“I’m sorry, Witch Chelsea. I only know the entries Patra asked the record to show me. It’s my second night.”
“Fine. Let’s start with that. Get the book, please.”
Parker touched the cabinet door with his palm, and it swung open. He grabbed it and sat at the desk, opening to a blank page.
“Tell it I’m taking over your training and I need it to allow my commands.”
“Keeper Patra can’t be found and Witch Chelsea needs to continue my training. She wants to speak with you.”
Words appeared, writing in neat script.
The Keeper lives. We will allow only testing of the reading, the High Priestess may not use the record for any other purpose.
“Thank the gods!” Chelsea’s fist pumped; she squinted at the book. “Show the boy the record’s history.”
The page remained blank.
“Oh, are you serious? Fine. How obtuse. Go ahead, Parker, and ask for the history.”
“Show me the history of the record.”
Words wavered, the spidery script of Ezekial Kane’s entry surfacing.
“Begin and keep asking for more history until the book offers no new entries. I’ll return to quiz you, but after tonight’s troubles a fat drink is in order, and I imagine the magicals sitting in The Boogey want one too.”
Parker nodded, absorbed in deciphering the ancient penmanship.
“Do not touch that door. No one can know you showed up as the next Keeper. We don’t need a Gaia-committed mer dude slicing you up for chum.”
“Mer? As in mermaid?”
“Except huge and male with a crap attitude and high-level knife skills. Stay off the beach.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.”
The burning no longer seared, the acute pain muted. I gazed at my arms and legs, covered in moving patterns of Vapor symbols, their appearance driving the fire from my skin.
Protection.
“Thank you,” I breathed, grateful for the intercession.
A tingle on my arm caught my attention, and a series of whorls etched on my forearms, then connected.
You are safe.
I realized I read the runes without laboring over them, reading an innate language, one that was as natural as breathing. Weird. Also, cool. Was this what Gaia meant when she said I could unlock the Vapor within me?
The patterns adjusted.
One.
One what? I’m human, with a shred of Vapor. We are one, the only Keeper. Well, except for Parker. Is it being the job?
Another shift.
Three become one.
The Triune? Are you saying this path is the right way? My arms glowed, shapes rising, connecting and fading, and I shuddered as I read.
Whoa. You want that. From me? I’m not a god or a magical. This is insane.
The runes connected. Hope, joy, exhaustion, acceptance. We set the way. No more choice.
Okay, but I can’t do much if I’m falling forever in time and space.
The ground, when I hit it, was hard. Another unappreciated bounce, but what the hell, at least I landed somewhere. I staggered to my feet, staring at the grin. Nice teeth, but not the face I hoped to see.
“Hello, Keeper,” Hades chuckled. “Welcome to my underworld.”
Well, crap.
“Gaia said she would not kill me.”
“She agreed you’d get your shot at the Triune, yet here we are.” He waved his arms in a grandiose gesture. “Fancy, isn’t it? Bet you thought it was a bunch of demons gnashing their teeth.”
“So am I dead?”
“Oh, no. But I don’t receive many visitors, so you must forgive the semantics. It’s curious that you landed here. What outcome did you request?”
Request? My mind raced, parsing the conversation with the Vapors. The asking, well, instruction, lay on their side; so divulging it wasn’t the answer. When I fell, unprotected, what did I ask?
It hit me, and I stared at him.
“What?” His eyes gleamed, conspiratorial.
“Eros. I asked for Eros.”
A laugh boomed across a hilly landscape shadowed in greys and purples. “Oh, Keeper, I find you a source of constant entertainment.”
I brushed bits of hell off my shorts and glared. “And why is that?”
“Because you called for the one being Gaia can’t get around. Clever, Keeper.”
The shiny black feeler erupted and smacked my ass before sliding away. A taste of goth sex, I guess. With a loud exhale, I set my feet and held his gaze.
“So I want love and I end up in hell? This has all the shades of a bad paranormal romance novel.”
“Death and love are inextricably connected, Patra. You cannot receive genuine love without the balance of deep grief.”
