Rise of the Blood

by Lucienne Diver

  I pretended not to hear and continued on my way, only stopping when I got to the front desk to ask about a cab. I’d already put Viggo through enough. “Ms. Karacis?” the desk guy asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You have a message. I took it myself.”

  He grabbed it from an old-fashioned lattice of message boxes behind the counter and handed it to me. It was on hotel stationary, folded in half.

  I read it as the hotel clerk tapped away on his keyboard.

  Apollo sensed it the second my heart stopped. “Tori?”

  “He’s gone,” I said. No inflection, no emotion. Dead.

  “Who’s gone?”

  “Armani. Nick. He’s gone.”

  I had to hold tightly to the counter, my knuckles white.

  “Gone where?”

  “Home. He wants to be treated and heal at home. Without me. I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”

  Apollo opened his arms, and this time I stepped into them willingly.

  “Do you still want the cab?” the desk clerk asked.

  Apollo shook his head. I could feel it through our hug. Then he guided me back toward the elevators.

  “What do you want?” he asked. “A drink? Bed? The comfort of your family?”

  “You,” I said. It slipped out before I could think, but I realized I meant it. “I want to be with someone who understands.”

  The elevator came and he was so stunned he didn’t move until I did.

  “Just hold me?” I asked as the door closed behind us.

  “I can’t make any promises,” he said, more truthful than he had to be.

  “That’s okay too,” I said, not knowing if it was true. But I wanted him—had always wanted him, from that first second he’d walked into my office. But Armani’d had prior claim on my heart.

  But now, without that, I realized I couldn’t make any promises either. If Apollo were to kiss me again, I couldn’t answer for where it would lead.

  About the Author

  Lucienne Diver does not actually come from circus folk, though you’d never know it to meet her family. She is, however, in no particular order, a wife, mother, book addict, sun-worshipper, mythology enthusiast, beader, travel-junkie, clothes horse and crazy person. In addition to the Latter-Day Olympians series for Samhain, she writes the Vamped series of young adult novels for Flux Books (Vamped, Revamped, Fangtastic and Fangtabulous). Her short stories have been included in the anthologies Strip-Mauled and Fangs for the Mammaries edited by Esther Friesner and in Kicking It edited by Faith Hunter and Kalayna Price (Dec. ’13). Her essay “Abuse” is included in the anthology Dear Bully: Seventy Authors Tell Their Stories. More information can be found on her website at www.luciennediver.com. You can also follow her on Twitter, @luciennediver.

  Look for these titles by Lucienne Diver

  Now Available:

  Latter-Day Olympians

  Bad Blood

  Crazy in the Blood

  Coming Soon:

  Latter-Day Olympians

  Battle for the Blood

  Hell on Earth. It’s not just an expression anymore.

  Crazy in the Blood

  © 2012 Lucienne Diver

  Latter-Day Olympians, Book 2

  It’s an ill wind that carries bad news, and Tori’s just had a double load of it blow through her door.

  Just a few weeks after she prevented some rogue gods from blowing L.A. into the ocean, more dead bodies are turning up near the leftover crater. Bodies that have been shredded by something too big to be…shall we say, of this world? Worse, Uncle Christos has disappeared after stumbling onto a deadly cult masquerading as the Back to Earth movement.

  The connection: Dionysus. Yes, that Dionysus. He’s resurrected his bloody fertility rite, complete with frenzied female groupies who tear men limb from limb. And he’s lured Demeter, goddess of the harvest, over to his side by finding a way to get her daughter away from Hades for good.

  Predictably, Hades isn’t about to let her go without a fight. Unless Tori finds a way to bring her back, he’ll abandon the gates of Tartarus. At which time all hell will, literally, break loose.

  Between saving the world, the woman, and cultists and her crazy uncle? So much for getting to the beach before all the good spots are taken…

  Warning: The wine country is going through a heat wave of epic proportions, and it’s not all about the weather. Beware steamy gods with seduction on their minds or brimstone in their blood.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Crazy in the Blood:

  I opened my eyes to the face of an angel—the fallen variety. The kind designed to lead others into temptation and have them thank him for it. Repeatedly. To make matters worse, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his weight slanting the mattress so that my body seemed inclined to slide toward his.

