“I’ll email it this afternoon. Lunch?”
“Sorry, I don’t mix business with pleasure, Max, and I have plans.” Really? Like you wouldn’t get fired if anyone thought The Boogie got special treatment from code enforcement?
“Next time.”
Ick. “Thanks, Max, for making the trip out today.”
“Anything for you, Beautiful.” He licked his lower lip and stared at my boobs.
Double ick.
“That one I’d forgo,” Poseidon shimmered into view as Max backed out of his parking space. “He’s dung.”
“Agreed.”
I had several free hours so I texted Ballard.
Lunch? Have you eaten?
No. I’m near Fuegos, wrapping up. Meet in 30?
Stomach flipping with joy, I checked my face, waggled fingers at Poseidon, and headed to my car. He nodded, pulling his famous fade, and I sang, driving along A1A, heart light.
Fuegos was a funky little Mexican-fusion joint and they had my attention. The food was incredible and worth every penny. I ordered chili-lime shrimp tacos and Ballard got diablo mahi tacos. I watched him sweat as he munched, and it’s mundane, perfect, and easy.
“Let’s live together,” Ballard’s green eyes were fast on mine; he’s serious.
“Let me get The Boogie repaired, and I promise you, I will think hard about it.”
“I won’t ask again.”
“Twice isn’t necessary.”
“Depends on the situation.”
He gave me his sexy grin, the one that usually precedes my panties flying off my backside, and I gave him a perfect pout, a nice round O mouth, and a wink. He shoved his basket away.
“If I didn’t have another case, you’d get your wish.”
“We both would,” I replied, giving my bottom lip a slow bite, then releasing it to plump toward him, a trick I knew drove him wild.
His eyes grew dark, and he leaned toward me. “You still have a key?”
I nodded.
“Use it in the morning.”
Another nod, and he stood up. He’s swollen and I checked his package out before letting my eyes travel up his body.
“You’re pretty fucking sexy for a cop.”
“Come naked.”
“I’ll be there.”
He walked out and I was a lust puddle, so I sipped the rest of my beer and got a grip of sorts on my breathing. Ballard fed my spirit, and he didn’t ask me to change. He’s intoxicating because of that. I didn’t need a man to run my life; I needed a damn man. Rock my bed, yin my yang, and let me roll. Ballard figured it out and gave that to me, from day one.
“Careful, Patra. That’s lovey-dovey talk.” Poseidon shimmered, grinned, and faded out.
Ugh, it kinda was. Crap.
Back at The Boogey, I housekept. There’s a supply chain for the elixirs, magical alcohols, and apothecary supplies, so I did the inventory and wrote a list. The Thursday before the new or full, Waldo, a wizard who lived and concocted potions under a gator farm in god knew what swamp, came in, delivered, and got a new order. Despite the Vapors and the assorted calamities, business was good, and what’s even better is that it was high end stuff like whisps and tides. The bar could self-destruct or fall in the impending Vapor attack, but I decided to go big, and order like a victory was imminent.
Contemplating the alternative wasn’t appealing.
Chapter 21
The dropping sun colored the sky over the river in a vibrant splash of rosy tangerine that backlit a long male shadow stretching across The Boogey’s floor. A faint, drawn out scrape filled the bar and Waldo , all three feet of him, pulling his bag in clinking accompaniment, marched across the decking. Dressed in a deep grey robe with pure white waist-length hair and beard that appeared washed, he’d dialed up his game for his day in town. I had no idea how old Waldo was, but he showed up in the book before Billy became Keeper, so I guess he’s at least a hundred. Waldo was a font of cheerful with a side of slapstick; his smile lines had smile lines. He was, hands down, one of my favorite magicals.
“Cleopatra, you look… tired, my sweet. Can I interest you in a cream before those lines of exhaustion etch into permanency?”
“Ever the salesman,” I snorted. “Thank you, but it’s the October wipe out, nothing more. Things will settle and I’ll be back to getting more sleep, restoring the dewey countenance you’ve come to admire.” I gave him a once over. “Pretty snappy, sir. Is that a new robe?”
