Aphrodite's War

by Donna Milward

  “She killed him,” Aphrodite said, her voice barely audible above the gale. “I know it was her. Who else would use talcum powder in battle?” “Who?” Adrian asked. “Who killed who?” “Strife. She murdered my son.”

  Adrian thought about the flower shop swathed in police tape and the guy with the curly surfer hair…like hers. “You mean Herrold?” “That was his Earth name. His name was Hermes.”

  “Earth name?” Adrian’s jaw dropped. What the hell was going on here? “What are you people?”

  “It would take too long to clarify. And why should I? You are mere pawns.”

  “What?” Something was wrong with his brain. This was just too weird. “I knew Ares would cheat. He never fights fair.” Aphrodite put her hands to her face as fresh tears washed down her sallow cheeks. “But I never thought he would allow his minion to kill our child.” The wind howled in empathy.

  Adrian plunked down on the arm of the couch, dumbfounded. Maybe he’d eaten some bad sushi. That was it. Combine that with sake, exhaustion, and a stressful day, and bang on; instant hallucination.

  But what about the evidence on his clothes? He rubbed his collar and pulled away chunks of precipitation like frozen white peas. Adrian took another peek at his balcony. The doors were closed. If this came from his sickened state, maybe he should give up law and retire to Ponoka. But of course that was just ridiculous. There had to be a logical explanation, but he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

  “Wait,” he said as something she’d mentioned came back to him. “Pawns for what?”

  The downpour reduced to a shower. Aphrodite collected herself, wiping wet trails from her jaw and straightening her clothing. “If you must know, it was a contest between Ares and myself.” Sea shells appeared in the palm of her hand and she placed them decoratively in her hair. “My task was to make you fall in love. Ares only had to prevent it.”

  Adrian reached for the torque as his stomach lurched. He had to squint at its brilliance. Its energy throbbed in his hand. Magick. That explains a lot.

  Now he understood why Poetry went to the Rosemount; why her ex came to the restaurant, to her apartment. He’d been duped to watch out for her, to care for her and her damn cat. The whole thing had been orchestrated for the amusement of a couple of squabbling deities.

  “Not everything,” Aphrodite said, but Adrian ignored her. “It was just a game…” He shifted the neckpiece this way and that, examining the tight weave Poetry had painstakingly created with her own hands. “We were under a spell.”

  He wanted to vomit. They’d been used as chess pieces. “None of it was real.”

  “I would not say that. I did not send her to meet you. Nor was Kevin dispatched to torment her.” She stroked his hair. “You defended her of your own accord. You escorted her home and sought her enemy.” Aphrodite caressed his chin and brought his gaze to hers. “It was all you. I merely suggested you bring her to dinner.”

  Adrian didn’t believe her. “She brought you a picnic out of gratitude that you earned.” Her demeanor grew urgent. “Please. Will you not wear her gift?” “Why?” Adrian couldn’t keep the sneer out of his voice. “So you can put me under your control?”

  “No, human. That is not how it works.” She offered her open hand. “You care for Poetry without magicks, yes?”

  Did he? Or was it a lie? He thought of her deep brown eyes, her olive skin ripe with that metallic fragrance unique to her body chemistry. Not only had he grown used to it, he’d started to like it.

  He remembered yesterday on the rooftop, how she’d made him forget the prison of his responsibilities. He tasted hummus every time he thought of it. His heart lifted.

  “I thought as much,” Aphrodite said. “Don the jewels and bring your sword.”

  “Why? What are we doing?” Aphrodite’s face clouded. “If Strife is bold enough to kill Hermes, there is no telling what she is capable of.” Thunder growled. “Poetry is in grave danger.” CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE Regurgitated sake sloshed the back of Adrian’s throat; his knees jellied. The smell of blood and feces greeted him. If he had to open his eyes, he might lose his sushi.

  “Oh my Energy, what a mess,” Aphrodite said, and Adrian couldn’t help himself. So much for not peeking. “Holy…” Déjà vu. They were at Poetry’s new place, but it had been trashed just like the previous one. Adrian identified Kevin’s condiment scrawl on the peeling walls, complete with the same derogatory notes written in ketchup. He seemed to like four-letter words beginning with ‘F’ and ‘C’. Light from the open refrigerator door revealed broken dishes and ransacked drawers spilled all over the floor.

