“There are others?”
I snorted. “What happened next?”
“I followed instructions, made the drink, but the fourth face said the wrong thing.”
“You lived, so they intended the aberration. Ever use a dipping pen, kid?”
“A what?”
“No time to learn like the present. Pick up the pen, dip it in the ink, write until you need more ink, then repeat. It’s a slower process, which helps you to marshall your thoughts.”
He nodded.
“Describe what you witnessed, facts only, in order, and without tainting the entry with whatever your opinion was about what transpired. With a hypothesis, you can share it, but they’re few and labeled as supposition. You are keeping the record. Understood?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” He dipped the pen.
“Too much ink, blot on this,” I gestured to my blotter. “Now try to compose. It’s easier to work the quill if you write in cursive. Take your time and compose the best possible entry.”
To the scritch of his pen, I walked into The Boogie. Ian shot me a look.
“I didn’t see you come in, Boss.”
“I’m a cat, Ian,” I laughed and picked up my tablet. “How’s the liquor supply?”
Welcome to Bike Week Day Four, starring Patra ‘I’m so freaking tired’ O’Keefe. How long ago since I slept? And I’m running another twenty hours. Oh well, that’s the job.
To the blatts of fifteen Harley’s creeping up my decking, I grinned at Gloria, busy shoving tables together. “Game on, team.”
At a quarter to two, I headed to my office to wake up Parker, crashed under my desk, head on my dirty clothes bag. Since I run around here like a dog who found the coke stash, Parker’s was an interesting and fragrant bedding choice.
After checking The Boogey for patrons, I snuck him through the bar and out the main ship’s door.
“Head inside and hit the dishes.”
“When do you sleep?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
“During event weeks, it’s rare, but you manage,” I patted his shoulder. “You’ll find you have a different energy level. Comes with the job.”
His grin lit up his face. “That’s tight.”
Just wait, Kid.
I ducked in The Boogey, gave it a once-over, then slid back into my office. After a therapeutic eye rub, I palmed the cupboard and read his splotchy entry.
Witch Chelsea assigned the task of reading the record’s history, but I reached the end, so I asked it to teach me what I needed to know. Entries flowed through; too fast to read beyond the first few words. When I requested to see them at a slower pace, it raised a drink recipe, ‘Death’s Door’. I didn’t understand, but felt a powerful urge to mix it. After Witch Chelsea left, I entered the empty Boogey and created the cocktail, following each instruction. When I twisted to the fourth head, it said “All the bloods.” I knew this was wrong, but felt pushed to finish. I blacked out, but when I came to, the drink was perfect, so I put everything away and hid the book because a huge guy showed up who scared me. He drank the Death’s Door, said he was Zeus, and asked me to join his side of a battle. As a reward, I’d become Keeper for life. Immortal life. I told him I wanted to consult the book and consider his proposal. His power made me sick, and I passed out again. When I woke, Keeper Patra was back, and I’m glad. I’m not ready. I have a headache, but I feel (which sounds weird, but it’s true) smarter.
As entries go, not the greatest writing, but the substance quaked my gut. Zeus. In The Boogey. Aligning with the next Keeper. I’d have to be a four-wheel-drive idiot not to understand I’m intended as collateral damage. Fuck. Our last meeting went way too easy.
“‘All the bloods’.” Hmm. “Show me what that phrase means.”
Ever helpful, the book remained blank.
Think, Patra. Bloods. Okay, the knife’s purpose is to draw a Keeper’s blood to authenticate the drink.
The answer hit me and I stared at the page, the question forming.
“Can the record train a Keeper?”
The words flowed.
Keeper’s knowledge is preserved in the bodies who receive the title, and candidate’s blood stored in one place, maintaining a library. To become all knowing, if a new Keeper asks, the record will provide.
Holy shit. Parker’s got everything in his head already. He hasn’t connected the dots, but this was the failsafe created to avoid what happened with Billy, who appeared a year after a Keeper’s unexpected death. When the magicals trained him, they sought to control the Keeper for their own purposes. A bypass existed, unknown to magicals. If Billy had asked the record to help him, he might have had a better ending.
