Ginger Storm: An Urban Fantasy Adventure (The Scarlet Dragon Saga Book 1)

by J. P. Rice

  Zeus tilted his head to the side and pointed at me. “Now I will admit that was quite impressive. For a woman.”

  I sighed. “More like impressive for a God. Don’t act like I didn’t save everyone.”

  Compared to Zeus, I looked small, but I was tall for a woman. I wasn’t skinny, sporting a little gut, but everyone was weak and frail in the God of Thunder’s eyes. I tried to talk him out of this, “I am aging rapidly. So why would you want to sleep with me now? My breasts are saggy, skin wrinkled and I want nothing to do with you. Surely you can find a young maiden to work your magic on.”

  “But when a man wants certain things like being with a woman with great magical power, he finds a way. Even if she obtained that magic in a perverse manner.” He grabbed my wrists and studied the scars that ran up my arms. I had thirty-one scars. One for each creature that had given me its magic.

  I peeped around and with no one in the vicinity, I raised my voice, “Perverse manner? You can go sit on a sharpened stick with that bullshit. Everyone who gave me their magic did so willingly, and you know that. What? Are you going to turn me in to the magic council?”

  “God no,” he exclaimed. “I wish I’d never approved that nonsense in the first place.” He motioned for a server to come over.

  Zeus continued, “That said, you tortured them into relenting to your will. There was nothing willing about it. You’ve even tortured a dragon so you could steal his powers.”

  Zeus grabbed two silver dollar crab cakes from the server and shoved them into his mouth, flicking the toothpicks out into the Atlantic Ocean. He winked, and with his mouth full, he mumbled, “Keep ‘em coming. And don’t be shy with the bacon-wrapped scallops either.”

  I noticed the client from before moving closer, and I grabbed a crab cake off the tray. As soon as Zeus focused back on me, I snapped, “I did not torture them. I persuaded them. You know I mix all sorts of magic. Why would you want to be with that?”

  In hindsight, I had tortured them. I just wasn’t ready to admit it to Zeus or any other God. After my husband had disappeared, battles were erupting all over the netherworld I lived in called Sleepy Willow. I’d found the Morrigan near one of the battlegrounds and we hit it off, becoming fast and furious friends.

  She’d taught me how to cast a spell that would transfer magic from one body to another. But it needed sealed with a kiss of blood, hence the scars on my arms. Some of the magic inside me was dark. Powerful. Dangerous. And almost impossible to control.

  Also illegal in some areas of the world where those idiotic magic councils had jurisdiction. An agreement among several pantheons of Gods had given the councils powers they didn’t deserve, and they doled out punishment to anyone often based on nothing more than a whim. More or less a kangaroo court. Oh, how did the world ever exist before the fooking magic councils?

  “The danger of being with you excites me,” he said, rubbing his mustache and beard creepily.

  “Speaking of danger, where is your wife, Hera? She can’t be too far.” I tried to look around the massive man and noticed the client worming closer to our conversation. He turned away in an ill attempt at nonchalance, and I mashed the crab cake into a ball. I stepped to the right of Zeus and zinged the seafood treat across the deck.

  The wad of food sailed through the misty air and smacked him right on the side of the face. He shrieked dramatically as if he’d been shot, hitting a high note that Michael Jackson would be proud of.

  The client didn’t run away as I’d hoped, but he knew I was watching him. Where was I with this other asshole? Oh yeah, I called Zeus’s wife Hera the Hound because she tracked down anyone who got close to Zeus.

  “I left her on Olympus. I told her nothing,” he said softly, caressing my wrinkled cheek with his calloused fingers. I supposed throwing thunder bolts was hell for smooth skin.

  The Gods were a fickle bunch. They enjoyed trysts that bent the bonds of matrimony, yet judged others harshly for the same adulterous behavior. My parents were the perfect example.

  “Stop touching me.” I pulled my head back, dull burgundy hair blowing in the ocean breeze, and his hand dropped to his side. I took a step to the left. Searching the small groups of people on the deck, I couldn’t find Hera. For good measure, I scoped the entire area, looking out to the ocean and checking the boat’s surroundings. I wouldn’t put it past Zeus to have Cupid stationed nearby with his bow and arrow.

