by K. F. Breene
I wiped my face again. “I’m going to have to. I can’t go back and change it now.”
The key slipped into the well-used lock and I turned it, ready for more bittersweet memories.
“You lived here all your life?” Dylan asked.
“Until Kieran found me, yeah. I considered myself lucky to have a place at all.”
I pushed in through the front door, hit with stale air and the damp smell of home. The itty-bitty round kitchen table spanned the line between the teensy-weensy kitchen and the tiny living room. The low ceiling pressed down on me, reminding me of its trademark popcorn texture. Down the short hall I found my bedroom, so small that I fleetingly wondered how I’d even turned around in it. The kids’ room was next door, their two beds crammed into the tight space. Mordecai had nearly died more than once in there, coughing up blood and keeping us up half the night nursing him.
Tears came to my eyes again and my chest burned.
I took a deep breath and traced the scuffed paint where Jack had rammed my head into the wall. He’d attacked me as part of a training exercise—and found himself facing a harder fight than he’d anticipated. “Kieran saved my wards, but I couldn’t save his brother in arms. One of the Hades Demigods came for me, and Jack got in the way.” Tears trailed down my cheeks. “I miss him, so much. It’s not the same when a person is in spirit. I miss watching his big arms flex whenever he cracked an egg. It made me laugh to see all that muscle used on something so benign as cracking an egg. I miss the way Donovan and Jack always bantered when they were putting together a meal, and the way Jack coached Mordecai. I miss him calling Daisy a little gremlin. I hate that Kieran gets a pang of sorrow every time he sees Jack in spirit.”
A sob broke free, along with the realization that I’d never properly grieved for Jack. I let a few more emotions roll through me and then tucked them away again. Now wasn’t the time. The right time would probably be when Jack officially crossed the Line, and I couldn’t bear to think about that.
I took a deep breath and checked out the bathroom that we’d all shared. One sink, one medicine cabinet, a few drawers. The lack of space hadn’t mattered because we hadn’t owned much stuff to keep in there anyway.
Back in the living room, I wiped my face and lowered into a chair at the kitchen table. It creaked with my weight.
“At one point we had five people living in this house. My mom, me, and three other kids, including Mordecai. All of us squished in together.”
Dylan finally took a step away from the front door. He glanced in the kitchen before taking a seat opposite me. He leaned his forearms on the scratched and beat-up wood before clasping his hands.
“None of us minded. We didn’t know any better,” I said with a sad smile. At least those were pleasant memories. “Well…” I shrugged, picking at the wood. “My mother might’ve. She’s the one that had a hard go of it, I guess. She had to give everything up when she realized I was Magnus’s kid. And she must’ve realized it, or else why would she have hidden me away like she did?”
“How did she hide you away, that’s my question,” Dylan said. “She must’ve been at least partially powerful to produce you, even with a Demigod father. She would’ve been on the books. How’d she keep you from getting tested?”
“She didn’t. I altered my results.”
He tilted his head to the side. “What does that mean? How’d you do that?”
“She taught me. You just…like…focus your magic on muddling the outcome. I always envisioned a red needle dancing within a green screen, and that was what my magic would do to the testing machine. I wasn’t as good as my mom—she could skew it so the readings would be about the same every time. I always had to be tested a few times, and when two of the results were close together, they’d take that. The results were always low—level one and two—so they didn’t take more time than they needed to.”
He leaned over the table. “I’ve never heard of altering the machine readouts.”
“I don’t think many people have done it. No one questioned it until I met Kieran. He felt my magical level and got suspicious when my records didn’t match up.”
Dylan leaned back and looked around again. “I’ll be damned. No wonder he followed you around. This is a mind fuck. All of that magic”—he made circles with his pointer finger before jabbing it toward my chest—“and you lived here. Here! This is poverty.”
“Yeah. We took a lot of handouts and charity.”
“Demigod Kieran pulled you up out of this.”