The unfolding transpired as intended.
Maybe so, but it sucks and I still miss the hell out of Billy.
How I chugged through to 9 pm while retaining my sanity was debatable, but I ran the last tabs, got my ass slapped by a biker the size of Alabama but with fewer teeth, and landed in my office chair by 9:45. Parker had a small mountain of dishes to handle, so for a half hour, I had peace. Well, one punctuated by Harley rumbles, but I could deal.
The Boogie raked big money tonight, the best Bike Week night in ten years. I finished up the deposit and dropped it into my little safe, since there was no way in hell I’d go anywhere near a bank until daylight. Next I flipped open my laptop and ran the payroll. Those checks were ready to print once I connected with my printer back at the condo. Another box checked; I was rolling. I pulled out my phone and texted Lester to confirm the extra shrimp, a second text to my regular weekly truck for the frozen stuff to set a nine o’clock delivery, then typed up an order for paper and cleaning supplies. Done and done.
I traveled to hell, returned, then ran this place like the boss I am. Zeus should take a note.
A pop accompanied a squeal, and Chelsea grabbed my arm, yanking me from my chair before squeezing the living crap out of me.
“I’m glad to see you, too!”
“Oh, the gods, Patra. Your signature, it’s nowhere.”
“The Vapors did that to protect me from Gaia, but she had a Plan B. It didn’t work.”
A knock sounded on my door; Chelsea vanished as I opened it.
“The crew just wrapped, Patra,” Charlie said. “How we doin’?”
“Killing it, Charlie. Best in ten years. Bonuses are going to rock if we stay this hot.”
“Thought so. Can I share?”
“Yup. Keep everybody motivated. We’re kicking serious ass. Hey, remember that I’ll be late tomorrow, I have to run payroll.”
“No worries. See you then.”
I flipped the front lock, waving to the last of my crew before turning, warming up for round two. Chelsea popped in so close I stepped on her foot.
“Shh.” A finger landed against my lips, then began writing in the air next to us.
The Boogey is full of gods. Eight of them! They want to talk to you both.
“Hey Patra,” Parker swung around the corner. “I’m ready to…”
From the bowels of The Boogey, Poseidon roared.
“Keepers. Here. Now.”
Chapter 21
“Parker, listen to me. The drink you crafted last night was a vehicle to impart the entire book into your brain. Under no circumstance should you divulge this to anyone. It is in your best interests to act like you’re a trainee.”
“Okay. It’s how I feel, so it’ll be natural.”
“Remember, Gods and magicals can read your mind. You’ve got to develop discipline, and you need it now. Keep your mind blank. Got it?”
He nodded.
“Gods are powerful, and when in groups the sense of being overwhelmed magnifies. Do the best you can.” I had him by the bicep, trotting toward my office. “We’re out of time; keep from thinking. Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
“Let’s do this.”
I palmed open the door to The Boogey from my office, and the immensity damn near knocked me flat. Pa
rker stayed on his feet, which was amazing; I doubt I’d have pulled that off on day three.
Asclepius, Poseidon, Hades, Dionysus. All known, and in their weird assed god ways, they like me. Good.
My eyes narrowed.
Aphrodite, Apollo, Ares, and Athena. They never come here. Unknowns. Ares. In my bar. Fuckity fuck-fuck-fuck.
Billy’s voice floated across my mind. “Stay clear of Ares, Cleopatra. The god of war is a friend to none.”
I walked behind the bar, pulling Parker with me. “Watch how I make everything, and touch nothing. Do you understand?”
A nod, and he stuffed his hands into his jeans and stood back near the taps.
I poured Poseidon his usual, calling the instructions over my shoulder to Parker, then pulled the little red key.
“Not today, Patra,” Hades interrupted. “A twelfth tide will do.”
Clep nodded, and I glanced along the assembled as fingers raised. Everyone but Aphrodite.
“Ma’am?”
“A Whisp, Keeper. Thank you.”
Wow, that was nice of her. Okay, here we go.
