by Nicole Hall
She held the hilt in her right hand and smoothed her left along the flat of the blade. The swirls followed, moving along the metal under her hand.
“Huh.” Lindsey let her arm drop to her side as she tilted her head at Dax. “It’s definitely different magic, and it’s responding to me.”
The intensity faded from his face. “Why now?”
Lindsey shook her head and carefully put the sword back on the counter where it had been before. “Maybe because my power is unlocked? I don’t know. It’s been inside Calliope’s protection this whole time, so unless she imbued the sword somehow, I think the difference is me not detecting the magic rather than it not being there before.”
“What does your spidey sense tell you?”
“The magic is subdued. It feels old. The whole thing feels old. I’m just guessing, but I’d say that the traces are from whoever owned it originally.”
He didn’t ask her how she knew, simply believed what she said. Lindsey hadn’t realized she’d tensed up preparing to defend herself, so Dax’s faith in her abilities caught her off guard. She focused on the sword again, but no more convenient knowledge popped into her head.
“What did you say it was? A xiphos?”
He jerked his chin toward it. “That style dates back to the Iron Age, but if it’s magically preserved, it could have been made any time in the last fifteen hundred years. It was a well-known sword shape.”
“Okay, so that doesn’t narrow it down.”
“The markings should help with that, if we could identify them.” Dax finally relaxed enough to open the pizza, and Lindsey nearly drooled on herself as the cloud of spicy scent wafted up to her.
He offered her a plate with three slices, and Lindsey grinned. “I could eat this every day.”
“We pretty much do. I saw the delivery girl in town, and she recognized me as, and I quote, ‘the guy who eats all the veggie pizzas’.”
Lindsey snorted. “I’m one hundred percent okay with that.” She finished two slices before bringing the subject back to the symbols. “I know Calliope said they weren’t familiar, but I think she’s lying.”
“Everyone else is, why leave her out?”
She pointed her pizza at him. “Precisely.”
He held up both hands. “Hey, I agree with you, but it doesn’t help us unless you can convince her to tell us the truth.”
“Lucky for you, I happen to find things for a living, which requires me to decode all kinds of obscure information. I might know a guy.”
Dax lowered the pizza from his mouth. “Why didn’t we contact this guy weeks ago?”
Lindsey shrugged. “The sword wasn’t high on my priority list. Now it is.”
She stretched her legs out, attempting to ease the sore muscles there, and her skirt rode up her thighs. The skirt had been her attempt to wear something fun and sexy for once. She’d had the wild urge to show Dax she could do more than fail to make magical fire, and judging by his preoccupation, it had worked.
Dax followed the motion, and when his gaze rose to her face, a different kind of fire burned there. “Tomorrow.”
Liquid heat pooled, and Lindsey’s breath caught. She nodded. “Tomorrow.”
Thanks to Dax, Lindsey was beginning to like mornings. Even when he needed to do some work for Alex, he started his day focused entirely on her. After leaving her a satisfied mess in their bed, he’d reminded her to talk to Calliope and contact her source on his way out the door.
Lindsey blew her hair out of her face and pulled his pillow close so she could bury her face in it. Their bed. They’d taken to sleeping in Dax’s room exclusively, and at some point, her stuff had moved in too. Her hoodie lay next to his discarded socks beside a stack of books from both their collections. His headphones had ended up next to her side of the bed, but she didn’t remember how they’d gotten there.
Magic, probably. She smiled at the memory of Dax’s explanation for everything. Their bed, their space. How odd that she’d fallen so easily into sharing her life with him. Her smiles came regularly now and most of them were even genuine. He helped her be happy in a way she hadn’t been in a long time, maybe ever. What would it be like to have that feeling forever?
He’d said he wanted more from her than a summer hook-up, but what did that entail? The possibilities fought for space in her mind while she breathed in Dax’s scent. He’d said he was in the process of moving his home base to Deckard, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to be a part of it.
After the apartment fire, she didn’t really have a home. To be honest, she hadn’t had a home even before that. The idea of putting down roots had always made her itchy—her mom had certainly never made her feel wanted, and avoiding permanent ties made it harder for other people to treat her the same way. But this space they’d created, filled with parts of both of them, gave her a taste of what she’d been missing.
Had Dax been missing it too?
Speculating would get her nowhere. If she wanted to know, she needed to ask. Just as soon as she mustered up the courage to admit she might have been wrong about a relationship with him.
No big deal, but maybe she’d wait until they’d stopped the murderous god wandering town before adding more drama. Lindsey rolled over and faced the fact that she wouldn’t be going back to sleep. Better get up and do stuff.
She took her time showering and dressing, in a strangely good mood. And no wonder. Her power was free. She’d used it on command. More importantly, she’d called it back on command too. Granted, the ability had manifested under heightened circumstances, so she’d definitely be testing it, but the magic felt different inside her. Unrestrained. Fluid.
Once downstairs, Lindsey grabbed a cup of coffee and took pictures of the sword to email to her contact. Andrew worked as an adjunct professor in the classics department at a major university. An insignificant cog in a broken wheel, as he liked to phrase it. Lindsey had taken to him immediately.
