Speedo Down

by Winnie Winkle

  “Top you off?”

  His absentminded nod worked for me. I needed his help and him shimmering out on his tab wouldn’t get me there. Greek families were complicated. Immortality made for messy family reunions, so I was curious to observe the vibe between Clep and his dad. Asclepius should have been a demigod, but was elevated to immortal status. Kinda unusual, even for Olympians. Clep was not nearly as colossal a pain as some of the big twelve. If being fair, several members of the mighty felt the same about me.

  Bits of their conversation drifted within earshot as I kept busy polishing bottles and did my best to keep my mind blank. Gods read all minds, so that self-preservation skill helped.

  “Dad, she wants to add to knowledge held in the record, to flesh out how the balance affects the worlds.”

  “If she’s a decent Keeper, she’ll parse the problem. I don’t meddle in destiny.”

  “None is written. There is no prophecy that a shifting race will evolve outside its law. The best path forward is to be open to increasing knowledge. It’s hers to fight, no argument there, but helping her learn is not compromising the situation.”

  “Harrumph.”

  “If the balance upends, it’s a final choice. The beauty, literature, music, art, and creative endeavors of every race are lost forever. I know you don’t want that outcome.”

  Apollo drained his drink and waggled a finger at me for number three. Awesome. I lifted the cask, filled his goblet, and shot Clep a quick glance. A single negative shake and I got busy tucking away the mead before turning to refill Glenna and Chelsea. Two furrows between Chelsea’s red eyebrows sent my stomach in a flip.

  “What? I know that look.”

  Behind me, the door opened, sulfur’s scent washing into The Boogey in a wave of doom.

  Holy crap. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

  Ballard and I, after reading enough witch-based dragon lore to scare the living crap out of us, yanked a plan in place. In between the gore and gloom, one book spoke of honor in the Thundra, what a group of dragons call themselves, and a code of behavior.

  One term, venterim, was what I’m staking my life on today. In the magical world, when different races respect one another, en venterim, they stand in a truce. Only in the act of disrespect would the battle commence. This saved tons of bloodshed, and dragons, in their law, also observed the practice. Ballard found information that as the oldest shifting race, the original dragon’s lore, instinct may be a better word, was baked into the blood. It was all I had. Time to jump bare-assed into next.

  “Good evening, citizen of magic. Please join us. Could I get you a drink?”

  Apollo’s eyes watched my face.

  The man stumbled, hiccuped, and a shower of sparks shot from his nose.

  “That’s new,” he muttered. “Got any beer? It’s fucking hot in here.”

  “Ice cold,” I pushed one across as Chelsea wagged a finger and the glass frosted.

  “I’m Patra. Welcome to The Boogey.”

  A nod, followed by a red glow flushing his cheeks, and he downed the beer in a single chug.

  “Another?”

  “Yeah. Name’s Drago. Wanna find a chick, calls herself the Keeper. The fuck? It’s like she’s decided she’s president or something. Wonder where that came from, you know. Why her?”

  Chelsea opened her mouth, but I saw Glenna’s elbow jab into her out of the corner of my eye. Alrighty then. On me.

  “The Keeper didn’t choose the job.” I pushed another magically iced beer across the bar. “Keepers are chosen.”

  “Who picks?”

  To my relief, the mess in front of me was returning to a normal skin color. Maybe this venterim thing was working.

  “The Vapors. They choose the Keeper and have since the beginning of the record.”

  “How do I meet them?”

  Uh oh.

  “They are an ancient race. They are everywhere, but they don’t have bodies.”

  “Yeah? Fucking convenient to become the boss of the world because of a damn mist. Sounds like bullshit to me.”

  Drago’s skin lit from within, a faint reddish glow that deepened.

  “I hear you. It’s been a crazy few months.” I sucked in air. My guest resembled a fire pit with legs. “But we’re glad you are here and welcome you with respect.”

  The red mitigated a smidge.

  He’s responding!

  “OK, so if I want to meet the Keeper, I come here?”

