by Nicole Hall
“Oh, I can’t wait to see you mooning after her when she leaves at the end of the summer.”
A pang of regret accompanied Alex’s image, but Dax pushed it aside. They had three months to make those mistakes. “You’re a sadistic man.”
“I’m a realist. And you, my friend, are screwed.”
“I do not have a thing for her,” Dax muttered.
Alex gave an incredulous snort, then hung up.
Dax tossed his phone on the bed and considered taking another cold shower. The urge to search out Lindsey had grown so much that he didn’t trust himself to leave the room. No way was he about to prove Alex right. The wariness had faded by the end of the call, so Dax spent some time unpacking and answering emails. Almost an hour passed before he realized Alex hadn’t agreed to his terms.
He put his laptop aside and glanced at the door to their shared bathroom. It didn’t matter what Alex agreed to. He’d been warned, and Dax had every intention of following through on his promise.
Lindsey
The possibility existed that she’d made up the voice in her head and assigned it a convenient body. Lindsey stared at the splotchy feline, who blinked and stared back.
“If you’re really talking to me, stand up and walk in a circle.”
The cat gave her a disgusted look, trotted in a tight circle, and sat back down. Her tail twitched, but the voice in Lindsey’s head remained smooth and emotionless.
Was that sufficient?
Lindsey nodded and did what any sane person would do when confronted with a talking cat. She scooted back on her butt until she’d cleared the door, then shoved it closed with her foot. And waited.
Did telepathy work through doors? Could the cat read her thoughts right now? The repercussions of this discovery spiraled into a stream of increasingly strange questions. Lindsey eventually wrangled her brain under control as she tried to work through the shock.
She spread her hands in the carpet and focused on the feel of the soft fibers against her fingers. Sabine’s cat could talk. Lindsey accepted that she could be hallucinating from exhaustion after the long drive and the unexpectedly thrilling afternoon in the hot tub, but the floor felt real enough.
Despite the weird stuff over the last few months—one of them apparently being a cat that could talk in her head all the way across the country—Lindsey had never really harbored the fear that she was losing her mind. The air conditioner kicked on with a groan somewhere in the house, and for the first time in years, she considered yelling for help.
The water had turned off, which meant Dax had come out of the shower. He’d hear her. But what could he possibly do for her that she couldn’t do for herself?
She’d wanted answers, hadn’t she? Sabine had even given her an off-hand promise that Lindsey would find what she needed. Of course, Lindsey had expected that to mean time and distance to do some digging, but a talking cat on the first day also applied. It certainly saved her some effort.
Lindsey rolled over and tried to peer under the crack in the door. A shadow darkened the middle of the space, so she assumed the cat hadn’t moved. What now?
The cat—Calliope—didn’t pose much of a threat. Granted, Lindsey didn’t have a lot of experience dealing with telepathy, but her brain remained un-melted, which seemed like a good sign. A faint sigh drifted through her mind, answering her question of whether telepathy worked through doors. See, she’d learned something new already.
Feeling supremely silly, she stood and straightened her bikini before opening the door a crack. Calliope looked up at her and yawned. Her tail continued to twitch in an annoyed manner, but no more comments came through. If she was waiting for an apology, too bad.
“I need a couple of answers.”
I assumed as much.
Lindsey glowered, but she chose not to address the sarcastic undertone. “Can you read my mind?”
No. Unless you want me to. If you send a thought to me, I’ll hear it. Otherwise, your mind is your own.
The answer relieved her more than she expected. Especially considering her recent thoughts about Dax. “Are you an alien?”
Do I look like an alien?
“You look like a cat. If you’re not actually a cat, what are you?”
The short version is I used to be a Muse. For a while, I was a spirit. Currently, I’m trapped in a cat. Would you like the longer explanation now?
Lindsey opened her mouth, then shut it again. She really didn’t. Her eyes were dry and scratchy from being up for more than twenty-four hours, so what she wanted was a shower and a nap. Maybe after she’d slept, the world would make sense.
“Are you dangerous?”
Calliope cocked her head. Not to you.
While that answer disturbed her on several levels, Lindsey didn’t have the energy to keep up the farce of normalcy. If she believed the cat—one of the weirdest things she’d ever thought—there was no hurry. Sabine’s strange behavior suddenly fit into place, and offered another mark toward trusting Calliope.
Lindsey scrubbed a hand down her face. “Great. I need to sleep or I’m going to pass out right here. When I get up and my brain is in full working order, I’d like that longer explanation.”
I understand.
“I’m locking the door.”
She swore the cat smirked at her before sauntering away. Lindsey closed the door gently so as not to alert Dax. Calliope’s gloating silence implied the lock wouldn’t keep her out, but sharing the house with Alex’s sexy Army buddy and the magical talking cat meant taking basic precautions.
Lindsey flipped the flimsy lock and dug in her bag for the baseball bat she always carried with her. Basic precautions. The bat went under the bed, within easy arm’s reach, and her pepper spray went into the nightstand drawer. She’d unpack the rest when she got up.
An annoying buzz next to her face woke Lindsey out of a fabulous dream involving Dax and the shower they shared. She sighed and fumbled around until she hit the button to answer it.