The embroidered runes moved across the fabric and it was obvious he was using extreme magic to protect himself.
“We live in perilous times, my darling girl. I had an odd encounter in the swamp near my home, and chose to swap out my robes.”
I bet I knew what that meant. But, I didn’t ask. Poseidon was probably here in incognito mode, and if he wanted to inquire, he’d pay the little alchemist a visit on his own time.
“I’m glad you weren’t hurt. Were you able to bring the entire order?”
His satisfied grin earned mine in return. “For you, my dear, I concocted in overtime.”
He pulled bottles of various sizes and set them on the bar. “Twhistle, chacohol, whinche, wood germe, jumbaline, etherial, and the piece d’reisitance, fae tropique.”
I clapped with enthusiasm and he bowed, pleasure lighting his playful face. Fae tropique is a key ingredient in whisps, and it’s as finicky to brew as it was to pour. I ordered it every time I saw him, because sometimes the batch failed and it’s better to have too much than to run out.
After stowing each of the bottles in their respective places, I pulled my order from under the bar and he took a look, brow wrinkling.
“Business must be good?”
“I’m seeing bears and fairies from the forest, and a fair number of magicals stayed past the full. It’s been a busy month.”
“Helpful, since your human side is closed,” his bright eyes peered up at me. Seated on the stool, Waldo’s face was not quite over the bartop.
I suppose living under a tree is easier if you’re tiny.
“True. The closing was unexpected, but isn’t life in general?”
With a nod, Waldo’s attention wandered over my list. “Since you are serving the fae, I’ll attempt another batch. How are your ales holding up?”
“I always need a couple fish ales, and could use another kettle ale if you have it. Also, two cases of magic mulled, if you have extra.”
“I do,” he nodded, and reached into his sack, pulling out three smallish pots and two tiny boxes.
While I set the pots under the taps, he slid off the stool, robes swishing, heading behind the bar to tap the pots, which expanded to full kegs. Another tap on the boxes, and I stowed the cases of the witch’s preferred wine under the bar.
“All set, my dear. May I ask a question?”
Waldo was magical and didn’t need permission, but he’d always treated me like this. Maybe his isolation made him enjoy our little encounters; all I knew was it’s an appreciated courtesy.
“Of course.”
“Is it true,” he leaned closer and dropped his voice, “that Zeus visited The Boogey?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“The forest is buzzing with it!”
“I neither affirm nor deny it.”
“Because you can’t.”
“I like my hair, Waldo.”
“I do too, dear.” His wink let me know he thought he had his answer, and after tucking my list into his cloak, shuffled back to collect his bag.
“Oh! I almost forgot. This is for you.” A medium sized green vial rolled across the bar and I caught it as it fell off the interior edge. I held it up to the light, noting the liquid was heavy and syrupy.
“What is it?”
“A little something to add some zip to your bourbons but leave your mind clear. There should be three or four doses in there and it has no expiration date.”
I lowered the potion, surprised. “Thank you, Waldo.”
“Be well, my sweet. I will see you before the full!” His deep brown eyes sparkled. “Tell the fairies I send my regards.”
“I will, Waldo. You should come out some night and party with us. You have a standing invitation.”
His high-pitched giggle flowed as he headed toward the door. “Perhaps some night I will, my dear.”
The door snicked shut and Poseidon shimmered into view, palm outstretched. I handed the mixture to him and a gold feeler slipped into the vial and back out again.
“It is as he said. You may ingest this if you wish.”
I made a label for the potion and stashed it next to my bourbon below the bar. Several Keepers ago, one was killed by a wizard with an agenda. The Boogey needed the alchemy supplies, but now anything offered by wizards for the Keeper’s use was checked. It’s an ongoing cycle of trying to stay a step ahead. Which worked until it didn’t. Then the magicals got a new Keeper and an updated entry in the book on how to stay alive. Lovely.
The door opened and Pook and Bingo sauntered through, deep in conversation.
“I’m telling you, that bird has a signature.”
“All I know is she was ready to make an egg.”