  But what he didn’t expect to find was Kevin’s brain-splashed corpse next to Frank Fleisher’s battered one. He recognized the musician’s leather jacket and his client’s cowboy boots.

  Well, that’s convenient. Adrian pushed the insensitive opinion out of his head. Both men were public menaces, but they were still remotely human. He inched forward, trying to avoid a pool of congealed fluids. Kevin’s skull lay gaping like a hatched egg. No hope for him, but Adrian should examine Fleisher, just in case.

  “Don’t bother,” Aphrodite said. “They are both quite dead.” She shoved past him to lift Frank’s arm and flopped the stiffening appendage at him. “See?”

  “Don’t touch him.” He placed two fingers on Frank’s neck. Nothing. Decomposing flesh in photographs was one thing, seeing it in person required therapy afterwards. Frank’s cold epidermis could only mean death. “Don’t tamper with the evidence. We have to call the police.”

  His cell phone chirped. Adrian yanked it out of his pocket and stared at the call display. Denny’s Restaurant? Who the…?

  Poetry worked at Denny’s. He answered with hope in his pounding chest.

  “Hello?” “Adrian, it’s Jenny.” The anxious babble on the line didn’t sound like Jenny. Not even the slightest hint of a giggle. “Gary gave me your number.”

  “What’s up?” “Is Poetry with you? Have you seen her?” Hope turned to dread.

  “No, I haven’t.” He gripped his shinai and began a search of her miniscule apartment, scanning the bathroom as he spoke. Splintered glass crunched beneath his feet. Purple dots spelling the word ‘slut’ painted the wall. This was getting a little too familiar for his liking, only this time a statuesque blonde trailed behind him instead of a pint-sized Mediterranean. “I’m at her place right now and…” Should he apprise Jenny of the situation? No. That would freak her out.

  “She didn’t show up for work. She never does that, Adrian. She never misses a shift without calling.” Adrian’s already sensitive bowels squirmed. “I’ll look into it.” He skirted past the gore to the bedroom. “It’ll be alright.” He almost added I promise, but he didn’t buy it himself. He hung up before he could say anything incriminating.

  He stared at the empty bed, the rumpled covers. Adrian placed his hand on them. No body heat. She’d been here, he smelled her body odor. How long since she’d left?

  “She is not here.” Aphrodite arrived beside him. “No shit.” “I mean she is nowhere,” Aphrodite said. “This place is complete void of her presence. I cannot sense her at all.”

  Adrian’s pulse throbbed in his neck, heat rose to his cheeks. “I’m calling 911.” He punched the nine but Aphrodite stayed his hand. “We do not have time.” “What do you mean we don’t have time?” “Poetry needs our help now. The sooner we find her, the better.”

  “What do you think I’m trying to do?” Adrian asked. “We have to call the police.” “What will you tell them? Will they believe you are not responsible for this?” Aphrodite gestured to the broken corpses behind them. “Two men lay dead and your lover is missing.”

  She was right. They’d question him. Bring him down to the station and interrogate him for hours. Long, exhaustive, pointless hours. Even if Adrian told the truth, it would make the situation worse. He couldn’t win.

  “Besides, we have no need of them. You have me.” She pointed to his neck. �
�And that.” She snapped her fingers and the torque warmed his throat. “Think of Poetry.” Her whisper coaxed Adrian to dream.

  The metal vibrated. He knew if he could see it, the neckpiece would be glowing like it did at his condo.

  Magick again. This had better work. Adrian fixed Poetry’s face in his mind. Her drowsy brown eyes and blue bangs drifted through his thoughts. When she smiled, her white teeth stood in contrast with her flawless tan skin. The rhinestone on her cheek winked.

  “It works,” Aphrodite said, and Adrian glanced to his left. The goddess had orange reflections in her pupils, matching the stones he wore. “Think harder,” she said.

  He closed his eyes and imagined the tattoos down her shoulders and arms; foliage, hibiscus, and satyrs shone in pink, yellow, brown, and green. He could almost feel her skin beneath his fingertips, like silk scented with musk and sex.

  The air chilled, oxygen vacuumed from the room with a concussive THUNK.

  Adrian cried out as his ears popped. His eyelids snapped opened to a creamy blur. He covered his face with his hands, trying to get a bearing. “Aphrodite.” The hissing voice penetrated Adrian’s ears, despite the ringing. “I sensed you tampering with my spells. This will not be permitted any longer.”