“Well…” I frowned at him. “It’s not like it was a Cinderella story. The kids and I helped him when he went to war against his father. We earned our keep and held our own. He paid for the privilege.”
“Hey, whoa.” Dylan put up his hands. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. Sorry. It’s just that rare level fives like us…we are usually born into a certain lifestyle, and if not, it’s given to us as soon as we are tested. We’re given the best, we live in luxury—we never want for anything.”
I spread my hands to indicate the house at large. “Before the kids became my responsibility, what did I want for?”
His gaze lingered on the far corner. “A TV, for starters. Maybe a rug that doesn’t smell like mold. I don’t know.”
I chuckled and wiped away the rest of my tears. “My mother kept me away from a child killer. I’m fine with my lot in life.”
“Yeah, I can’t fault you for that. And it explains why you don’t really care about living in such a small house. Kieran got lucky, finding a woman that doesn’t expect much. People of Poseidon hate parting with their precious coin.”
“Such a bad rap!” I said, laughing with him. “The guy is super generous!”
Our laughter died as I let the memories of the space float through me.
“Kieran and his Six—five now, I guess—would kill for my kids. Even if I don’t make it, my kids have backup now. They won’t ever be alone. Eventually, when he’s ready to be challenged, Mordecai will return to his pack. I have no doubt he’ll be alpha someday. I don’t know what Daisy will do eventually, but she has the tools for happiness. She can choose whatever she wants. It might’ve been hairy for a while, but at least the kids are in a good spot now. That’s all that counts, small house for a Demigod or no.”
Dylan chuckled before sobering. “Living like this taught you to protect the people you love against all odds. Those feelings are primal. They’re powerful. Clearly Kieran is a man who recognizes that. Thank you. If you don’t mind, I’ll just wait outside. The emotion is starting to make me uncomfortable.”
I barked out a laugh and sprayed him with spit. “Sorry.” I wiped my mouth and laughed a little more, standing. It felt better, remembering the past. Sad but sweet. Like I’d dodged a bullet, quite frankly. And maybe I had. My mother had clearly been wise to protect me from my father. To keep me hidden away.
But I was not guarding a child from a ruthless tyrant… I was the child. And I was done hiding. Let him come. I would not go down without a fight. If my mother came back from the grave to yell at me, well, it would be nice to see her again. I had a few questions.
“Let’s get that beer.”
23
Alexis
I stopped in front of the red, gleaming door on top of the freshly poured concrete without one line or crack in it. Cars lined the street, as they used to, but these were the immaculate cars of people who could clearly afford nice things. Bulbs shone from artfully curved poles over the entrance.
If there had been a red carpet leading up to this joint, I would’ve turned around and walked away.
The inside was even worse. New wood adorned the glossy bar, and the stools lining it had leather seats and seatbacks. The spirits that used to haunt this place, wilting over the bar in never-ending sadness, had been replaced by living people excited to drink in a place owned by the Demigod of San Francisco. The floor had been redone in fresh rustic wood, the height of trendiness, and clean round tables backed
up against the far wall. At the other end of the posh space was the pool room, packed with laughing and chatting people.
“This is…” I felt increasingly annoyed as I ducked between two women who couldn’t have talked any louder if they’d been yelling. It wasn’t until I reached the other end of the long, lively bar that I sighed in relief.
Mick, a regular from the old bar, sat on a rickety old barstool with a surly expression and an empty seat next to him. Kieran had come through with his promise to keep Mick’s spot and stool intact. Given the fact that the rest of the bar was packed, his personality had clearly scared away anyone who might want a comfortable seat. Some things hadn’t changed.
“Mick!” I gave him a wide smile as I came around the corner.
He glanced up, and then did a double take. In classic Mick fashion, he grunted, “Well,” in his thick Irish brogue and resumed hunching in his spot, his big hands, scarred from manual labor, curled around a bottle of Bud.
“Big change with the bar, huh?” I sat down, the plush seat much nicer than the crappy stools from before, although Mick’s seat had been saved as a relic. “I hate it.”
