“Yesss,” hissed Dagon. He pointed a finger at Lenore. “Don’t let thossse little numbersss get too attached,” he joked, picking up a package of his own. He removed the paper and held out his prize, ready to give it up, but then caught his breath and snatched it back to have a closer look. “No fair,” he cried. “Sssmoked sssalmon is my favorite.”
The room erupted in laughter.
“What are you going to do, cousin?” Anshar posed the question for himself, as much as for Dagon. He clearly wanted the nipple clamps, but Enlil knew his serpent salivated over the salmon as well.
Enlil snickered.
Dagon shrugged apologetically to Holly. “I’m keeping the sssalmon. Sssorry, babe.”
The morning hours sped away quickly, with erotic toys being the theme du jour. Dunsky got left with a blow-up doll that had the most obscene mouth anyone had ever encountered. He threatened it would eventually end up in each and every bed in the house.
Ereshkigal got blessed with edible panties.
Enten, much to everyone’s amusement, picked up a set of stripper ice cubes that, once melted, showed an array of naked young ladies. The gods teased it was a shame he’d never be able to get the cubes to melt.
Dumuzi got a small, indoor hydroponic garden, only to be taunted unmercifully about what illegal substance he’d be growing, and Enlil opened a huge pile of old Storm Track magazines. He could relive some fond memories with those.
The nipple clamps, after passing through many hands, ended up in Huxley’s pocket―where Dani-Lee’s eyes kept darting. He’d traded two pink feather boas for them, which Emesh supplied to the pile. Those eventually made their way to Lenore, who beamed, more than pleased with her final trade. Only Anshar was left moping.
“Before we get to the Christmas stockings,” Tess announced, as everyone looked to where the stuffed socks overflowed with booty, “Anyone wanting coffee refills should get them now.” The men rose as one and made a grand exodus.
Glory laughed. “Is it something we said, or do they just really love coffee?”
When the males returned, stockings were doled out and attacked. Appropriate ooh’s, ahh’s, and thank you’s were made over thoughtful and loving gifts.
Lenore finally received the large diamond studs from her husband she’d been pining for, and Glory got the newest laptop from Enten so it would be easier for her to work from home. Her hubby, Winter, had put a picture of it in an envelope in her stocking, the item having been tucked under the sofa.
Gregory Abelard chortled in fine form to find an amazing array of cruise tickets in his stockpile of presents.
Absu received more kitchen gadgets than he ever imagined existed, the most entertaining being a stainless-steel bar shaped like soap that supposedly took away food odors from ones’ hands after chopping. A great gift, but one he wouldn’t need until he regained his body.
Kulla became the recipient of what was meant to be a gag gift, but turned out to be a favorite of the day. Four enormous stockings labeled with his name were stuffed to the brim with building blocks. He immediately began constructing cabins on the floor and expounding on how he couldn’t wait until he had nieces and nephews, to teach them how to become divine architects.
Eventually, the stocking portion of the gift giving wound down, and Absu called everyone to an early, evening feast. The crowd strolled into the banquet hall and stood, open-mouthed. If Enlil believed Absu had outdone himself with dinner the previous night, it was nothing compared to the delights laid out before them now.
An enormous roast turducken had the place of honor in the middle of the table, with two standing crown roasts flanking its position. Towers of seared tofu gleamed with unknown sauces for the vegetarians. Bowls of sweet potatoes, asparagus, and turnips, along with green beans almandine steamed, and loaves of shiny braided bread beckoned. Mushroom-stuffed artichokes dressed with bright red peppers brought vibrant color to each salad plate, and every place setting was topped with a napkin folded painstakingly into a bird of paradise. Alongside the food, sparkling wine glowed brilliantly in cut crystal glasses.
Take your places lest the food lose its heat, Absu implored, and everyone did as they were told, digging in to a veritable banquet.
