Salt Shaken

by Winnie Winkle

“Start wearing a waist sack like a magical,” she shrugged. “I can’t be your potion cabinet.” Answering her wiggling finger tips, a vial shot from my bathroom and smacked against her outstretched palm. “Here, drink that and stop barfing. I’ll see you later.”

  Another snap, and I lay whirling on the balcony, alone.

  Swig swallowed, I ended the nausea and staggered to the bathroom, tipped three drops of the antidote onto my head and regarded the transformation to sandy blond waves, falling to the middle of my back.

  Better.

  The serum and antidote vials in hand, I grabbed my sharpie, labeled them, and tucked them in the hidden drawer. A nudge poked my mind, so I pulled the journal and my pen, then plunked onto the couch. Before writing the entry, I had questions.

  The Record, filled with the writings of earlier Keepers, was a symbiont of sorts. I could talk to it, and entries rose onto the blank pages to answer queries. Mind parsing, I formed the first one.

  What is Gaia’s relationship to the mer people?

  Script erupted across the page. Based on the handwriting, a Keeper in the 1900s made the entry.

  Gaia is ancient, mother of Zeus, but her power lies far beyond the timeline of now. Her domain is the entire Earth, and she has no peer on Olympus. She is mother over all creatures, whether land or sea, and the entirety answers her call.

  Call? Literal, or a cell bond, or? I chewed the tip of the pen and let my thoughts roam. What purpose does it serve Gaia to have a connection with the entire creation?

  Is that interconnectedness a weapon?

  Script filled the page below my question.

  Gaia can reset Earth in order to preserve it. This occurred once in the past. In the great reset, a new order presented; she lay the old one to rest.

  Reset? Shit, is this a reference to the dinosaurs? Titans? Cronus? Time to study.

  After dipping and blotting the pen, I wrote an entry.

  The murder, by the mer, of humans on two vessels makes little sense. The Triune isn’t impacting the mer. Their existence is unknown to humans. I believe something or someone pushes them. The impetus appears to be human’s disregard for the planet, and that is the direction I’m following to craft a solution that works for all parties.

  I blew on the page until it dried and watched the writing fade as it returned to the book in my office. After laying my palm on the journal’s drawer to close it, I wandered along my bookcases, pulling two volumes, the first on current Greek mythology and another on primordial deities.

  Settled into the balcony’s comfy chaise, I cracked the primordial one and read, taking notes.

  Why Gaia, why now?

  Okay, so Chaos came first, because why not, and he hung around somewhere embodying the great void, mass, and darkness. A real partier. He formed (these details were always fuzzy) the universe and Gaia. She went to town, creating the stars and the Earth​. With Chaos, she birthed the god of the sky, Uranus, then built Earth’s topography. So, mountains, seas, and everything in between, that’s her. Got it.

  Of course, families being what they are, this headed to hell, and fast. A lot of stuffing and swallowing of offspring ensued, both by Uranus and later, Gaia’s son Cronus. While intending to upset the power applecart, the upshot was the fall of Cronus, the Titans, and the eventual tossing over of Uranus, henceforth the star of nine-year-old humor for several millennia.

  That’s badass when you think about it. Don’t mess with the mother.

  Typical power-hungry misbehaving. I suppose Zeus came by his jerk attitude honorably. Zeus’s Cronus smack down ended the age of the Titans. Welcome to current history.

  I skimmed the next bit, sat up straight, and screamed. Gaia was the source of the Vapors. Their creation produced divine inspiration, and Gaia became the mother of oracles.

  Ho-lee shit. She’s everything, Vapor, magical, mythical, and humanity’s mother.

  We should be allies. So why wasn’t she helping me? What was I missing?

  Chapter 6

  Guru, I knew, was the demigod child of Gaia and a human. Lineage aside, I needed to talk to him, so I stood on the pier, patient, watching the beach and sea. After fifteen minutes, Guru’s outline grew along the periphery, riding his fat tire bike at the surf’s edge, hands in prayer position.

  Good.