Since I was making six twelfth tides, I made the first three, coached Parker to make the fourth and fifth, then let him build the sixth on his own. One layer wobbled, but Dionysis accepted it with an aqua-eyed twinkle beneath a headful of crazy red curls. Parker’s shoulders unbunched. Another landing stuck.
This kid.
The training session interested the gods, and their pressure lightened from wishing for death to the worst hangover in the history of alcohol. I built the Whisp, passing it to Aphrodite and receiving a smile that buckled Parker’s knees. With an effort, he remained upright. I poured three fingers of Jack for myself and an ounce for Parker.
“Tiny sips, Parks. It helps with the pressure. Make it last.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“To what does The Boogey owe the pleasure of your visits?”
Poseidon wagged a finger at me. “The Gaia problem needs to take precedence over the Triune efforts.”
“Gaia is no longer in the forest,” Clep added.
“Preparing her assault,” Ares growled, solid black eyes flashing. “First strike annihilation.”
Even by gods’ standards, Ares was huge. A bronze breastplate covered a Zeus sized chest, and his legs were thick and powerful. He appeared to be every scrap of the badass his reputation advertised.
“What is your plan, Keeper?” Athena asked.
She never visited The Boogey; this was the first I’d seen her in person. Fine lavender irises exuded wisdom, framed by waist-length honey-blond hair. Unlike the others, she wore the traditional toga. With her question, eyes in a variety of hues stared at me. It took effort, but I managed not to swallow my tongue. The Jack burned courage in my throat.
“To marshall humanity’s love as a counterweight, a way to resurrect the world’s balance. If we remain balanced, the reset will not work.”
This was pure guesswork, but after the Eros encounter, the supposition felt right. As the words left my lips, my skin glowed, a soft rose gold that built from a half light to a full-on aura.
Behind me, Parker muttered, “Holy shit.”
Nine pairs of eyes stared, unblinking, during a minute that dragged for an hour. Hades, followed by Clep, Poseidon, and Athena, grinned.
“Ah,” Aphrodite broke the silence, cocking her head of flowing white hair to one side as Parker sucked in air, lost in her multicolored irises flecked with gold and rimmed with long thick lashes; the original ‘girl with kaleidoscope eyes’. “That’s a clever solution.”
“Not your department, but I concur,” Athena murmured.
“You made a powerful alliance,” Ares, who possessed no inside voice, shook The Boogey.
“Correct. I have an enemy vying to disrupt the outcome, too.” My eyes bored into Poseidon’s and understanding flashed across Hades’ face.
“That is of no consequence,” Apollo stated, amber eyed and disdainful. “Wits control your destiny. Rise to this task or relinquish the role.”
“I intend to meet this situation as I have others, with intensity and conviction.” My voice remained calm. “May I ask a single favor?”
“What is that, Keeper?” Dionysis sounded bored and ready for another drink.
“Guru,” I said.
Looks exchanged, and Dionysis shrugged. “Fine, I’ll do it, if none of you will bestir yourselves. Guru is not important.”
He rose, walked to the board on the back wall of The Boogey and wrote Guru’s name.
“Banned.”
“Thank you, Dionysis. Another?”
“Indeed, Keeper. Keep’em coming.”
For the next two hours, Parker and I poured, and the gods’ energies thrummed throughout The Boogey. Parker’s skin paled to the point of illness, so I sent him to write his account of the evening into the record, a stopgap to keep him from barfing all over the bar.
“Keeper, I wish you well,” Athena’s eyes assessed, and a brief smile crossed her lips. “You will need it.”
“Yes. No different from any other Keeper. I’ll give my life.”
“If you are worthy, you will prevail,” Ares boomed.
The two of them faded, and Apollo glared at me before vanishing.
What’s up his butt? Oh well, five to go.
I poured a second Jack and sipped, watching their drink levels and breathing slow, deliberate breaths, attempting a difficult to maintain calmness in their presence.
Clep shot a green feeler around my wrist, and my stomach quieted.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“I’m rooting for you.”
