Salt Shaken

by Winnie Winkle

  “Won’t be an issue, witches can fix anything; welcome to twenty-one.”

  He laughed, but also leaned back. Better.

  “While you master bar tending, you study in my office after hours, reading the record until you understand it inside and out. After every session, I’ll quiz you. Until you’re perfect, you won’t move to the magic side. How long this takes depends on you. The fact you’re here tells me my run at Keeper is waning. I have plenty of knowledge, Parker. You’ll be a better Keeper if you siphon off as much as possible.”

  “What is the record?”

  “That’s the first lesson. We start tonight after The Boogie closes. Meet me here,” I tapped my desk, “at ten.”

  He rubbed his face. “Why the hell not? Okay, you’re the boss.”

  “Tell no one, and that includes Gloria, Parker. Being Keeper is an honor, but it’s also a sacred vow to protect the line. Prepare to study and work harder than you have in your entire life.”

  Thankful for the forethought, despite the lust, to let Ballard know that Bike Week kicks my ass, I told him seeing much of me while it was underway was possible but unlikely. Still, texts popped up and I read them, greedy for him even as my heart knew pushing away was prudent.

  The timing sucked. No way around it. Unless it needed to happen? Clep’s words zoomed inside my head.

  Power? How does original love differ from regular? OK, Patra, think. Eros is love, but he’s an origin entity, primordial, so he’s on the same playing field as Gaia. Tartarus is full of Gaia’s kids, which I’m thinking is the true reason she’s after this reset, but Eros isn’t in there. What corporeal form does he assume in the world? Hmm.

  I watched Parker read the book, turning pages, often re-reading entire sections before continuing. He reminded me of myself, trying to crawl inside the writing, mind exploding, again and again, by the enormity. The longer he sat, the less defensive his posture became. Sliding into the role, and I suspected the Vapors pushed from within. Good.

  Clep said only a few pairs of original loves remain. Created at the same time or anointed throughout the millennia by Eros? Does it matter? Who might know? Poseidon? He’s one of the big three and the least likely to smite me. I guess it’s worth a shot.

  At four in the morning, I stopped Parker and picked up the book.

  “Show me what the new Keeper studied.” Entries swam to the surface, and I quizzed without mercy.

  “Who was the original Keeper?”

  “Um, Zane?”

  My eyebrow’s knit.

  “Ezekial Zane.”

  “Wrong. What is the purpose of the record?”

  “To preserve the history of the real and magical worlds.”

  “And?”

  “Conserve, for future Keepers, the account of the Triune’s inception.”

  “Better.”

  Thirty minutes later, Parker wasn’t batting 500 ball. To be fair, when Billy started with me, I wasn’t great either. It took six months for me to develop an affinity with the record, to feel the other Keepers, and begin boosting my mind into a keen catalog of connections, relationships, cocktail recipes, and oddities.

  I sure as hell hoped I had six months. If being honest, that burst of absurd optimism was a stretch. Parker was a teenager, and he’d need everything I had, especially with the burden of the Triune looming. What world leader would listen to a kid who didn’t need to shave?

  Billy hung on to protect me, and that’s the job, too.

  “You’ll reread these entries, plus a new section tomorrow. Train your mind to absorb detail, Parker. If you become a walking library of everything, it’ll keep you alive longer.”

  “Why can there only be one Keeper?

  “Ask the book.”

  A heavy block print rose, an entry from the Keeper before Billy, who only lasted a month.

  The point is to record the line of intersection between the worlds, but also to record the lineage of the chosen Keepers. In this, there is a slight overlap of Keepers, to ensure there is always at least one preserving the history.

  “The Keeper who wrote that made a stupid mistake and died one month into the task. As far as I know, that was the only time the line went unrecorded, and it was a hot mess. A new Keeper arises when the current one faces a task that will likely kill them.” I blew out a sigh. “Right now, I’m facing my demise, Parker, and you need to be ready. Understand?”

  “Wow. Yes Ma’am, um, Patra.” Shook, he stared at me for a long beat. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to find the doorway.”