  As he rode past their groups, beachgoers looked up as if awakened. Several picked up trash, others ran, shouting with joy, into the waves. His effect appeared to radiate what they already possessed, but observing it gave me an idea. Could magicals foster, without control, the attitude changes needed to engage humans in the Triune? Another session with the book might shed light.

  Guru’s brilliant lime eyes rose to meet mine, but he did not stop, gliding under the pier and rolling out the other side. Fine. I wanted this conversation, so I’d initiate. Which, to be honest, didn’t irritate in the slightest. Reticence has never been my long suit, so chasing Guru to get my questions answered was a groove.

  Chelsea slid up against the railing.

  “Guru is not making himself available.”

  She snorted. “I imagine not.”

  That earned a side-eye.

  “Well, I’m undeterred. Are you,” I pulled my anti-vertigo potion from my pocket, “willing to assist?”

  Chelsea barked a laugh. “Could be fun. Do you even have a plan?”

  “Pish, I’m an excellent winger.”

  “No argument here. How you survive is a continual source of surprise. I’ve lost several bets.”

  Fingers closed around my wrist, I swigged, and she snapped. We landed 10 yards ahead of Guru, and he shot me a look of displeasure. The bike eased to a stop, broad feet planting into the sand, grounding with the beach.

  “Keeper, if I wanted to talk with you, the opportunity presented.”

  “These awkward two-way streets of Triune equality, Guru, amirite?”

  His eyes flashed an angry green, but I dug for courage.

  Stay the course, Patra. He’s no Zeus.

  “Guru, when you ride the line of the surf, you impact the humans. Is that reaction based on what lies within them, or is it a manipulation?”

  I had his attention. “That’s a credible question, Keeper. The response is the humans. Inside the interaction, my choice is if I wish to call it forth.”

  “Is it scalable?”

  Another irritated verdant flash.

  “No, please, I’m not being disrespectful. What I’m curious about is whether your aura can move large numbers of humans who are in a crowd.”

  Guru looked puzzled. “Don’t know, never tried. For me, it’s the flow.”

  “The Mayor of Daytona is ordering a massive reduction of plastic, plus a beach cleanup in a few days. Within enormous groups, could you engage them, calling the good out to move the effort in the right direction?”

  He rocked back on his bike seat and closed his eyes. Above, pelicans circled to the left in vast sweeps of wing, spiraling around his position. Guru’s lids snapped open, irises gleaming.

  “Perhaps.”

  “I desire to communicate with Gaia. Would she entertain that?”

  “Unknown. Remember, I do not answer for the Mother.”

  “When you see her, could you please petition for me?”

  A curt nod and his wide foot smashed on the pedal. Guru rolled past, hands templed above his heart space, humans moving in an earth dance before him.

  A thank you drink landed in front of Chelsea and I turned toward heavy steps coming from the door. Poseidon squelched across the rough wooden floorboards and sat his wet, speedo-clad butt on his favorite stool. His face was all straight lines.

  “The usual?”

  An absentminded nod, and he twisted, peering out the wide, square windows to the sea. Eyebrow raised, Chelsea picked up her glass and moved to the adjoining seat, before leaning her head toward his massive visage.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Poseidon grunted and downed his drink in one ungodly gulp.
/>
  “Keeper, another.”

  I was already pouring. Poseidon and I have history, and being morose is not his gig. Today, he’s depression dialed to twelve. Gods don’t feel depressed. It’s not their thing. Smiting now, they get significant pleasure out of that trick. Zeus 101.

  The second drink disappeared.

  Crap, he’ll be shitfaced and ready to bang any available woman by sundown, that’s less than an hour away. Except for Chelsea, I’m the only one here.

  I needed patrons to amuse and slow his roll. I caught Chelsea’s eye and mouthed, ‘fae’. She winked, a sly grin tipping the corners of her mouth.

  Mega drunk gods are problematic. They have zero boundaries and hella mojo. They end up in all the pants, and it’s not good for business. Shifters or mer on a date night do not want the objects of their affection boinking Big Red in the bathroom stalls. When he does that, er, them, it means those males won’t return, and I’m not here to run a dried out pub with three career drunks. So, part of the job is managing whatever gods darken my door so we can party in a semblance of harmony. It works most of the time.