Enlil had mellowed with the day, but as the meal wound down, his earlier edginess returned. He looked at the clock. It was five fifteen―two fifteen LA time. Could he be social for another hour, and then make himself scarce? He had a Christmas present for Candy that burned in his pocket.
Tess finally stood and cleared her throat. “I think, once again, we have to thank Absu for an utterly superb meal.” A robust round of applause and cheers erupted, which the proper god took in stride with a happy little invisible bow. “Marduk has something to say, and then, I think, a few others have bits of news to share as well. Marduk?” She nodded to her husband.
Marduk stood and gratefully acknowledged the day. “This, our first Christmas together, has far exceeded anything I could have imagined, and I want to thank my wife, and the rest of the ladies, for making it happen.” Another round of applause. “Now our final gift of the day goes to Nergal and Ereshkigal, but only if they feel comfortable with it.”
He looked at the king and queen who sat, expectantly with raised glasses. “As everyone has long known, Tess is carrying our son, and will deliver within the month. If you are agreeable,” they urged him to continue. “We request the honor of naming our son Girin.”
Ereshkigal’s eyes immediately filled with tears and Nergal gripped her shoulder, his hands unsteady.
“If we presume too much,” Marduk continued, “please let us know and, of course, we will choose something else.”
“No.” Eresh had a smile now touching her trembling lips. “We would be more than pleased for your firstborn to take the name of our long passed, but never forgotten son. We consider it a great tribute.”
“We would also like you both to be the godsparents to Girin, which is a human custom that Tess will explain at a later time.”
Nergal answered for himself and his queen. “I’m sure we will assume the mantel, whatever it entails, with immense joy,” he responded.
Happy sighs rose up from around the table.
After a moment of silence, Shamash filled the quiet with his mind-words, which Glory rapidly translated to the humans at the table who were unable to listen in.
I also have important news to share, he said. I’ve had a piece of information for a week, but this seems a perfect time to tell it.
Enlil had no idea what Shamash had up his invisible sleeve. Everyone else in the room seemed equally clueless.
After months of research, I have located Anna Kensilton.
The bomb dropped, and the Abelard siblings stilled.
For those of you who don’t remember, Anna is the birth mother of Tess, Holly, and Huxley.
Huxley found his voice first. “Have you contacted her? Does she want to hear from us?”
I don’t have the answers to either of your questions. She was very difficult to trace, having lived in five completely unrelated places in the past thirty years; also, having changed her name slightly with every move. I have her address when the three of you are ready.
“Thank you, Shamash,” Tess breathed. “It’s the most wonderful gift we could possibly receive.” She looked to Gregory Abelard, her adopted father, obviously wanting to gauge his reaction. The older man’s face simply glowed with happiness for his children.
A collective sigh sounded around the table.
“Well, since we’re doing the big reveal here this afternoon.” Addie May actually stood to speak. “Angie and I have an announcement of our own.” All eyes now turned to her, still stunned from the previous news. “We’ve been in touch with my father and he’s agreed to come visit in the next few days to meet his granddaughter.” She indicated Angie. “And his great granddaughter.” She pointed to Lenore.
“Oh my gods, Gram,” Lenore expostulated. “Isn’t he a…”
; “A Lauernley? Yes,” she answered. “For those of you not acquainted with the species, he’s a male siren from the Rhine River Valley, and like many of you, he is immortal.”
The table became instantly abuzz, and Addie May caught a few key words that she attempted to answer. “Yes, yes, he is blue. No, of course, he’s not without humor. It is true I haven’t seen him in fifty years, but I’ve spoken to him and he swears he will not be shocked to see me as an old woman.”
More questions bounced about and more got answered as the revelations from the past few minutes reverberated around the room. Enlil sat back and marveled. Could anything more be added to the day?
A huge crash suddenly sounded throughout the house, coming from the direction of the kitchen. Chatter ceased. While a collective breath was held, staggering footsteps approached. Every god, goddess, witch, and mortal turned as one to stare at the door with confused anticipation. Who the hell could it be? Everyone they knew was here. The portal swung in.
