Royally Screwed

by L. J. Vickery

  Marduk gave a long-suffering sigh. “Enlil ended up easing out of Candy’s head and calling for backup. Anshar and I arrived, amused as hell that he couldn’t handle things, and we attempted to get into her brain as well. But it seems that, by that time, Candy figured out how to block Enlil’s infiltration, and she successfully put up barriers so that neither of us could get in either.”

  ****

  Candy listened carefully, bemused. But while the men in the room recalled the afternoon their way, she let her mind go back to how she had perceived things.

  Yeah, she’d been able to keep the two newbies from frying her brains, but she’d almost lost her edge. She’d been shocked at their sudden appearance—walking out from behind those invisible barriers—and fucking awed at the size and hotness of the two pieces of ass who had come to Enlil’s aid. Where did these guys come from?

  Her tongue had become frozen when the bigger of the two finally spoke. “This isn’t good,” he’d muttered.

  Blondie agreed. “You’re right.” He shook his head. “Dagon’s had more experience with mortals. Let’s call him.”

  Mortals. Candy remembered rolling her eyes. Again with the god stuff. She had to give them credit. When they went with a story, they stuck to it. She’d observed with curiosity to see what would happen next.

  Shit. The one she figured as Dagon didn’t stroll out of the invisible barrier like the other two. He just appeared out of the blue and he was as hot as fuck.

  “Jesus,” she’d complained. “How many damned tricks do you guys have up your asses?” Man, they’d pissed her off. Their attitude pushed all of her buttons, as well. They all seemed to find her amusing. Candy remembered thinking she would love taking them down and watching them eat shit.

  “Another one with a mouth like Lenore?” The Dagon character shook his head.

  “No.” Enlil smirked. “This one makes Lenore sound like she’s singing for church.”

  “Huh.” Dagon grunted. “And the problem is?”

  “We can’t seem to wipe her mind. We know you’ve had a lot more years and experience with it, so we figured you could give it a try.”

  “Do you want me to see what’s in there first?” Dagon looked like he rubbed his frigging hands in anticipation.

  Candy hadn’t liked the sound of that. “You can keep your fucking hands off my brain cells, ass-wipe.” she told him.

  “Charming,” Dagon muttered. “Well?” He’d looked to the one named Marduk for instruction.

  “No. No mind probes. Huxley just wants her gone and says he’ll explain everything, so a clean brain-slate will be all we need.”

  Candy stood resolute, and just as she’d suspected, asshole number four tried to get into her cranium. She’d felt her mind being invaded with a force stronger than what Enlil and his other buddies had managed. It wasn’t good, but using a trick she’d learned during training, she’d filled her head with the first song that came to mind.

  I don’t want to play in your yard…

  “What?” Dagon had screwed up his face, and Candy had continued.

  I don’t like you anymore. You’ll be sorry…

  “All right. Enough of that shit.” He’d glared at Candy. “You should have let me clean your slate. Now we have to make you disappear.” He’d nodded to Marduk who’d stepped forward.

  “Don’t even think about it, asshole.” Candy ducked into a crouch and removed her gun from the small of her back. She’d figured she was about to be very dead.

  “You let her have her gun?” Marduk had sounded annoyed at Enlil instead of fearful for his life.

  “I thought she was leaving,” Enlil reminded the big god, while Anshar had given her the stink-eye.

  “It’s not going to do you any good,” he said, his mouth quirked up toward Candy. “You’d be better off trying to beat us with a stick.”

  Candy hadn’t liked his posturing.

  “I have this too, dickwad.” She’d drawn her three-inch blade out of her pocket and flicked it open.

  “Cute,” Anshar had said. “Do they make them in blue? I want one.”

  Candy recalled being angry that they’d underestimated her, but confused because it felt like their attitudes were born of something more than arrogance.

  “What are you guys, fried or something? I’ll at least be able to kill one or two of you before you take me down. You’re willing to go for those odds?”

  “Enough,” Marduk had decreed. “We have to think of the queen and—dammit—we have a game to watch tonight. There hasn’t been much down time lately, and we need some recreation. I’ll be damned if I let this foulmouthed wildcat screw things up. We’ll deal with her tomorrow.”