Thoughts of Ballard nibbled at the edges of my mind.
“Ah, a lesson you know. It’s the price, Keeper. We cannot separate them.”
“So how do I locate Eros?”
“Oh, he’ll find you,” Death laughed. “He’s got a finger in everybody’s pie.”
Great. Hades, the punny god of doom, expiration dates, and bedevilment.
“I don’t care for the devil moniker. Done it to death.”
With a low chuckle over his lame-ass jokes, he gripped my wrist and my crash landing site faded, replaced by a gorgeous patio overlooking a vista colored by a just-set sun. Extraordinary. I watched, but the sun didn’t fade to black, it stayed tucked under the horizon, blazing color across the sky.
“A metaphor of sorts,” Hades kicked back in a comfortable chair and propped long legs up on the matching ottoman.
Ottomans… in hell. I’ve seen everything.
“Hardly,” he snorted, gesturing to the seat next to him. “But it’s unnecessary for you to get the grand tour. When you arrive the regular way, I’ll escort you myself.”
“Um, thanks?”
“Most is just for show. I don’t spend my time torturing bereft souls. The majority are dedicated experts at self-misery, so I plop them into a scene and they take it from there. A few earn my personal attention, but you have to be a shithead to rate a Hades led intervention. Besides, we’re getting crowded.”
“What happens to the underworld if Gaia gets her reset?”
An impeccable black eyebrow lifted. “If being succinct, it’ll fuck me up, Keeper. I enjoy my gig. If she launches billions of souls at me, I’ll be in the weeds for a couple millennium. That’s part of her plan. Tie me up, upend Poseidon by creating chaos within the order of the sea, and then it’s just Gaia and Zeus. She wants those kids, who are loyal to her, out of Tartarus. And he can do it because he put them there. Without his brothers, he’s not strong enough to win. Once he releases them, she’ll be unstoppable.” Hades shrugged. “I doubt Zeus survives it, at least, in his current form.”
The pissy ego one?
“Careful, Keeper, you are still a human, even if you have powerful friends.”
Chapter 19
Parker gazed around the office, then at the record.
There’s no more history, and Chelsea didn’t return. Based on what I’ve read, I’m in no hurry to piss off a witch. But this book belongs to Keepers, and I want to continue to learn. Still can’t believe this on some levels, because it’s cray, but damn if I don’t feel it, feel the fucking words in my bones, somehow. If I’m losing it, count me in.
“But I’m not nuts, just different. The power, shit, it’s a rush. I feel my brain changing, adding compartments for all of this, and it’s wild, but it’s fitting together. Okay, record, tell me something I should know, but don’t.”
The page shifted and entries populated faster than he could absorb. The various handwritings rose and fell, many ancient, a few in heavy block printing, some in tidy penmanship, others in frantic scribbles, as if the writer’s time was short.
Crap.
“Slower, give me a chance to read the information!”
The page went blank, and a single entry, a recipe, rose
to the surface: ‘Death’s Door Cocktail’.
Of all the entries within, I need to master a fucking drink? Shit, Parks, you’re in trouble.
He bent, reading, and shivered.
If I make this drink, it could kill me every step of the way. Why this cocktail? Why me? Is the book saying I’m a reject and offing me to get another trainee? Screw that, I intend to own the job and build the Triune. I’m the one they picked, and I will be a Keeper.
An hour before sunrise, Chelsea palmed through to the office.
“Sorry, Kid, but The Boogey filled with last-minute revelers. Let’s review.”
Chelsea asked tough questions, but Parker nailed every one. He waited for the recipe to rise onto the page and the resultant scolding for getting off topic, but it stayed hidden.
Whoa. So, that was just for me.
“Okay, Kid, decent effort. Tomorrow we’ll tackle magical relationships. That’s a book unto itself, but mastering how magic people interact will save you a ton of time. By the way, I’ll always question you on everything you’ve read, current and past, so unlike high school,” she paused, glaring, “you did at least graduate, right?”
Parker nodded.
