* * *
I knelt en venterim. Campe responded in the same spirit. That truce held throughout the flight from Russia and beyond his arrival here. Everything I’ve read says he holds fast unless I break it. If I’m being honest, I don’t think Campe poisoned me. Which leaves Apollo. He could kill me with a glance. Why a long, drawn out attack? Think, Patra.
* * *
“This one, drink in three swallows, no more or less.” Glenna handed me a red vial. “It cleans the blood.”
* * *
Sip one felt weird, as though I could sense every individual vein, and the discomfort stretched the entire length of the long veins. Sip two tingled my fingers and toes, creeping along my skin as my capillaries got in on the action.
* * *
Glenna flicked her eyes at Chelsea as I lifted for the last swallow.
* * *
“What?” I eyed them. “Will it hurt?”
* * *
“No, no. Not exactly,” Glenna patted my empty hand. “Drink it all, Keeper.”
* * *
I swallowed the rest, and the vial dropped from my fingers as the pain rocketed through my chest and arm.
* * *
“My heart!” I screamed and slumped, the room fading to grey, then nothing.
* * *
“Dead?” Chelsea asked.
* * *
Glenna touched the carotid artery.
* * *
“Dead.”
Parker palmed into The Boogey, stuffed with shifters, and blenched. The Vapors gave him an enhanced sensory gift, and this was the perfect crowd to listen in and learn. He scanned the bar, reading thoughts. Not a single good one, which matched the vibration as Loboli separated from the group, and walked with steady, predatory power toward Parker, leaning in close, teeth clicking near his ear.
* * *
“We’re taking over the line. You are not welcome, and if you choose to stay, dead.”
* * *
Parker’s bowels squished, but he held Loboli’s gaze. “The line isn’t a territory; it’s a moment in time, a fluidity tied with the moon and creation. Your presence here is welcome, but nobody controls the line through occupation. The line is the crossroad of balance and it sways between the worlds. Your being here doesn’t differ from roaming free in the forest. Each race’s power is one piece of a greater event.”
* * *
The Boogey filled with snarls, and the shifters moved en masse, circling Parker, sealing him away from the office door.
* * *
“Shifters are intelligent and powerful,” Parker continued, speaking to the wolf as though nothing changed. “The magical world flexes within a set pattern that swings to meet every challenge. When Zeus abused the balance, your pain corrected as part of the solution. We now face a new flex.”
* * *
“There is no result that includes free dragons.” Loboli tipped his head back and unleashed a howl as Parker’s bladder gave notice.
* * *
“Nor can there be one that doesn’t include them,” Parker replied, hoping death would be quick. Eaten alive didn’t sound appealing.
* * *
His comment set The Boogey into a frenzy as the shifters closed the circle.
Ares paced, watching the unfolding.
* * *
“She is resourceful,” Athena reminded, smoothing her toga. “I found her mind more than adequate.”
* * *
“I’ve done what I can to mitigate the interference, but the dead cannot wage war.”
* * *
“Events continue to stack. A story without an ending is unfinished.”
* * *
Ares gazed across the Earth, eyeing the massing Thundra. “The pieces come to battle but the players arrive piecemeal and broken. First strike has the advantage.”
* * *
“The world survives regardless. Minor exchanges of souls for outcomes.”
* * *
“The creation can be greater. The cause for war coalesces around an unworthy purpose.”
* * *
“Through your efforts, both sides align with a vision and passion to triumph.”
* * *
Ares leveled a heavy-browed gaze at the lavender-eyed goddess and nodded.
* * *
“It is up to them to determine their fates.”
“That was clever.” Zeus gazed at the dead and dying Keepers, then slapped Apollo on the back.
* * *
“All artistic creation remains preserved for eternity. That’s our agreement. I only interfered to save the refinement of the world; your petty war with this Keeper lies beneath me.”
* * *
“Oh, so mighty, Apollo. You’re an artsy dweeb, but yes, that’s the bargain. Once the Thundra unleashes mayhem, and the current Keepers are dead, but not by my hand, I’ll be back in the driver’s seat forever. Those Vapors will wish they’d stayed in their jail.”
* * *
Apollo’s face, staring at the dragons circling the Mexican skies, reddened in frustration and anger.
Drago landed in the Ocala National Forest and shifted, eyeing the woman in the clearing. She was hot, and he was horny. And naked. Also, ready. He crouched low, then ran silently toward her.
* * *
“Hello, Drago, I’ve been waiting for you.”
* * *
He stopped several feet from her, taking in the deep brown ringlets and sassy smile. She smelled female, delicious, and decadent. “How do you know my name?”
* * *
“Because I’m studying you. I’ve seen your work in Mexico. Impressive.”
* * *
“Study? Who are you?”
* * *
“My name is Dracena, and I’ve got a proposition.”
* * *
“Then, strip.”
* * *
“Lust, in time, but first, let’s speak of alliance and power.”