  Marduk had glanced behind Candy after spouting all that strange shit. “Ishkur, Kulla, relieve her of her weapons, please.”

  Candy had snorted.

  “You think I’m going to fall for that?” Her ears had been attuned to everything around her, and no footfalls crept up behind. “A very old trick, my enormous friend. And it won’t work, so think again.”

  Then…shit. Her weapons disappeared. Both hands suddenly became empty. What the fuck?

  The next few minutes became a blur as the four hulking brutes surrounded and muscled her—despite any movement she made—into preceding them. And for whatever fucked-up reason, she’d been easily able to breach the barrier that had previously stymied her. And then…and then, a freaking palace had suddenly filled her vision.

  “Better take her around and under into the garage.” Had Marduk been looking around like he might get caught. “We’ll get into the basement from there, and no one…” He cleared his throat. “None of the women will be any the wiser that we have a guest.”

  “Right. Good plan.” Anshar was clearly not eager to share her presence with these unknown women either.

  They’d hustled her into a six-bay garage, past a plethora of bikes that instantly made Candy’s mouth water, then into an elevator that travelled down one floor. She’d taken careful note of the egress that would eventually be needed for her escape.

  They’d marched her right to a stark, eight-by-ten cell, graced by a bench, a small wall sink, and what looked to be a composting toilet.

  “Fucking luxury hotel, hey boys?” Candy had mumbled, but she’d seen worse. “You guys got food?”

  If she was forced to play their game, she needed calories to keep herself going. She’d taken a good look around despite her bodyguards and had noticed state-of-the-art surveillance cameras, miniature microphones and…shit, some evil-looking torture devices. Well, let them try. If it came down to physical coercion, they wouldn’t get much from her. But really, was Huxley worth any of this bullshit?

  “We’ll bring you down food.” This had been from her besty, Enlil. “But in the meantime, get comfortable, dear.”

  Again with the fucking dear.

  “We won’t have time for you until tomorrow, so settle in.”

  Candy had called after them as their footsteps echoed back down the hall. “A blanket too,” she’d yelled. “It’s fucking raw as shit down here.” She hadn’t been able to help a shiver. She floundered in deep doo-doo. Up to her neck.

  Candy had spent the rest of the day nibbling at the surprisingly yummy étouffé they’d brought her, while wrapped up in a burgundy chenille blanket. The room might be shit, but the amenities weren’t so bad. She’d also honed in on the way their mind connection thing functioned, and had eventually succeeded in the ensuing hours to haunt the brains of the assholes who’d incarcerated her.

  Let me the fuck out, she’d demanded, any number of times. The rats are after the rest of my supper, you pricks. If I fall asleep, they’ll eat my toes, and I’ll kick your asses with my stubby feet. Candy wasn’t afraid of a few rodents, and also scoffed at how long it would take for critters to chew through the leather of her heavy-duty shit-kickers, but she’d been fishing for a response, wondering if she got through.

  Finally, after hours of head-chanting the
first two stanzas of the Declaration of Independence over and over, she’d received a response.

  Shut the hell up.

  Enlil, sweet cheeks? Is that you? Candy had been elated. The prick had heard her.

  Knock that shit off, or we won’t play nice when we finally get to you.

  Ooh. Big, bad scary god going to lay into my ass? She’d used his own terminology back at him, but it seemed not to register.

  You have no idea.

  Candy had been just about to respond when another voice cut in. This time female. It set her back a step.

  Who is this, and where are you? I’ve squashed Enlil and anybody else’s communication abilities, isolating your signal so you’re speaking only to me now.

  Candy remembered thinking that here was someone who cut right to the chase. She wouldn’t play games in return.

  The name’s Candy, and some big, freakin’ assholes shut me up in a cell in the basement.

  Did one of the assholes have piercing blue eyes and a long, blond ponytail?

  Yup.

  I’m going to fucking kill him. There had been a long pause. Listen. Stay put, I’ll be right down.