  The screaming seagulls flying above the boat were the only winged creatures in the area for now. “You know leaving your wife without a reason will only stoke her curiosity. I’ll bet she’ll be here within a few minutes.” I needed to get away from Zeus, so I planted the seed.

  For being a God, Zeus could be idiotic when he chased women behind his wife’s back. Hera had busted him countless times throughout their marriage. But due to her many failed attempts to unseat him, she was essentially powerless to stop him. So the horny toad carried on with his lustful ways. The general impunity had created a warped sense of moral integrity and Zeus didn’t really see his behavior as being wrong.

  I said, “Now that you know I won’t sleep with you, I guess you’ll be leaving so I can enjoy myself.”

  “I want to give you a chance to rethink your position. I can name a few new positions for you to take.” He bobbed his head around and winked.

  I assumed he wanted to take me in his normal state, perhaps embarrassed that he had to trick me last time. I didn’t realize he had any shame.

  “Enough of the innuendo. It’s not happening,” I informed him as a light ocean mist crept up on deck and kissed my forearm, then smooched the side of my face. I licked the salty substance from my lips, and apparently Zeus took it as a signal.

  He moved closer, pinning me against the rail. I could feel his heat and power, the rushing waters crashing right behind me. If he weren’t so repulsive, this would be a romantic setting. “Just let it happen,” he said, cupping his hand and moving it toward my boob.

  Without thinking, I slapped down, smacking Zeus’s hand away and then reversed the motion, backhanding him across his perfect cheek. Apparently, I still had some speed despite my elderly appearance. His face reddened, eyes widened, and the only thing missing was smoke pouring out of his ears.

  The scent of grilled pita filled my nostrils. Zeus’s magic was coming to the surface. He erupted, “How dare you? You think you can physically assault the God of Thunder? I will rain down a hailstorm of fury, the likes of which your feeble mind cannot even imagine.”

  I’d verbally accosted Zeus on many occasions, but I’d never hit him. It was a bold move. But I was one bold bitch. I’d felt dead inside since my husband disappeared. All Zeus could do was finish me off.

  Zeus breathed audibly through his nose, almost snarling, with his angry green eyes fixed on me. “You had better apologize this instant.”

  “Are you going to apologize for raping me?”

  He snorted in derision. “I did nothing of the sort. All women are reserved for my pleasure.”

  The worst part was that he truly believed that.

  “Reserved? Like a table at a restaurant? Or a parking spot?” I asked, shaking my head in disgust. That was basically what we were to Zeus.

  I explained, “Shifting into someone else’s skin to fool a person into sleeping with you is rape. No matter how short the act lasts, Tiny.” I smirked, allowing a few seconds for the insult to sink in. The proud God lowered his head.

  I continued, “If not, you would have just showed up as yourself. Not to mention how fooked up it was to let me believe my husband was alive.” I’d stopped Zeus almost immediately when I’d realized he didn’t quite measure up to my husband.

  Zeus gazed up at the night sky, contemplating. He focused back on me. “I suppose we’ve both made mistakes. Why don’t you let me massage those achy bones?” he begged, his green eyes lighting up.

  He was like a dog with a bone. Unfortunately, I was that bone. I had to work some magic to get rid of this hor
ndog because he rarely took no for an answer.

  Illusion spells were one of my favorites. I could change my appearance at the drop of a hat, but I also knew how to cast an illusion shadow. I just needed to be careful because using magic had been aging me drastically since the lava bath.

  An illusion shadow was a 3-D image—not real, but it looked real—that could fool people. It wasn’t a long-term solution, but it could buy a few seconds or up to a minute. I cast a spell creating an image that looked and sounded like Hera.

  “Zeus,” a female scream came from across the deck and echoed off the ocean’s waves.

  The God of Thunder spun around on his heels, his neck craning from side to side. His gaze finally landed on the image of his angry wife. He put his open hands in the air apologetically and took two steps closer to her. That gave me the room I needed.

  Using my hands, I vaulted up to sit on the safety rail of the luxury liner. I waved to the client who was rushing over to stop me. With my feet dangling, I kicked off my heels, took a deep breath and fell backward.