Bingo’s familiar “ha, ha, squawk!” filled the bar and I tapped their ales. Exhaustion covered me, I was so behind on sleep it’s become a liability, but the sense of what’s to come when they battle the Vapors at the new moon was strong; it crystallized how much I loved this crazy life, despite the looming sense of impermanence. I pushed some crispy sardines over to the boys and they munched and chugged, discussing this female they’d met who was apparently down for a duo.
Their snickering was background noise, and I waited for the door to bring in more business, when I heard a knock on the glass door. A quick glance through the wall into the human side, and it was Ballard at my door. Before I could react, Poseidon shimmered into view and pulled me through the glass divider, dropping me in front of my office before fading away. I unlocked the office, threw on the light, scattered some paperwork across the desk, and headed for the door.
“Hey, handsome.”
He folded me in for a rough yet tender kiss, and I noticed an odd smell.
“Were you at the morgue today?”
Another deep kiss, but no answer. His hand shook as it left my hair and traced an ‘L’ on my forehead.
Weird. Sweet, but off.
“Are you alright, Ballard?”
He released me, heading toward my office. I scrambled but couldn't get in front of him. Once there, he looked around, breathing with harsh snaps.
“Ballard,” I began, when he grabbed me and it hurt.
“What the hell, Ballard! Let go of me.”
His grip tightened and the smell intensified, filling the tiny office.
It hit me at the same time Poseidon hit Ballard with his famous throat lift, which backfired because Ballard pulled me along for the ride. Poseidon had Ballard by the neck, eight feet in the air and I was dragging on my tiptoes from Ballard’s grip on my shoulder.
Gold erupted from Poseidon and jammed through Ballard’s hand into my shoulder joint, blasting them apart and dropping me in a heap on the deck. I looked up, watching Ballard’s eyes rolling back in his head, skin greying. The shimmer, the separation, it wasn’t happening!
“Don’t kill him!”
“Separate, Vapor, or I’ll kill this human host as I killed the wolf host. You will die with nothing accomplished.” The god’s voice shook the floor.
I screamed in terror. “Poseidon, I’m begging you! Please! Don’t kill Ballard, I love him!”
Ballard’s breath was slowing, his skin holding the grey. The Vapor was not budging. Frantic, I leapt and clawed at the god’s grip on Ballard’s neck.
“Stop it! No!”
Poseidon’s aura flexed, and I sailed across the dining room, smacking into a support pole. Lights out.
I cracked an eye, seeing wood, and rolled onto my side, causing my head to split.
Get on your feet, Patra. Find Ballard.
My hands felt disconnected and it took a couple of tries, with the help of a tall stool, to get on my feet. The room spun and I touched my head. Blood, still flowing. Poseidon threw me hard.
I wasn’t walking well, stumbling from table to table toward my office, now locked. Fingertips on the door in a swimming room, it was all I could do to stay on my feet. I looked at the magic side and saw Pook and Bingo, wide-eyed, staring back. Poseidon was not over there, and he’s not here.
I slapped my jeans, feeling my keys, and opened the office door. Ballard was on my floor, jaw thrust up in mute protest.
Dead.
My knees buckled; I hit the floor hard. Swamped with the vertigo of hysteria, I crawled onto his cooling chest and lay with him, tracing an ‘L’ over and over on his face, destroyed.
Chapter 22
“She’ll awaken soon.”
“What is the plan?”
“For now, nothing. Let them treat her as a missing person. We can’t compromise the Keeper.”
“This is messy.”
“We’ve dealt with worse.”
“True. The body?”
The body. Ballard. I shrieked in pain, buried in an avalanche, before falling back to blackness.
The group of witches glanced at Chelsea, who cast the sleeping spell, and cocked their heads to the left.
“So, you’d prefer screaming and attracting the wrong attention?”
“Her heart is shattered, daughter. When it’s time, give her this.”
“A memory wipe?”
“No, this gives her the strength to bear grief and not want to die.” Glenna passed the vial. “Even so, keep her off the balcony.”
Chelsea sat next to me, hugging hard, which was strange, but in this broken place, logic eluded.
“Mama wants you to drink this, Keeper. She’s trying to alleviate your pain.”