Breathing hard―a disregarded, soapy sponge dripping from one hand―a highly flustered and definitely physical Absu stood with his mouth hanging open.
“I have become whole,” he cried. Then passed out cold on the floor.
Chapter Twenty-One
Candy came around slowly. She didn’t open her eyes right away. She wanted a minute to assess her situation. Her head hurt, her face stung, and it burned like hell down around her left ribcage. She must have been drugged, because the room seemed to move underneath her.
She took her time. After listening carefully for movement or breathing sounds, she ascertained that whoever had done this had left her alone.
She moved her body slowly, eyes still closed. One knee felt swollen and the knuckles on her right hand were stiff. Good. This wasn’t the worst she’d ever felt, and maybe―if she could recall what had happened―she’d given back as much as she’d taken. Candy cracked open one eyelid.
“Ohh.” An inadvertent moan escaped her swollen lips. Daylight stabbed into her already throbbing head. She tried to steady the room, but Candy quickly discovered why that was an impossible task. There was no mistaking the specific construction of the chamber where she’d been stashed. Furniture remained attached to walls, and a high threshold sat beneath the two doors in the room. And the dead giveaway? A round porthole in the wall above her bed. Candy barely stifled another groan. She was at sea, and since daylight streamed in, it had to be Christmas Day. Well, merry fucking Christmas.
Squirming back toward the wall and bracing herself, Candy attempted to sit up. The ribs gave her some problem, but she’d soon worked herself upright and managed to take in a few semi-deep breaths. Check. Ribs probably bruised, not broken. If she had to guess, her face and head had taken the worst of it. She inched off the bed to walk, and the throbbing seemed to lessen.
She lurched unsteadily toward what she figured had to be the head. It was difficult bending her knee to lift it over the raised lintel of the door, but she eventually managed without falling on her ass. When she got a good look in the small mirror, Candy almost wished she hadn’t made the effort. Her face resembled a train wreck. A long gash sliced across one temple, and a huge swollen knot sat on her forehead. Combined with a bulging black eye that gave her a nice elephant-man look. Not good. Her bottom lip had been beaten to shit, but thank God―as she ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth―no teeth seemed to be loose or missing.
She wished she had some ice for the head bump, but the best she could do was to soak some paper towels from the roll next to the sink. She doused a couple in cold water and held them to her face. The quick splash of water stung like hell, but brought her further back to awareness. She quickly did the rest of her morning ablutions, and made her way back to bed.
Keeping her swollen knee as straight as possible, she crawled up on the bunk and peered out the round window. Shit. Nothing but ocean. Could they be at anchor? Candy didn’t detect any vibration or the low thrum of engines that said the ship was underway. But really. Just where the fuck was she, and who would want to take her?
She projected back to the previous night and cursed. Since when had she become such an airhead?
Candy had driven home from her mother’s house in a holiday haze. She’d had a couple of glasses of Ponche Navideño, her mother’s own Christmas punch recipe. A heady mixture of fruit, nuts, cinnamon, and brandy, but that in itself shouldn’t have been enough to impair her judgment. No, it wasn’t the punch or even Christmas sugarplums dancing in her head that had distracted her. It was one big, sexy, frustrating wind god that drove her batty to the point of obliviousness.
She’d found a parking spot on the street less than a block from her apartment, locked the car, and turned with a bag full of goodies from her mother, only to be unexpectedly tackled from behind. She remembered thinking, “what the fuck,” and going down hard with someone’s hands fisted under her left side. Ah, hah. The cause for the bruised ribs.
She’d used the momentum to roll herself and her attacker to one side, where she’d jarred him loose, then slammed him into a luckily placed fire hydrant.
Candy had raised up from assailant number one and gained her feet when she’d spotted two more shadows approach. The one who’d tackled her remained on the ground, bitching and swearing. Good place for him, because it had been time to take off. She’d turned to run, but had been stopped by a steely, cold voice.
