He sighed, his cheer faltering. “And here I was, hoping I could sell this humanitarian farce.”
“It isn’t all a farce, but there’s something more.” Riona tilted her head, observing him. “Everything I’ve heard about you made me think you were some sort of self-centered, deviant asshole who would seduce me as quickly as saying hello, but you’re nothing like that.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment, though I’m quite certain that’s not how you meant it.” Hades pulled the thin blanket over her, tucking it under her chin. “I have my vices. For example, I usually hate the people my wife loves. Jealousy is an age-old habit with me. But you... I can’t help liking you. You’re a lot like one of us, actually.”
“And I’m going to take that as a compliment, though I’m not sure that’s how you meant it,” she returned, feeling her eyes growing heavy. “I think I figured out why we get along.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
Her eyes could no longer resist the pull. “We both are in love with people we’re not supposed to be.”
“Don’t you love your husband?”
She could barely form the words. “I do. And I love Marc. And you love your wife. How plebian of you.”
“I’ve come to terms with it. Love and hate are the only commonalities that unite all realms.”
“Then we’re both in for it, aren’t we?” Her arm went over her head as she dropped it back onto her pillow.
Chapter 21
Judging by the angle of the sun, it was afternoon when Riona finally opened her eyes, although she was far from finished sleeping. Instead, a spicy floral scent wafting from another’s body heat roused her.
Persephone gave her a weak smile. “You’re sleeping so late.”
“I had a really tough night.”
“And Hades helped ease it.” It was a statement, not a question. Persephone must have seen the confusion on her face and continued. “Our sense of smell is stronger than a mortal’s. This room reeks of it.”
“Steph, it’s not what you...”
The goddess pressed a finger to Riona’s lips. “It’s okay, Riona. It’s just, I actually believed he was telling me the truth last night. I guess that was just one of his many ploys to get me into bed.” She inhaled deeply, smoothing the sheet that covered them both.
Riona hitched up on her elbow. “I promise you, we didn’t do anything. In fact, the last thing he said before he left last night was how much he loves you.” Okay, if they were going to talk about it, they were really going to talk about it, Riona decided. “Which he really didn’t have to tell me. The guy is crazy over you, I don’t think he’d have me even if... I don’t know, I showed up in his room naked or something.”
Persephone’s eyebrow quirked, but Riona drove the conversation on, sitting up and drawing an X across her chest. “I swear on my mother’s grave, I did nothing of a sexual nature with your husband.”
“But your mother is still alive,” Persephone said.
“Yeah, but not from want of wishing.”
The goddess cracked a smile as Riona continued. “Why do you and Dee both make it sound like Hades is such an ass anyway? True, he jumps at every opportunity for sexual innuendo, but I can’t remember the last time I saw someone so lovesick the way that guy is over you.”
“Really? You’ve forgotten about Marc that quickly?” Her face grew tight. Fire ignited Persephone’s expression. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. But trust me, there’re reasons. He’s a self-centered bastard. I’m perfectly aware of his feelings for me, and he knows I don’t love him. I wish I did. It would make our marriage so much more tolerable.” She calmed long enough to let her usual mask of grace return. “But that’s neither here nor there anymore.”
Riona felt her puppy-dog ears perking up. “Why?”
“He finally agreed to a divorce.”
Persephone may have thought she had a great poker face, but Riona could see the conflict she tried to conceal behind her declaration. “That’s a good thing, right? Makes me wonder, if you really don’t like him that much, why did you even get married at all?”
“Political reasons, like a lot of marriages back then. Only in my case, my husband was actually sappy enough to love me.”
“And you think that’s a fault of his?”
Persephone hacked a laugh. “Love has no place in politics. It’s made everything very muddled for far too long. Old alliances are old, and all that.”
Riona shrugged. “Say what you want, but I don’t think you should be so quick to dismiss his feelings.”
“You don’t get it, Riona. He used to think he was the shit. King of the Underworld, wedded in the House of Zeus, owner of the largest chariot distributorship this side of the Aegean.”
