Boogie Beach

by Winnie Winkle

  The westen sun walked the towering condo buildings’ shadows across the sand. Time to open. Revitalized feet marched toward The Boogie. During the evening ahead, it’d be useful if my patrons discussed last night. Alchemy loosened tongues might drop clues.

  That’s another rule regarding blending at the line. Magical people could help me if they felt like it, but they didn’t have to lift a finger. Fate was not their problem, unlike me. I approached every day believing I was all I had. Billy drilled that into me ad nauseam.

  “Never expect help, Cleopatra. The minute you do it will be withheld. Magicals are beholden to none. Instead, they are whim riders, observers of the line. The ebb and flow around the line interests them, but humans, even extraordinary ones such as us, are nothing. The line is sacrosanct. It divides, and the rules of division are clean. Magicals come and go, always gifted. Humans are zoo animals, and people like us, perhaps amusing pets.”

  That’s why, when I looked at Chelsea last night, I kicked myself. It was human, an automatic response, but to include her broke a rule. She helped me, but I planned to apologize. Put it back in the box; try to tape it shut. The friendship matters, but expectations? That shit would get me killed.

  With stomps and kicks to dislodge the sand clinging to my toes, I climbed the long flight of steps from the beach to the pier and walked the boards. That needed nailing, this one was ready for replacement. I unlocked, headed into my office, started a list for Charlie, and sent the text.

  OK, I’ll come in the morning :P

  I rolled my eyes at my phone. A tongue-out emoji, Charlie? Jeez.

  With a tug I pulled the book from its place and flipped pages, looking for entries about possessions that weren’t. Pickins were slim. Then I went back to my initial entry, the one I wrote after Billy’s death, claiming the book as mine to inscribe, and forced myself to read.

  I, Cleopatra, take the place as Keeper, and record the line. I understand the enormity of this statement and make it with a clear mind.

  Hah, clear... if clear meant wracked with grief.

  Keeper Billy sustained catastrophic damage, rendered by Vapors, who broke through during a hurricane under a full moon. Witch Chelsea ended his life, an act of mercy. Vapors swarmed the beach and town, littering the beach with dead sea creatures and on the human side, with many animals. This was their work, the mayhem of breaking the line. Now loose, they flowed through, creating or enhancing misery. Tonight, magicals caught, or who chose to stay, convene. What they decide, I will record.

  A noise interrupted my reading, so I secured the book and headed for the door. Two pelicans perched on the railings, and a curious tourist family stood in front of the glass doors.

  “Aren’t you open?”

  “No, I’m sorry, we have minor roof damage and are closed for about 10 days.”

  “But, we came a long way. Are you sure?”

  I mentally rolled my eyes. Tourists were their own breed.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. All the food and alcohol were removed from the premises.”

  Hearing there’s no booze slowed Tourist Dad’s roll, and they moved farther along the pier. I palmed the door and entered, marveling at the sparkle. Chelsea was incredible. I didn’t understand why, but man, I was grateful.

  “We are alone, dearest Cleopatra.”

  This earned Poseidon a look, then I started mixing his hangover go-to beverage. It’s a mess of honey, ouzo and ginger peels, so thick he had to lick it out of the shot glass, which he did with a side of sexy eyebrows. Gods. Sheesh.

  Pook and Bingo saved me, clattering in while poking fun at the tourists.

  “Are you sure?” Pook snorted.

  “A long way! Who gives a crap? By the gods, we came from the other side of the line and you don’t hear us complaining,” Bingo’s laugh, a hitching ha, ha, squawk, filled the space.

  I tapped two fish ales and pushed them over. Poseidon eyed the bird boys like he was deciding, and I cleared my throat, pointing at the sign floating above my head.

  SAFE ZONE

  With a shrug, Poseidon scratched his balls and drummed his fingers on the bar. I mixed his first drink. Tonight had the markings of a long night. It’s obvious he’s determined and what he wanted was me.

  Crap.

  I leaned toward him, pushing the cocktail, and a long finger bopped my nose.

  “Do not start with me, Patra. The fact you sleep with Ballsy does not dissuade me.”

  I tried again.

  “Oh, come on, it’s more than sleeping together,” I began, and intense blue eyes closed my mouth.

  “Yet, you refuse to declare love.”

  Damned omnipotents. Such a major pain in the butt.

  “If you see that, you can see my heart, Poseidon. Please drop this.”

  Unimpressed, he grunted and tapped the bar.

  Shit, he’d get wasted at this pace.

  I made the drink and started my mental count on when to go weaker. It won’t make a huge difference but maybe, just maybe, it’ll keep him out of my shorts. I needed a distraction: women, willing ones.

  The door opened and a werewolf, the one Ballard asked about, entered. Werewolves never, I mean NEVER, came to The Boogie the night after full. They were all sexually exhausted and comatose in their fancy houses, sleeping off thirty days of debauchery crammed into 8 hours. God love the mates that could take that action twelve times a year. Plus lots of the off nights too, I imagined. Vaginal marathoners.

