“It is my nature to question.”
“You also have a role to play.”
She turned away, looking at the books and chose one on alchemy before returning to her seat. Under the glow of the lamps, we read, the faint noise of passing cars a counterpoint to the roar of the sea.
CRASH!
I jumped to my feet, but the muse was a blur, cutting between me and the sound. Poseidon, wasted and falling out of his speedo, lay sprawled on the floor of the ocean side balcony.
“Landed on your upstairs neighbor by mistake. She seemed okay with it,” he grinned, trying to sit up before lounging back, a soused imitation of ‘The Creation of Adam’ sans Adam.
“Assist me,” the muse commanded, moving toward him.
I shook my head. “A spell against the balcony prevents me from crossing the threshold.”
“Nice stars tonight,” Poseidon splayed flat on the balcony floor with a thud, grinning. “In the mood to play, Musie?”
“You’re feeling no pain,” I interjected. “Did you leave any alchemy at The Boogey?”
“Not much,” Poseidon’s big face crinkled in an exaggerated wink. “I had help.”
“Last hurrahs are fun,” I smiled back. “It was a good gig while it lasted.”
The muse stopped trying to pick him up and stared at me. “What does that mean? What do you know?”
Breathe in, breathe out. “Zeus said he’s not through with me. I accept this job is a wrap, or will be soon.”
“Nonsense!” Poseidon rolled and pushed his huge feet under him, a grandiose lack of balance driving his center of gravity through the French doors. “Zeus,” he dropped a heavy arm around my shoulders, “is a dick, but he’s determined to cover his…”
“Almighty! Please!” The muse’s voice rose, scandalized.
“Whoopsie. You’re right, Missy Musie. My bad.”
The muse took the other arm, and we settled Poseidon on the big sectional. In two minutes, he was snoring at level ten. With a mental eyeroll, I pushed my mind toward silence and returned to the book.
I now understood the muse’s role, and their burden. The original guardians of humanity’s creativity, muses branched out into beauty’s preservation before segueing to become enforcers of the balance between beauty and darkness. Today’s muses were frustrated cops who’d rather be curators.
As custodians of the creative, they’re well acquainted with the human brain and its capabilities, plus they had a full handle on the magical mind. Of all the cosmic players, they were the perfect cops, because they understood the strengths and weaknesses on both sides.
The best offense with this muse was to remain a blank slate and force her to judge me without insider intel. I fell back into reading, breath steady. Tonight, Poseidon was not my problem. I was home in my sanctuary and off the clock. All I cared about was that he stayed asleep and didn’t test the theory that my bedroom was off limits.
That, and I needed to make a note to buy a baby gift for the chick upstairs.
Chapter 25
Sunrise broke over the horizon in crimson fury. Poseidon snored as air pushed across the sea and through the double French doors, lifting our hair. Beside me, the muse sucked in her breath.
“Is the red for sailors or magicals?”
She cut her eyes at me, but said nothing.
An audible pop drifted from the kitchen and I angled toward Chelsea. “There’s coffee, but I can put the kettle on if you’d prefer.”
“Coffee is fine. The Latin stuff you buy is delicious.” Behind the muse’s head, Chelsea mouthed ‘magic’, and we grinned.
“I sense you’re more at peace,” Chelsea said, joining me at the door’s threshold. “Are you?”
“Yes, I am wrecked, but grounded.” I held her gaze, maintaining my calm.
“Then you can have your balconies back.” A finger waggled and she stepped onto the big ocean-facing terrace as I followed, plunking my butt on the chaise. The muse selected the chair next to Chelsea’s, eyes boring into my brain.
“Tomorrow is the new. Am I expected to help?”
“No.” Poseidon’s voice drifted over from the sectional behind us. “Keepers are a liability when concentrated magic occurs, especially in a battle situation. Billy presented the same problem. I allowed his presence only when he offered himself in a sacrificial capacity.”
“There will be plenty of spell work blasting,” Chelsea added. “You might get taken out by accident.”