  Apollo’s golden hair was wild, like the corona of the sun, like it would look after someone had run their fingers through it, clutching his head to their breast or…elsewhere…urging him not to stop. My mind supplied an image of me in that position, Apollo above me, gazing down with those impossible turquoise eyes turbulent with emotion…

  I shut it down, closed my eyes and focused on breathing. In and out. No, that was bad. Just…bad.

  “Move away,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Apollo shifted fractionally, but I could feel him staring at me still. My body cried out for contact, but I ruthlessly ignored it, even though every single cell seemed to strain toward Apollo. I felt alive. More than alive. Manically, enthusiastically, quite definitely, hyper-alive. Full of light and energy. My eyes snapped open at the realization of just what had to be heightening all my experiences.

  As my gaze met Apollo’s, I struggled to find a well of anger to tamp down my libido and was surprised not to have to look too hard, though I must have known on some level that this was what would happen if Apollo rode to my rescue. Some part of me must have decided deep down that I could die another day but not while the family was counting on me to track Uncle Christos and not while there were new murders, massacres really, begging to be solved. I didn’t have the luxury of the moral high ground. No, as much as I wanted to blast Apollo with both barrels of my wrath, I was the one to blame here. I had to take responsibility.

  Still, my “thank you” tasted like ashes on my tongue.

  “Stop. Your effusion is just embarrassing,” Apollo said, brushing aside a sweat-soaked lock of hair obscuring my vision. The jolt it sent straight to my heart made me cranky.

  I touched the back of my hand to my mouth and it came away wet. “Drool, eh? Sex-y.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I feel funny.” I couldn’t hold his gaze. It was just too intimate. His eyes were aqua and glowed like the sun reflecting off the Mediterranean. They made me think of skinny dipping and the power of the surf, surging. I cut that thought to the quick. “Seriously, though, thanks for coming,” I said reluctantly. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

  “What, and miss the chance to make you beholden to me?”

  “Think again, buddy. In my book, this just makes us even.”

  Apollo tapped a finger on his lip, pretending to consider, but not putting much effort into making it look sincere. “Really? By my count, that makes twice I’ve saved your life and you’ve—oh wait, you have yet to reciprocate.”

  “Damn you and your scorekeeping. Tell you what, you let me know when you’re going to throw yourself in front of a train, and I’ll be there to stop you. No, really.” Two could play at sincerity.

  Apollo’s eyes rolled upward as if he could spot the heights of Olympus right through my ceiling. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  I sighed. “Fine.” I looked down to be sure I was decently clothed, unlike the last time I’d woken in a bed with Apollo, and started to rise. Apollo looked regretful, but didn’t try to keep me there.

  I was pleased that all my parts seemed to be in working order. It was the first day in what seemed like forever wit
hout the shakes. I didn’t have to pretend I was fine. I wanted to give a rebel yell, but that would be undignified. And heavens, having built up my skid row junkie image, I didn’t want to blow it all in one fell swoop. “I need to wash the stink off, and I need food, not necessarily in that order. The least I can do is offer you something.”

  I wandered into the kitchen and started opening and closing cupboards, as if elves might have stocked them while I was out. “Um, how about omelets? As long as you don’t like anything in them. More like scrambled eggs, really. Or, I make a mean cinnamon toast.”

  He followed me in and lounged against my cabinets. He looked good standing there, and my brain tried to remind me that bedrooms weren’t the only places for fun and games, but those thoughts were by now used to being ignored.

  “I’m not hungry, thank you,” Apollo announced as he watched me play at domestication. “I left a…supply…for you in your refrigerator. I suppose you’ll have to let me know when you need more.”

  “So, what’s the catch here? What do I owe you?” Rather than look at him, I went about getting the fixings for scrambled eggs and toast. Normally I’d opt for cereal or a Power Bar rather than actual home cooking, but I felt the need for something hot and filling. Besides, I was bursting with excess energy I needed to channel.