“Look.” Poseidon pointed at the sides of their imprisoning bubble. “Cracks. Changes in outcomes force the balance.”
* * *
Nereus eyed the fissures and poked one. “A horse race? Expansion or diminishment as the battle rages? We’re not cut off from all knowledge.”
* * *
In the water beyond the walls, a figure materialized, walking along the sea bottom toward them, pausing before Poseidon and laying a finger across her lips.
* * *
“None can see or hear me but you,” Keto said. “The seas are sick, but aren’t aligned with the land shifters. Ocean dwellers perceive this as an assault on their lives and culture. Most mer lie sickened and incapable of fighting, but the ones with strength wait on the line for the moon. The Boogey fell to the wolves and their alliances, one of which includes the demi. Both Keepers are missing, and the Thundra coalesces. A battle looms. I cannot predict the winner.”
* * *
Poseidon mouthed, “Both Keepers?”
* * *
“The disappearance is strange. Their signatures faded, but Hades granted me an audience. He does not have them. The balance swings wide, an unsustainable gap, and with it the solvency of the Triune. I cannot say if your freedom is possible, but I will share that Hades suspects interference from Olympus.”
* * *
“Shit. Figures.”
* * *
“What?” Nereus turned as Keto faded.
* * *
“Nothing. Deal the cards.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I stood on the bank of the river Styx, a rickety railing leading to a crumbled stone stairway and a platform. Below, the silky water churned. Hades knew what hideous monsters frolicked below the surface. If being realistic, I guess he’s the only one who did. I eased down the steps, watching the decrepit boat rock as Charon headed my way.
Crud. I didn’t expect this outcome. The hell, Chels?
“Hello, Keeper.”
Hades slid his shades along his nose and
grinned. Death was still hot, but disappointment shaded my expression.
“Hey, Hades. I realized I’d end up here, but not because of my best friend.”
Hades shooed Charon, and the little boat started a tipsy turnabout. Something with a megaton of teeth lept in the air, smashed into the river, and displaced a swamping wave. Charon shook a fist at the departing monster, clinging to gunwale of the bobbing boat. After bailing a few bucketfuls, he meandered toward the far side of the Styx.
“There’s crafty shit in play with this situation that you’re unaware of, Keeper. I thought I’d bestir myself to offer you a hand, or knee, so to speak.”
I stared at my injury, which looked normal again, and shrugged.
Hades gazed across the water, and I followed his eyes. The push, when it arrived, caught and sent me flying, splashing into the Styx, and staring at the thousands of toothy creatures turning to see what’s for dinner.
What in creation did I do to deserve this mangling, Hades? Why?
A shiny black ivy-shaped feeler snapped around my wrist and yanked. At least I can relate to fish now. The sensation of being flung from the sea by a line, my toes clearing the chomp, was disconcerting. I sailed onto the ferry’s landing with a squelching thud, reeking of fishy entrails.
“Why did you dunk me?” I rolled to my feet, knee working like a champ, and glared at my purple haired attacker.
“Keeper, you’re a student of mythology,” Hades purred. “Besides, saving lives isn’t my wheelhouse. I enjoyed that escapade.”
Dammit. I do know my myths, and he laid a total solid on me.
“Wow. Thanks. The one thing I needed most, and boom. I’m grateful.”
“Thank your bestie. She petitioned, and it was clever. Too bad she’s got a case for Ares; I enjoy trysts with feisty redheads.”
“I’ll put in a kind word,” I promised. “Now what?”
“See you around, Keeper, but maybe later rather than sooner.”
A long finger tapped my head, and the river’s waters, brimming with powers of invulnerability, faded.
“Welcome back.” Chelsea stared at me, assessing. “That took longer than I expected.”
“Hades is a talker, and you,” I grinned, “are fucking brilliant.”
I flexed my leg, which still looked iffy. Ouch. I guess you do get your best body when you die. Cool.
“Let me see the knee,” Glenna twinkled, and selected the first bottle, dropping three drops, which my kneecap absorbed. “Excellent.”
As the remaining potions dripped or rubbed into the regenerating kneecap, I sipped a hot tea, resting. My lethargy left me feeling as if I’d been days without sleep, and I mentioned this to Glenna.
“Your body’s been at war with the toxin, working an internal and external fight. The goal was to weaken you so you’d be killed.”
Killed. That’s interesting. Not death outright, not a smite, but a convenient demise. Hmm, who would that benefit? As if I didn’t know.
“Zeus is such a gargantuan asshole.”
“Yup, our thoughts as well. He’s meddling, trying to maneuver around the prophecy.” Chelsea sipped her wine and smoothed her forehead.
“Still eleven?”
“Yeah.”
The front door opened and Ballard walked in, toting fifteen bags of groceries.
“Got the entire list.” He eyed the coffee table and raised an eyebrow. “What’d I miss?”
“Hades offered to help.”
“Did he come here?”