  Chapter 3

  I splashed down, and as I trod above the wave, the salt water obscuring my vision cleared. I saw Zeus at the back of the cruise ship, stomping his feet and waving his fist in the air. The only positive was that Zeus would move on to a new target shortly and forget all about me for a while.

  Suddenly, an enraged Zeus grabbed the client and tossed him overboard. Too bad for Don Johnson.

  “Can’t swim,” he screamed, slapping at the waves.

  My bones ached as I kept moving my arms and legs to stay above the water. I tried to ignore the man’s desperate yelping, but it proved impossible. In the past, I wouldn’t have had any problem leaving him for dead. But I was trying to be a better person and letting an innocent individual drown went against that philosophy.

  I pressed my lips on the surface of the ocean and whistled the water song of the merfolk. Unfortunately, I didn’t know how long it would take for them to show up so I paddled toward the client. My arms and legs went numb and I doubted I’d be able to reach the man.

  He kept flailing around, bobbing below the surface regularly. My weary body threatened to give out as I reached the client. I hooked my arm around his neck and couldn’t tell if I was still kicking or not. We remained above water, but I wasn’t sure how long this could last.

  I looked up at the moon for inspiration. A beacon of hope for the weary mariner lost at sea. Too bad that hope seemed as far away as the moon right now.

  A few minutes rolled off the clock and my numb muscles were about to quit. Just as my back locked up and my limbs slowed to a stop, I noticed a few ripples in the water about ten feet ahead.

  A moment later, three circular objects popped up above the surface. The argent shine from the moon and stars reflected off the water and glimmered against the emerald scales of the three mermen’s lower bodies. My nerves relaxed as three of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen swam up to me, all smiling. They looked strikingly similar with the only difference being their hair colors. Rusty red, light amber and chestnut.

  The merman with chestnut hair said, “Anyone who knows the Song of the Sea, note for note, key for key, shall reap our help. What might we do for you, my lady?”

  I spoke through labored breathing, “I need to get. To Pleasure Island. And this man. He needs to get back. To that ship over there.” I pointed, but the vessel had all but disappeared in the darkness.

  All three men smiled, their ivory teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Rusty red said, “Not a problem, my lady. We will guide you there safely and get this fine gentleman back to his vessel.”

  The client said, “Thank you. I’d thought I’d lost that...that thing.”

  “Oh, about that. Do you know who threw you off the boat?” I asked.

  “No, but I’m going to jack his ass when I see him again,” he threatened.

  “No, you are not. That was Zeus. He was looking for that thing you bought from me. I bet he’s stolen the real thing and replaced it with a fake. Typical Zeus.” And now I’d totally covered my tracks.

  “That was Zeus? But how?” he asked, as a merman pulled him away.

  I ignored his question, allowing him to figure things out on his own, and focused on myself. He’d be shark bait if I hadn’t saved him. I didn’t feel as bad about ripping him off now.

  Knowing many forms of magic had its perks. I’d obtained that particular skill from a powerful nixie. The tiny water spirit had imbued me with so much magic, I still hadn’t learned how to use all of it. Which was the case with most of my magic.

  Getting to Pleasure Island wasn’t as simple as plugging coordinates into a GPS. Only a select number of beings could find the hidden island. Mainly, the upper echelon of the supernatural. And even then, it wasn’t a guarantee. Some posited that the island was merely a state of mind or spiritual plane like the Aether, rather than a geographical stretch of land.

  Two of the mermen hooked their arms around me and leaned back, my hands landing on their solid chests. The mermen lay on their backs, rhythmically kicking against the waves to give my tired body a reprieve.

  About twenty minutes later, the mermen dropped me off in the shallow water. “Thank you, gentlemen,” I said as I stood up, the water up to my belly. The mermen nodded in acknowledgement and swam back out to sea.

  I walked out of the ocean and my stomach churned. I worried if anyone would recognize me in this state. I’d never shown up in a wet T-shirt and leather pants before. But my true worry was about my elderly appearance.

  It was a bright and clear night, but the wind was howling. A warm wind. A sharp wind across the face. The winds of change.