“Could I leave the line for two nights and visit a friend?”
“That’s wise,” Poseidon nodded. “I’ll know where you are, so will allow it.”
“Wow, I’ve never left other than the sojourn,” I murmured. “This is exciting.”
“Well, no,” Chelsea laughed. “It’s serious for the rest of us.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to be flip, but it is unusual to get away.”
I glanced at the muse, aqua eyes continuing to drill into me. I breathe and give her a puzzled look. After a long beat, she looks back over the surf.
“I do not have a problem with the Keeper leaving until the new moon passes.”
“I didn’t ask you,” Poseidon’s sober growl chilled my gut. The previous bad blood between them remained fresh, filling the balcony. Last night’s drunken camaraderie vanished, a mist in the morning breeze. The sea rolled in and out as I held my mind still.
“Do we know where my phone is?” The pressure between Poseidon and the muse was giving me a headache, so the question was part curiosity, part deflection.
Chelsea reached into her pocket and passed it. “I saved it for you.”
My mind bumped, but I caught myself before the thoughts expressed.
“Thank you.”
The battery needed a charge, so I headed into the kitchen where I had a charging station, plugged in the phone, then puttered with the coffeepot. Since the sun was up and illuminating the balcony, I picked up my shades before returning.
Their whispered conversation ceased; I peered over my glasses.
“If you don’t need a record, I will step away.”
“Shut the doors to the balcony, Keeper. I’ll call if a record is necessary.”
I closed the French doors as Poseidon commandeered the chaise and the other two pulled their chairs closer. With an internal grin, I took a seat at my desk next to the wall of windows, pulling out bills and my laptop. Above me, the transom windows tilted open. Magicals often miss human details. This one was to my advantage. To complete the ruse, I draped my earbuds around my neck and stuffed one in my ear, the other laying ready, and cued up my music on pause. With a couple taps, my bank’s website loaded. I paid bills for me and The Boogie, listening to murmurs through the transoms.
“There is no coexisting possible.” the muse stated.
“The entire transaction was an unethical bargain. Zeus’s arrogance created the situation, but he’s not cleaning up his mess.” Poseidon’s growl was as much to her as a critique of Zeus.
“It is too late to change the past,” the muse argued, and I felt the flex through the wall. My screen flickered but held. I finished the payment before Poseidon fried my MacBook. God-flex was a serious energy.
“Is there still time for a conversation? Give a chance to be heard, to air the grievance? Can’t hurt,” Chelsea said, a shot at peacemaking.
“I’d entertain that. Brother Zeus can’t handle the Universe thinking he made an error.”
“The Vapor’s behaviors show he did not,” the muse’s tone leached stubbornness.
“What a suck up,” Poseidon muttered.
“They don’t measure time as we do,” Chelsea’s voice raised. “Their time in the space is fluid. This banishment is rectifiable.”
There was a sizzle of electrical current, a green flash, and a cry from the muse.
“Do not deceive yourself. You will not punish me on a whim, muse. I am neither human nor amused.” Chelsea’s voice was steel, personified.
“Ladies,
” Poseidon murmured. “Let’s not call attention to ourselves.”
A chair scraped, I slipped the second earbud in, tapped play on my music. Nodding, I paid the next bill. Chelsea yanked the earbud from my ear, stuck it to hers, and cringed as Anti Flag filled her head.
“How can you listen to that crap?”
“Punk is pure,” I look at her, shocked. “How can you not?”
Her gaze flicked up to the transoms, but she said nothing, handing back the earbud. I stuck it back into my ear, attention on the next bill, and set up the payment. When I glanced up again, I was alone.
For real?
Since I didn’t overhear enough to know how to be part of the battle, I wanted more information, and deciding where to spend my nights away was the other priority. For whatever was to come, I needed help from someone I trusted.
Sadie! I’ll head to Cassadaga! Perfect.