His disdain for humanity was legendary, but only in very small, intimate circles. To his students, he was sarcastic, irreverent, and fun, and she’d overheard some underclassmen talking about a challenge to earn a date with him the last time she’d visited. He loved a challenge—or anything to distract him from his current job—so Lindsey knew he’d get back to her promptly.
Email sent, she settled down in the front room to practice with her new magic. A gentle nudge and a half-formed thought caused her power to unfurl and rush to her limbs. She watched as fire engulfed her hand but went no farther. Lindsey’s chest tightened with excitement as she slowly turned her arm to watch the flames dance.
As if she’d been called, Calliope strolled through the doorway minutes later. Her steps faltered when she saw the fire licking at Lindsey’s wrists, but she recovered quickly.
You completed the bond. Well done.
Lindsey shook her hand free of the magic. “Where have you been?”
I’ve told you. Patrolling. Her voice sounded tired, but Lindsey squelched the twinge of pity.
“For days?”
I’ve been nearby the whole time.
Lindsey wanted to push, but the effort seemed pointless. Calliope had already given her explanation, and if she’d wanted to go into detail, she would have. The damn stubborn cat guarded her secrets closely. Better to come back to that line of inquiry.
“I have more questions about your fellow gods.”
The cat hopped delicately onto the couch and curled up with her head on her paws. You always have more questions, but I’ll remind you again—they are of a different status than me. We’re not fellows.
“As you’ve told me several times now. What does it take, specifically, to become corporeal?”
Calliope lifted her head. You encountered the god again.
Lindsey sat next to her. “He tried to flatten Dax and me with some books. A lot of books. It triggered the release of my magic.”
I imagine it was more complicated than that, but that’s not important at the moment. T
o answer your question, they absorb power from human energy and combine it with a physical anchor to create a form that can interact with the world.
Calliope put her head back down, and Lindsey didn’t dare move. She’d asked the question before, but the sneaky Muse had avoided answering. For whatever reason, Calliope seemed to be in a sharing mood. Though her story didn’t fit with the one that Sabine had told Lindsey.
“Like you?”
The gods don’t know I’m corporeal. I shouldn’t be. I gave up a physical body long ago to protect the seal, and I have no anchor. Nothing in our history warned me it was possible to reclaim this existence, and yet, here I am.
“As a cat.”
As a cat. I’m not sure I would have chosen this form, but it is what it is.
“Didn’t you like to appear as a spectral panther before you encountered Sabine and her taser?”
To scare away humans. It was a delicate balance between a creature that would frighten them enough to leave immediately and one they wouldn’t attempt to hunt for sport. I didn’t always achieve that balance.
Lindsey wanted to get back to the part about the anchor, but she also wanted to distract Calliope enough that she’d keep talking beyond where she meant to stop. Absently, she held out her hand and practiced calling and releasing her magic in tiny spurts of fire.
“How does the anchor thing work? Can we reverse it—use it to trap them instead?”
Calliope sent her a knowing look without moving her head. Clever. I’d considered this idea, but rejected it as being too dangerous. The best course of action is still to repair the seal and return the gods to stasis, but until we have enough power for that, finding a way to contain them would be helpful.
“Yeah, it would be nice to not worry about being murdered. Tell me and let me decide if it’s too dangerous.” Lindsey attempted a form a ball with the fire, and surprised herself by making a lopsided oval.
The cat snorted. It’s a tricky bit of magic. You have to open the seal on the anchor to expose the well of power inside and manipulate it so that it forces the rest of the god’s power to respond.
“And how do I do that?”
You infuse it with your magic. Too much and you go in yourself. Too little and it has no effect. The artifact is meant to ground the god’s lifeforce here, if you push enough of yourself into it, they have to choose between releasing their hold or diving back into it to root you out.
Lindsey frowned and let her magic fade, relaxing the prickling hold she had over the power. “What happens if they release it?”
Calliope’s eyes drifted closed. They’ll cease to exist, but there’s a good chance you will as well. Your lifeforce will be trapped inside the object, and demigods can’t survive without their physical bodies.
She groaned. “Of course. Why would the answer be easy?”
Meddling with lifeforces should never be easy. Remember, and this is very important, you have to be close enough for both of you to touch the object. If the god can’t reach it, they won’t have a choice. And neither will you.
In that scenario, she had to essentially force a god to call her bluff. Lindsey would be depending on the god to both believe her and want to live enough that they wouldn’t risk dying just to take her out too.
Not the best odds, but ones she could work with.
“I assume there’s one anchor per god? This isn’t a Voldemort situation?”
Calliope cracked open one eye. What does that mean?
“Right. I forgot you literally lived under a rock for the last thousand years. How do I find the anchors?”
She paused so long Lindsey wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Then she sighed. The magic. Each god will be intimately connected to their anchor with their magic. They would be objects from before the seal. Ancient in your terms, but well-preserved. The gods would probably keep the anchors nearby, though proximity isn’t necessary to use them.
An image of the sword popped into her mind. Could it be that simple? Granted, she’d found it in an antique shop, but maybe the Fates were working in her favor for once. The magic hadn’t matched the one on the trees though.
