Urban Mythic: Thirteen Novels of Adventure and Romance, featuring Norse and Greek Gods, Demons and Djinn, Angels, Fairies, Vampires, and Werewolves in the Modern World

by C. Gockel

  Of course, I’d wanted to have sex with him the moment I saw him, but I waited. Demons are not usually so patient. Humans have such short lives and they tend to crank through them quickly. It seems that in a blink of an eye they are dead and gone. So if you want one, you’ve got to grab him or her quick.

  There was also that pesky age thing. Wyatt was mid twenties in age and I was closing in on one thousand. If I did the math, he was slightly older than me in demon years. As Samantha Martin, I was in my forties, but for humans in this day that kind of age difference didn’t seem to matter much.

  I saw women come and go from Wyatt’s house without a repeat appearance and I knew he was a player. That wasn’t something that bothered me at all. What did bother me was that I wanted our close friendship, I wanted sex with Wyatt, but I also wanted more. I liked him; I wanted him to be with me. I fantasized about having him for eternity; about Owning him.

  Maybe after I became bored with him, I’d Own him. The prospect was exciting, but then I’d think about our friendship and have doubts. I liked hanging out with him by the pool, talking about our day, listening to him go on and on about some video game he was playing. If I Owned him, all that would be gone. The thought of losing his friendship was a painful ache in my middle.

  Done with the trimming, Wyatt skimmed out the pool, then dropped his cutoffs and dove in for a cool down swim in his boxer briefs. I watched him swim long laps under water, my head moving back and forth like at a tennis match. How transparent would those boxer briefs be after a swim? They were pretty clingy before he dove in and I’d had a nice profile look and a breath taking view of his tight ass before he hit the water.

  Finally cooled off, Wyatt rose from the water in front of me like a Greek god and flung himself in the lounge chair beside me dripping streams of water in a path from the pool. Silently, I handed him a beer and he used the edge of the chair to pry off the cap. All this without one word to each other. I can’t begin to describe the amazing warm contentment and sexual tension that I felt that afternoon. It was perfect. Better than anything I had back home.

  “You’re looking better,” Wyatt broke the silence with his cheerful voice. He reached over with a finger and touched my jaw. “Swelling and bruising are totally gone.”

  “My tongue is healed too, see?” I stuck my tongue out and he leaned over to get a closer look. Romantic, I know.

  “Amazing how fast you heal,” Wyatt drawled. “And your grass needs cutting every two days too. It’s like everything is on hyperspeed at your house, Sam.”

  “I’m special,” I told him.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Wyatt said. I felt all sorts of happy inside at the compliment. “You heading out tonight?” he asked.

  “Wine Room.” I grimaced. Wyatt wrinkled his nose in sympathy. “I’ve got some business I need to do, and an agent wants to unload some bank owned properties on me. It’s those canal row houses I told you I was interested in, so I probably need to meet her. You?”

  “I really need to work, too. Some zombies need killing,” he said, referring to one of his video games. “I may hit the club early for some fun and kill zombies on an all–nighter.”

  “Techno music, Ecstasy, and a curvy blond?” I asked ignoring the video game part of his comment. If zombies ever invaded the realm, I’m guessing Wyatt would save the world. He would totally be my go–to guy if I found an animated corpse wandering around my pasture.

  “I hate X,” he replied, “but the dance club and the curvy blond sound good to me.” He reached over and tapped my beer bottle with his own.

  What the hell was that about? I really didn’t understand the subtleties of human interaction sometimes. I liked curvy blonds too, but was this action on his part supposed to mean that we were doomed to be only platonic buddies? Or that I was equally the player? Or that he thought I was a lesbian? Humans were so confusing, so hard to read. The anticlimactic afternoon with Brad had me craving sex, and having Wyatt so close was tempting beyond belief. I could take him now. Sex, body and mind, Own him as part of me forever. Then run like crazy for the nearest gate home, and hope I made it out of here before an angel caught me and tore me to bits. Instead, we sat for a moment in silence and drank our beer.

  “Hey, do you want to ride the horses tomorrow morning? Early, before it gets hot?” Wyatt asked, turning to me.