  Chelsea patted Poseidon’s arm and snapped. Here’s hoping she could persuade the fae to come out and party. I needed a jovial atmosphere, and they were the best.

  Thick fingers drummed the bar, and I pushed drink number three his way.

  “You’re concerned. Could I be a sounding board?”

  Blue eyes met mine and his head tipped, puzzled.

  “I’ve engaged with the mer. They vow to shift allegiance for no discernable reason.”

  Huh. I bet the shift is toward Gaia. Okay, Patra, think.

  “Maybe the violence appeals to them?”

  Another grunt. “They aren’t under attack.”

  “No, but wielding the offense has its perks.”

  “Doesn’t matter; they live in my sea.”

  Deep breath. I’m stepping off terra firma.

  “Gaia made the seas. I imagine she thinks she has precedence.”

  “Gaia is,” he caught himself. “Nevermind, Keeper.”

  “I’ve requested contact. If you can help me get a read on her, Poseidon, I’d be grateful.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because she should be my natural ally, and she isn’t. I need to understand her reasons.”

  He leaned back and stared, then shook his hair off his shoulders. The millions of statues of him never caught the power. Huge, chiseled face, flowing mane, amazing body, piercing blue eyes… and possessing a god mojo that shredded bikinis on contact. I was impervious, for the most part, but staying unmoved and unbedded was uphill work.

  “Cleopatra, you continue to surprise me. Beauty and intellect.”

  This was an actual compliment. Rare. Appreciated. And, I hoped, earned.

  “Gaia decided she is on the path to a reset. Her faith in your Triune manifesting lasting results over time is low.” His eyes narrowed. “Close to zero. You have a minimal chance to change her mind.”

  “Then I better get moving.”

  The door swung open and Chelsea strode in, followed by six fairies, three musky bear shifters, and two wizards I didn’t know.

  “Welcome to The Boogey. What’s your pleasure?”

  I mixed Whisps for the fairies, tapped ales for the bears, and poured two perfect WellWinds for the wizards, receiving a nod of approval from one.

  “Waldo mentioned you’d mastered this drink.” He pushed dollars over the bar, I lifted an eyebrow, and he shoved over a few more.

  “Thanks. Enjoy.”

  Poseidon raised a finger for number four. One fairy bounced on his lap and another danced on the bar before him. They’d be flitting from my hanging lamps in no time. Fairies emitted pure joy. They lit a room with happiness, fed off of their own vibe, grew and glowed in an incredible circling whip of bliss. Even if nothing came of the evening, the fae changed the vibration. Poseidon’s pensiveness drained away, his laugh booming, flirtatious jocularity restored.

  As I lifted the drink to deliver it, my foot sunk into soft, mossy ground. The glass slid from vanishing fingers, crashing onto the wooden decking of The Boogey.

  My eyes raised to meet a pair of frank brown ones as the twilight sounds of the woods howled and chittered. Stagnant water and jasmine scents filled my lungs.

  I’m in the forest at dusk. With wolves. Perfect.

  “Hello, Keeper.”

  “Hello.”

  Her dimple flashed. “You wanted to speak with me. As a rule, I don’t entertain audiences.”

  I blinked. This was Gaia?

  “Whoa, I remember you.... We met in the mountains when Asclepius fixed my leg.”

  “Very good. Yes, I know you, and I’m watching. Not impressed, but observant.”

  A mist roiled up from the ground and swirled around me. Vapors! Are they here to help?

  “I want to fix your earth, Mother, and I entreat you to help me.” I looked at the protective Vapor mist. “Perhaps, we entreat you.”

  Gaia cocked her head, ebony curls dancing, as the mist whirled in intricate patterns.

  Holy crap, that’s a language. How did I not know this? Could I learn it?

  Another flash of dimple.

  Damn, she’s reading my mind.

  “Very well, Keeper. I won’t thwart your attempt, but you have limited time to prove yourself capable of enacting change. I will protect my creation. However, my oracle mist asks that your efforts be unfettered. An unusual request.”

  Behind the swirls, I stared at her. What did that mean?