He huffed, his whole upper body rising to do it. “Bunch o’ coonts.”
“Was that…” Dylan was at the corner of the bar, half squished between me and some woman who was chatting up a reasonably attractive guy on her other side. He leaned over the non-rounded point so he could see Mick’s face better. “Did he just say…?”
“Yeah. The c-word. Stick around, he gets much more colorful. Do you want me to get you a seat?”
“How?” He glanced at the woman beside him, who seemed quite content.
“I could probably just tell them to move. Actually, let’s wait for Bria. She’s on her way with Jerry. If I let her handle it, then maybe I won’t get gawked at. Hopefully. I didn’t have Aubri come today, so it’s inevitable someone will snap a picture and put it on social media titling it hot mess or something. Do you want a seat while we wait? I don’t mind standing.”
Dylan leaned toward me a little and dropped his voice. “I have a question.”
“Hey, ye fecking bastard, ya.” Mick leaned over the bar in order to look at Dylan. He waggled his finger in front of his temple while squinting an eye. “Be careful where ye aim, eh? She’s not fer sale, ye coont. She landed the fooking Demigod, boi.”
I didn’t have time to wonder what the hell he was talking about, or why everyone was getting so nuts over Dylan—he was attractive, yes, but not enough to make a woman lose her mind. Liam, the bartender from the old bar, sidled down the bar, one of three on duty and the only one who probably wouldn’t bother to move faster if someone put a burner under his butt.
“Alexis, hi, nice surprise,” he said. Although he was non-magical, he’d taken up residence in the dual-society zone because he didn’t want to be bothered with law enforcement. “You ended up giving in to the Demigod, huh?”
“Hi, Liam. I did.” I hung my head. Kieran had followed me into this bar once, before we knew each other well, and Liam had applauded me for standing up to him. It felt like a lifetime ago. “He didn’t take a subtle approach that day, but he turned out to be not so bad. Could I have a Guinness, please?”
“Sure, yeah.” Liam surveyed the crowded bar. “You want me to clear you some space? I don’t think they know you walked in.”
“No.” I waved the thought away. “I have a friend coming. She’ll do it in a less authoritative style.”
Liam nodded and looked at Dylan. Dylan lifted his eyebrows.
“He’s silently asking what you want,” I told Dylan.
“Oh. Uh…” Dylan looked at the large blackboard above the bar with various specialty cocktails and wines artfully written on it.
“Just get a fooking beer, man,” Mick grumbled. “Good God almighty, you’d think he’d never seen alcohol in his life. Young man, young man, young man.”
I’d heard him say that a million times, but I still had no idea if he was actually saying “young man” or something else. If he was, I also had no idea why. I’d never bothered to ask.
A grin creased Dylan’s lips, and some of the tension seeped out of his shoulders. “Stella. Please,” he finally said.
“Now. Feck’s sake.” Mick resumed his hunch over his beer.
“Demigod Kieran came in here?” Dylan asked me. “Is that what the bartender meant?”
“Yeah. It was during Kieran’s stalking phase. He came in here and…” I remembered the things he’d said to me on that occasion, the pull of his body. My face heated and my core tightened. I cleared my throat. “He was pretty arrogant and I wasn’t having it.”
What was a tiny lie amongst friends?
I told Dylan the story of how Kieran had bought the bar out from under my ex-boyfriend.
“I liked it better before,” I said, watching Liam pour my pint.
“He didn’t kill your boyfriend?” Dylan asked.
“He was an ex, not a current boyfriend—”
“I realize that, but the guy was paying your tab and lording it over you. I’m surprised Kieran didn’t kill him.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s not his father.”
“Most Demigods are his father, Alexis. You need to harden yourself for that. And the best Demigods are your father.”
Dylan started and then stepped away from the bar, turning back to glance at the woman beside him. He muttered an apology. Apparently she’d gotten tired of his presence and shoved him away.