  “Sure you’ll be up to it, with your blond and zombie all–nighter?” I asked, more than a bit of bitterness creeping into my voice.

  “I have amazing stamina,” he said grinning and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I’ll be here at six to tack up. Think you can drag your lazy butt out of bed that early?”

  “Doubtful,” I told him, taking a swig of my beer.

  “If you’re not there, I’m gonna come up and get you,” Wyatt teased. “And yes, I know you sleep naked. You’ve told me repeatedly.”

  Maybe there was hope for consensual sex, after all. I daydreamed for a moment about Wyatt and I having sex in a field with the horses grazing nearby. Or maybe in the tack room on top of the saddle pads. Or maybe we’d never get out of my bedroom.

  We finished our beers, and Wyatt headed back to his house, announcing that those zombies weren’t going to kill themselves. I went inside and studied my wardrobe to see what outfit might shock all the movers and shakers at The Wine Room. I decided to go with comfort and pulled on my faded skinny jeans with the strategic worn patch on the upper thigh. I made sure I had on a good push up bra for maximum cleavage then, thinking of Wyatt with his wife beater, I yanked a thin, tight, white tank top over my head. The scooped neckline barely covered the lacy edges of my bra. I added some worn cowboy boots, a blingy belt, and voila! Sexy country girl. I never bother with my hair or make–up, but for some reason tonight I went all out. Thick mascara, sweeping eyeliner, and deep pink lip stain. I piled my shoulder length brown mane high up on my head and let pieces escape to hang straight along my face and at the nape of my neck. I was very happy with the overall look. It was like one of the Petticoat Junction girls had come out of a good romp in the hay.

  I thought about driving my Suburban to complete the look, but parking that thing downtown was a pain in the ass. I only drove it when I was hauling the trailer or picking up feed. The Corvette was my true love.

  The Wine Room was as pretentious as you could get. It was purposely small, so it was always packed. Crowds of hopefuls waited to get in the door. Huge panes of glass covered all the exterior walls, so you could see and be seen. It was especially a nightmare to try and eat there since the bar crowd was inches away from the dining tables. Nothing was worse than trying to eat your eighty dollar prime rib with a gin–drinking lawyer six inches away and staring at your plate.

  The guy at the door recognized me and nodded me in once he checked to make sure I didn’t have a large bag with a groundhog in it. Not that it mattered much. They normally ended up kicking me out within an hour of my entering, even without a groundhog.

  Michelle and her posse were in the usual spot. Theirs was the best location, and one they would have had to arrive unfashionably early and fight for to score. From their special spot, they could see and be seen by passerby on Main Street. It was hard to see them from the door, but I knew they’d be there and wove my way among all the navy and black suited business people with their ties and sensible pumps. I made sure I rubbed my boobs and hands over everyone I could on the way back.

  Michelle had done her hair different. She normally had a mess of long black braids intricately arranged around her head, but she had taken the extensions out and had a pixie-looking straight do. I’m sure it was twenty times cooler in this heat than her usual style. She was tall and thin with high cheekbones and dark eyes in her ebony face. She grinned when she caught sight of me. She had a slight gap between her blazing white teeth that I found totally sexy. She was beautiful in an exotic, angular kind of way.

  “Samantha.” She drawled out my name in a slight island accent as she took in my cowgirl attire. Mich
elle’s mom was Jamaican or something. I could never remember. “Were you out riding that neighbor of yours? Where are your spurs, girl?” She gave me a hug.

  Spurs. Yum, what a visual.

  “I wish. Hey, you have any gum? I had tacos for lunch.” I rooted in her bag without waiting for her reply, pulling out a stick of gum and placing the fat envelope full of cash under her wallet.

  As I stuffed the gum in my mouth, Michelle winked at me and on impulse reached over to kiss my cheek. Michelle was straight. Not that that mattered. I’d considered many times assuming a male form and picking her up some night, but good business associates were hard to find. Especially property managers. I wasn’t about to jeopardize that relationship for a night of sex. Besides, a conversion of that scale would be like sending up a flare for the angels to see.