I powered down the Mac and padded into my room, throwing two changes of clothes, a light jacket, and sneakers into my backpack, along with a bath bag and a phone charger. Last item was my magic box. Similar to the space in The Boogey’s office and the secret drawer here, the box was another way for the Keeper to safeguard the book. It’s portable security, able to go wherever a Keeper traveled, and will open only to the Keeper’s hand. To any magical or human outsider, it was invisible, but I saw an ornate, carved box with a flat oval on the top the size of my palm.
Thinking without thinking was a pain in the ass, but I maintained the Zen. In the kitchen I
scribbled a note for Chelsea, whom I suspected was still around, saying I’m headed to Sadie’s and inviting her to join us. That’s so she wouldn’t. Maybe.
With a plunk my backpack landed on the table, and I eased the box out halfway, still within the pack, and palmed it open. A pop and Chelsea stood in front of me. A finger waggle brought the note zipping through the air to her, and as she read it, I palmed the hiding place for the journal, pulled it and stuffed it in the box, palming both closed in silence. My eyes never left Chelsea’s face.
“Sadie’s is a good place for you,” her eyes flicked to mine. “I’ll pop over if I’m not busy, but have a wine for me if I don’t.”
“Or three,” I laughed, the epitome of giddy vacation girl.
She smiled, satisfied. My fingers yanked the straps as I stood, the box sliding into the backpack. With an unobtrusive click, I snapped it closed and heaved it over one shoulder.
“Stay safe,” my eyes were serious. “I can’t bear another death.”
Hers shaded blue, and she gave me a thumbs-up. “Always. I plan to live to be four hundred. This is a bump in the road.”
We shared a grin, then I turned toward the door. To the sound of her pop, I grabbed my keys from the dish and headed for the car, freedom, and a chance.
The ride into Cassadaga gave me space to relax. While it’s possible a magical was riding along unseen, I didn’t detect a signature. A sense of self-determination expanded my chest. After playing everything tight for 24 hours, it felt damned good. I turned into Sadie’s and parked, grabbing my pack and picking my way across her elderly pavement. Sadie’s place was a 1930s farmhouse-style building, with two stories and a front door tucked deep beyond the huge porch.
I headed along the path to the courtyard, tapping on the back door. There’s no answer, which meant she had a client. I settled in, marveling at the jasmine’s comeback after Chelsea’s magical pruning, when Sadie’s head popped out a back window.
“Oh, my god. You heard me. I didn’t think that was one of your skills!”
Huh?
“I’m getting a huge influx from the other side. What on Earth is happening to The Boogey?”
“Have you got any wine?”
“Hell, yeah.”
“Can you keep a secret? A hundred and ten percent?”
“Damn skippy.”
“Then pour, Sadie. Along with your wisdom.”
Chapter 26
Sadie’s long dark hair hung from a straight part in sheets on either side of her face, framing huge hazel eyes. She looked nineteen, but she’s my age, we graduated in the same class from Ocean East High. We had history.
“Patra, you’re acting flip, but sadness radiates. What happened?”
Sadie had a basic working knowledge of The Boogey’s line, but not a sense of my role’s scope. It’s not a topic I could speak of without punishment up to and including death. I shook my head in the negative.
“Will you give me a reading?”
This was something I avoided, because I wasn’t interested in knowing about my early demise, or putting Sadie through that, to be truthful. Nor did I want to expose secrets, learning of a fate that might interfere with me keeping the line.
That was then. Now, I lost Ballard to cover up Zeus’s vanity, and I was done. There will never be an us at sixty, me professing my love on the half hour. Nothing remained to hold my spirit here. The magical world despised me, the god I had kinship with killed my lover, and my closest magic friend will manage with or without me. Four hundred years? In her journey, I was just a blip.
I pulled the Kokopelli ring I wore on my right hand off and tossed it. Sadie read with objects, using items a person spent significant time with, and she caught the little silver band with a surprised expression. Koko and I went way back, he was there for the shit; he held my story.
Turning the ring in a revolving circle, Sadie closed her eyes. I sat, silent, and let her sort the details, deciding what to share.