  Adrian risked a glance and gaped. A lanky woman with long snowy hair and icy eyes stood before him wearing furs that sparsely covered her breasts and legs. She held a massive broadsword. She was massive. He craned his neck to gawk at her snarling face.

  He shivered from the bitter cold she emitted. And from fear. She looked every bit the Valkyrie. He peered at Aphrodite. She’d gone pale. “Freya,” she said. What could make a goddess quake like that? Judging by the terror this woman caused, he guessed her to be another deity of some kind, but more powerful.

  “I swear I did not know the stones were yours.” Aphrodite, cowering, took a step back. “Who else would they belong to?” Freya raised her sword arm, pointing the tip of her weapon at Aphrodite’s face. “You came to me for amber.” She jerked the end in front of Adrian’s neck. His heart stuttered. “That is amber. My amber.”

  “You refused me. It is true I sent Hephaestus to speak with you, but I have not heard from him. How was I to know he succeeded where I failed?”

  Freya stared Aphrodite down. Clouds of vapor passed from their mouths in the frigid chill. Long moments crawled. Adrian wondered if there was a safe way to squeeze past the dresser and out the door while the women had forgotten his existence.

  “I did nothing more than charm the metal she used for the jewelry,” Aphrodite said. “I sought to inspire.”

  Adrian’s shallow breathing cut through the silence, but not the tension. He’d give almost anything for something to break the stalemate. “Meow?” Amir?

  Adrian released a frozen breath and gratefully braced for a cat bite on his ankles. The black fuzz ball appeared from behind the bed but, instead of streaking to attack Adrian’s socks, Amir paused to observe the ivoryhaired giantess.

  “Meeeeew!” Amir raised his tiny paws. He wanted this polar nightmare to pick him up? Crazy cat. “Hello, little one.” The transformation from frosty titan to melting angel happened so fast Adrian thought another woman must have taken Freya’s place when he blinked. Even Aphrodite seemed to calm, her shoulders easing down as her rival’s anger dissipated.

  Freya sheathed her sword and knelt to retrieve the kitten with an open palm. Amir climbed on and settled in. “Amir? That is your name? What a perfect name for a handsome prince.” Freya straightened, bringing a handful of cat to her serene face. Amir purred and pawed at her nose.

  Adrian leaned into Aphrodite’s ear. “She can talk to cats?”

  Aphrodite stared sideways daggers at him. “Yes, she communes with cats. Your lack of knowledge astounds me.”

  He shirked the rebuke, but until today Adrian didn’t believe gods and goddesses existed. Why would he bother studying fantasy? Across from him, the white deity teased the black cat under his chin. Amir addressed her with a series of meows and grrrlling sounds. “What does he say?” Adrian asked. “The poor boy is frightened. He has been hiding in that corner for over an hour.” She tossed her head to the cupboard behind her. “Freya will not let anyone hurt you, sweet prince.”

  “Enough,” Aphrodite said, just when Adrian thought he’d need a shot of insulin. “I like you better when you are not so soft.” Her scoff of disgust amazed Adrian. Aphrodite had overcome her fear of Freya apparently. “Ask the feline if he knows the whereabouts of his human.”

  Freya stroked Amir’s head. “Where is your mistress, little one?” Amir let out a plaintive meow. Freya responded by cuddling him to her breast and petting him while making soothing clucking noises. “Poor little prince.” “What did he say?” Adrian asked.

  “She is lost,” Freya said. “Someone stole his mommy.” Mommy. Amir must be worried sick.

  Adrian gave his head a shake. Amir the cat. Worried sick. This day went from bad to screwed-the-hell-up and it was only getting worse. “Who?” Aphrodite asked. Adrian felt as hopeful and wound up as she sounded. “Did he witness the kidnapping?” “Meow.” “He sounds sincere.” “He is,” Freya said. “Amir recognized the villain who took her.”

  “Well?” Adrian tried not to be so impatient, but while these immortals chatted Poetry could be dying. “Who is it?”

  “Meowrr-rowr!” “The forge-god.” Freya’s tone went cold. Her slate grey eyes became slivers of ice. “Smells like sweat, metal, and smoke.”

  Aphrodite sucked in her breath, placing a delicate hand over her mouth. “That son of a demon hoarde.”