“I have a gun trained on your back,” one shadow had stated very calmly. “Keep moving and you’ll be full of holes.” Next came the order, “Hands up.” Candy had stopped, her feet frozen in place, and raised both arms.
“Not moving,” she’d called back. But if the bastard got close―she remembered thinking―she’d take a chance on disarming him. She’d waited while the upright two checked on their downed buddy.
“You okay, Niko?” a voice asked.
“I think the bitch broke my hand.”
What a fucking whiny reply.
Candy hadn’t been able to hold her tongue. She’d turned around, hands still raised. “Yeah, well, I think you broke my ribs with your fucking hand,” she shot back. “You pansy-assed wuss.”
“Get back to the car,” one of the shadows had told the whiner. “We’ll take care of the girl. Come on, Anatol.”
The two had approached. Candy had assessed her chances for escape. One guy had a gun pointed straight at her. She’d needed to behave until he got close. She hadn’t been able to see if the other man was armed, so she had to assume, yes.
“Get down on your face, bitch.”
Huh. Not a suggestion made by the one named Anatol, but no way had Candy thought to comply. In that position, with two of them above her, she’d be helpless and easily subdued. Her mind had raced. If they wanted to kill her, she’d reasoned, they would have done it and been long gone. That meant they’d been sent to take her, therefore they wouldn’t shoot. Or if they did, it would only be to wound. She’d figured she could handle that. Candy had stood her ground.
“Did you hear me, bitch?” The two had postured closer. “I said, on the ground.”
Candy had watched and waited, not saying anything and not complying with their demand.
“Fucking cunt,” one had mumbled. Not so awful. She’d figured if she could get them riled, much the better. Angry men made stupid mistakes.
“The only one eating pavement here will be you.” Candy had postured with her hands slightly clenched. “Just like you’re little cry baby buddy.”
As the two neared, Candy had gotten a good look and grumbled. Shit. Could they have been any bigger? She’d lowered her arms.
“Did I tell you it was okay to put your hands down?” They’d both slowed their approach, one still steadily pointing a gun.
“And how am I supposed to kick your asses with my arms up?”
Candy had gone into a fast spin and sent the visible gun flying with one booted foot, but she hadn’t counted on the guy’s quick response. He’d grabbed her leg with his other
hand as it made its descent and wrenched it around in a hard circle. Candy had gone flying to the sidewalk.
Well, she scoffed, coming back to the present, that was where the swollen knee came from.
Unfortunately, shit had gone downhill from there. While on the ground, one of the assholes had kicked her repeatedly in the face, and when they’d finally hauled her to her feet, she’d only been able to strike out blindly, punching whatever she could reach.
She sure as shit hadn’t been able to see anything. Candy grunted. The last thing she remembered? A roundhouse to her jaw before someone must have hit her on the head, because memory stopped there and only reconnected when she’d awoken.
The good news was okay. None of her injuries were earth shattering. The bad news? How the hell would she escape from a ship in the middle of the water?
She remembered her implanted chip―the one that showed her vital signs and acted as a GPS―with satisfaction. But the fuck of it? Today was Christmas and the only thing the agents would be monitoring would be eggnog.
Enlil wasn’t due back for a week, and her mother wouldn’t miss her for a couple of days. No matter how Candy looked at it, she had to survive for twenty-four hours before any rescue would get under way by her teammates when she didn’t show up at the office the next morning.
Candy sat on the small bunk and mulled things over again. One of the guy’s last night had been called Niko and another Anatol. Both Greek names, and that gave Candy her first inkling as to who she might be up against. Of all the drug busts they’d done, only one stood out as having a Greek kingpin. And that one had involved a ship too.
Shit. Shit. Fuck. Her kidnapping had to have been orchestrated by one Sallust Demetria, a guy she’d left with bluer balls than any perp she’d ever brought down. And didn’t that just suck.
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