carrying the smell of approaching rain. Two pelicans clung tight to a rocking buoy a few hundred yards away.
He leaned over the side of the boat to dip his hand into the choppy water. Instantly, information on the chaos below the churning surface swamped his mind. Animals were confused and panicking. Environmental conditions were unstable—fluctuating temperatures, salinity off, and algal blooms along the coastline. Energy from deep within him revved, demanding freedom to fix the chaos. On an exhale he released the surging power. Everything for miles around became stabilized. Even though still windy and choppy at the surface, the stability below relaxed him. He might’ve inherited some water abilities from his water-god father, but he couldn’t control the weather.
The animals in the ocean’s depths had been his companions through the toughest moments of his childhood—a selfish and sometimes abusive mother, an absent father, drug addiction, and his tendency for fights. The water healed his wounds, and the animals soothed his emotions. He’d do anything he could for them.
He’d have to return tomorrow, if he expected his stabilizing session to hold. Healing the whole ocean wasn’t possible. Just little patches. Why were things out here and on land so out of whack?
The darkening skies gave the illusion of an early dusk.
As he returned to the wheel he heard clapping.
He whipped around, reaching for the knife on his belt.
A familiar ichthyocentaur reclined on one of the boat’s white benches. The creature had shed his part-merman, part-horse form to appear human, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and white silky pants. The shimmer in his purple eyes hinted at the masked inner god, but the outdated long dark hair and beard gave away his ancient-Greek origins.
Merck yelled to cast his voice through the wind. “Bythos. Why’re you on my boat?”
Merck tensed for an attack. Most times he saw this creature, it was coming at him with a big-ass sword in the name of “training.” A demand the mythological water creature take a flying leap back into the watery depths, back to Poseidon’s side as his right-hand man, might end up with them in a knife fight again. Given he had a six-inch blade and Bythos usually swung a huge sword, odds weren’t in his favor to win the matchup. Although Bythos looked unarmed today.
Bythos placed a dramatic hand over his heart. “Why the hate?”
“Maybe because the last two times you visited me, you tried to kill me?”
“Not true.”
“Attacking with intent to cut off my head qualifies as intent to kill.”
“I needed to ensure you knew how to defend yourself. You’re still alive, aren’t you? Had I wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be conversing. I don’t need to kill you. Your stubbornness will do the job for me.”
“What did Dad feel was so important that he’d send you above water?”
“You need a reminder of your impending judgment.”
Four days. “As if I could forget.”
“You’re doing all right at your on-land…” Bythos glanced around as if searching for the right word, “purpose. Now you must be judged if you are worthy of an ocean purpose.”
“I didn’t ask for this. Any of this.” An ocean job too? Shit. Maybe death as the outcome of the gods’ judgment was preferable. He could barely manage to take care of everything required of him as the Enforcer. In the hundreds of times he’d been reincarnated as the Enforcer this was the first lifetime he’d also been a first-generation Greek god’s child.
“None of us request our fate. We learn to live up to it.”
Merck folded his arms. “My life’s about to be decided upon by a bunch of power-tripping gods on a whim.”
Bythos showed no ounce of humor. “Do you not remember what I advised on how to improve your judgment?”
“Strike the path to become pure of heart. By the time you tossed that ambiguous pearl at me I’d already fucked up my life enough. I figured I’d be deemed death-bound regardless of what I do. I’m not a Medieval Templar knight, and I’m sure as hell not a religious fanatic who worships the Greek gods. I’m good with death.”
Bythos’s brow drooped and eyes narrowed. He gave a slow head shake. “Your little beloved ocean you oversee will go to hell without you. You’ll be shuttled to live with Hades when you succumb to your human-bound death.”
“Hades will U-turn me right back into my next reincarnated life.” Then he got the pleasure of remembering everything about being the Enforcer in his teens. That’s eons of bad memories of tracking and killing magical shits. He’d remember again the one and only time he had a family. They got tortured and executed by a coven of witches.
Merck said, “This time I might discuss a deal with my uncle to stay in the afterlife and give some other schmuck Enforcer duty. Poseidon can take care of the ocean. I just put a Band-Aid on it when she’s hurt. If having an active Enforcer is important enough, then the gods can find someone else.”
“You want to die?” Skepticism oozed from Bythos’s words.
“Hades and hell don’t sound so bad.”
Between one blink and the next Bythos stood next to him. He fisted Merck’s windbreaker and pulled him close. “Accept your destiny.”
“I thought I was by destroying deviant magicals as the Enforcer.” He stayed still in Bythos’s hold and glared. “Maybe my destiny is to die and leave this world over and over as the cursed policeman of the magic world.”
“You have a purpose and it’s not to spend time with your uncle. I’m sure Hades would find you entertaining though. Your dual purpose in this world involves be the Enforcer and...Let’s just say yours is a great destiny.”