  “Poseidon, we need to speak,” the wolf, in his human form, gestured to Poseidon. “Record it,” he waved at me like some gnat bugging his ears.

  I nodded and stood, listening.

  “I located my fated mate, destined to consummate last night.”

  “And?” Poseidon’s body language was indulgent. I knew he found werewolves, for the most part, insufferable. Which, coming from a god with zero boundaries was amusing, as long as you weren’t on the wrong side.

  “It attacked her.” Anger radiated, and it took some intestinal bunching on my part not to move a muscle. Wolves pushed instinctual buttons in humans.

  “Who?” Poseidon sounded bored.

  “A Vapor! While you were drinking and fucking, they crossed right under your failing nose.”

  The flex, instantaneous, lifted and slammed the wolf against the back wall. Poseidon had not moved, the flex was him radiating his aura. Every hair on my body stood on end.

  “You forget whom you address,” Poseidon murmured. The wolf had the acuity to correct his tone, which could save him, but it might not. Magicals had rules, too.

  “Forgive my tone. My fury is at the damage done to my mate.”

  Poseidon drank, drawing the moment.

  He’s an ass, on occasion.

  “Why do you believe it was a Vapor?”

  “By the smell.”

  I stiffened, mind racing. OK, Wolfie, you’ve grabbed my attention.

  “Bring her to me,” Poseidon said. “Was the Vapor dispatched or destroyed?”

  “Damaged, but it flowed away. How did it depart the space? This full moon offered no break in the line.”

  Poseidon swung back to his drink, signaling the end of the conversation, and the wolf slipped out to fetch his mate.

  A faint pop announced Chelsea. Witches who are not banned can enter the bar with spell work, bypassing the door. It made things interesting when the bar was slammed. I’ve eaten a few tabs when a witch, feeling a whim, snapped and vanished, but I didn’t make the rules.

  “We have a problem, a big one,” she said in a low voice, bending toward Poseidon. “Please come with me.”

  Her eyes flicked toward me. “You too. We’ll need a record.”

  I nodded, my head beginning the nod in the bar but rising on the beach. No matter how many times a witch cast a spell to move my physical form through space, it was disconcerting, like when you stood up too quickly and felt woozy. All the body’s blood was moving, but not fast enough. I staggered but pulled it together. Chelsea�
��s finger jabbed at the sand.

  It’s a mermaid. About 30% of one. No tail, but a head, half a torso, and one arm. She was in my bar last night.

  My money was on the jilted merman.

  Chapter 5

  Chelsea placed the body into a bubble that’s now floating in my bar, which was not improving the party atmosphere. Poseidon and she examined it, muttering in low voices I couldn’t hear, so this part was not going in the record. Instead, I kept my other eight patrons lubricated while looking at the rotating corpse. The merwoman didn’t look chomped, so not a shark, nor did she appear cut. Mermen loved their knives, death dealing blades of shell.

  * * *

  At twenty-six, I had a brush with a merman who decided I was eavesdropping on his conversation. Wasted, he yelled so the entire pub heard everything, but in his addled sea-brain I stepped beyond my place. Leaping over the bar top with his knife, he cut me bad. Like, exsanguination bad. Poseidon healed the cuts, and that was the beginning of his chase for my charming human ass.

  * * *

  That gold god-magic of his was like a bolt of pure joy. It wasn’t much of a chase.

  * * *

  Poseidon himself marked the board to ban the merman, turning to add, “It’s better than death, which I considered.”

  * * *

  The human world feels huge, but the extraordinary world was infinite. There were plenty of alternatives, so being inscribed on the board was a wrist slap. Death was permanent. The mer dude got lucky.

  * * *

  Billy called the board the house. “Keep the house clean, Cleopatra, and you’ll live longer.”

  So, I banned patrons for any attack on my person, and magicals dropped a ban on each other if they didn’t like a behavior. Banning was a broom, not a weapon.

  * * *

  A scrap of conversation drifted my way.

  * * *

  “How many?” Chelsea sounded worried.

  * * *

  “Three, maybe more. I’m staying until it’s finished.” Anger laced the god’s voice.

  * * *

  “Thank you for that.”

  * * *

  The door opened, and the wolf entered, carrying a woman who looked half dead. Wolves were deceiving, though. They’re badass fighters and difficult to kill. Her eyes were sharp, but all her skin showed massive bruising.

  * * *

  Good thing I was closed. If any humans saw her, they’d freak and create a scene.

  * * *

  “May I, my dear?” Poseidon’s tone was gentle, with a lace of flirtation. He couldn’t help himself; messing with wolves entertained him to no end.