  “Wouldn’t have changed a thing, Parker. It’s the job.”

  So damn young. Mental eye roll aside, he’s made a start. Time for sleep.

  Chapter 17

  It’s day three of Bike Week, Lester came through with my shrimp, and considering, I’m hitting every marker. Parker blasted through the dirty dishes; you’d have thought he was working his dream job. Charlie was a blur, and the kitchen cranked like a new Mercedes. Dining tables turned; fresh groups of bikers replaced those headed to hang out at the bar or exit to their bikes to ride off a good meal. Inside, liquor flowed, punctuated by raucous laughter, while more than a few amused bears reveled in The Boogey. Chelsea hadn’t shown, but I suggested the bears try buying bottles and self pouring, and they grew buzzed and happy. I was running hard, but the juggled plates stayed aloft.

  “Excuse me, Boss.” Parker slipped glassware in without missing a beat, and Charlie gave me a look.

  “He’s a keeper, Patra. I owe Gloria a drink or three dozen.”

  “He sure is, Charlie.”

  In more ways than one.

  The Boogie wrapped at nine, and I did the books while my crew cleaned. At ten, Parker showed up, ready to read. The change in him was palpable. It reminded me of my first days with Billy, awash with the sense of power but none of the trauma of loss. Invincible, Parker exuded readiness.

  “Here,” I passed him the book. “I asked the record to show you what to learn. I’m working the magical side for a few hours. Stay here and keep reading until I get back. Under no circumstances are you to place your palm on the wall. If The Boogie is on fire, secure the book, leave, and let it burn. Understood?”

  “Cool, it’s protected, right? Will do, Patra.”

  His eyes, glued to the page, sought the words, eager to release reality and fall into another world. With a smile, I left him to study and palmed through to The Boogey.

  “This is excellent wine,” a bear grinned and slapped the bar with a powerful thud.

  “Glad you like it. Waldo concocts our wines and ales. He’s the best I’ve found.”

  “To Waldo!” The group swigged, making happy growls that are cute once you get past the fact that they are bears and capable of swatting your head off without a second thought.

  The door creaked, and I glanced at my guest. Guru. Huh.

  “That’s two nights in a row, Guru. What’s your pleasure?”

  “The Mother wishes to speak to you, Keeper. I’m your escort.”

  “No one’s here to manage The Boogey, Guru, and as Keeper, the law requires I remain on the line until dawn. I don’t make the rules.”

  With a grunt, he took a seat. “A smoothie, if you have fruit.”

  “I do.”

  A melon, a couple limes, and a banana landed in the blender of ice, and I pulsed, then added fresh mint, poured it off, and pushed it to him.

  “It’s good.” If grudging had a face, it was Guru’s.

  What the hell is his beef with me? We used to manage just fine. Now he’s different. Testy.

  At two o’clock, the bears started stumbling, and I shot the soberest one the ‘get your shit together’ look, a bartender staple from the dawn of alcohol. He slid off his stool, assessed his buddies and blasted a roar that shook my liver. Bears aren’t known for subtlety.

  “To the forest!”

  They staggered toward the door; I slipped from behind the bar, placed hands on hips, and blocked the path.


  “Y’all need to settle your bill.”

  Brown eyes narrowed, but I held my ground. Bears could be difficult because their short-term memory was shit. A bear’s life comprised wandering from distraction to distraction; they’re the original pleasure seekers. Inconveniences, like paying bar tabs, slipped the hedonistic mind. Or so they posited. All I knew was I’m out a case of wine and they’d better find legal tender in their pockets.

  My obstinate glare registered after a two-minute staring contest, and they started rummaging. Wads of bills, a few Euros, and a single gold piece hit the bar. I pushed a few dollars back, but the soberest bear shook his head.

  “For you, Keeper. Good time, excellent wine. Bears never used to come out of the forest, but it’s fun here.”

  “Join us anytime, and bring your friends,” I replied, tucking the money away.

  The drunkest bear began a growling song of females and honey, as far as I could determine, and the singing group bounced off the walls, out the entrance, then gamboled along the pier.