“Death will help me, Chelsea. Leave me alone and I’ll be fine.”
“That won’t happen, Patra. Drink, please.”
Her fingers pulled the stopper, but I drifted, lost in the peculiar comfort of agony. Ballard. A Vapor slipped in and took over, but enveloped in possession he came searching. Was that Ballard wanting me or the Vapor? Was my green-eyed love already gone, a meat-sack carriage-system?
Ragged air whistled in and out of my chest, a requiem of life continuing without him. The kiss. That was Ballard. He kissed me goodbye. He couldn’t talk. The ‘L’ was goodbye. It was all goodbye.
I want to be energy, zipping through the cosmos, finding Ballard, swirling in perpetuity.
“Drink.”
On her best day Chelsea wasn’t patient; she shoved the potion into my mouth, added a throat tap and forced a swallow. Pissed, I glared at her tight-lipped face.
“Fuck you, Chelsea.”
She flushed but remained silent. Emboldened, I pushed harder. “Oh, you think you’re a friend, but you’re just a whiney bitch I have to tolerate. I don’t give a shit anymore. Witch me! Snatch me bald! Kill me the way you always threaten to do. I’m ready! Let’s go.”
Chelsea’s face was angry, but my words slid off without punishment. Frustrated, I turned my back and burrowed into the couch. Tears dripped from my lashes, but the healing arms I craved were forever gone. Fury snaked through my blood.
“Poseidon can get fucked too,” I growled. “From this point forward, I’m done with every one of you users. Kill me and find another Keeper. I’ll burn The Boogey and your precious book the first possible chance.”
“You can’t,” Chelsea’s attempt to remain calm in the face of insolence was so out of character I stared at her. “The book is missing.”
“What? How?”
“The consensus is that when the Vapor possessing Ballard gripped you, it split in two. After Poseidon knocked you out, you awoke, went to the office, and in your grief the Vapor emerged and managed the theft.”
“A fog floated the book away? Seriously? That book is big.
That scenario sounds like a stretch.”
“Vapors are non-corporeal, but they are still magical, Patra. No one expects you to understand their capabilities.”
“Good. I don’t. Nor do I care. Get another damn Keeper for your precious line. If I have to be dead for that to happen, leave. I’ll meet you on the ground.” I jumped up from the big leather sectional, headed toward the French doors.
“No, you won’t. The witches cast against your balcony. It won’t let you enter.”
In punctuation, I bounced against a clear wall, spinning with a snarl.
“Fuck all of you. Magicals repaid my loyalty with murder.”
Whatever was in that potion pulled the flood of sorrow aside, leaving anger to run in my blood. I LIKED IT.
“It’s your primary responsibility, and you need to care, Patra. The return of that knowledge to safety and securement is critical.”
I flipped her the bird and jabbed it at her face. “This is me, caring.”
“Oh, grow up and get a grip! Pettiness won’t fly, Patra. Embrace your obligation to the line.”
I raised the middle finger on my other hand and an eyebrow. “Better?”
The anger from the potion faded and all that’s left was a sense of numbing nothingness. Which, I supposed, was better than wracking anguish, but the dullness felt disrespectful. Ballard deserved my grief. Chelsea refused to leave and nothing I abused her with made a dent. So odd. My mind whirled, random thoughts landing.
Maybe Chelsea was your friend, a real one.
Bullshit, she set me up for rape.
Did she? All the way, or was it a bit of fuckery to show who’s boss? Ask her…
“Did you intend for Charlie to rape me?”
“I left free will in to help you, but it could have gone either way.” Chelsea’s voice, full of regret, trailed to silence. She sighed. “That was a shit trick. My temper betrayed our friendship, Patra. When I apologized, the regret was genuine.”
“Where were you today? Why didn’t you help me? Help Ballard?” My voice broke, crumbled edges of pain and loss.
“Poseidon sent me to talk to Waldo. Said a Vapor attacked him and I should scout, see if the entity was active in the swamp, and catch it. And, to make sure Waldo was clean. He was.”
Boogie Beach Page 12