  * * *

  She nodded, and he ran fingertips across her face, leaving gold traces sparkling on her skin. I traded a glance with Chelsea, who hid a grin in her drink.

  * * *

  He’s repairing her injuries, but also loading her up with his love mojo. I hoped the wolf was clueless. His mate got it, based on how hard she’s quaking.

  * * *

  Careful to keep my face neutral, I watched Poseidon light every nerve she possessed on fire. This was sex without penetration, and for females, you got off over and over. Her entire body shook, gold lacing through the bruises, fading the purple and sealing the scratches until she was unblemished and, I was certain, incapable of walking or speech. I knew better than to catch Chelsea’s eyes, so I handed her a fresh grin-camouflaging drink without moving my head.

  * * *

  “Your mate is healed, but must rest,” Poseidon said, pulling his hands away.

  * * *

  “Thank you,” the wolf muttered, picking her up and turning toward the door.

  * * *

  “Stop,” Poseidon said. “I have a question for her.”

  * * *

  Her eyes met the god’s.

  * * *

  “How many?”

  * * *

  Chelsea coughed behind her glass.

  * * *

  “A single Vapor,” she replied.

  * * *

  “Be well, my dear.”

  * * *

  The door sealed, and Poseidon chuckled. “Fifteen.”

  * * *

  Chelsea burst out laughing. “You rocked that woman fifteen times in three minutes?”

  * * *

  “Well, I am an immortal. I get plenty of practice.”

  * * *

  I glanced into the restaurant out of habit and froze as Mr. Grenade Launcher chinned himself up over the railing and headed for the blown out wall.

  * * *

  Feet moving fast, I was headed out the door when Poseidon muttered, “Wait.”

  * * *

  The intruder moved throughout The Boogie, touching every surface, determined.

  * * *

  “Hmm, he must believe he has enough of a signature to get in here,” Chelsea watched, her face thoughtful.

  * * *

  “Well, he doesn’t see the magical door, so that’s a no,” I replied, as he continued to violate my space.

  * * *

  Poseidon eyed the revolving corpse. Without comment, he rose and shimmered through the transparent wall.

  * * *

  “I’m thinking they’re closed,” he said, taking a seat at the bar as the dark guy jumped a good foot. Poseidon took a big form when he looked human, and a 6’8” muscle mountain in a speedo was a disconcerting spectacle, doubly so if you thought you had the place to yourself.

  * * *

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  * * *

  Poseidon moved. In a blink, he was across the restaurant, gripping my Boogie bomber by the throat and holding him eighteen inches off the ground.

  * * *

  “A more interesting question is, what the fuck are you?” Poseidon examined his specimen, then jabbed a finger into its third eye point between the eyebrows. He started laughing, building to a roar.

  * * *

  “Run little Vapor, careen around within this body, but I am a god. It’s time to die.”

  * * *

  Dark boy’s body rattled in Poseidon’s grip. His skin grew grey, then darker.

  * * *

  “Is the human dying?” I asked Chelsea, zero judgment in my tone.

  * * *

  “No. The Vapor hides in the pores of the skin; it will have to relinquish soon. Poseidon is poisoning the host. It won’t hurt him in the long term, at least I don’t think so. You never know with gods.”

  * * *

  The skin wavered, and a fog started to lift away. Poseidon sucked in a huge breath, pulling the Vapor into him. An eerie shriek filled the restaurant, then silence. He carried the kid out and dropped him on the pier. Dark Boy landed like a brick, so my guess was he was out cold. Poseidon palmed his way back in and spit a little grey tinted cube out onto his hand. Gold wisps rose from the surface of his palm and wrapped the clear cube. The grey within whirled.

  * * *

  It’s a condensed Vapor. Holy hell.

  * * *

  “Possession is not allowed, you violate the law on both sides of the line. What is your defense?”

  * * *

  “We reject all law.”

  * * *

  “How many are here?”

  * * *

  “Enough.”

  * * *

  Poseidon closed his eyes and the little cube emitted an agonizing shriek.

  * * *

  “Seven. We are seven.”

  * * *

  “Are you all possessing bodies?”

  * * *

  “Some, not all.”

  * * *

  “Did you kill the mermaid?”

  * * *

  “She refused to help us, becoming a casualty of the war Zeus created.”

  * * *

  Poseidon glanced at Chelsea.

  * * *

  “Call the others and I will spare you.”

  * * *

  The grey swirled, silent.

  * *
*

  “Very well.” The big hand closed and squeezed, the screech cutting to quiet. He tipped his hand and gold glitter poured onto the bar. I moved to clean it up, and Chelsea snapped a spell, vanishing the little pile.

  * * *

  “That would have killed you,” Poseidon chided. “Record this so the next keeper knows.”

  * * *

  Chagrinned, I nodded and slipped out to my office to retrieve the book.

  * * *

  You big stoop! Always ask with anything new. You know the rules.