  Shit. If I don’t identify myself, it’s disrespectful. If I do, Flambe’ Boy might decide to fight, and Hades knows I’m not ready for a showdown.

  Oh, well, so much for strategic thinking, Clep. Welcome to the seat of my pants party.

  “You’ve been talking to the Keeper. That’s me, and it’s why I’m happy you’re here. We accept every race, including emerging ones, to the Triune.”

  Heat warming my cheeks, I leaned closer.

  “I’m not in charge of the Triune, Drago, just responsible for helping it come together with equity for every partner. Not the same thing.”

  He sat for a moment as the witches rested their arms on the bar, ready.

  “Seems like a missed opportunity to me, Blondie. Why not grab what’s there if you’re powerful enough to take it?”

  He was radiating a continual pulse of red, and I retreated a couple of steps, holding his gaze.

  “Because that dishonors centuries of Keepers. I’m not the first, but the latest in a long line.”

  His nod of agreement dissolved into a frenzied shake. Fire raced from his throat, along his arms, and across his trunk, forming a blaze on top of his gonads.

  That’s going to get his attention when he comes to.

  Quaking, his head tipped back and a roar like nothing I’d ever witnessed shook The Boogey. Apollo looked up, sipped his mead, and glanced at Clep.

  Drago shrunk inward as I hit the floorboards. A blast of fire exploded in every direction, including The Boogey’s roof; Drago blew straight through the gaping, fiery hole in the ceiling. The gods drank, impervious, and Chelsea and Glenna cast protective bubbles around themselves, making frantic casts to extinguish the inferno. As soon as a path to the front door cleared, I ran out, jumped on my emergency ladder and slid/fell onto the sand.

  A cindered Drago lay on the beach, crispy and moaning.

  “Do you need medical attention, Drago? Help is near.”

  His eyes, hazel when he arrived at The Boogey, opened, glinting a frightening yellow.

  Changed, he’s transformed. Dear gods.

  “I don’t think anyone can fix me, Blondie, but I could sure use a snack.”

  Clep shimmered onto the beach and knelt, taking stock. “Your impetus is upon you; it’s time to seek help from our magical world.”

  “My what?”

  “You’re a shifter, and impetus is the rise of your symbiont to equal status within your body.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Drago’s anger shook his body, and he blasted fire at Clep’s face as I ducked, fingers snatching sand, scuttling sideways like the world’s dorkiest crab.

  Clep laid a finger on Drago’s crispy chest, pushing as he screamed.

  “I’m a god.” Clep’s mild tone covered the shrieks. “Don’t fuck with me.”

  Chapter Seven

  By the time Clep bound Drago in his green feelers and returned the three of us to the bar, the witches had the fire reduced to a few pesky hot spots, restored The Boogey’s seating and bartop, and cleaned out the soot. Well, witch-level clean. They’re fine with things a bit stanky.

  “Keeper, another,” Apollo sounded less bored.

  “Make it two,” Clep grunted as the feelers knit Drago’s burned and shredded skin back together.

  “Four,” Chelsea called out. “And stronger.”

  A quick nod and I poured Apollo’s, assembled Clep’s, and mixed two double aelgos for the witches. Aelgos were a tempered magical wine with a layer of thick fruit trudite (a heavy fruit tar that enhanced th
e kick of the wine) in the middle, topped with more wine. The thicker the layer, the greater the buzz. The scent of raspberries filled the air, and Glenna grinned.

  “On me,” I said. “Thanks for cleaning up Drago’s mess.”

  Apollo crooked a finger at me.

  Yes!

  “You employed venterim. Was that a choice?” Apollo’s amber eyes held mine as my gut quaked. My white knuckled grip on the bar’s rail said as much, and he dialed down the power. Slightly.

  “Yes,” I gulped. “Thank you. Witch Chelsea loaned several books from her library to me, and I read through, searching for a way to reach Drago, who is oblivious to his law and lore. Venterim offered the best option.”

  Apollo glanced at Chelsea. “You shared your learning? With a human?”

  “The covens hold a serious stake in a successful outcome, Lord Apollo. Combining knowledge was a considered, prudent decision.”