The witch’s head tilted in time with her understanding.
“And I get it,” Persephone continued, undaunted, “You know the saying, better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven? Milton actually stole that from my husband. It was tough on him, and for a long time, he needed me to support him through that. Hades paid the ultimate price for his refusal to submit to Big Boss’s will and die, far more than the rest of the nephilim.”
“Ultimate price? But he’s still alive, isn’t he?” Riona asked hopefully.
“Only because of my sacrifice.”
When Riona flashed her quixotic, wide eyes, Persephone continued.
“The archangels blamed Hades for the Grigori taking over Hell. Mind you, it wasn’t like he just handed the throne over; it was war, and Lucifer isn’t exactly a fair player. When the terms of surrender were negotiated, the archangels forced Hades into exile. If he tries to set foot in the mortal plane, or returns to Hell, he’ll die.”
Riona felt a tiny bit of sympathy, but was still confused. “That’s terrible, but I don’t understand what it has to do with you.”
“My father tried to negotiate Hades’ freedom, which just pissed off the angels even more. They reminded Dad that a deposed monarch might be tempted to seize another’s throne if he got the notion. Dad told me that it was a possibility, but he didn’t think Hades would try to overthrow him as long as our marriage stayed intact. Dad asked me to honor my marriage vows and continue to serve out my contractual six months of cohabitation. So, in short...”
“Too late.”
“In conclusion then,” Persephone quipped, “for half the year, I share my husband’s punishment. For half a year, I am a prisoner of this realm. It secures my Dad’s throne, drives my husband batters just enough to please the angels, and keeps Hades from taking the sunset plunge, which could trigger my dad into doing something drastic.”
“No wonder Dee gets so pissed off at the things that go on here. I’m so sorry, Steph, that’s horrible.”
“It is what it is,” the goddess cooed. “Or at least, it was what it was. It’s over now. I’m moving on, and Hades will just have to learn to do the same.”
Chapter 22
Of course, Anwen noticed Dee’s hungry eye treatment. A compassionate person, which clearly, Jerry was not, would have ignored the situation and left Anwen to pretend like it wasn’t happening. Now, her eyes tracked every move Dee made, and her heart went into overdrive whenever his body came too close to hers.
Taking the back seat the next day served as a barrier to the constant back and forth banter. Instead of trying to ignore the flush on the surface of her skin when she caught Dee’s eyes on her, or fantasizing about his hand crossing the center console and rubbing the inside of her thigh, she sat in amused silence and observed the borderline contemptuous interchange between the two men. Jerry insisted they should take the fork on the right, while Dee countered that the GPS and his memory said left. Jerry asked who was he going to believe? A stupid, noisy transistor radio on steroids? Or a man who had been alive and a world traveler for more than two thousand years?
Anwen looked up from her Facebook app and clicked her tongue. “So I’m guessing you’re men first, Pure Souls second. If we need dire
ctions, we could always just pull over and ask someone instead of guessing which of you is right..”
Jerry turned around and grabbed the GPS off the window. The suction cup emitted a comical pop. “Honey, I was a gnosis demon for two thousand years. I don’t guess things. I know everything.”
“Except that arguing with a demigod is pointless,” she supplied, and for it, earned a thankful grin from Dee in the mirror. “And you can’t possibly know everything. I’m sure there’s stuff I know that you’re clueless about.”
Jerry coughed out his amusement. “Please, outside of floating like a character from Mario Brothers, you only know as much as you’ve been able to Google while sitting there. Don’t think I haven’t seen you messing with that phone of yours from the corner of my eye. Just because it’s called Wicca-pedia doesn’t mean it’s all up on the history of the magical universe.”
“For your information, it’s Wikipedia. As in ‘wiki,’ a communally built database. Maybe your two thousand years of knowledge got cut off somewhere around 1986.”
She heard Dee’s laughter, and liked how her insides shook when she realized that she was the source of his amused reaction. It felt good to have that effect on a man.