“Holy crap, Patra. I’m devastated by your loss.” She reached over to squeeze my hand.
Hazel eyes locked on mine, and her face ran a gamut of emotion. “Are you certain you want to hear this?”
“Yes. At this point, what I need is information.”
The ring turned, her fingertips tracing the figures cut into it, and she sighed. “How much do you wish to know? By that, I mean, what can you handle?”
“When the new moon rises tomorrow, I plan an attempt to fix a Universe-sized wrong. I don’t expect to survive, and I’m at peace with that ending. Tell me everything you think will help me carry out that goal.”
“Okay. You are correct, a battle looms in your life, and the outcome is uncertain. Much depends on you, and on your ability to discern the way. That’s vague, but it’s complete. Each choice predicates the options of the choices that follow.
“Okay, but I’m still in the dark. How do I start?”
The ring spun, and silence stretched.
“It’s unclear, but I see writing. A quill pen? And, a library.”
“That reference makes sense; I can move on that.”
“The fight appears mismatched, many versus few. Those numbers do not predict defeat, but it stacks the odds toward the many. I also see arrogance.”
“Oh, I bet. A few? Does that manifest to show I’m not alone in this battle?”
“Well, it’s hazy, due to you needing to move in a concrete direction to solidify the path, but yes, it appears you are not the lone force.”
Okay, it’s time to hole up and work with the journal.
“Can I stay here? It’s fine to say no if you don’t want to be in the middle of my problem. This will come to a head tomorrow night.”
“Patra, I’m already there. I see myself with you.”
Tucked into a soft chair, I palmed the box and opened the journal, keeping the spine nestled within to maintain invisibility, just in case. It’s not that I did a single thing wrong. If I left the line, the book must travel with me, but with these magicals trying to prevent me from exposing Zeus, they were making up rules as if they controlled the book. Time to read truth to power.
Fingertips on the edges of the cover, I leafed through the pages, forming questions.
Who controls the record?
The journal shifted, and another spidery entry wavered into view.
The book, a recounting of the line and the crossing, is the sole handiwork of the Keeper, answering only to the Keeper. Any
attempt to remove the record from the Keeper by a magical moves the record back toward the Keeper.
Okay, the book was the Keeper’s responsibility, and Billy taught me that my role was to record the line. Based on this entry, it’s obvious that the book is more. A lot more. I knew what to ask next.
Who was the first Keeper?
I, Ezekiel Kane, am the first to Keep the sacred line.
Who anointed the first Keeper?
The book remained blank.
Who created the first Keeper?
Blank again.
Why was Ezekial chosen?
The book shifted, and the entry formed.
I, Ezekiel, wandered in a full moon onto the line, observing the flow of life entering and returning to the water, but took no action. At the dawn’s break, a book floated from the sea, which I lifted. When I opened it, a fog rose from the pages and surrounded me. It was then they chose me, because of my patience and willingness to forgo judgment.
Holy shit. Is this for real? Test questions passed through my mind. Keeper lore, that’s important. I needed to understand this role in its true form, not what I was told in training. I had my next question.
How was the subsequent Keeper chosen?
There were many magicals who wished to wrest this commitment from me. As I neared death, a younger human man of suitable temperament visited me. We clasped hands, and a trace of the fog left my body, content to reside in the man, John, henceforth. The journal, kept by me, passed to John, and in the waning days before my death, I shared the record of the line, cementing the connection for the future.
My mind whirled, thinking back nineteen years, to shaking hands with Billy at my job interview. I felt excited, so alive. Jeez. Nothing was by accident. Billy’s story of how he became Keeper, how he was certain he’d been to The Boogey before, floated into my mind. He had, he just didn’t know when he touched the Keeper that died after a month in the role, that he’d absorbed the key to the kingdom.
With a hard swallow, I stared at the pages. I knew the question now, the one I couldn’t come up with at my condo.
Boogie Beach Page 14