“Too early,” she mumbled.
“Then why did you answer the phone?” Sabine’s cheerful question made Lindsey wince.
She cracked an eye open to confirm daylight, then rolled over and covered her head with her pillow. “I figured it was you. What do you want at this ungodly hour?”
“It’s 10:00 a.m. there.”
“I’m on vacation.”
Sabine snorted. “Not for long. Calliope told me you can hear her.”
That made Lindsey sit up in a hurry. “How?”
“Magic.”
Lindsey rubbed her face and squinted at the window again. 10:00 a.m.? She’d slept until the next day. “Is that how she can talk?”
Sabine went quiet for a second. “What did she tell you?”
“Not a cat. Former Muse. Stuck as a cat. Not dangerous to me.”
“That’s all?” Sabine did not sound pleased, but Lindsey was too groggy to care.
“Yes. I was crashing, so I asked her to tell me the rest later. Which is pretty much now, I guess. Did you know I could hear her?”
A muffled sound of frustration came from the phone. “I suspected. The coincidence of the situation felt hinky, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up that you’d be one of us.”
“One of who?”
Another hesitation, longer this time. “I think I’ll leave that explanation to Calliope. She knows a lot more about it than I do, but I should be around if you have questions.”
Sabine’s quick avoidance didn’t inspire a lot of confidence that she’d answer the phone if Lindsey called. Then again, she’d reached out as soon as Calliope had blabbed. Either way, Sabine was here now, and Calliope was hopefully still locked in a different part of the house.
“Give me the quick version. I trust you more than a talking cat-Muse I just met.”
“I’m not sure where to begin.”
Lindsey rolled out of bed and tucked the phone against her ear to pull clean clothes and shower stuff from her duffel. “St
op stalling. Start with what you meant by ‘one of us’.”
Sabine groaned. “Fine. I’m a demigod, and if you can hear Calliope, most likely so are you. We’re descendants of these powerful magical beings that lived as gods in ancient Greece.”
“Are you saying they weren’t gods?”
Clothing rustled as Sabine shrugged. “How do you define a god? All-powerful? All-knowing? Ancient humans needed an explanation for their magic, so they were described as gods. They weren’t omnipotent though, or they wouldn’t have gotten trapped in a seal for a thousand years.”
Lindsey stopped with her shirt halfway over her head. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place at the mention of magic. The flashes of light, the fire. God magic, or demigod magic, technically. She filed the information about the seal away for later examination.
“I have magic powers.”
“Yes.” Sabine drew the word out, making it sound like there was a caveat she hadn’t mentioned.
“But?”
“You won’t be able to control them until you find your guardian.”
Lindsey pulled off her shorts and switched the phone to the other ear. “You lost me again.”
“See, this is why I wanted Calliope to explain it.”
“Is this why you demanded I stay at your house while you went with Alex to Virginia? Was this a set-up to test me?”
“No. Calliope suggested I have you housesit, but she didn’t give me an explanation beyond that she needed more care than a normal cat. I knew you were looking for some space, and even with Dax there, you’d have plenty of alone time.”
Sabine sounded so forlorn that Lindsey took pity on her. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure the cat-Muse is still sitting right outside my door waiting to pounce.”
“Thank you. In a desperate attempt to change the subject before I confuse you any more, how are you doing with Dax?”
A flash from the dream made Lindsey grin, but she wasn’t going to share that tidbit with Sabine. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon, so today will be the real test.”
“He’s a nice guy, Lindsey.”
“So you keep telling me.” Lindsey eyed the rumpled bed and decided to leave it. No one else would be seeing it. “Want to add any details to your assessment?”
“Just a sec.” A muffled voice said something to Sabine, probably Alex, then she was back. “Sorry. I have to go.”
“Another failed attempt at gathering information. I’m losing my touch.”
Sabine laughed. “I’ll be glad to gossip about Dax all you want later, but I do have other things to deal with besides interfering in your life.”
“Thank god,” Lindsey muttered. The phrase felt weird on her tongue after what she’d just learned. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye.” Then Sabine was gone, and Lindsey stood naked, face to face with her locked door.
The cat-Muse could wait a little longer. She tossed her dirty clothes into a pile in the corner and headed for the shower with her bag of travel soaps. Lindsey hadn’t had a lot of experience with Jack and Jill bathrooms, but she wasn’t surprised to find the doors only locked from the inside.
Dax had access to her room through there, unless she locked him out completely. Lindsey bent to examine the lock. The same kind on her bedroom door that anyone could pop open with a butter knife. Anyone with opposable thumbs anyway.
A quick shower got rid of the chlorine from the hot tub and the lingering fuzziness in her brain. She dressed in her most comfortable clothes and set off in search of the cat or breakfast, whichever she found first.
3
Lindsey
The hallway was empty. As were the stairs and the living room. Lindsey tried not to feel too relieved, but the lack of caffeine in her system made it significantly harder to lie to herself. She’d finally gotten some answers, but uncontrolled magic sounded insanely dangerous. Wasn’t that why she’d come out here though?