  That went well. Guru is the only patron left. I’d love to close early and grab an extra hour of sleep tonight. If Gaia needs to see me, she can appear, and none will know. A reasonable compromise.

  Guru appeared uninterested in leaving, so I cleaned the bathrooms and swept the floor to kill an hour, hoping he’d take a hint, but he sat, fingers templed, impersonating a mini mountain.

  Figures. I palmed through with the till money and checked on Parker. Absorbed.

  I returned to the bar, sealing him in, when Guru’s eyes opened.

  “The mother insists, Keeper. We must depart.”

  To my shock, I landed over his shoulder, a heavy arm pinning mine to my sides, and he fireman-carried me from The Boogey without another word. A one handed leap over the pier’s rail dropped us 20 feet onto the beach.

  “Oof! Let go of me! I’m bound to stay and you know it. You’re breaking magical law.”

  Silence.

  Unable to get free, I squirmed while he threw his leg over the bike and pedaled, the beach fading and wavering into dense woods. Not a Florida forest, either. Where the hell was I?

  He braked, then tossed me to the ground like a chunk of wood. After an unappreciated bounce, I got my feet under me and whirled on him, ready to unload, but he was riding away, shading to nothing.

  “Dammit, Guru!”

  In the murk, a few fireflies glowed. I slowed my breath, calming and thinking hard. He said Gaia asked for me. Maybe she’s here. As that idea settled, the fireflies blinked in unison, then stretched into a meandering line.

  A path? OK. Might as well. My interest level in discovering what kinds of shifters live here is zero.

  Decision made, I stuck tight to my new blink-butted friends, stumbling over unseen roots while enjoying the occasional unexpected face slap from overhanging branches. Good times. The string of blinking lights stretched straight before me; it’s unfortunate that the ground didn’t. I stepped off into nothing, falling without end.

  Chelsea glared at Parker, who scrambled to get the record into the hidden compartment to protect it before stammering, “Who are you?”

  “Where is Patra?”

  “She’s in the magical bar. I’m supposed to read here until she returns.”

  “Shit. OK, Kid. Is the book secured?” She touched the cupboard which remained closed. “Good. Pull it back and continue reading until Patra or I return.”

  “Um, who are you again?”

  “I’m Chelsea, Patra’s best friend. Oh, and Kid? Do nothing risky, do you understand?”

  “And you’re a witch?”

  Chelsea snorted. “Of course. Don’t be an idiot.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Stay put and try not to be stupid.”

  Parker shot her a side eye, then grabbed the book as Chelsea stepped into the Boogie’s restaurant and cast a spell, shutting The Boogey and rendering it impenetrable, sealing the front entrance, the one to the office, and shuttering the windows. Fingers slipping into her waist sack, she pulled out a small wave-shaped charm and tapped twice.

  “What?” Poseidon, obviously in the middle of someone, wavered into view, speedoless and impressive.

  “Patra’s gone. The kid was oblivious, reading the record in her office. Good instincts, though. He saw me and secured the book in seconds.”

  Poseidon grunted. “Not unexpected. I recommend that you, well, you know what to do.”

  “I do. Give me 24 hours.”

  “We don’t have it.” He waved a hand and dense silence emerged. “You have an hour. I paused time. Be wise with every minute.”

  She snapped, and he faded; The Boogey lay in darkness, suspended.

  “Hello, Child.”

  “Mother, why am I falling?”

  “Because I determined you are an impediment. I won’t end your life, but your efforts no longer serve, so I’m containing your interference. In this place, you flow in time. What resembles eternity is but a moment. All is well.”

  Um, actually, no, it’s not.

  “But Mother, you said I could make my stand, to bring the Triune to fruition.”

  “True, and considering the size of the task, you impressed. But you are tiny and cannot see the myriad of threads left to untangle. I’m doing you a favor.”

  Gods are so freaking smug.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “No,” I continued, “you aren’t. Hiding me is for yourself. What are you afraid will happen? Equality? Loss of control? Visibility to the world? What?”

