Tyranny
Goddesses of Delphi Book 1
Gemma Brocato
Contents
Blurb
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Keep reading for a sample of Mayhem
Mayhem
Also by Gemma Brocato
About the Author
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Blurb
One man, one muse, one romance to save the world
Immortal librarian Clio has existed for thousands of years. Her purpose—to influence and inspire mortals. Now as one has inspired her, a battle is mounting between the Muses and a god who care little for the plight of man. A hostile takeover is imminent at Olympus Enterprises.
History professor Jax Callahan is battling his own uncertainties. His previous employer’s refusal to heed his warnings results in a tragic loss of life. Blaming himself, he no longer believes he can make a difference.
Tyranny will stop at nothing to appease her father and succeed in taking over Olympus and the world. To save mankind, Clio must reveal herself as a Muse to Jax, the man she’s fallen in love with. Facing the end of humanity as they know it, she must convince him to trust in the magic of what if. Because failure spells doom for everyone.
Copyright
Tyranny Copyright © Gemma Brocato, 2016
Cover Design by Fiona Jayde Media
Excerpt of Mayhem copyright © Gemma Brocato 2016
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without prior written permission of the publisher
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are use factiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.
Brocato, Gemma Tyranny / Gemma Brocato 1. Romance—Fantasy. 2. Romance—Ancient Greek Mythology. 3. Paranormal—Romance—Mythology and Folk Tales
ISBN: 978-1-944513-09-2
Dedication
For Joanne Wadsworth.
Thank you for encouraging me to take a leap with a new genre.
Acknowledgments
Without help from many quarters, this book might never have happened. My family: my publicity-shy husband, whom I affectionately call Mr. Gemma, and my two children, Erin and Andrew. You support me and cheer me on and remind me of the good that happens when you share a great love.
My editor, Corinne DeMaagd, whose patience and mentoring as we worked on this story certainly qualifies her for sainthood.
The KickAss Chicks and my Sassy sisters, you are all strong, inspiring authors. I want to be just like you when I grow up.
Author’s Note
I have been intrigued by Greek mythology since I was quite young. Paintings and depictions of gods and goddesses have inspired great emotion and interest in me, making me want to learn more. So when I decided to write stories shrouded in mythology, it was natural to pick the Muses.
When I began researching the Muses I was struck by the myth of Pierus, and how he had nine daughters, like Zeus. Daughters, named the Pierides, he believed were superior to the Muses. So he goaded the Muses into a contest. When they won, to punish them for their insolence, Zeus transformed the Pierides into magpies. That legend became the basis for my stories. Nine muses, nine mortal men…nine chances at love to save the world.
The idea that Pierus would enter his offspring in a battle to take over Olympus evolved naturally. Every story must have a villain, right? Although, I frequently want to beat my head on the desk and wonder why I picked magpies? It’s hard to find nine creative ways to portray the birds. Which is why I took a little poetic license in the naming of the birds. Should Pierus and crew ever win a challenge, all kinds of evil, which already exists in the world, would increase a thousand-fold.
I took a little license in endowing the Muses with a mortal lifecycle. The idea that they lived, died and were reborn again with all their memories intrigued me and I went with it.
It hasn’t hurt that I love history…all kinds of history. So salting bits and pieces of the Muses backstory in through historical events made me smile. I hope you will find these little tidbits as much fun as I did.
I suppose this is where I have to say that any faults or errors in history are mine alone. Hey, if one of my Muses can face a magpie and win, then I guess I can own making mistakes.
Enjoy!
Gemma
Chapter 1
A violent crack of thunder rolled across the Allegheny mountains surrounding the Delphi City University Library. The boom reverberated off the elaborate stained-glass window in the marble stairwell. Clio Thanos hunched her shoulders, waiting for the flash of lightning to follow that would illuminate the impressive, colorful scene sculpted in the glass panels. Right now, the only impressive thing was it hadn’t rattled right out of the lead beading that held the panels in place.
The storm was one of the worst Clio had ever experienced. And she’d lived through more than one lifetime worth of them. Rain pelted the stained glass like pebbles being tossed against a lover’s window. The cavernous space of the Delphi City University library echoed back the pinging noise. The roar of pounding water echoed off the benign faces painted on the domed ceiling, as if the gods and goddesses depicted there were laughing out loud. Fanciful thinking. They never laughed, only bickered.
The storm had blown in with startling speed. One moment the noontime sun streamed in as soft light. The next, gloom shrouded the building. While the weather deteriorated, she headed to the concierge desk to help out. One of the student employees had called off sick, and Clio was the designated front-end back-up person today. Not that she ever minded staffing the entry. It was an opportunity to inspire students as they walked through the doors. Something she’d done without fanfare throughout each of her lifetimes.
Neither did she mind storms, but this one rated as particularly threatening. Thunder boomed with alarming regularity. The warm glow from the chandeliers dotting the room paled in comparison to the frequent blazes of lightning. Clio tensed after one blinding flash of clouds collided together, counting the seconds until the sonic roll followed.
As another rumble began, the heavy entry door flew open. From her position at the concierge desk, she noted the boiling black and gray clouds behind the entering student. The sharp scent of ozone assaulted her sinuses along with the earthy aroma of hot cement being pelted by torrential rain.