She threw him an annoyed scowl, but her gaze changed the moment it landed on his face. Her eyes rounded and her breasts jutted out, as though someone else had suddenly assumed control of her body and didn’t know how to work the thing. She turned toward him, the man next to her completely forgotten.
“Excuse me, I am so sorry. Did I bump you?” she asked in a breathy whisper.
“Good Christ,” Mick muttered, watching the exchange.
“No, it’s okay,” Dylan said, shrinking away from her notice.
“Honestly, I’m sorry. Hi, I’m—”
“No.” Mick waved her away, his arm crossing in front of my face in large, sweeping movements. By his animation, I was pretty sure he’d been on the whiskey earlier, fallen asleep at the bar, and was on round two. I was pretty good at guessing his moods. This was the surliest. “Don’t even bother. He’s too good looking for you. Move along.” He shooed her. “Move along. Never gonna happen. He’s way out of yer league. Know when yer beat. Git!”
“Is this real life?” Dylan said quietly, standing away from the situation with a cockeyed smile. “Did he just tell her to ‘get,’ like an animal?”
“This is my life, actually, yes,” I said. “Welcome. It gets weirder.”
The woman, probably terrified of Mick’s manic stare, turned away.
“Stand closer to Mick,” I told Dylan. “No one will bother you there.” Mick grunted his agreement. Our drinks landed in front of us a moment later.
“On the house, Lexi, like normal,” Liam said. “Different owner paying this time, though.” He winked.
“I’m not sure if I should bother making a statement by paying,” I mumbled.
“Am I on the house?” Mick slapped his hand down.
Half the people lining the bar jumped and fell silent, shooting him nervous looks.
“What’s funny is, he isn’t magical,” I murmured to Dylan. “He doesn’t even throw his punches straight. Yet they are all terrified.”
“You datin’ the owner?” Liam asked Mick.
“I will for a whiskey,” Mick replied.
Liam rolled his eyes and moved away.
“Did you know my name?” Dylan asked me after things had calmed down and Mick started grumbling to himself. Definitely on round two for the day.
“No, the woman said it in the café.” It dawned on me what he was asking. “That one Flora yelled out? No, I didn’t know that one. Honestly, Dylan, people don’t tell me all that much. It’s my fault, really, because everyone
else asks about stuff except for me. I’ve always just…kinda taken things as they come. You’d understand if you’d known my mother. There was some new kind of crazy every day—you dealt with what was in front of you, and you moved on. So no, I knew very little going into your town.”
Bria emerged from a throng of people and spread out her hands. “Kieran ruined this bar. Ruined it! I can’t drink here. Who are any of these people?” Bria leaned over the woman who kept sending furtive glances at Dylan despite Mick’s warning. “Hey!” She hooked a thumb at me. “That’s Alexis Price.” She directed the thumb at herself. “I work for Demigod Kieran.” She pointed at Dylan. “He’s not interested. Move!”
The grin twisting Dylan’s lips widened. “This is not real life. It isn’t. No guards or anything…”
The crowd shifted and swayed. Bodies parted. Jerry emerged from the throng, his wide, flat features closed down. He stopped behind the woman and man, now staring at me with wide, excited eyes.
“Move,” Jerry said in his deep, earth-shaking baritone. His muscles popped out on his frame, turning him from large to imposing.
The couple scrambled off the barstools, muttering their apologies. Their smiles and excited eyes said we’d made their night. They’d been told to leave by the magical elite, the next best thing to seeing Kieran himself.
News of our, or rather my, presence spread across the bar like wildfire. Faces turned and people clustered closer, trying to get a look at me.
“We should leave,” I said to Bria. I grabbed a loose strand of hair and tucked it behind my ear. “I’m not dressed to be noticed. Let’s go back to the house.”
“Fuck ’em.” Bria motioned for another couple to leave. “We need a seat for a giant.” She pushed Dylan down into the seat the woman had evacuated and pointed for Jerry to sit farther down.