  “My son asked me to help you, Keeper. I felt disinclined to do so, but you handled this situation with tact and intelligence. What support do you desire?”

  Here we go.

  “Lord Apollo, I seek to understand why you vanished during the witch trials, and how that deployed balance. I also wish to ask a favor.”

  “Which is?”

  “Get me to the dragon Campe in Russia and protect me while I question him.”

  “A bold request, but I’m intrigued. I grant both.”

  I nipped into The Boogie. Parker, pouring a Tito’s and tonic for a regular, jerked his head my way, and I slid behind the bar, eyeing the stock and glassware. Perfect. Parker’s arrival became the best upgrade to happen to the line in a long damn time.

  Gaia prophesied the care of the record would fall under the auspices of a pair of Keepers, and Parker was my number two. Until something killed, or after today, ate me. Yikes. Then he’d get the big chair while my soul lit the way to Hades’ boudoir. I’d prefer hanging on his patio, but it’s not like I had a choice.

  Parker, nineteen, was in training; he focused on the human part of the business while spending his off hours working with the record. The Vapors bestowed a huge favor on him, leveling him up knowledge-wise, so his study involved deeper levels than I attempted the first months I trained. But having him up to speed this fast handed me a gift greater than any other.

  Time. Time for my little family, time to research, plan, and prepare. Blocks of time I never had before and valued beyond measure now. If I didn’t have Parker, Drago would roast me. I knew it, Chelsea knew it, and I suspected the entirety of Olympus was on deck. Time gave me the chance to solve a problem with no peer. True virgin territory with a side of inferno.

  “What’s up, Parks?” I murmured as he snagged the printed order ticket from the POS. I glanced at it and started tapping beers while he mixed the cocktails.

  “What the hell happened over there? The lights here dimmed, and you’d swear we were in a plane with no cabin pressure, then poof! Back to normal.”

  “You and I need to talk. Can you work a couple hours tonight?”

  “No problemo. You look freaked, Boss. You OK?”

  “I’m not dead, so yeah, everything’s golden brown.”

  Haha, Patra. Ease up on the crispy jokes.

  “OK, I’ll see you after 10.”

  “Thanks, Parks.” I set the beers next to his drinks and scanned the restaurant. Still packed for 8 o’clock. Cha ching.

  At a table near the back by the doors that opened to the far end of the fishing pier, a magical signature emanated, and I wandered that way. A group of fae sat, giggling over their salads, and beamed at me.

  “Why did a signature spill into the human space?” one asked, blinking bright eyes over a big smile.

  I knew better. The fae were complete badasses.

  “I had a situation, but Asclepius chose to get involved.”

  While true, not a permanent fix.

  “We’ve heard things,” another fairy interrupted. “Not cheerful stories.”

  “Not is the slightest, and maintaining balance may require action,” piped up the third.

  “Well, I take action where warranted.”

  “Oh yes, sweet one, you hold no fear, and any herd would be proud to accept you.”

  “If that involves whisps, I’m ready,” I laughed with them.

  Inside, though, I was cringing. The secret was fixing to go, as humans said, viral. Within the magical world, communication systems were complex, and Drago was going to light up every damn one. I craved planning time, but to be honest, I’d never get enough. Apollo will take me to Campe tonight, and while we’re alone, I hoped he’d answer my questions on the inner workings of balance between the worlds, but that, and my books, were it.

  “Parker is tending at The Boogey later. Stop in and flirt with him if you’re still on the pier.”

  “Delightful young man, We’ll come see him.”

  Good. Parks knows nothing. Yet. That’ll stall them; if they peek in his mind, he’s not hiding a thing.

  I waved and headed back across the dining room, strolled through the kitchen, then ducked into my office and called Ballard.

  “Two of the three conversations happened, Babe. I’m heading to Russia tonight. Apollo agreed to escort and protect.”

  “Everything is quiet here. I finished the last of Chelsea’s loaner books and have the shaking hands to prove it.”

  “When the lore lines up too neat, Ballard, I’m skeptical. Once I talk to Campe, I’ll have a handle on, well, what I hope is the truth.”

