by Amy Sumida
“We knew she was some kind of sea beneather but weren't sure which kind exactly,” Raphael went on. “So, she's definitely Greek?”
“Oh, yes.” I crouched down beside the body and examined her swamp-green hair, twisted up into a collection of elaborate braids.
There were none of the usual adornments in her braids; no shells or jewelry or even medals. That's odd for a Triton, especially a female; they love sticking stuff in their hair, the shinier, the better. Perhaps they took those things out when they hunted. I leaned over and turned her face toward me. Her clammy, bluish skin wasn't tinted or cooled by death; Tritons are as coldblooded as Blooders and when they're out of the ocean, their bodies secrete a slick film that protects them from dehydration. I rubbed the gunk off on her sleeve.
“I don't recognize her so we must not be closely related, but she's most certainly a Triton. The wide mouth”—I pointed at her teeth, exposed in a sneer—“the teeth, the skin, the gills.” I indicated the delicate gills beneath her ear, nearly invisible when closed flat for air-breathing. “And her fingernails.” I motioned to the mother-of-pearl shine of her nails. “Those are all unmistakable Triton traits.” I stood up and looked around the room. “And I assume that she defended herself with water magic.”
“She did,” Raphael confirmed. “As well as guns.”
“She was an impressive fighter,” one of the angels noted. “And she kept fighting until she took her last breath.” He shook his head. “What a woman and what a waste.”
“Who are the Tritons?” Darc asked me. “Your relations?”
I sighed deeply and shared a heavy glance with Raphael before I answered, “They're a race stemming from Poseidon. His son, Triton, sired the first of them and they continued from there.”
“Rather arrogant of him to name the race after himself,” Gage muttered.
“I wouldn't know anything about that.” I gave him a pointed look.
The Shining Ones were originally called the Fae. Named after Faenestra; me when I was a full Goddess. They didn't like being called Fae anymore, or any of its derivatives—Fey, Faeries, or even the misspelled Fairies—and after fighting Faenestra inside myself, I couldn't blame them. They chose their own name to separate themselves from their old goddess. Fair enough.
“You were a goddess who created a race, not a beneather who sired children who went on to have more children,” Gage argued. “It's completely different. In your case, the naming was appropriate.”
“And it was better than the alternative; Darcraxians,” Darc said dryly.
“That sounds like a race of space marauders.” I chuckled. “Anyway, all Tritons arrogant. They're sea gods, it comes with the territory, but it isn't their arrogance that concerns me.”
“It's the fact that Poseidon is trying to kill you,” Darc concluded.
“Yes, it looks that way,” I admitted. “And if that's true, my great-grandfather truly has lost his mind.”
I would have said more but that was when the tidal wave hit.
Chapter Eleven
The house shook, water sprayed through every crack, and we all went tumbling. Somewhere deeper inside the house, a woman started to scream. Elise, I assumed. Raphael and his angels ran for the front door, and I started to follow them. Darc grabbed my arm and swung me back toward him.
“I'm not letting them face this alone!” I snapped. “Whatever this is.”
“I'm not saying that you should,” Darc protested. “Only that you need to help them wisely.
Darcraxis led me to one of the boarded-up windows and yanked a plank away with an effortless movement. Wood creaked and splintered and a narrow hole appeared. Gage, Darc, and I gathered around the limited view and peered out at the front lawn. It had been transformed into a lake.
Another triton stood in the center of the lawn, in water up to his ankles. His coloring was the same as the dead woman's, as all Tritons are, but his hair was held back in a simple braid and he wore human combat gear. In addition to the black getup and boots, a rifle hung across his back. But he wasn't currently wielding the human weapon. He had his trident—a three-pronged spear that all Tritons use to direct their water magic—aimed at the angels. As they exited the building, a glowing haze surged out of the trident and gathered water from the air. A few inches before the trident, the gathered water condensed into three streams that went shooting forward. The angels ducked for cover, some launching into the sky to avoid the pounding spray.
“Christophe!” I hissed.
“You know that guy?” Gage asked with lifted brows.
“He's a prick,” I muttered. “I may actually enjoy this.”
“We will lend you our strength,” Darc said as he and Gage laid their hands on my shoulders. “I don't think my magic would have much effect on this assassin anyway.”
“It might, but don't worry about it,” I said as I focused on the Triton. “I prefer you here. Let the angels distract Christophe for me; they owe us that much.”
The rising drag of David Archuleta's “Paralyzed” started to play, and I grinned.
“Thanks, Ky.”
Of course, my love. I will always know what you need.
Kiss-ass, RS muttered.
I didn't want the triton dead—we needed him for questioning—but I knew he'd be just as tenacious as the unknown Triton female had been. The only way to stop Christophe without killing him would be to take away his ability to fight back.