  “Dump your detective.”

  Armed with a tub of butter and a spatula, I whirled on him. “Just because you saved my life doesn’t mean you get to dictate how I live it.”

  “Are you yet on a first name basis?”

  “Yes.” Most of the time. I dropped everything on the counter and attacked the butter with a vengeance, tossing a glop into my pan and barely waiting for it to heat before adding the eggs. “Anyway, it’s none of your business.”

  “He’s not for you. I have seen—”

  “What do you know about the dead bodies on top of Mount Lee?” I asked suddenly. I didn’t want to know my future…or Nick’s. I’d read enough of the myths to learn that knowing the future often led people to play right into their doom. The whole self-fulfilling prophecy bit. The only thing to do with that power was mark it “return to sender”.

  “The ones in the news?”

  “I sure hope there aren’t any others.” I chopped the eggs to within an inch of their lives before sliding them onto a plate and carrying my feast to the table. Apollo sat down across from me. It was such a strange homey scene with the morning light streaming through the windows. All we needed were steaming mugs of coffee and newspapers to help us ignore each other.

  “They are related to the earlier trouble?” Apollo asked.

  I froze, first bite nearly to my lips. “Trouble? No euphemisms before coffee. Anyway, I think they are. There’s the location for one. Plus, the remains of all the bodies would barely fill a chum bucket, so I’m doubtful it was your average man off the street who whacked ’em. Oh, and the Feds asked me some pretty oddball questions. Wanted to know about biological warfare.”

  Apollo’s face went all over strange before tightening into a mask.

  I swallowed the bite in my mouth. “What? Does that mean something to you?”

  “Maybe. Can you tell me any more about the attack?”

  “Not…really.” Not except for that strange dream with the gnashing teeth and slashing claws, the details of which were already slipping away from me. And anyway, it was just a dream. A vivid, terrifying, heart-pounding dream, but still. Unless…

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he wheedled.

  I eyed him. “I’ve seen yours.”

  Saving the love of her life could mean letting her inner darkness out to play.

  Blood of an Ancient

  © 2013 Rinda Elliott

  Beri O’Dell, Book 2

  Beri O’Dell is on a mission. She has to rip back into a hell dimension fast, but needs two things first—the blood of an ancient and a fix for her friend Blythe’s magic, which careened out of control after the battle with the Dweller.

  Finding ancient blood isn’t easy when the old ones are rare and unwilling to donate. She needs to find Blythe’s former mentor…except the woman has lost her mind and joined a traveling band of singing witches.

  That’s not the only magical monkey on her back. Nikolos is imprisoned, and after a screwed-up spell lets her witness the horror that has become his life, her fear for him grows by the day. Now there’s another problem—a powerful being unleashed during the battle with the Dweller likes her gluttonous new existence, and will kill anyone who threatens it.

  But Beri has a few tricks up her costumed sleeve, even if it means mining the darkness of her soul to set everything right…and get Nikolos back in her arms.

  Warning: Sleazy ancients. Random fires. Nosy teenage hackers. Hints of off-screen torture. Battles with…Beri doesn’t know what. And one scary boyfriend who keeps inching toward insanity.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Blood of an Ancient:

  Later in the day while Blythe packed, I rummaged in a greenhouse I discovered behind the house. It was obviously under construction because no actual plant life resided inside, just a lot of boards and tools. I assumed Nikolos planned to build more of the long tables he had in here. There were two.

  The sprite was still sleeping—I hoped—in the windowless bathroom, but I needed something to put him in for the trip. I wasn’t letting him out of my sight. Who knew when we’d find another ancient?

  I ended up building a kind of rudimentary mini-coffin. It wasn’t pretty, but I glued the hell out of every corner so I was sure no sunlight could get inside. We couldn’t just keep him wrapped in shirts the whole way.