To find answers, yes. But deep down, she’d worried she might be a danger to others. Lindsey stopped at the entrance to the kitchen and sighed at the full coffee pot. Dax was up. For some reason, she wasn’t as concerned with his safety as she’d been about the generic people in the rest of the world. Or at least, the greater Detroit area. Did that make her a terrible human being? Could she even call herself a human being?
Her mom certainly hadn’t.
She groaned and shook her head. What a useless line of thought. Why was she thinking about her mom so much lately? She’d put those memories behind her years ago when she’d left for college and hadn’t come back.
Lindsey found the mugs on the first try and focused intently on the act of doctoring her coffee. She’d had enough of the panicky distractions, so until Calliope showed up, Lindsey would enjoy her drink in peace.
The kitchen included a small eat-in area surrounded on three sides by windows. They overlooked the back, so the view included the hot tub and the forest beyond. The trees calmed her jangled nerves, but the longer she stared, the more it felt like something stared back. So much for relaxing.
Lindsey sipped slowly and watched for movement. A couple of squirrels jumped from branch to branch, but they paid her no mind. She was on the verge of heading outside to check it out when Calliope trotted into the kitchen.
Good morning, Lindsey.
“Good morning. Is there something in particular you’d like for breakfast?”
Calliope hopped onto the table and sat with her tail curled daintily around her legs. Sabine usually gives me some tuna and scrambled eggs. I am, of course, open to suggestions. Anything except that disgusting kibble.
Lindsey got up and pulled out a pan for eggs. She wasn’t much of a cook, but she could do the basics. “Scrambled eggs is fine. Sabine left instructions somewhere here, but since you can tell me directly, there’s no need for me to try to find them.”
With her back turned to the table, the polite conversation felt almost normal. She popped some bread in the toaster and tried to decide how to start a conversation about demigods. Calliope seemed to be waiting for Lindsey to bring up the subject, or she simply wasn’t a morning person—cat. Lindsey snuck a glance toward the table to find Calliope staring out the window.
The feeling of being watched had faded as soon as Calliope arrived, so maybe it had been her imagination after all. Sabine didn’t have any window coverings in the kitchen, so despite the thick trees, Lindsey felt somewhat exposed. She’d lived in a lot of urban areas, but isolation and wilderness didn’t usually give her the creeps.
“See anything out there?”
Calliope didn’t answer until Lindsey had scooped eggs onto two plates and set them on the table.
No. I don’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean much.
Lindsey took a bite of her toast and chewed slowly before responding. “Are you going to eat?”
Calliope leaned down to sniff the plate next to her. I have to wait a little longer than humans to eat. Apparently, a cat’s mouth doesn’t handle hot foods well.
“It’s weird that you don’t seem to associate your body with yourself.”
It’s not my body. Though the agility is nice.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Lindsey’s mind settled on a starting point. She waited until Calliope had finished her plate and begun to wash her face with a paw.
“Explain to me, in detail, what a guardian is.”
Calliope paused. Sabine answered your questions after all.
Lindsey narrowed her eyes. “Did you tell her not to?”
No. She was overwhelmed with what she’s learned in the past few months and wasn’t sure how to communicate it to you. I told her that I would take care of it.
“Kind of you.”
She resumed her bath. Not particularly. I have much more knowledge than she does, and I’d rather you learn the correct information from me.
Lindsey’s brows flew up. “You think she’ll give me bad information?”
I think s
he’ll try to explain what she doesn’t fully understand herself. Would you like to keep discussing Sabine, or should I answer your rude request?
She almost replied with another rude remark, but Lindsey recognized that the response was rooted in trepidation as well as annoyance. The idea that she couldn’t control her magic on her own raised all her hackles. As long as she kept up with the procrastination and distraction, she wouldn’t hear confirmation of her worst fear. That she’d need to trust someone else to help her.
Fear would not control her.
“I want you to answer my request.”
The cat studied her for a moment. Good. Over a thousand years ago, the Fates tied the lives—and the magic—of the demigods to select humans they designated as guardians. Their lines, like yours, passed down through the centuries.
“Meaning the status is hereditary?”
Yes.
“What are they supposed to be guarding against? And wouldn’t it be more effective to have the ones with the magical powers guarding themselves?”
They’re meant to guard you from the gods. There’s quite a bit of history here that would give you a better understanding. Would you like me to explain it?
Lindsey sighed and pulled her hair away from her face. History had been her worst subject in school. “Can you give me the short version?”
I can try. Magic, at its heart, is manipulating natural energy produced by humans. The humans are incapable of using the energy, but gods can. There is some speculation that they were once humans themselves, but no evidence other than genetic compatibility.
Lindsey leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Where do you even learn words like genetic compatibility?”
I pay attention. There were many gods of various power levels at one time, but a quirk in our makeup made it impossible to reproduce effectively.
“Are you saying the gods couldn’t have kids? Because I feel like my existence contradicts that.”
Calliope stopped cleaning herself to meet Lindsey’s eyes. The gods could have children with each other, but those children were barren, considered lesser gods. Many of the second generation couldn’t collect and wield the kind of power necessary to maintain an essentially immortal lifespan, so they lived and died as humans would.