“That’s a big spread. One is willful annihilation, and the other is a rebuke. Can you ask them?”
“I can try.” I tapped my skin. “Did you say love or sorrow?”
The book remained blank. I picked up the pen and wrote the second message each way, then drew a line to separate them. The page did not respond, and the swirls faded to nothing.
“I guess I’m not supposed to know, Chelsea, since I was the medium, not the intended recipient. At some point, we’ll find out.”
“Or die,” she groused. “What an inefficient way to communicate. You flailed so much I couldn’t see.”
“Well, yeah. Pain will do that. Don’t worry, you did the best you could.” I palmed the book away. “I’m ready for a fat drink. Besides, in the beginning, who needed books, pens, or a language? Who were the Vapors going to talk to… about anything?”
“They said what?”
“The message was obvious, Mother.”
“And the god’s signature?”
“If one was there, they refused to divulge it. The Keeper had been with humans the entire day. I could smell it on her, and divining the High Priestess is beyond my abilities. Forgive me, Mother, I cannot read her.”
Gaia’s eyes gleamed. “This is mine to resolve. Even without the Oracles’ help, I see the path. Do not worry, my son. The reset unfolds within the timing.”
Chapter 15
With Chelsea’s help, I’d taken a night shift off from The Boogey for a late dinner with Ballard. A sky blue sundress covered eye-popping lingerie, and for once my hair behaved. He was due in ten minutes, and the tap on the balcony door was as unwelcome as drunk spring breakers in The Boogie’s bathrooms.
Poseidon. Perfect.
I stepped out, leaving the doors open so I could hear the doorbell, and cocked my head.
“Patra, you are beautiful.” The sea breeze lifted the god’s long blond mane, a majestic visage in a ratty speedo.
What?
“Are you softening me up for a favor?”
“Hades covered that. Do you have a plan?”
“I haven’t decided I’m doing it,” I replied. “Do you believe the Vapors are going to like this one bit?”
“There’s more in play than you understand, but don’t underestimate their ability to navigate the long game, Patra. The Vapors aren’t invested in pettiness.”
“Well, no, I suppose not.”
“Besides,” Poseidon’s long finger lifted my chin as my pelvis liquified. He cocked his head, then tapped me on the forehead, sending a bzzzt through my brain, “despite your determination to the contrary, mulling a god’s request is a no-no. Figure it out. Wheels are in motion.”
The bell buzzed as he shimmered, fading to nothing, and I raced to press the button to let Ballard through to the elevators, disquiet turning in my gut.
After an eternity, his familiar tap sounded. Feeling out of body, I answered, staring into a green-eyed homecoming.
“Hi.”
“You are stunning.”
With curving lips, I stepped backward. “Welcome.”
The door closed with a soft click, and a warm hand grasped my jaw. Ballard’s kiss rocketed through my limbs, blasting through the floor and electrifying, I was certain, my neighbors in the three floors below my curled toes. He released me, first with his lips, then a fingertip at a time from my jawbone. I blinked, stupid with happiness, and his eyes twinkled.
“We have reservations,” a statement that held the faintest of questions.
“I’ll get my bag.” Praying I didn’t stumble over my lust, I made it into the kitchen and picked up my purse from the island.
“Nice place, it’s welcoming. I’m guessing you’re a reader?” Shrewd eyes ran along the wall of books.
“Whenever I can. Lifelong learner.”
“Not a typical bar owner.”
“No, I’d say I’m not typical at all.”
“No argument here. Shall we?”
I nodded, liking his familiar hand on my waist as we headed for the elevators.
He turned into The Cellar, passing keys to the valet, and I touched his arm. “This is one of my absolute favorite places in Daytona.”
“The menu never disappoints, and I couldn’t see us beginning anywhere else.”
Beginning. I liked the sound of that.
Seated in a quiet nook, the server opened a lovely pinot noir and we clinked, eyes connected. After a sip, I glanced over Ballard’s shoulder and froze.
Clep! What the hell?
With a lazy smile, he lifted his own glass in a private toast.