  “Be careful. Come home.”

  Yes, on both counts, please.

  What did one wear to interview dragons? It’s June and warm, but I rootled through my bag, then yanked up jeans, added a long sleeve tee, and a hoodie emblazoned with a hot pink Boogie Beach logo. A ball cap and ponytail finished my Russian-ready armor, and I palmed back into The Boogey, prepared for action.

  “Where are Asclepius and Drago?” I asked Chelsea.

  “Because of impetus, it takes hours to bind skin in flux, balancing the change from human to shifter,” Apollo answered.

  Surprised, I looked up at his face. Gods tend to ignore conversations by the plebes.

  “Once his impetus is complete, and the symbiont established, Clep will release him into the creation. It is not the gods’ place to interfere in the worlds’ order.”

  A faint snort wafted over from the right, and I knew what Chelsea meant. Gods interfere all the damn time, when it’s to their benefit. Today was not one of those days. Crud.

  “Keeper, I’ll take and return you, and offer enlightenment. But once this journey is complete, your wits are your weapons. No Olympian will respond to your petition. You cannot see beyond this moment. The worlds survive, or not.”

  Hmm. That’s pretty fucking dire.

  “Lord Apollo, Drago is one half-human dragon shifter. Why is he seen as a world ending threat?”

  Amber eyes stared into my blue ones as I made a failed effort to stop my knees from clacking together, resembling a quaking demonic puppet.

  “Because a free dragon can release another dragon, and if he finds one, the power of two can locate the Thundra. Magicals, and now humans, end up dealing with the entire race.”

  Shit. If magicals are under siege, what’s stopping them from setting up humans in a horrific food for protection transaction?

  “Indeed, Keeper. You have limited options and resources to succeed and little time.”

  “Then we better get to Russia.”

  Chapter Eight

  Does protection include radiation? That’d be cool.

  Chernobyl’s early dawn wrapped around us in majesty. Pure wilderness, the kind that moves you from your mooring, reminded this little human that at our core, we’re one of Earth’s life forms. The primal overwhelms; no wonder it was a thing humanity fought to tame and conquer. Shivering in the smell of it, intense greenery, earthy soils, decomp, and vegetation. The overwhelming sense of not being near the ocean gripped
my throat.

  Am I part of the balance? Holy crap.

  Steps thudded, and cracking branches punctuated with the sound of scattering stones filled the small glade where Apollo dropped us. I zipped my hoodie, grimacing.

  At least with the neon pink, Campe’s got a clean shot. Glad I had the foresight to empty my bladder. No gushers for him.

  The stomping stilled, and Campe exhaled, lighting the clearing.

  “Apollo?” Campe’s puzzlement tinged his voice.

  The god nodded and gestured to me. “The Keeper requests an audience with you, Campe.”

  Fire blasted in a wave that parted around the two of us. I unzipped, wishing my nerves of jello would get their shit together.

  “You tricked me, Keeper.” It was not the friendliest of roars.

  “I apologize for the deception, Campe. My goal was to help the Mother. Gaia could not enter Tartarus, but I could. My intention was to free you for her. If my actions conveyed disrespect, I regret the miscommunication.”

  Sorry, Clep, but I’m winging it.

  I knelt, hands held out open palmed between us.

  Campe snorted, heavy tail thrashing. I remained in place, letting him process the information presented with what he already knew. Ten minutes later, stone cutting off circulation in my right leg, a huge puff of fireless smoke enveloped me.

  “I see this as true, Keeper.”

  I rose, trying to hide the limp, and nodded.

  “Why are you here? You took a risk.”

  “Yes, but you hold information valuable to the safety and continuance of the creation, Campe. I knew you’d want to be consulted.”

  Okay, consult is a stretch, but venterim was the plan and consultation sounded respectful.

  “I’ll speak with you, but not with the god present.”

  “He’s my pro…” I cut it off, realizing that little kernel of disrespect would screw the whole deal.

  “I cannot travel across the Earth, Campe. Apollo brought me so I could make the journey here and home again.”