Magic filled my throat, merging with my words to drift out to the assassin like fingers of fog. I sang about a man trapped by his past, unable to move ahead. Paralyzed by fear and the weight of what he'd done. I made Christophe feel that; pushed forward a tide of magic to hold him down and a wave of fear to crush him.
Christophe jerked into stillness. Eyes wide, his gaze flicked around him like a panicked horse. His body strained but couldn't shake my spell. The trident went dim in his hands. He couldn't even lower it, every limb was paralyzed in place. I smiled. I'd done it; hooked our fish. Now, we could—
A burning sword sliced through the air from above and decapitated Christophe with a single blow. The head went flying then landed with a splash. The body remained upright, still held by my spell, its neck cauterized by the angelic blade and smoking like a snuffed candle.
The music stopped abruptly as I shrieked in fury. Christophe's body fell slowly to the ground.
“Ellie,” Darc said gently, “they were in the middle of a battle, they didn't realize that you had him restrained.”
“But they knew I wanted to capture him,” I growled as I turned and stamped outside.
I stalked past a room with a woman peering at me from under the bed. Her eyes widened when she saw me, and she cringed back into the shadows. It was like being confronted with a cowardly version of myself; a mirror that showed hidden faults. Fire burned in my belly, and I grit my teeth to keep it there. When I stepped out of the house, I found Raphael yelling at the angel who'd made the kill.
“—the fuck is wrong with you? You got feathers in your head too?” Raphael gestured wildly. “We needed him alive!”
“What he said!” I shouted as I joined Raphael. “I paralyzed him. He was harmless. We could have interrogated him for as long as we needed.”
The angel, a blond, buff man with all the beauty of his kind, cringed beneath our united, verbal assault. “I didn't realize he was incapacitated. I just knew that he was even stronger than the last one and that meant he had to be killed. I saw a chance to kill him and took it.”
Raphael sighed deeply and pinched his forehead between thumb and pointer as if he could squeeze some calm into his brain. “You've all spent too much time relying on others to think for you. You've lost the ability to think for yourself.”
“I am perfectly capable of thinking for myself,” the angel growled. “That's just what I did; I made a call and I stand by it. With the information I had, it was a good one.”
“You've just made my point, Sargent. You think that was a good c
all? Let me clear this up for you; it was not a good call!” Raphael shouted. “I've obviously given you too much credit. You aren't capable of doing your own thinking yet. So don't. In the future, you take commands and you fucking follow them to the letter until I decide that you've regained enough common sense to reason out the intricacies of my orders”
“Commander—” the Sargent started to protest.
“You fucked us,” Raphael cut him off. “We could have ended this here if you'd only taken a moment to analyze the situation.”
“I'm sorry, Sir.” The angel's jaw clenched as he bowed his head.
“Excused, Sargent,” Raphael growled. “Get back to Angelus.”
The angel nodded stiffly, unfurled his wings, and lifted into the Veil. There went my opportunity to vent. I grimaced. Raphael had stolen all my thunder.
“At least Elaria recognized this triton,” Darcraxis murmured.
“You did?” Raphael looked at me hopefully.
“His name was Christophe.” I shifted my glare to the severed head. “Second-generation Triton. He was known for his skill with the trident”—I kicked the weapon churlishly—“and for his general asshole attitude.”
“She told us that he's a prick,” Gage translated. “Was a prick, I mean. A fish prick.” He chuckled and when we only stared at him blankly, he added, “You know, instead of a fish stick, he's a fish prick.”
“It's funny,” I agreed. “I'm just too mad to laugh right now, sweetheart.”
“That was kind of the reason for the joke.” Gage winked at me. “I could try kissing you next.”
I smiled at him for his effort. “I'll take a rain check.”
“I'll hold you to that.”
“Anything else you can tell us?” Raphael asked me pointedly.
“Not really. I avoided him like the plague.” I crouched beside the body. “Christophe was a perfect choice to send after me; he's been known to take assassin work just for the fun of it.”
“Lovely,” one of the angels muttered.
“Fish-fucking cretins,” another added.
“Hey!” I snarled at the second angel. “That's my family you're talking about, and you lot aren't much better. I don't recall any of you standing up for Raphael when he rebelled against the Seraphim. That's fucking cretin behavior if I've ever seen it.”
The angel cleared his throat. “My apologies, Ma'am.”
I rolled my eyes and stored away the insult to use later. Fish-fucking cretins had a nice ring to it. That's right; I could say all the nasty things about my family that I wanted to. It's my familial right. But I'd be damned if I let some stranger insult them.
I tossed Darc the trident. “Maybe you could use this, babe.”
Darcraxis grimaced at the weapon. “At the risk of sounding like Declan; I don't need a tool to direct my magic.”
“Fair enough.” I chuckled. “Give it to Gage for his collection.”
Gage snatched the trident eagerly from Darc's hands. He adored strange weapons. The walls of his tower were hung with his vast collection; several of them were gifts from me and the other men.