“Oh, yeah?” Jerry crossed his arms over his body and pivoted in her direction. “Try me.”
Game. On.
“Explain reincarnation.”
“It’s mostly a myth, but then again, it depends what you’re talking about,” Jerry said. “Do you mean a soul getting recycled and coming back as a jellyfish or a warthog? Yeah, that doesn’t happen, although I once met a lawyer whom I was convinced must’ve been a boa constrictor in a previous life, and possibly this life too, during full moons. But a mortal soul—it’s damn near indestructible. When it leaves the mortal coil, it just transitions into the next phase.”
“But, where do mortal souls come from then, if that’s true?”
Both men were silent at that and stared at each other perplexedly.
“How is it that’s never occurred to us to ask?” Jerry said.
Dee shrugged. “I don’t even know if I have a soul. My dad doesn’t.”
“I’m sure you do,” Jerry said. “Evil things wouldn’t waste time on a prize they could never have. You have an aura and it pulses. You definitely have a soul.”
“You know, I don’t think anything ever tried to seduce me to evil. I’ve confronted just about every kind of demon there is, and the only ones who ever seemed concerned with ruining me were those of the personal variety.”
“Drinking?” Anwen asked. She formerly had bouts of debauchery, herself, in that department.
She met Dee’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and for the first time, it didn’t make her heart quiver. In fact, the shame in his eyes made her heart ache for him a little.
“Both ways.”
“Both ways?” She repeated. “Like beer and hard liquor?”
Dee shook his head, reaching down for his cup of coffee. “You know, like the human way, and the nephilim way. Both work for me.”
“What’s the nephilim way?”
Jerry looked back at her, beaming. “Sex.”
“Sex?” She repeated the word like they must have been mistaken. “Sex makes nephilim drunk?”
“You’ve never noticed?” Dee tilted the cup to his lips.
Squirming, she tried to douse the fire burning in her cheeks. “I’ve never had the opportunity.”
Suddenly, the majestic, white-washed mountain landscape before them look stained in a milky brown. Anwen yelped as the car swerved, falling into the floor space between the front and back seats. She heard a string of profanity in a language she didn’t recognize from Jerry, and the squeal of tires. As Dee laced together a rapid-fire apology in words that might have had individual meanings, it came out sounding like shitshitshitsorryfuckdidntmeanto as the car skidded. A moment later, the scream of crushing metal accosted her ears and the car’s right side lifted, putting them all at an angle.
Dee was already pacing in front of the rumpled hood by the time she managed to pull herself from her confined position. His hands ran through his hair, and his nipples hardened visibly in the wintry wind through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Great time for her to notice that detail.
Jerry opened his door, pausing to look back over his seat at her befuddled expression.
“Do us a favor,” he said. “Next time you decide to tell a demigod who’s already been sizing you up that you have yet to be deflowered, do it when he’s not behind the wheel with my presently very mortal body riding shotgun, okay?”
LUCKILY, JERRY KNEW more languages than a tech support center. After a round of yammering with the mechanic in the small town the tow truck delivered them to, they learned the only damage to the car, although rendering it inoperable, was a broken... something or other. Honestly, Anwen lost interest in Jerry’s explanation, and tuned in to catch up on the Facebook posts of her online “friends.” Not that she met too many of these people in real life, but she had previously networked with enough quartergods and various magical fringe types to pick up the coded chatter of “Mabians,” aka, people somehow related to either the magical or non-mortal world. One, in particular, caught her eye, a status update from a mainstreamed pixie who lived in Buenos Aires.
Listening to a lot of Evanescence these days. You know my favorite album? Their first one. I think it’s also a favorite of Blessed Boy Statues everywhere. Sisters of Mab, take note. ☺
She keyed in an internet search for Evanescence’s discography, hoping her weak signal would hold, and barely kept up with Dee and Jerry’s conversation.
“How long until he can have it fixed?” Dee asked.
Fallen. Blessed boy statutes ? Code for an archangel. An archangel had fallen ?