What about the helm? She hadn’t touched it, so she couldn’t be sure, but it certainly seemed like the type of thing that would be an anchor. They really needed to go back and investigate Kora and David. Or at least have an honest conversation with them.
“How accurate is the magic texture thing you taught me?”
That is entirely dependent on you. It’s a sixth sense, and you’re learning how to interpret it. In time and with enough practice among your kind, the skill will become second nature.
Lindsey scoffed and spoke without thinking. “I’m not planning to practice among my kind.”
Calliope sat up and turned to stare at her. Excuse me?
Silently cursing herself, Lindsey forged ahead. “I’m only staying until the end of the summer. Then Sabine will be back and she can be your personal weapon. I wanted to learn how to control my magic so I didn’t put people in danger, and I feel like I’ve achieved that. I won’t leave the seal undefended, but I have a life to return to.”
The cat’s brows furrowed. You’d be so selfish to put yourself before the rest of the human world?
Anger began to bubble up in Lindsey’s gut. “It’s not selfish to need to support myself. I can’t live in Sabine’s guest room forever, and my job requires me to travel. I said I’d help until the end of the summer, and I don’t see why we can’t take care of this god by then.”
This god is only the prologue to the troubles coming. They want the power of the seal, and Apollo, at least, knows where it is. He could have shared the knowledge with his brethren.
“Then why aren’t there more gods here trying to get past your protections?” She thought of the sword again and Sabine’s description of Apollo as a warrior. “Apollo is probably the one who’s been causing problems.”
Potentially, but opportunistic murder attempts aren’t his style. On the other hand, I wouldn’t have expected him to share the location, as he tends to think he can do everything himself. Like you.
“Would he be more likely to use a helm or a sword as an anchor?”
Calliope scoffed. A sword. He’d never risk ruining his hair with a helm. Focus, Lindsey. We need you here to work with the others when they arrive.
Lindsey chafed at the assumed responsibility. Who knew how long it would take the other demigods to react to Calliope’s magic and travel here? She refused to be a burden on Sabine and Alex, but her savings would only last her so long. Unless she planned to sleep in her car, she needed to deal with the mundane aspects of her life as well as the magical ones. She couldn’t afford to be picky about which jobs she took because they might drag her away from her happy little bubble.
A sharp stitch of sadness twisted through her as she imagined returning to her life before this summer. The prospect of leaving Dax behind left her questioning her future, but he had to make his own choices. In the end, would it be easier to make a clean cut instead of trying to navigate a long-distance mess?
Her chest ached at the thought of Dax one day deciding that a relationship with her was too much work.
She shook her head. “The others will be fine without me. I’ll help with this god, then you can contact me when you need me for the seal.”
Calliope sniffed then stood and stretched. You should continue your practice then. It will take more than light balls to defeat a god. With that, she jumped off the couch and hurried out of the room.
The frustration from Calliope shattered her concentration. Licks of flame crawled up her wrists, and Lindsey cursed. With her Dax radar, she felt him leave the office and head toward the front room. By the time he appeared in the doorway, she’d crossed her arms, fire and all, ready to send him back to work.
He didn’t stop at the doorway though. Dax walked directly to her, slid his hands into her hair, and seduced her with a slow, deep kiss. At the first touch of his lips, Lindsey sighe
d, unclenched her tight muscles, and leaned into him. Distantly, she felt the flames retreat back into the seemingly endless magic well inside her.
Lindsey grasped desperately for the reason she’d planned to make him turn around. “You can’t come in here and kiss away my magic every time I need help. I have to be able to do this myself.”
His mouth trailed down her neck, only stopping when he reached the v-neck of her shirt. “I’m not in here to kiss your magic away. I’m just in here to kiss you. Please continue. Pretend like I’m not even here.”
Lindsey’s lips lifted into a half-smile, and she tugged on his hair until he looked up at her. “You. Are. Distracting.”
He grinned and hooked his arm under her knees to lift her. “I’m not even trying yet.”
Laughter banished the last of her anger as Dax carried her up the stairs to their bedroom. “Really? Is this your answer to everything?”
He kicked the door closed behind them and did a quick scan, she assumed to make sure Calliope wasn’t lurking somewhere. “Of course not. Magic is the answer to everything, but getting you alone and naked is a close second. Everything else falls away.”
Dax set her on her feet, and Lindsey had to admit she liked his order of priorities. Still, he needed to know what Calliope had told her. He ripped his shirt over his head and followed with hers. Lindsey covered his hands on her stomach as he reached for the snap on her shorts.
“Hold on, I have to tell you some stuff before we pass the point of no return.”
He tugged his trapped hand. “Too late. I can listen and get you naked at the same time.”
Lindsey tightened her grip and gave him the short version. “Calliope told me we can trap a god in an object that they use as an anchor in the physical world, something ancient but well-preserved.”
Dax yanked his hands free and pulled her closer to nuzzle her neck. “And she told you how to do it?”
She let out a shaky breath. “Yes. It could be Apollo following us around, and I think we have his sword.”