“Well, there’s that. Good. Unlike school, where you study a block of facts or history for a test and then forget most of it, I expect you to build your knowledge out, seeing connections in the information. Don’t get lazy. Keepers have to be perfect, and this job will still kill you.”
“Understood.”
He palmed to secure the book, and rose, stretching. “I’m not on until two, so I’ll grab five hours.”
“Yeah, sleep and you just severed a normal relationship,” Chelsea laughed, her good humor restoring while her face still reflected a mixed bag of emotion.
“I know you’re worried about Patra,” Parker offered, “but she has her shit together.”
An inadequate descriptive, but Chelsea nodded. “If we can retrieve her, we will.”
Parker swung open the door that led to the restaurant and heard a faint pop. He turned back to the empty office and grinned.
That was easy.
In two steps, he palmed the book from the cupboard and grabbed the spare key ring, dangling on the peg next to the volume. Swamped in an adrenaline rush, he exhaled, sucked in air, and set his palm on the door to The Boogey. Inside, the morning air felt cool for Florida, and the silence enveloped him. The sun cracked over the horizon, lighting a reflective line to the beach.
If anyone lurks, I can’t feel them. Get going, Parks, you don’t have time to dawdle.
He placed the book on the bar, and the recipe flowed across the page.
I didn’t even have to ask!
Taking the ornate red key, he laid his palm above the keyhole, unlocked the door, following the instructions with precision, reading and enacting each specific step. When he pulled the spoon, the writhing snake paused, as if listening to the record, then stilled.
Here we go, let’s not die today.
As he turned the fourth stopper, the eyes opened.
“All the bloods.”
That’s not what it’s supposed to say!
Heart frantic, he consulted the recipe. No answers.
I know I did this in the precise order, dammit.
The page held, patient.
Fuck! Here goes nothing.
Parker lifted the little bloodstained knife, pricked his lip, held the stopper to it, and finished the pour.
As the drink roiled and smoked, he slumped onto the floor, body quaking in seizure, eyes opening and closing, pupils widening and shrinking as he bounced in a bruising rattle against the floorboards. The cocktail cleared, and Parker’s eyes opened, a timeline of thought swamping his mind, seeing in complete knowledge.
Fingers gripping the bar’s edge, he pulled himself up, gazing first at the orbs spinning within the Death’s Door, then at the book. A sentence swelled and ebbed; with a nod, he restored the items to the case and repacked the cupboard.
To the sound of a heavy step, he clicked the red key in the lock, pocketed the ring, and closed the record, stashing it beneath the bar.
Parker stared at his guest, feet backing up against the taps in an involuntary response to the emanating power. Electric blue eyes snapped over an immense, powerful chest as he settled onto a bar stool. Electricity popping from his fingertips, he raised the skull glass, sucked in two orbs, and blasted enough mojo to clack Parker against the wall.
“A reasonable attempt, Keeper. You’ll do. In fact, I offer a proposition.”
“Are jeans a road too far, brother?” Hades eyed the speedo, shaking his head.
“As you wish. Who knew death was a prude? If you’re dead, why shouldn’t everything be a go?” Poseidon shrugged and a pair of tight board shorts covered the speedo.
“Board shorts? What happened to the super-short 70s era cutoffs? You found your way to current fashion?” I grinned. The next time we hit a restaurant, he’d be less of a spectacle. Progress.
Poseidon laid a finger on my forehead. “Still masked, yet Gaia located you. What gives?”
“Gaia sent Guru to kidnap me from The Boogey; he dropped me in a forest somewhere that wasn’t Florida. I did not know he could disappear and materialize in another place. Invisibility, yes. But I wasn’t aware any demigod possessed a transport ability, even offspring from a human/primordial union.”
“They can’t,” Hades replied, “but Guru’s board and bike might. My guess is she ratcheted up his toys.”
“Well, now I know and I’ll write it into the record if I survive. But I can’t stop him; he’s strong as, well, hell.”
Hades grinned and Poseidon shook his hair back. “Get on my ocean and we’ll talk strength, Keeper.”