  The gazebo that marked the entrance to Pleasure Island sat twenty feet ahead. Four ivory columns anchored in the sand held up a pointed red roof. A burgundy fabric acted like curtains, running along a track connected to the roof and enclosing the check-in area. The red curtains left a tiny opening for entry.

  I approached the pavilion structure and tossed the fabric aside. A young immortal named Theodoro sat in a chair reading an old, leather-bound book. The bald, dark-skinned man was wearing a pair of camouflage shorts.

  Would he recognize me? I hadn’t been to this island since I’d gone undercover over thirty years ago. I’d looked like a twenty-five-year-old last time I’d visited, and now I was pushing sixty.

  His facial features twisted, and he squinted. He tilted his head to the side and scratched his sweaty chin. I watched a surge of recognition run through his rich brown irises and the left side of his mouth curled up. “Junipher? Is that really you?”

  “The one and only.” I held my arms out and did a three-sixty for confirmation.

  He set his book down and stood up. “I presume you are here to see the Great Goibniu.”

  I laughed internally. “Oh, is that what he goes by these days? Is he practicing to be a tyrant?”

  Theodoro’s face tightened, and he spoke in a serious tone, “I’m not sure what his intentions are. I do know he goes by whatever name he deems suited and nobody questions him. And a person in need, such as yourself, should keep those words breasted.”

  He was right. I was a smartass extraordinaire and proud of it. And I did need a favor, but Goibniu was like a brother. “Thank you for the counsel.”

  “I’ll take you over to Goibniu, if you will follow me.” He led me out the back of the gazebo and onto an ivory lane leading into an ancient-looking city with ranch-style housing running alongside the dirt roads. I saw several towers in the distance and a giant gleaming white castle to our left.

  We followed the ivory path until it gave way to a cherry-colored cobblestone road. The warm breeze ran through my nest of auburn hair and tingled my scalp. My bare foot stepped onto the first smooth marble stair leading up to the entrance of the castle. I continued up the alternating white and black marble steps and arrived at the arched wooden door with a big round knocker.

  Theodoro walked right up and gave it a solid
two raps. He stepped back and stood next to me. The door opened toward us and a skinny man wearing a loincloth and holding a spear appeared. He smiled and nodded to Theodoro, then gestured for us to come in using a windmill motion with his right hand.

  We entered the foyer of the white stone castle and stepped onto a plush red carpet. A giant staircase lay straight ahead with two hallways off to each side on the ground floor. Theodoro led me up the stairs and we went down a long hallway and passed through a beaded curtain to get to the second-floor balcony.

  As soon as the last string of beads fell from my shoulder, I stepped into a mist and could hear island music coming from a live band. The mist dissipated, and we entered Goibniu’s favorite hangout.

  It looked like a giant barbecue party with an Olympic-sized pool surrounded by tiki torches. People were grilling huge cuts of meat, whole animals were roasting on spits, the band was playing, and some guests were hanging out in a lounging area. And with Goibniu, there were always lots of women.

  I located Goibniu lounging with a horde of ladies surrounding him, vying for his attention. He’d grown plump since I’d last seen him. Garbed in a burgundy toga, I took quick notice that his face and arms had swelled. He had shaggy brown hair and his gray eyes were currently filled with boredom, even though women who looked like models surrounded him.

  His dull eyes glanced over at the band, then crawled past me to check out the smoking meats near the pool. Suddenly his eyes darted back, landing firmly on me. His smile started with his chubby cheeks and then his frown melted upward into a devilish grin.

  Pushing the women away, he rose from his lounge chair, and wobbled back and forth. A few of the women helped him regain his balance. He straightened, lowered his head and walked directly toward me.

  “June, how the hell have you been?” He slurred his words, clearly intoxicated. He also spoke with a slight lisp, which made him hard to understand when he was really drunk.

  Goibniu was the retired blacksmith of the Gods. After King Nuada had his arm cut off in battle, Goibniu had designed him a silver arm that helped him survive the ghastly wound. But he was best known for crafting a golden chalice that held his famous elixir of youth. He’d moved to this island so that the Gods would have to come see him when they wanted the elixir.