  “Oh, I will not change your humanity, but I’ve decided to allow you to tap the Vapor that dwells within your body. To discover how is your problem.”

  My feet, standing in the puddle of Poseidon’s dropped drink and the shards of glassware, registered the wet sensation sloshing through my flip-flops at the same time his finger tapped the bar.

  “Keeper, another.”

  Chapter 7

  The silence of an empty building, my sunrise reward, filled the office. Last night ended with a decent till, business wise, plus the bonus of Poseidon’s malaise managed. I should head home, sleep, and refuel, but I knew I needed time with the book.

  A faint tap paused my palm before I touched the cupboard door. Huh. I rose and headed for the human door.

  Ballard.

  Yikes, I look like crap.

  “Detective, I’m not open until nine.”

  “I know, but hoped you might be here. Sargent Johnson can’t be the liaison for the appreciation event, and I offered to cover. I’d appreciate it if you’d bring me up to speed.”

  Oh hell, yes. Whatever force of the Universe did this, thank you.

  “Please come in, Detective.” I led the way to my office, adding a modicum of ass swing, and gestured to the wooden folding chair behind the door. “I’m not fancy.”

  Green eyes twinkled. “Fancy is not why cops choose their profession, Patra.”

  After unlocking the desk drawer, I pulled a file folder and plopped into my seat, metal hinges squeaking in salted air protest.

  “How familiar are you with our appreciation event?”

  “Can you run the timeline for me?”

  “Sure,” I glanced sideways at him and gave my best smile. The corners of his mouth, the ones I loved to kiss, tipped upward. Warmth crept up my neck.

  Ack. Focus, Patra.

  “The event is next Wednesday. I’m making the fish order on Tuesday morning, so I need attendance numbers by Monday night. Johnson had sign-up sheets out for each shift. A rough total is plenty. If more show it’s fine, so don’t turn anyone away.”

  “Got it.” Ballard’s eyes had not left my face, and I returned the gaze.

  “The event itself runs from 4 to 8 pm, straddling two of your shifts, so coming pre or post shift is OK. We’ll have a buffet set up, and the bar is open for your attendees. The north side of the restaurant seating will be for your group.”

  “That’s very generous.”

/>   “We take care of each other, Detective.”

  The silence stretched as I dove into his green pools, covered in lost bliss. Ballard eased back, comfortable in the moment.

  “Patra, are you seeing anyone?”

  My throat clicked. I tried again. “No, I’m not.”

  “That’s surprising.”

  “Well, I stay busy with this place. Besides, I seek chemistry and connection.”

  The snap between us zinged, filling the office as my toes tingled.

  Ballard leaned forward, rising and pulling me to my feet, closing the space between our bodies as his lips brushed mine in a kiss so soft, if I hadn’t been combusting, I’d have mistaken it for a caress of wind.

  “Join me for dinner?”

  “Alright,” I managed.

  “Here’s my private cell number,” he slipped a card between the neckline of my tee shirt and my skin. “Call me when you’re ready.”

  Ready? Lord. Let me sweep off this desk and jump you… right.this.second.

  He eased back, filling the warmth between us with air, tipped my face up to his and dropped another whisper kiss on my lips.

  “Soon.”

  “Soon.”

  I headed toward the front door, smiling as I locked it behind him, and watched his fine ass walk the entire length of the pier. I was wet and happy, blood singing the opera. Poseidon’s warning aside, Ballard felt me, felt our connection. For now, that was enough.

  You might think I’d be lost in wondering and not able to focus, but you’d be wrong. Knowing Ballard was circling pulled the anxiety from my heart for the first time in freaking months. The Keeper lifestyle did one thing for me, I harbored zero expectations for outcomes. With magicals, it’s impossible to predict who shows up, blowing everything out of the water, and wasting time trying to control situations was, well, stupid. I’m taking the happiness from reconnecting and using the energy for tackling my other problem, the saving humanity one.

  Ballard’s car pulled away, and I padded back to my desk, pulling the book and cracking it open. I knew what my first question was.

  Do the Vapors have a language?

  The page wavered, and an entry coalesced. This was Ezekial Kane’s writing, the first Keeper!