Hades launched an epic slow eye roll, then leaned toward Poseidon, looking pleased with himself. “Guess why the Keeper landed here?”
Poseidon cut a side eye.
“She asked for fucking Eros!” Hades’ laugh filled the immense stone patio.
“No shit? Damn, Patra. Well played.”
“If Eros was important, why didn’t you two spill it before now?”
“Because it won’t work unless it comes from your heart. Before we mucked around, jockeying for position and leverage, the prime rule of the gods was that the internal call for love reigned forever supreme.”
An interesting summation of the whole offspring munching, regurgitating, and imprisoning debacle.
I got lucky with that thought; they both cracked up, and between the two of them, their laughter made a breeze strong enough to move my hair. Gods. Jeez.
“So how do I find him? Or her. I’m in unfamiliar territory, here.”
“Everywhere, Child. We’ve never left you.”
My head swiveled, searching for the source, but none materialized.
“Told you,” Hades grinned, as four giant gold goblets wavered into being on the coffee table. “The silver one,” he waved a hand, and a goblet changed metals, “is human wine, Keeper. Can’t have you sleeping through the fight.”
It took both hands to raise the heavy wine glass. I cradled the bowl in my palms, wishing for wrist strength, making an awkward clink with the two gods I could see and the floating glass of the one I couldn’t.
“We rarely take a form,” Eros confided. “It’s so limiting.”
Uncertain, I nodded.
“But today is an exception.”
A face, unlike anything I’d ever encountered, constructed out of the air. Half male, half female, in constant motion, features rose and faded in all skin colors, eye shapes, noses and jawlines, hair shades, lengths and textures. Each visage was simple, glowing with hope and radiating love. Eros was damn near impossible to look at, but I felt incapable of glancing away from the faces of humanity at their loving best. I shuddered, overwhelmed by our highest gift.
Eros chuckled. “Most pass out. You are special, Keeper, and you are one of my originals. I have known your heart from the moment you first app
eared. How sweet to meet you in actual time.”
Swamped in gratitude, my body continued shaking.
Eros dwells in every cell; my entire being thrums with love, each particle of me an energy, and simultaneously that energy is love.
“Very good, Keeper. You have a fine mind,” Eros sipped, a sea of ever changing smiles beaming. “So, imbued with this new knowledge, what are your intentions? “
I wish I knew.
Chapter 20
I blinked, looking at the walls of my office, the taste of wine still in my mouth.
The weirdest fucking life ever. One minute I’m slugging vino with a couple of hunks in hell, then boom, back to a bartender.
Door locked, I picked through the spare clothes I kept for odd moments - they’re plentiful - and changed, using a bottle of water for a quick and dirty sailor bath. As I brushed my hair, bits of hellscape fell from the hairbrush and glittered on the floor.
God knows if that’s lethal.
I swept it up, wrapped it in a tissue and stuffed it in my shorts. I slipped into The Boogey and stopped short. Parker lay behind the bar, sprawled across the floor, and I moved fast, hoping he wasn’t dead.
Asleep? What Olympic-level fuckery is this?
“Hey! Wake your ass up, and you’d better have one hell of a story to tell.”
“What? Oh, fuck. Patra! You’re okay! Chelsea will be so happy.”
“Parker, why are you in here? I was specific that you needed to stay away. No guarantees on your longevity if you can’t act on a simple instruction, Kid.”
“I know, but Patra, the book… oh, shit.” He scrabbled under the bar, coming up with the book, accompanied with an enormous sigh of relief.
“You BROKE the unyielding, primary rule? Are you serious? What karmic screw up did I make to deserve you as my understudy? Give me that!”
“I’m sorry, Patra, but I followed the record.”
My head swiveled. “My office. Now.”
Parker straddled the spare chair, and I eyed him, finger to lips.
Show me the entries revealed to him.
The Death’s Door recipe displayed.
“You prepared this? This was your first magical cocktail effort? Jesus.”
Salt Shaken Page 11