“What is this shit about a great destiny beyond being the Enforcer? Me, the by-blow of Poseidon? I’m a half-human bastard who can do some water tricks and talk to ocean creatures. And the gods negotiated to shuttle me into the lifeline of a man cursed to fight inhuman evil for all eternity. So far, this destiny sucks.”
“Who said anything about being half-human?” Bythos’s face scrunched up. He released Merck.
“Oh, right. I’m pure god?” He rolled his eyes. The boat rocked between several large waves. He grabbed the rail, catching himself before he smacked into it. To his disgust Bythos stayed upright without seeking stability, riding the rocking like a pro surfer. Merck cleared his throat and resumed. “I don’t think so. Jason Merck, son of Poseidon god of… hell, I’m not a god. Jason is a ridiculous god name.”
“Jason isn’t your birth name. That’s the name the human selected to raise you decided upon.”
“Then what’s my real name?”
“I’m not allowed to tell.” Bythos crossed his arms.
“Because you’re nothing more than the spineless dick peon of my father?”
“I�
��m not a dick peon. I liaise with all ocean creatures, primarily the sea nymphs. I am the son of Cronos, King of all Titans.” His arms rested on his hips and head was thrown back with his chest on display.
Quickly, Merck snapped, “Oh, great one, what’s my real name?”
Bythos’s lips scrunched into a clear, “Really?”
“Please. I need to know my real name.” God, he hated begging.
Bythos released a long sigh and gazed upward. “Thanos.”
Merck’s mind whirled. Thanos? “Shelly wasn’t my real mother?”
“I can’t discuss this with you.”
“She says I was the product of a one-night stand with some guy she picked up in Savannah. She even remembers his name, but I assumed he was Poseidon in disguise. I’m the cursed bastard child of an affair Poseidon’s real wife didn’t approve of, which would be the reason for my impending life judgment and death sentence.”
Bythos scowled. “Memories can be altered, as were those of the woman who raised you. Poseidon would never lie with that woman.”
“He foisted me off on her? He gave up his son to a cold-blooded bitch. He made her think I was her real son. Who’s my mother?”
“You got all the family history you’re getting out of me today.”
“Why does Poseidon care what happens to me at this point? A real father would show up when his son goes through…shit.” Like when his mother—not his mother but the bitch who raised him—tried to sell him when he was ten to some pothead in exchange for drugs. He was tough enough at that time to scare the hell out of the pothead and stop the idiocy. What kind of mother sells her kid?
“It matters not to me if you live or die a human life, but it matters to them.”
“What them are you referring to?”
“The ones judging you.”
“So everything—my life—is all some sort of test?” How he hated being at the mercy of otherworldly beings. Who gave them the right to judge him? Resigned, he said, “Just tell me why you’re here this time.”
“To unlock your future and for you to be found pure of heart…”
How?
Bythos’s lips curled into an amused grin. “How? Ah, the tough kid isn’t quite so ready to die, now is he?”
“Stay out of my head. And, fuck you.”
After a slow, lascivious scan, Bythos smiled. “You’re not my type. Don’t take offense. You’re all right to gaze upon. Now that fine lady ashore you keep avoiding… She could be my type. Blonde, busty.” He ran his hands in the hourglass figure of a shapely woman.
“You’re not her type.”
“I’m a god. Humans love me. I’m always their type.”
“Stay away from her. Just tell me whatever it is you need to tell me. Let’s get it over with.”
Bythos rubbed his hands together as if preparing to start a delightful project. “Good to know you’re not so apathetic about death. Get back to shore and make sure nothing kills the answer to your problem. I suggest you bind your life to hers.”
“What?” Laughter bubbled from deep within Merck. Inappropriate at the moment, but everything about matrimony when he was about to die felt ludicrous. He doubled over as the hilarity erupted. It actually felt good to laugh this hard.
“What’s so funny?” Bythos demanded.
Merck held up a hand, struggling to rein in his amusement. He swiped his weeping eyes. “You want me to marry Shannon?” He belly-laughed again. “In order to be found pure of heart you suggest I marry someone who you guys must deem to be so trying, so tedious, that I would be seen as a martyr?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“She’d be a handful, but…damn.” A solitary snort shot out of him. He shook his head and waggled a finger at Bythos. “That’s a good one. Cold, but a good one.”
“Those nameless dead girls washing ashore weren’t human. They were Pleiades.”
What? Amusement fled. “As in the goddesses? No one can kill a goddess.”
“They can if they stole Deus Mortem poison from Circe. All the deities have a purpose. With the Pleiades murdered their human descendants become critical. Someone wants to wipe all trace of them out of existence.” Bythos disappeared.
Merck stood there, frozen, staring at the vacant spot Bythos had occupied moments ago. Someone murdered Pleiades goddesses? Six were dead. One remained alive. He tried to remember the exact purpose of the Pleiades goddesses but couldn’t other than there was a constellation named for them.
Shannon was in bigger trouble than he thought.
A few drops of rain hit his face. The wind shifted direction, plastering the thin windbreaker against the other side of his body.