  “Impudence doesn’t suit you.”

  “Yes, it does. My best work is when I stand up to power and speak my mind. I think you miss your children, and this maneuvering and threat of a reset masks a rescue effort. Why not seek alliance with the world’s powers to create a solution to your unspoken wish?”

  “The world is my child. Every piece created by me. You are mine too, Patra. I have no superior.”

  “This time, Mother, you’re wrong.”

  A line of fire wrapped my skin, searing as I shrieked.

  “You may fall, burning, if you prefer. The difference to me is negligible. Goodbye, Child.”

  Gaia faded as I fell, inflamed, agony etching my skin and mind struggling to function. Flames whipped higher as I whirled, a forever scream of sparks and internment.

  A mother’s abiding love? Bullshit. Gaia attracts, causes, and dispenses control, there’s nothing loving in her acts. The entire dance is one of greed for power. Loving is greater than power. Love could not destroy the one it’s bound to protect, devoted. Ballard embodies love. I am a creator for and of love. A protector against every odd. The act of loving remains the greatest force in the Universe.

  Through cracked, blistered lips, the name slipped into the inferno.

  “Eros.”

  Chapter 18

  At the end of the hour, Chelsea materialized in front of the wooden ship’s door that graced the entrance to the magical bar. Poseidon shimmered into view, speedo askew and pleased with himself.

  “Prompt as always, dear. Were you successful?”

  “The covens convened and arrived at an accord. We will not support Gaia, and my coven accepted the task of training our new Keeper.” Chelsea blew out a sigh, unable to hide the grief. “I rang a bell across the world, but her signature isn’t anywhere. Is she dead?”

  “When the Vapors relayed the message to Gaia, through Guru, I believe they masked her signature. I hope that means they are hiding her. I make no promises, but I’m not sure Gaia will cross them. Since their release, the Vapors’ power magnifies, and I don’t see them slowing.”

  “Could you,” Chelsea swallowed, “would you ask Hades if her soul arrived?”

  A bushy eyebrow lifted. “A favor, High Priestess? How rare.”

  Enigmatic, he faded, and Chelsea released the spell on The Boogey. Palm against the door, she entered, slipped behind the bar, and poured a serious drink.

  “To friendship,” she whis
pered, raising the glass. “Stay alive, Patra. We’re seeking.”

  Hades leaned back on his boot heels, eyeing Poseidon. In every direction, corn stalks swayed, the scent of damp earth and recent skunks swirled around them. Neither had the advantage here; they were brothers, equal in all ways.

  “The Keeper is not with me,” Hades confirmed.

  “Her signature vanished and I can’t locate her. If you don’t have her, then we’re tipping into the unusual.”

  “Agreed, but expected. She is human, weak, and stands against an opponent of primordial force.”

  “But protected.”

  “True. If she’s hidden, Gaia is moving on the reset but is reluctant to kill the Keeper. Why?” Hades’ violet eyes blazed.

  “The Vapors messaged Gaia, yet she’s plowing ahead without them.”

  Hades stepped closer. “No shit? Gaia’s lost the ability of prophecy? Now that’s fucking interesting. Maybe I can use this.”

  “If so, you should. Another chance may not present for a few millennia.” With a nod, Poseidon vanished.

  Hades looked around the silent field, drew an intricate pattern in the air, and faded as the stalks snapped flat onto the ground, forming a crop circle.

  His chuckle drifted through the corn. “That trick never gets old.”

  “Okay, Kid. Here’s what we know. Patra is missing, so she can’t train you. I convened the covens, and we reached an accord that the witches will take on your task.”

  “My task?”

  “To teach you how to be a Keeper, idiot.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Chelsea snorted, attempting to temper grief with impatience. “Patra’s fate is unknown, but if she’s dead, you’re it, kid. Pay attention and stay alive. Until we get a decent amount of knowledge into your brain, you remain vulnerable. Considering what Patra was forging with the Triune, it might tempt some magicals.”

  “Tempt in what way?”

  “To kill you! Parker, try to keep up, at least a little.”