  I turned to look at her friends. A few were trying hard not to notice me. Two stared at me in amazement, taking in my casual outfit and my bold freedom with Michelle’s purse. I picked out the real estate agent right away. She was a walking stereotype. In a sea of drab suits, she had on a bright yellow skirt suit of all things, with a flowered shirt peeking out the jacket. Her blond hair fluffed out in a big wave. She was the most immaculately groomed person I’d ever seen. I met her eyes expecting to see vacuous excitement and got a shock. Shrewd brown eyes met mine in calculating appraisal. She wandered her eyes over the rest of me taking in the ripped blue jeans with a raised eyebrow and a twitch of her bronze lips before raising her eyes back up to meet mine.

  “Candy Star,” she announced, reaching to shake my hand.

  I almost burst out laughing. It was a stripper name. What kind of bimbo mom names their kid Candy Star? She must have been horribly teased in school. Why in hell hadn’t she changed it? I glanced at her left hand. Maybe Star was her husband’s name. I never could understand the whole human thing of taking your husband’s name, and this would have been a good reason to break that custom.

  “Hi Candy, I’m Samantha Martin,” I replied in a bored tone. I didn’t want her thinking I was excited to meet her. “I’m getting a drink, can I get you something?”

  “Oh, I was going to get you a Cosmo,” she bubbled back, channeling a perky real estate agent personality that was in direct contrast with those shrewd brown eyes.

  “I hate Cosmos,” I told her as I edged toward the bar.

  “Me too,” she muttered under her breath and eyed the one in her beautifully manicured hand with disgust.

  I discretely threw my gum on the floor where someone would be sure to get it all over their three hundred dollar shoes and squeezed between two half–drunk lawyers at the bar. I brushed my hand and boobs against the one, and my rear across the other out of habit. They eyed me appreciatively. I seriously needed to take this much care with my appearance more often. I’d probably get laid a whole lot more.

  Standing up on the rail under the bar that you rested your feet on as you sat, I sprawled the upper half of my body across the gleaming mahogany showing cleavage to the front and sticking my rear out in the back. The bartender practically knocked down a waitress in his rush to ask my boobs what they would like to drink.

  The only redeeming quality of this place was that it offered a wide choice of quality vodkas, and did some cool infusions. Vodka was amazing. It was one of the best human inventions, ever. Back home, everyone drank dull old wine, sometimes warmed up, sometimes cold. It was Okay. Nah, who am I kidding, the stuff sucked big time, but — whoo–boy! — vodka was the shit.

  “Two shots of Van Gogh Double Espresso Vodka. The stuff in the freezer,” I told him.

  The bartender poured the shots into equally chilled shot glasses, all the while managing to keep an eye on my breasts. No doubt in case one escaped and burst into full view. I tipped him well and made my way back to Candy and the other girls.

  “Here’s to our future partnership,” I said, handing her one of the shots. She looked at it nervously, grimaced, and tossed it down. Her eyes watered and she choked a little, sipping the Cosmo in her other hand in desperation. It was a shame because up until that moment I had thought she was kind of cool. Chasing the very elixir of life with that swill, how could she? Disappointing.

  I looked around the bar at the ocean of black and navy and thought about going home and watching X–Files reruns. Normally, I’d be inspired to start some trouble, but I just didn’t seem to have it in me tonight. I was still worried that my energy usage earlier today may have exposed me. I was missing Wyatt and wondering if he’d found a curvy blond. Besides, this place really sucked . They got all stuffy and bent out of shape if you broke a bottle on some guy’s head or threw your steak knives at the wall.

  Just as I lifted my glass to drink my vodka, I heard Michelle say in a soft worshipful voice “Ohhhh, look there. Just look at him.”

  I glanced toward the door, because that tone was the most un–Michelle–like I’d ever heard. And I saw the angel.

  Chapter 3

  I’m not sure how I knew right away that he was an angel, but I knew. I drew a ragged breath, choking on the vodka and dove behind one of Michelle’s friends. The pudgy one who was luckily wearing a floaty muumuu thing. It should have been embarrassing, cowering behind a fat girl like that, but I was more concerned about my probable death.