  That’s when Lenore had arrived. Candy and the kickass bitch had gotten to know each other, which led to Lenore breaking off the lock on the cell door, and the pair making their way up to the gathering.

  Candy stood back as the television blared, amused as hell. Lenore did not let one single male off the hook.

  “You shut her in the damp basement with those disgusting facilities, while you all sit up here and watch the game?”

  Enlil didn’t seem intimidated. “She knows too much about us to be let go, and we don’t know enough about her to let her run around free. Do you feel me, Lenore?”

  “Oh, I’ll feel you, you big dick. And I’ll give it a twist so that you really feel me.”

  His face blanched.

  Lenore continued, “Did you think to have a conversation with her? Ask her any questions?” She looked around at all the gods. “I thought not.” She gazed over at the screen where the game was about to start. “And you want to know what sucks just a little bit more?” she added.

  Lenore had told Candy that the guys were watching the game. “Who are the hometown boys playing tonight? Hmm?” She waited for a response. A dark-skinned male supplied the answer, although he didn’t look like he knew where Lenore was going with this.

  “Uh, LA,” he supplied slowly.

  “Right.” Lenore pinned each one with her infuriated gaze. “Everyone? Meet Candy Lane our new friend, who loves baseball and whose hometown happens to be Los Angeles.”

  Candy didn’t know whether she was able to hide her grin at the chagrined looks on all the faces. What she did know? There remained ten minutes until game time, and Lenore would make the best of every single one of them.

  Chapter Nine

  “Where the hell was my Goddess League, huh?” Lenore spouted.

  Goddess League? The males all sat clueless and threw questioning glances at the irate female.

  I’ll fill you in later, Anshar gloomily sent the message to his brothers, but Candy heard it too, and understood the tone. Being Lenore’s husband, he would 100 percent get his ass chewed tonight.

  Lenore continued, “You can’t tell me that not one of you detected the Declaration of Independence going on?”

  Every god in the room groaned. They certainly had.

  “I was under my headphones all afternoon, blasting music and cleaning house.” Holly looked upset that she’d missed out.

  Glory, still a little intimidated by the intrepid Lenore, raised her hand sheepishly. “Me too. Only my headphones connected me to my office so I could help out with some score selections for an upcoming ad campaign.”

  They all looked to Tess as she shrugged and gave a bemused smile. “What can I say? Crazy things have been happening in my body. I chocked it up to hormones.”

  Lenore looked fondly at the goddesses and clearly let them off the hook. She wouldn’t be so easy on the gods.

  “So here’s what I found out while chillin’ with my girl…in the damp basement.” Her eyes shot daggers as she snapped the last, and Huxley swallowed visibly as her glare honed in on him.

  “She was hired by some bitch named Worthington in Bangor to find and bring Huxley’s ass back to Maine because—” She stopped significantly. Huxley’s face turned red. “He owes her a shitload of money and he’s delinquent in his payments.”

  Huxley let out an audible sigh that sounded like relief. “Not true,” he denied heartily. He put Dani gently off his lap and stood up, digging for his cell phone.

  “Yes, I owe her money.” Huxley didn’t extrapolate, but instead punched buttons on his phone. “However, I am not in arrears.” He held up his hand to stop questions.

  “Kevin?” he said into his cell. “Have you made payments to Worthington for the last two months? Yes? Do you have receipts? Fine. Thanks. No. Get back to the game. Bye.”

  “My man at the gym says he’s made the payments and has proof.” He turned to Candy. “So she lied to you, and you bought into it,” he snapped bitterly. “Did that bitch have anything else to say?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Nope. Just that.”

  Candy studied Huxley closely. Something really fucked up was going on under his surface. She guessed, by the looks on the faces around her, that everybody else figured that too.

  “I’ll call her ass in the morning,” she promised, and pinpointed Marduk. “If I can have my phone back.” She turned to Huxley. “I’ll tell her I found you and that you showed me your receipts. That should be the end of the story.”

  “No,” Huxley barked, then softened his tone. “Please. Don’t tell her you found me.”

  Hmph. He was crystal clear on that.