Clep faded, and Hades caught my eye, tapped his forehead with a long pale finger and disappeared.
I am using my head, Hades. Hell, I’ll use my baby toes if they’ll give me an edge.
Whatever Clep imparted into my body helped, and I set up a fresh round for Poseidon and Dionysis as Aphrodite waved and slipped away.
“I need to check on Parker,” I said, and to Poseidon’s shooing gesture, I stepped into the office and slid along the door frame to the floor, exhausted. Parker gave a faint moan, lying in a fetal position next to my desk.
“If it helps, they can control the volume of their mojo. Everyone but Ares dialed down tonight. Still, with eight of them, it’s a heavy hit.”
“I barfed in your trashcan, Patra. I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK, Parker. I puke around them too.” I patted his knee, pushed my unwilling legs under me, and staggered to the desk.
Show me his most recent entry.
I read a faithful, factual accounting, then smiled at his closing sentence.
I threw up. Twice. Their presence knocks me flat. It’s a guess, but they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t want us to stop her.
“Good entry, Parker. You stuck to the facts.”
“Trying.” He groaned and shook. “How long does this last? I feel like total shit.”
“Only two gods, Dionysis and Poseidon, remain in The Boogey. Come back in with me; do yourself a favor and learn how to manage yourself around their power. They won’t stop drinking here because you have a rumbly tummy.”
He nodded, rose, and sailor-walked behind me to the bar.
“Dawn approaches, Gentlemen.”
Poseidon dug into his shorts and dropped a handful of gold on the bartop. Dionysis blinked, then did the same.
“They always stick me with the damn bill.”
“That’s because you close the bar, Di.”
“Fair enough. A tiger can’t give up meat, either.” He grinned, slapped Poseidon on the shoulder, and faded.
Parker straightened, exhaled in relief, and started wiping bottles. I stared at Poseidon.
“A moment of your time?”
He waved at Parker, who disappeared from view, and I slipped out and grabbed the record.
Show me Parker’s meeting with Zeus.
The entry flowed across the page, and I flipped the b
ook around so Poseidon could read. A snort followed.
“Figures. Zeus detests how you bested him in public.”
“I did what I had to do, and I accept that even if I accomplish preventing Gaia’s reset, I’ve got a target on my back.” Compared to the brave tone of voice, the rest of me wallowed in fright. “Can you protect Parker and steer him from entrapment in this unholy bargain?”
“Free will is in play, Patra. You don’t get to tilt the scales. No promises.”
Crap.
“My protection is available to you, for the sweet price of a single night of wild monkey sex. Free will cuts both ways.” His blue-eyed gaze softened. “I would miss you if you got yourself killed.”
That rang true, but hollow.
“Sorry, Big Red. Both heart and ass are taken.”
Chapter 22
It occurred to me I hadn’t slept in damn near 48 hours. The dirty clothes bag beckoned, tempting me with an exhausted floor crash, but the ‘Eau de Parker’s puke parfum’ was a bridge too far. I dumped my trash can, rinsed and bleached it, then slipped out of The Boogie and headed for home and a familiar bed. As I stepped from the elevator, my phone pinged.
Interested in a morning visitor?
Ballard. Any other morning, that’d be a big fast yes, but even if I laid there like the dead, an accomplishment considering yesterday’s adventure, I didn’t have it in me. Fifteen hours of sleep sounded great, but I’d get five.
I’m too beat to make it interesting, but let me get through this week and I’d love a dawn visit.
Fingers crossed that the promise was good enough, I scrubbed the remaining bits of hell out of my hair, dragged my butt to bed, and passed out before my body dried.
At one o’clock, with a hairdo that screamed ‘slept in while wet’, I slugged coffee and staggered to my laptop to do payroll. Checks whirring through the printer, coffee reloaded and beginning its magic, I glanced at the balcony.
Covered in mist. Shit.
“Come in,” I muttered, opening the French doors wide before heading to retrieve the journal. The Vapors filled my space, condensing into a somewhat human shape.
Salt Shaken Page 12