  Panic was throwing my heart around my chest and beading sweat on my forehead. Shit. Shit, shit shit. No, fuck, fuck, fuck, actually. Was he here for me? Stupid, of course he was! He must have been close enough to sense the small amount of energy I’d used to break off that table leg and brain Brad. Why else would he be here? I’d been so careful for all these years. I snuck through the gate with great skill, and had performed no conversion in decades; nothing but the tiniest of energy which I’d carefully covered up. The biggest display I’d made was when I’d taken and Owned Samantha Martin, but that had been so long ago. If that had alerted him, he’d have been on me twenty years ago at the latest. It had to have been today, and he must have been close to sense it. Damn my lousy luck.

  I crawled across the surprisingly clean floor as far as I could from the angel, making sure I avoided my discarded gum. You’d think he wouldn’t take me out in a crowded place like this since angels were supposed to be all goodness and light, but truth was I’d heard they didn’t much care about collateral damage. The stupid humans didn’t even notice me crawling and scooting between their legs, they were so enraptured.

  I’d only had a quick glance at him before my dive to the ground, but he definitely stood out in a crowd. Tall. Like way taller than anyone in the room tall. Big chestnut curls on his forehead and touching the top of his ears. His skin was a strange white tone and texture. He was like a walking marble statue; a Greek god come to life. I hadn’t seen his eyes and didn’t want to. From the noises in the bar and the migration toward the door, I could only assume the humans were mobbing him. Probably pawing him all over like he was a unicorn or something. I wondered how he’d react to that.

  Thankful for the crowd and the distraction, I reached the fire door. Very carefully, I put my hand against the bar to open it, and my other hand near the door catch. Gently, I sent a small trickle of energy into the door, completing the alarm circuit around the latch. Pushing the door, I quietly tiptoed out of the bar. I hoped that hadn’t been enough for him to sense. Luckily, the humans had tons of energy flying around with their microwaves and cell phones, and that masked quite a bit.

  As I turned to make sure the door closed without a sound, I saw a quick hand hold the door open. In my panicked state, I brought every speck of energy I had within reach to the surface, ready to deflect and defend. Luckily, I noticed the beautifully manicured nails and tennis bracelet before I started blowing things up. Candy slipped out behind me and pushed the door shut before turning to face me. We stared at each other. I know I didn’t look exactly human at that moment, with such a massive amount of energy humming out all my pores and my eyes glowing, ready to strike. Candy, though, was unfazed as she surveyed me thoug
htfully. She met my eyes for a moment, nodded as if I had confirmed something, then turned on her heels to walk with purpose down the street.

  I didn’t waste any time. I raced down the block and ducked into an alley. I wasn’t sure what to do. Part of me wanted to go back and watch the angel leave to see what he was doing and where he was going. Not knowing what he knew about me and my assumed life was the most fearful part of this whole situation. I was terrified to get that close to him, though, in case he could somehow sense me near.

  Should I head for the closest gate and get the hell out of Dodge? The most reliable gate was near Baltimore, but everyone used it. The angels kept a close eye on the area and a guardian routinely took out any who tried to use it. There was a small wild gate west near Sharpsburg, but wild gates were very dangerous and I didn’t have time to study and master it. I didn’t know where it went to, anyway.

  I had come in through a gate in Seattle, but I wasn’t sure I could make it all the way across the country. Plus, I really didn’t want to run and abandon all I had worked to build over the last forty years. I had emergency procedures in place to protect my assets in case I had to make a quick break for it, but I hated to leave the life I loved. It’s not like I could take my Corvette through the gate with me. Or Wyatt, unless I Owned him first.

  I was too afraid to even peek around the corner toward The Wine Room. Was he still there? He could be walking down the street toward me right now. My heart thudded away and I gasped in air.

  “Hey,” I hissed at a young guy walking past the alley. He looked startled, but not terribly alarmed. Happy hour downtown was fairly safe, even if someone was accosting you from the shadows.

  “Yeah, you,” I insisted. The guy took a step towards me, curious. “Look down the street and tell me if you see an angel.”

  He looked around the alley for hidden video cameras.

  “I’m serious. Down that way.” I pointed helpfully.