Jerry exchanged a few more words. “A couple of hours; but he says because it’s a rental, he has to call the company back in London and get clearance to replace the part, and it looks like they’ve already closed for the night.”
“I thought rental offices didn’t close at Heathrow,” Anwen said.
Jerry translated the question, then the answer. “The rental counter is still open, but their fleet manager needs to authorize the repair. He’s already left for the day.” A few more sentences in the foreign tongue. “He said it’s just a formality. Once he gets the okay in the morning, he’ll have it ready to go right after breakfast.”
The mechanic pointed to a group of buildings that overlooked the snow-covered mountains. “Hotel is there,” he said with an accent so thick, you could spread it on a slice of toast.
“Guess we’re here for the night. Lovely.” Sarcasm soaked Jerry’s tone. “Riona, baby, resist those damned nephilim a little longer.”
Dee hoisted their bags over his shoulder like he was toting his letterman sweater. “Let’s check in. I need a hot shower.”
Dee had the good taste to ignore Jerry’s contrary suggestion for water temperature. They were only halfway to the village when both men stopped dead in their tracks.
Jerry’s eyes roamed the horizon. “Tell me you didn’t feel that. It’s been two thousand years since I had indigestion, and it’s possible I’m confusing vibes with gas.”
Anwen tried to follow his gaze. She felt something too, an odd kind of lurching in the pit of her pancreas. Just in case, however, she took a step away from Jerry’s wake. “What is that? A fallen angel?”
Both Jerry and Dee turned on her, confusion and surprise warring for control of their eyes. Dee shook off her question and turned to the ex-demon.
“I’m so not in the mood for this.” The response of the demigod didn’t exactly enlighten her understanding. “He couldn’t have known we were coming. He’s not here for us. I’m sure he doesn’t want his ass kicked either.”
Anwen scooted around the front of the two men. “Are either of you going to tell me what you’re talking about? And why it feels like a worm is doing the Soldja Boy in my gullet?”
Jerry turned on D
ee. “So you did sleep with her!”
Dee barely succeeded in restraining the backside of his hand from decking Jerry in the face. “If you were still a demon, I’d so vanquish you right now.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Secretly, you like me. Besides, if I were still a demon, I’d light up your ass faster than a Roman candle. Or if you prefer, a Greek candle.”
Dee locked his eyes on Anwen instead of pursuing his verbal fisticuffs with Jerry. This time, rather than feeling a rush of longing, like she was growing accustomed to, his deep gaze filled her with dread.
“Just stay locked up in your room. We’ll be gone in the morning, and that’s all you need to know.”
THE TINY GUEST ROOM didn’t offer much in the way of creature comforts, but at least, it had a steady current to charge her phone. Her eyes focused on the time: 1:15 AM. She couldn’t sleep. Whatever that tug was in her stomach earlier, it refused to abate, and since neither Dee nor Jerry would illuminate her on what it could be, her anxiety and imagination were breaking plentiful loaves of bread. Anwen crawled out of bed, shimmied into her shoes, and crept into the hall.
She was halfway down the stairs when she remembered Dee’s warning. Technically, she wasn’t leaving the hotel. She caught sight of a small pub adjacent to the lobby, and prayed that people drank just as late here as they did back home. The neon glow of a local draught sign greeted her eyes when she walked in, followed by an acknowledging nod from one of the barkeeps.
Success.
The only Serbian Anwen ever learned was from a dirty limerick from an exchange student in high school. She didn’t think a rhyme about a man’s private parts and sealing wax could get her the kind of drink she was after. A quick, hopeful scan for locating the English-speaking waitress who served dinner to Dee, Jerry and her turned up nothing.
“Um, I’ll take a pint, please?” she asked, wishing one of the two barkeeps spoke English. Both of them looked at her apologetically. Anwen sighed and pointed first to a glass, then to the pull of the draught she wanted. The younger of the two men held up four fingers. She pulled the euros from her pocket, hoping the notes held value in Serbia.
Hex Goddess (All My Exes Die from Hexes Book 3) Page 15