After a mental snort, I leaned toward Ballard. “How long have you been a cop?”
This felt weird, since I’m asking things I already know. Ballard’s answers filled the first and second courses, sharing stories covering his job, upbringing, and places he’d lived, and I did the same, telling him how I started and worked my way up at The Boogie, inherited enough money to purchase it just before Billy’s death, and my love of the beach and beach life. My love for the life was true, but I didn’t buy The Boogie. It shifted to me, though magic, when he died, the normal transition of Keepers and the record. At some point, the next Keeper would show up, I’d train them, and then, as Keepers do, die young. It’s a big life, but not one noted for longevity. The Boogey would shift, but my condo, mountain retreat, and various investments were mine to bequeath. For a bartender, I sat on a hella fat pile of jack.
The food arrived and was incredible. Gorgeous chops scented with garlic and rosemary, exquisite, savory vegetables, and a new wine. By the time a perfect, fragrant slice of key lime pie and two forks appeared, his fingers lay entwined with mine and my skin tingled with his fire.
How can I not blaze with this man? At what point do I admit I can’t risk losing him, again?
Clep’s face swam into focus. He held up one elegant finger and the entire restaurant froze. Only he and I moved inside this place in time.
“That is your question, Keeper. You may not survive this, but if you do, he,” Clep jerked his head toward Ballard, “presents a perfect way to weaken or destroy you. Poseidon sees yours as a connected human soul, and I concur. What you must decide is the value of each life at stake.”
“Asclepius, he’s remembering. I felt memories dropping into place. Is there a point when he’ll remember everything?”
Clep leaned into his seat and sipped his wine. “Perhaps. If the connection is original.”
“Original?”
“A few special human souls repeat, Patra. If they do, and rediscover their original soul mate, they’ll remember this love when in the next, have glimpses of the lives before, and sometimes the memories restore to the first loving. There are few originals left, I’ve seen a mere handful in my entire omnipotence. But if you and Ballard share an initiating love, you hold a power as old as the primordials, for original love flourished from Eros. That alone makes you a worthy opponent in the task you seek to complete.”
I seek to complete? Hardly.
Clep grinned. “Hades might have oversold your enthusiasm. But Keeper is your role; if you attach original love to your undertaking of suppressing Gaia, it may pave the way to success.” He leaned forward, serious. “Note that I did not say survival.”
Crap.
The clatter of dining ensued once more, and my eyes sought Ballard’s. Between forkfuls of pie bliss, I decided.
Screw the outcomes, I’m loving him. If Gaia kills us, we are meant. If we succeed, we are. In whatever manner the battle happens, our hearts remain entwined.
To Ballard’s raised eyebrow, I smiled. “How do you feel about sunrises on the beach?”
He signaled for the check, a long finger tracing the top of mine. “I prefer them naked.”
“Me too.”
The elevator slid to the ninth floor as Ballard’s hands ran in slow aching counterpoint along my spine, eyes never leaving mine. The key clicked in the clock, and I turned to face him, knowing he’d close the
space between us. I was not wrong.
“Wine?”
“You.”
His palms circled my neck, then dropped and unzipped my dress, releasing it to puddle around our shoes. Strong fingers ran over each rib, then grasped my biceps, pushing me onto my heels, absorbing the lingerie. He pulled me back to flat footed, eyes gleaming.
“Spin.”
I backed toward the living room, then spun away from him, walking towards the balcony. A hand gripped my ass, pulled me halfway around, then Ballard lifted me up, a palm cupping each cheek, to straddle his waist. Perched, I kissed him, soft, then with more intention. One hand slid up my back, burrowing in my hair, and he took the kiss over, demand peppered with gentleness, a sinewy dance of yin and yang, male and female, forever and immediate. Our dance. The kiss of all our times.
Ballard dropped me onto the balcony chaise, lowered the chair back to the horizontal position, and stripped. Rock hard, he kicked the clothes away and crawled across my body, biting nipples through lace, hands full of ass, and curious fingers exploring every nerve, brushing clitoris, tapping my wetness, and circling my anus. I shuddered, and he growled, yanking off the thong while pushing my legs up in the air. Splayed in conquest, I watched him stare in lusty discovery.