  “Let me think on a few things tonight, and I’ll let you know what I want you to say in the morning.”

  Marduk interjected, “Hux. We can’t afford to mess around. You have more important things to do.” Candy didn’t know what that was, but the reminder from Marduk looked serious. “If there’s something going on up in Maine, you need to let us know.”

  Huxley’s shoulders squared. “Give me tonight, Marduk.” His eyes remained intractable. “I promise I’ll meet with you in the morning.”

  Marduk, obviously the boss of these guys, nodded but didn’t look all that happy.

  Lenore gave a loud cough, and Candy hid a snicker. Clearly her protector wasn’t through yet, even if the guys had moved on to other things.

  “So if anybody’s interested, our guest Candy is an agent with the DEA but currently on leave, and FYI, you can’t keep her here or the whole fucking agency will be up our asses looking for her.”

  The group had the good graces to look stunned, with the exception of Enlil…the bastard.

  “I didn’t see any ID.” He clearly wasn’t buying it.

  “Hidden under the dash of my rental, prick.” Candy cranked up a finger and curled it at him. “Why don’t you go grope for it?”

  Enlil’s face darkened. Words threatened to erupt, and she couldn’t wait to take him on. Nobody got the better of Agent Candy Lane in a war of words.

  “Hey. Three minutes until opening pitch,” Anshar interrupted. Damn. He, at least, had settled in to watch the game. Looks like he hoped the action on the field would calm his wife down. “Can we get back to all of this after the ninth?”

  Everyone agreed, including Candy.

  “Find a seat,” Lenore told her. “We’ll screw them to the wall later. Grab a beer and join the crowd.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Candy had been going to watch the game alone in a hotel room. And despite the fucking weird-as-hell circumstances, it was kind of cool to be surrounded by a room full of testosterone, while anticipating her hometown team wiping the field with Boston’s best. She’d happily bust some chops after that happened.

  Candy headed across the room, seeing numerous empty seats.

 
; That muscled ass is mine.

  What the fuck? Had she just heard that, or was she imagining things? Enlil grunted his disapproval. Hell no. He’d caught it too.

  Candy approached the voice-producing chair, but avoided it as if filled with poison.

  Ha. Lout. She passed you by. You do not deserve her fine contours. She will be more discerning, even without visual evidence, and will choose me.

  Candy skipped that seat as well.

  Now—she could see—all the gods and goddesses sat straighter and paid attention. Candy refused to give credence to what was going on because then she’d have to buy into the delusion. After avoiding chair number two, she gave a wide berth to a third.

  “Why aren’t you sitting, Candy?” Tess asked what probably itched on everyone’s tongue.

  Candy gave in. “You’ll think I’m fucked, but…” She tilted her head. “Somehow when I get close to these chairs, there’s a screwed-up ripple in the air. It looks like the shit that rises off hot pavement, you know?” She wasn’t going to mention the head-voices. She’d already had her fill of that. Candy turned to Lenore, with whom she’d been very honest.

  “I know you’ve been trying to convince me that this god bullcrap exists. So let’s just say for a minute that I buy into it. Are there some immortal assholes in those chairs?”

  A woman she didn’t know interjected, “Hi, Candy. I’m Holly, Dagon’s Cho…wife.” She stuttered over something Candy figured must be important, but screw it. She followed Holly’s finger as it pointed to the first “empty” chair. “I don’t want to blow your mind completely, but meet Ninurta.” She then turned and pointed in rapid succession to five more seats. “Absu, Emesh, Dumuzi, Ishkur, and Kulla.”

  There was no mistaking the chorus of male voices that rang out in Candy’s head.

  Yo.

  Charmed, my dear.

  Nice to meet you.

  Girl. Your hair kicks ass. And those boots…

  It probably shouldn’t have been, but the first thing that popped out of Candy’s mouth was, “There’s a gay god?” Some things remained more unbelievable than others, and invisible gay gods topped the list.

  “That would be Emesh.” A stunning dusky woman laughed. “I’m Glory, and that voice belongs to my brother-in-law. And yes, he’s as big and hot as the rest of them. He just has a slightly different gender preference.”