The wind blew harder with rain pelting from above. He cranked the engine. It turned over, but didn’t catch. Damned battery was low. He bent over in the pouring rain whose droplets felt to be the size of oranges and hooked up the engine to the backup battery. Two cranks and it rumbled, but sputtered out.
“Oh, come on!” he shouted. He didn’t want to call Chad for a tow. Twice in one month was humiliating. He cranked once more. The motor rumbled to life.
He would help Shannon with whatever brought her down here, but he wouldn’t deceive himself by thinking doing so would solve his judgment-day problem. It was the right thing to do if her life was in danger. It’d be the first step in what promised to be a complicated, painful scenario the gods mapped out. He despised being manipulated but, apparently, she too had been sucked into their plan.
Chapter Six
“Until we arrive you are not to go anywhere. No popping to an alternate dimension. No visiting old friends. No bars or restaurants. Don’t even go outside,” Shannon’s father ordered over the cell phone.
Ha! I’m already outside. She shifted on the bench in the private cemetery near the house where she’d placed a towel to cover the dampness left from last night’s thunderstorm. The nearness of her mother’s grave, and her brothers where they’d been laid to rest under the old oak, gave her strength to get through this conflict. She loved her father. He wasn’t a bad person, just overprotective, more so when his ex-CIA faculties kicked in.
“Are you listening to me, Shannon?”
“We arrive? You and who else is on his way down here?”
“All of us who are available.”
Great. A mini-army of super Sentry druids were boarding her father’s plane in New York to fly here.
“Dad, I can’t find an answer to all of this sitting in the house on lockdown. I need to go out and do research. I won’t find the right people inside. You know this. Mom told me to come here to find answers.”
“Shannon. Desist.”
She complied instantly. His tone reduced her to a little girl. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to speak out of turn. I swear I’m not doing this to sass you. It’s just… Why can’t you understand if I don’t get this figured out, we’re all going to die?”
“I’ve been more than lenient with you, but that time is gone. I understand the importance of answers, but now we’re going to do this my way. We’ve sent our best out there to research the problem. They’re questioning experts in Greek history. I’ve got others consulting specialists on magical items. I’ve got an archaeologist at Yale who’s also a druid who I want you to Skype with tonight. We’ll find the answer to stop this. We always do. It’s not the first time one of you Pleiades ladies has been under a mortal threat. You’re not alone in this, and we have resources. You cannot disappear like you did last night without so much as a text. Do you care so little for me that you want me to suffer your death too? I’ve lost your brothers and your mother. I can’t lose you too.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she expelled a long sigh. “Tell me honestly you’re coming down here to help me figure this out and this isn’t about you being controlling. Hiding me in the house isn’t going to keep a god at bay when he comes to get the Trident back. We don’t have it.”
“Yet. We don’t have it yet. We’ll find it. There’re pr
otections on the land and the house.”
“They’re not going to stop a god.” Didn’t her father understand this?
“Until we arrive, Eli is in charge. You’ll stay put and listen to him.”
“Dad… Dad?” She glared at the phone that read: Call Ended.
She shook the phone and cursed.
Indoors didn’t work. Countless hours on the internet last week revealed nothing. Reading through her mother’s library of handwritten research notebooks had proven useless. No druid had any knowledge of Poseidon’s Trident. Help wouldn’t be inside the house or on a superjet scheduled to arrive in a few hours. The archeologist might be helpful to translate ancient Greek artifacts, but a human wasn’t going to find Poseidon’s stolen Trident. She needed to consult with someone who knew about powerful magical items.
Like Merck.
Her mother’s whispered words moments before she’d died two months ago echoed in her head for the millionth time: “Go home. To South Carolina. Help will find you like he always does.” Her thoughts had immediately flown to Merck, but none of them had known he’d moved back. Maybe her mother had known. She’d had an eerie knack for foretelling things. What other “he” was here who could help her or would find her?
How she missed her big-hearted, stubborn mom who’d died right before the Poseidon ultimatum rained down on her with gloom, doom, and assured death. Find my Trident or I’ll kill you and every Pleiades descendants.
What do I do, Mom?
Wind rustled the trees, fragmenting the early-morning sun into small shadows, but no answers arrived.
She expected something. Maybe her mother’s ghost would walk from her grave. A sign. Anything.
The ancient oak trees with Spanish moss swayed in the wind. The gentle breeze soothed her. Images whipped though her mind. Visions, sounds, and smells. And Merck. Was this her sign? Probably not. He always dominated her thoughts when she was in South Carolina.
She dwelled on the intricate tattoos now covering Merck’s hands and up his arms, wondering what prompted him to get so much ink. Maybe it’d been some sort of rebellious phase, or maybe they had meaning. It made him mysterious in a risky way. Gracious, she was a sucker for ink. More than the tats, she liked his arms. Muscular arms that offered refuge from both threats and the terror of what may happen in the near future.