  “What?” Adrian threw his hands in the air. “Who the hell is the forgegod?”

  Both women favored him with a glare. “Hephaestus,” they said in unison.

  “New Worlders…” Freya said with a disgruntled snort. “Hephaestus is her mentor and landlord.” Aphrodite spread her hands over her head. “He owns this building.”

  “I thought that was some guy named Hugh.” “Same man,” Aphrodite said. “You expected him to use his true identity?” Adrian shrugged. He had to admit, he would change his name too if he had to run around with a mouthful of a moniker like ‘Hephaestus’. How do you even spell that?

  Aphrodite buried her face in her hands. “This is a disaster.” “Why?” Adrian asked. “If we know who has her, then we can figure out where he took her and-“

  “It is not that simple. I cannot feel him or her. They could be anywhere.” “I have a suspicion,” Freya said. She examined a bracelet on her wrist, twisting her hand back and forth, making the gems twinkle like unspoiled snow. “Hephaestus gave me this.”

  Aphrodite’s lip curled over long, glistening teeth, marring her beauty even as her eyes flashed from green to yellow. “So he gave you a bauble.” Distain dripped from her lips. “Everyone is aware of how you obtain your trinkets. What do I care?”

  “You will.” A grin crept up her smug face. “But not because I slept with your husband.” She returned Amir to the floor and caressed her sparkling diamonds as Aphrodite glared.

  “When Hephaestus presented me with this prize, he told me of the Cadomin mines in the north where he obtained these as lumps of coal.” Aphrodite extended her hand to touch it but Freya pulled away, wagging a finger in Aphrodite’s glowering face. “I should think that if he were to abduct someone, where better to hide them than in abandoned caves?”

  The room quieted as Aphrodite appeared to consider this information. Her brows knit and color returned to her cheeks.

  “He once preferred to make his home in the belly of the world,” she said.

  Adrian licked salt from his lips. They wasted precious minutes, yet he couldn’t move.

  “Why are you helping me?” Aphrodite asked. “You do not like me. This is none of your concern.”

  Freya placed a hand on her hip and cocked her head. “I am not doing this for you. The young prince needs his human.”

  She pointed at Amir, who gazed up at her with
feline adoration, blinking sleepily.

  “And for the Norwegian.” She leered at Adrian, and he got butterflies in his gut.

  “Do you love your smithy?” she asked. Adrian couldn’t speak. His words swelled in his throat until he couldn’t express them without anguish. He nodded instead. Freya tilted his face up to meet hers. “Enough to fight for her?” “You will not face an addict this time, Adrian Olsen,” Aphrodite said. “You challenge a god.” Both deities stared, awaiting his decision with hushed patience. Adrian had never felt so alone as he did now. Once he’d been content to live like that, a permanent bachelor. Now the idea of existing without Poetry tightened his chest. The thought of her languishing in a bleak prison of rock twanged every fiber of his being.

  What choice did he have? “I’ll do what I have to.” He still had his shinai and the conviction to use it. Time to put his Kendo skills to work. “I’m going to bring her home.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Both goddesses appeared pleased with Adrian. “Spoken like a faithful lover,” Aphrodite said.

  “And a true warrior.” Freya nodded her satisfaction. “But you will not get very far with that pathetic stick.” She tapped the shinai with her sword. The bamboo flared blue, like a light saber, and began to burn. Adrian caught the hitch in his throat, anticipating disaster but instead of the insubstantial weight of ashes, the weapon grew heavier. A white glow enveloped the dinginess, heating the small bedroom and warping the linoleum. It dispersed as quickly as it had come.

  A clock ticked in the kitchen, counting heartbeats. For long moments Adrian saw only green spots in his vision. No one spoke as he hefted not bamboo, but steel.

  Giddiness in his gut threatened to unleash stunned laughter. Instead, he ran his tongue inside his stale-tasting mouth before he spoke. “It’s beautiful.”

  Freya crinkled her sharp nose. “What manner of sword is that?” “It is a skinny thing,” Aphrodite said, sharing Freya’s obvious concern. “How will you fight with it?” “It’s a Japanese katana,” Adrian said. “The shinai is used to represent it, and kendokka are trained to wield it.” He took two strides to his right and tested the blade. “It’s a weapon of grace and precision.”