“Oh, uh, no. Not exactly.”
Ballard gazed at me for a long beat, shook his head and turned toward the kitchen. “I’ll make sandwiches while you regale me with the story.”
“It’s a corker.”
With Aegeus’ help, the groceries found their place in the fridge, pantry, and fruit bowl. She settled in on the balcony with Daisy, Justice, and a fresh batch of critter treats. Ballard built a platter of sandwiches and I shared my jaunt to hell.
“While I get the plan’s purpose, can’t say I’m a fan.”
“It was the only way,” Glenna assured him, biting into a pickle. “We aren’t risk averse, but we’re careful.”
“And smart,” I added. “But learning the battle lines lead to the top changes my approach. Plus, I bet nobody on Olympus knows Hades weighed in with a fix. With Ares, I’d guess they might, but his interactions were to define the purpose of the fight, well within his purveyance.”
Except for the blood. When it’s showtime, I’m bringing that vial along for the ride.
“Hades is famous for doing his own thing,” Chelsea agreed. “And pulling one over on Zeus is his jam.”
“For once, it’s a good sneaky.” Glenna bit into her turkey sandwich. “Yummy. What’d you put on this?”
“Spicy mayo,” Ballard replied, passing the potato salad. “Patra’s favorite.”
Aegeus and the crew ran in from the balcony.
“Mommy, something is super wrong at The Boogey.” Her heart-shaped face, pale, creased with worry. “Everybody’s so angry. I’m scared.”
I shoveled the last half of my sandwich in four huge bites and chugged tea to send it the rest of the way.
“Glenna, could you stay here? Chels, in the mood for a drink?”
Two nods in the affirmative.
“Give me one second.”
I ran to our bedroom, knee on point, grabbing a waist sack and my staff. A gift from Chelsea, the walking stick was a superb weapon and offered minor magical protections to the wielder. I’ll take it. In a trot, I headed to the living room, palmed the secret drawer, grabbed the journal, plume, ink, the dragon’s blood Ares gave me, plus a vial of anti-vertigo potion. My fingers lingered on the vials of my own blood.
Nope. Whatever happened, the story stayed public. We’re operating wide open in every world, each with the same information. It’s time.
My arms lit with symbols for peace, and I shut the drawer. Ballard pulled me up and laid a kiss for the ages on me. I held his gaze and nodded.
“Keep Aegeus safe, Baby. Stay alive.”
“Bank on it. Come home, Babe.”
Eyes full of love, I reached for Chelsea, staff tucked under my arm and vertigo potion in hand.
“Let’s do this.”
We landed in Sadie’s yard. I slugged potion and shot Chelsea a questioning side eye as Sadie’s porch door banged open and she ran to greet us.
“Oh, thank the gods, Chelsea. I’m not sure how you knew, but I needed you both.”
“What happened?”
Sadie gestured to her courtyard seating, sat, and rubbed her hands together. “Something’s in my house. A terrible energy. It comes and goes.”
“The man from your dreams? Who came for a reading?” I asked.
“No, it feels female. Malevolent. Last night I woke and saw the sheets pressed across my belly while the baby flipped in my womb. I need to leave.”
“I’ll hide you.” Chelsea raised her hands.
“No! You can’t. I mean, you can try, but I am supposed to be with Patra and confront the fiery man. If I’m not there, the outcome shifts.”
Chelsea rose, pacing a lap around the courtyard before stopping to face Sadie. “I’ll send you to Patra’s condo. It’s loaded with protections, and Mom is there to fight if needed. Tell her, when this comes to a head I’ll summon you, so she allows the spell.”
Sadie glanced at me, worry clouding her features.
“Right now, we’re dealing with peripheral battles; your dreams depict the final tipping. You’ll be with us, Sadie. I promise.”
“Do you need things from the house?” Chelsea asked.
“I’m afraid to go in there.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes and waved; Sadie’s tarot deck, several roomy boho dresses, and her purse sailed out of her doorway.
“Still puking like it’s an Olympic sport?”
Sadie nodded, and two jugs of herbal tea and a box of saltines flew from the kitchen.
“A
nything else?”
Sadie leaned in and hugged Chelsea’s neck. “I love you.”
Chelsea stared for a moment, shadows chasing across her face. “I love you, too.”
That’s not a magical thing. An emotion? What other changes are caused by the impending shift?
A quick rummage, and I pulled the journal from my waist sack and jotted an entry for Parker.
Heads ups, Parks. The rules don’t apply. Chelsea is experiencing emotions.
Yeah. I KNOW.
“I’ve shown only respect, Loboli. My death is your choice, but it’s outside magical law,” Parker wheezed, blood oozing from at least forty slashes. One bite, a ravaging above his ankle, showed crushed bone.
Loboli paced and the cat shifters, stoked with bloodlust, moved throughout The Boogey, urinating to mark territory. Bears clotted around the bar, drinking wine and singing.
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