  I was wondering if vampires could suffocate later as I watched Blythe pull up a search engine. Dooby and Castor had grocery shopped, so Blythe and I made a quick dinner of sandwiches and chips before settling in front of the computer to find this band.

  “The witch who answered the phone said the band is called Staglina.”

  It wasn’t hard to find them. They must have been popular because they came up on the first search page. Their website was a dark, serene blue with an image of the moon hovering over an ocean. There were no concert locations, no band member biographies…nothing but a link to a video.

  Blythe clicked and sat back with a thump against her chair when the music started. So did I. My heart pounded harder, warmth filled my chest. Women’s voices raised in a harmony like nothing I’d ever heard filled the room. Castor and Dooby left the table where they’d been poring over the ancient spell book translations and approached the computer.

  We all waited until the last note played, then I released a shaky breath. “Whoa.”

  Blythe shook her head. “Sophie can’t be in that. This is magic.”

  “Of course it’s magic—they’re witches.” I managed to stop myself from rolling my eyes. I was trying not to do that so much around Blythe with her habit of stating the obvious. I did catch Phro’s eye roll in my peripheral vision. The goddess couldn’t care less about the little witch’s feelings.

  Castor leaned over my shoulder and used the mouse to restart the video. He turned the speakers down. “Look at their faces.”

  I squinted at the small video. All I saw was a blur of women in blue dresses. “What faces? This is obviously a poorly recorded phone video from a concert.”

  “And Staglina linked to it?”

  I shrugged. “Sure. Why not? That song alone would pull a lot of people to their concerts.”

  “Nothing around them is blurred—just their faces.”

  The stage, the trees behind it, everything else showed up sharp and crystal clear. “Creepy.”

  “Suspicious,” Blythe replied. “Wonder what Staglina means?” She clicked back to the home page. “And why wouldn’t they have a concert listing? I was told Sophie called them from Alabama. Some small town near Birmingham.”

  “I think Staglina is Norse.” I searched the memories of my stint with an obsessive Norse mythology fascination. I’d bee
n trying to find a troll and got completely caught up in the old stories. I wouldn’t be telling Aphrodite this, but I never got quite as fascinated with the Greek myths. “I’m sure Nikolos has some books on Norse myth in his library, but I think I remember it having something to do with a chain and anchor.”

  Blythe clicked on another page. Empty again. “I don’t get it. What kind of band has no useful information on their site? How are fans supposed to find them?”

  “See if you can find a mention of their concert.” I took a bite of the ham sandwich, enjoyed the extra kick of sharp cheddar. “Maybe someone who went to the last concert blogged or something.”

  An hour later, all we had was the location of the last show in Alabama and that came from a small news piece on cops being called out to break up a concert they couldn’t find.

  Blythe sighed and stretched her neck back and forth. “I’ll stay on this and read comments on the video page. There were hundreds.” She picked up a potato chip and crunched it.

  “Have fun with that. Comment sections on any website never fail to sap at my belief in the general goodness of human beings.” Grimacing, I reached for the mini-coffin I’d built. “I’m too tired to deal with that little creature in the bathroom tonight. Have Elsa or Castor… Wait.” I turned to Dooby, who’d gone back to the book. “You have power over the dead, right, Dooby?”

  He looked up. “Yeah, but vampires aren’t technically all-the-way dead.”

  “Do you think you could figure out how to feed him so he doesn’t starve before we can get to the spell?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Give me the little coffin.”

  I didn’t trust that ornery expression but I walked over and gave the box to him, then walked to the door. “Hey Blythe, don’t stay up too late. We have a long trip tomorrow.”

  “In the car?” Blythe avoided my gaze.

  Suspicion gave me sudden goose bumps. “I think taking a vampire sprite on an airplane would be a bad idea, don’t you? Why?”

  “Nothing. I just don’t like long car rides. But before you go to bed, I want to try something.”

  I waited for her to go on. Tapped my foot when she didn’t.

  “I think I know how you can see Nikolos again. I have some yerba santa. If we pour boiling water over it and pour it over your ankhs, I think he might come to you in your dreams.”