I started to search Christophe's body. Raphael crouched beside me and helped. We emptied every pocket and patted Christophe down thoroughly but there was nothing on him that gave any clue or confirmation of why he'd come after me.
“I don't know what I was expecting,” I huffed as I nudged ammunition cartridges aside. “It's not as if Poseidon would give his orders in writing.”
“And if this guy was a professional, he wouldn't take anything personal with him on a hunt,” Gage added.
“Why attempt to kill Elaria but capture all of those other Greeks?” Darc asked with a frown.
“Elaria's too powerful for Poseidon,” Gage concluded. “The others could be controlled, but she could defeat him with a song.”
“He's making a preemptive strike,” Raphael concluded.
“Maybe we should start striking back,” I muttered.
Chapter Twelve
Torin was waiting for us when we got back to Kyanite. He was seated on one of the long couches in my living room, facing the balcony with a glass of Shining One liquor in his hand. On the coffee table before him was a slim, wooden box.
“You finished it?” Darc asked as we joined him.
“I did,” Torin confirmed. “Where were you three?”
“At a crime scene.” I grimaced.
“A doppelganger?” Torin sat forward.
“It was her home, but she's fine,” Gage said. “Unfortunately, her would-be assassin is not; neither of them.”
“Them?” Torin asked as I sat down beside him.
“Two Tritons,” I said to his curious look. “The first was dead when we arrived and the second was killed by an overeager angel.”
“Elaria had the second Triton paralyzed, but the angels were jumpy after dealing with the first,” Gage explained. “Evidently, Tritons are excellent warriors.”
“Not as excellent as Griffins,” I countered.
Gage smiled softly at me. “Especially not Griffins enhanced by their mate's magic.”
That's right; give credit where credit's due, RS spoke into all of our minds. I'm the bad in your badassness.
You're the ass in their badassness, Kyanite corrected.
“Credit is currently due to Torin,” I said pointedly. “May I see the necklace?”
“Of course.” Torin handed me the box. “Quinlan helped create the foundation and set the stones, and I charged the onyx to protect you specifically.”
I opened the box and found a silver choker set with oval, cabochon, onyx stones. The stones were laid with their longest sides horizontal, stretching in a straight line from one side of the box to the other. The silver settings looked sturdy and simple, made more for performance than decoration, but it was still a striking piece. I stroked my fingers over the stones and felt the magic zipping inside them.
“It's beautiful,” I murmured.
“May I?” Torin waved his hand at the choker.
“Of course.” I lifted my hair and turned so Torin could slide the choker around my neck, just above the chains holding my onyx pendant, traveling stone, and contact charm.
It was warm as if someone had been wearing it already. Torin fixed it in place, and I lowered my hair. My hand automatically went to the necklace. Its weight was reassuring.
“Lovely,” Darc noted. “But it doesn't cover much of her throat.”
“It doesn't need to,” Torin asserted. “It has a protective radius of two feet.”
“You couldn't simply make her a charm to protect her whole body?” Gage asked.
“Not with the kind of protection that she requires,” Torin explained. “A bullet is a projectile with speed on its side. To deflect a blow like that takes condensed magic. I filled the stones to their capacities.”
“Thank you, Torin.” I leaned over and kissed him. “It'll give us all some peace of mind.”
“My pleasure, little bird,” Torin said softly. “Now, tell me more about the assassins.”
“Assassins?” Slate strode into the room. “Did the angels catch them?”
“No, they killed them,” I said again. “We searched the bodies and didn't find anything to tie them to Poseidon.”
“Besides the fact that they were Tritons,” Darc added. “We don't need further proof; your great-grandfather is trying to kill you, my fire.”
“So, you need to stay here,” Slate announced as he took the armchair to my right, crossing his ankle over his knee and setting a stern gaze on me.
“I have protection now.” I waved at the choker. “And I can't hide here. We need to stop Poseidon.”
“Yes, we do, but—” before Slate could finish, my contact charm chimed.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Hold that thought,” I said to him as I slid the stone into my ear. “Hello?”
“El,” Cerberus growled. “Where you at, girl?”
“Kyanite. Why?”
“Stay t
here; I'm on my way.”
Seconds later, my best friend appeared near the balcony.
Cerberus used to work for Hades, guarding the Gate to the Underworld, but he got fired awhile back. Supposedly, it was for bad behavior, but I've started to suspect that Hades fired Cerberus to get him out of Hell and force him into a better life. The ex-Hound of Hades has certainly lived up to his ex-boss' expectations; becoming a successful businessman who's currently dating a Norse goddess. I'd known him for most of my life—this life, at least—and Cerberus has never let me down. He was the one to give me the idea of becoming a fixer and after he created his security company, he gave me all of my jobs too. I'd do anything for that hound dog.