“Damn, Patra. Your body is perfection.”
I ran hands over his pecs, then along his sides and swatted his ass, hard. He repaid the favor by stripping off my bra and devouring my nipples; a low chuckle punctuated my gasps. I quaked as he moved lower, kissing my ribs and abdomen before landing on my clit.
“Oh god, Ballard!”
In a moaning symphony, he rocked me, hitting me just right to send me off the edge… three, four, five times. A magical mouth, demanding fingers, and a grip on my hips that kept me in his moment, open to his exploration and taking. After the fifth time, I pulled my noodle legs to the side, mind gone, hips quaking. Ballard rolled me onto my back.
“Put me inside of you.”
This was not a request. With a stroking motion, I placed him into my wetness, letting his strength and raw need rise. He rammed, possessed, and I yielded, wanting every bit. Fingertips pressing along his spine, I gripped his ass, then started spanking in time with his thrusts. A moan told me he was close, and I clung, swollen in pleasured pain, as he shuddered, mouth on mine, my lower lip caught in his teeth, swamped in his release.
In the predawn, we woke on the chaise and sipped coffee naked, according to plan.
Chapter 16
Ballard returned to cop world after an inspired session in the shower, and I grabbed another two hours of sleep. Bikes rumbled along the pier, packing The Boogie with the breakfast and first round seekers. With my crazy schedule, working the morning shift was impossible. Ralph, my head cook, managed the back of the house, and Gloria handled the front. Over the years, we developed a system that worked. Without my crew, trying to maintain both sides of the line was a recipe for implosion. Although I asked a lot, it’s why I paid them well, and I’m not an ass. I needed them, and they delivered every damn time.
In the afternoons, I slipped back and forth to cater to The Boogey’s patrons; their party didn’t start swinging until ten and always finished before sunrise. Sleepwise, I got five hours a night, well, morning, and I was grateful to get it.
But it’s ten o’clock, and I had shit to do. Coffee in hand, I palmed the journal from its hiding place, sipping while I studied the Vapors’ language. On a blank sheet of paper I wrote out practice messages, without connecting the symbols, then checked my efforts against the originals. Still a sub-par effort. With a sigh, I stuffed the record away and pulled my phone. Lester had my shrimp. Excellent. I texted Ralph and headed for the shower. Forty minutes later, my feet hit the pier.
Round two.
Ian was my morning bar guy, and he’s slamming out Bloody Mary’s like a champ. I checked the till, impressed. The place was three deep; the party in full swing, and Ian was full-on Irish with bawdy jokes, ramping up the vibe. There’s four old drunk chicks dancing and having a blast, and through the magic wall I saw Chelsea, Glenna, and a pair of bears grinning.
I slipped in next to Ian, eyeing the inventory, before heading to the kitchen. Parker, Gloria’s nephew, was on top of it, grabbing two clean trays of glasses for Ian with a cheery grin and sidestepping me before toting them behind the bar and setting up the glassware. Ian shot me a thumbs up before turning to pour tequila chasers.
Awesome. Chelsea did me a solid by floating a bale of pot past my last dishwasher.
I palmed through to The Boogey, and Chelsea straightened, slapping the bartop.
“Spill! I want the sexy details.”
The bears perked up, and Glenna winked.
“All I plan to say is we didn’t miss a beat.”
“Ah,” Glenna’s head poked around Chelsea’s arm. “That’s interesting.”
“Clep thought so too,” I said. “He showed up at The Cellar and we had a chat.”
“Intersections, Keeper. You keep having them.”
“Might boost my survival odds long enough to teach another Keeper.”
“Maybe. Although I enjoyed training Billy. That man was smokin’.”
“Good gods, Glenna.” I laughed and turned to head toward the office. Witches live for hundreds of years, and they age at a slower pace. I had every confidence they rocked a fine time.
Before I reached the magic door, it swung open.
“Um, Patra?” Parker stared around The Boogey, transfixed, then let his widening eyes settle on the bears. One offered a toothy grin and released a putrid fart, while the other waved a couple of coquettish claws.
Oh, shit.
“Parker, did you touch my office wall?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Is it a secret passageway? What is this place?”
“Return to the office, Parker. Now. Wait until I return. Do not move and don’t speak to anyone.”
He nodded and backed up, eyes wide.
What is he, seventeen? How much time do I have? Crap, it’s Bike Week, I’m supposed to take on a primordial, and in the infinite wisdom of the universe I get to train a new Keeper? Dammit. Why didn’t I wait one more day to be with Ballard? If I knew the next Keeper was here, I’d have left him alone and safe.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” I turned and shrugged in irritation at the witches.
Glenna’s eyes followed me as I stepped through the door, letting it snick behind me.
“The pressure toward change builds,” Glenna said.
“Holy Hades. Why now? We need her to lead the Triune, Mama.”
“I know, Chelsea. But according to magical law, we must not interfere.”
“Did you see that kid? He’s a baby! He can’t do what needs to be done. Don’t you quote the law to me! Remember, it was law that the Vapors were to be destroyed on sight, and we know how that turned out. Besides, Patra is my deepest friend, bound by a vow I honor. Interfering has moments, too.”
Glenna blew out a sigh. “We dwell in a time of transition. Old to new, closed to open. Let’s watch what unfolds.”
She waved a vague hand, and the expressions on the bear’s faces drooped.
“The fewer witnesses, the better.”
I settled behind my desk, gestured to the folding chair, and assessed the kid. Strong, young, but intelligent. Spooked, but I felt it. Vapors. They picked him.
A hedge of bets? Do they think I’m outmatched? Well, it is Gaia. I’d hedge them too.
“Show me where you touched the wall.”
He rose and pointed, holding his fingers a couple inches from the surface.
“Fair enough.” I waved at the teak chair, and he plopped, stunned and a little skeptical.
“Parker, there’s no way to sugarcoat the truth. This pier lies on the intersection of magical and normal worlds. I man the gate. My title is Keeper, and I interface with humans, magicals, and immortals.”
His eyes bugged. I reached out with my index finger and pushed up his gaping jaw.
“Oh, they’re as real as either of us. As Keeper, I’m tasked with uniting the three groups into a Triune, living in full knowledge of one another within a single world. It’s an insane job.”
“I’ve heard some major bullshit, but you just leveled up.”
“Fraid not. What did you just see? Hmm?”
Parker pinched the bridge of his nose, and his bravado slipped a hair. “A red haired woman, and an older one, and a pair of, um, bears.”
“The red-haired witch is about a hundred years old, and her companion about two hundred.”
“No fucking way.”
“Every way, Parker, and those were bear shifters. Believe your eyes, kid.”
“Nah, I’m calling it the after effects of some laced weed and taking a pass.”
“Parker! Listen to me. The sole reason that the hidden door opened is because they chose you to be a Keeper. I’ll train you to be ready. When I die, you take over, as it’s been for thousands of years.”
“When?” he snorted. “You’re not that old.”
Jeez, kiddo. I’m sorry, but yeah.
“When. Keepers live an exciting life, but it’s dangerous. Most die young. In exchange, a Keeper receives tons of material wealth, insane access to knowledge, and is privy to the mechanisms in all the worlds. In our time, we’re changing how the world works. But you don’t get a choice. It sucks, Kid, but in this game, you’re chosen. You can’t change your fate.”
To his credit, he held my gaze. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. “Who choses?”
“We’ll cover that in time. You’ve got a lot to learn.”
“Damn, this is crazy. OK, assuming I buy into this, and I’m not feeling it, what’s next?”
“To start, you work here. At first you’ll stay in the kitchen, but I’ll move you to train at the bar in the next few months.”
“Nope. I’m nineteen.”
Nineteen, that’s way better than I thought.
Salt Shaken Page 9