The young man wrestled the door closed, shutting out the storm. Drops of water flew out as the kid whipped back the hood of his sweatshirt. Ah, Brian. He was a library regular, the one with shaggy multi-colored hair. He showed up every day to study.
After shaking himself like a dog climbing out of a river, he shouldered his book bag. Splats of water dripped behind him as he approached the counter where Clio stood.
Using his sleeve, he slicked the rain from his face. “Jeez, it’s literally raining cats and dogs out there.”
“Literally or figuratively?”
“Huh?”
> She almost laughed at his bewildered expression.
He shook more water from his shoulders. “It was sunny when I left the dorm. Not a cloud in the sky, then bam!”
His words echoed loudly. Clio held a finger against her lips. “Try to keep your voice down. You’ll disturb the other patrons.” The message lost a little—okay, a lot of—impact due to the fact she had to raise her voice above the thunder to deliver it.
He stopped digging in his backpack and raised mocking eyes toward her. “Really? You think anyone can concentrate in this racket?”
He left a tiny puddle of rainwater on the desk as he scanned in his ID card. While waiting for clearance to pass beyond the security gate, he smeared the moisture with his hand then blotted it up with the raggedy cuff of his shirt. In a sudden lull in the storm, the ping of the monitor sounded, jolting the kid into action. Using his hip, he nudged open the now unlocked swinging gate. His Vans sneakers squeaked as he disappeared between two massive bookshelves.
Judging by the diminished sounds on the windows, it seemed the freak summer storm had lessened. Clio jerked a cleaning rag from under the counter and swiped the remaining water from the marble countertop. Double-checking to ensure her entry badge remained clipped to her belt, she slipped from behind the desk. The swinging gate creaked as she pulled it toward her to sidestep through.
She dropped the towel to the floor, and with the toe of her sandal, mopped up the wet footprints Brian had left in his wake. Once she finished that chore, she mentally commanded her face to relax, erasing the scowl tightening her muscles. The tension that had arisen with the sudden tempest eased as she walked to the nearest wall-mounted safety cone holder adjacent to the entry door. She hooked a finger in the nylon pull-tab and tugged. The cautionary cone swung free and popped open, bumping against her thigh.
Now she just had to figure out the best spot for the wet-floor warning. As she pivoted, the heavy wooden entry door swept inward again. A sudden gust of wind caught the door and propelled it toward Clio’s head. The dull thunk of the door connecting with her forehead rebounded in her ears. Glittering stars burst behind her eyes.
She stumbled backward, arms flailing. The safety cone flew from her grasp.
“Mother goddess!” The epithet burst from her lips before she could bite it back. Tears watered her vision as a large man reached for her. His big, warm hand wrapped around her arm and steadied her. A barrage of tiny, invisible arrows traveled from his fingertips up her arm.
“Oh, God! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” When he spoke, his husky baritone voice vibrated through her chest.
She rubbed the tender spot on her head and blinked to clear the moisture from her eyes, bringing the man into focus.
Set under a pair of slashing brows, deep amber eyes reflected warmth and concern. A sexy scruff of midnight black whiskers covered a square jawline. His lips thinned and turned down in a frown. She took a step away, breaking the hold he had on her arm, and immediately missed the heat and comfort.
His broad shoulders, encased in a blue oxford cloth shirt, were wet from the rain. Drops of water sparkled on his cheeks and eyelashes. He probed his thumb over her forehead, gingerly testing the sore spot and rising lump there. When she flinched, he did as well.
She pushed his hand away. “I’m okay. I keep asking the administration to install glass entry doors to avoid things like this happening. Perhaps if I have a concussion, they’ll listen.”
“Oh, hell! Did I hit you that hard?”
She shook her head cautiously to make sure her brain didn’t rattle around. “No, I exaggerated.”
As much as it grieved her to do so, she turned from the man’s gaze and stooped to retrieve the wet floor sign. A moment later, she’d settled the bright yellow cone over a damp spot on the floor. Her thoughts still on the man next to her, she spun around to return to her work area. As she slipped on a slick spot, the stranger reached for her once again. One arm around her waist, the other grasping her arm, he kept her upright, balancing her against his solid body. He saved her from a mortifying tumble to the floor. Although, if he were a cushion, she’d gladly take a fall if landing on him was part of the cost. Preferably straddled on his lap.
And where in Zeus’s name had that thought come from?
As he steadied her on her feet, again, she shook the sexy, errant thought away. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
Ooh, that deep voice rasped across her senses in a deliciously wicked way, making her imagine all sorts of things strictly forbidden by library policy.
The heels of her sandals clicked sharply on the floor as she moved across the vestibule. The rain had stopped as quickly as it had started, and the soft click of the security lock disengaged as she swiped her badge over the scanner. The ancient marble counter was cool when she laid a palm on it and turned the corner to resume her station behind the desk.
Mystery man faced her across the desk. His shirt, two buttons open at the throat, revealed smooth, taut skin, a healthy shade of tan, as if the man spent hours in the sun. He rested one hand on the counter between them, the other wrapped around the strap of a tattered messenger bag.
The sight of his long fingers and the muscle on the side of his hand made her gut twist in an odd, delicious way.
“May I help you?” Clio inquired in her most professional voice.
“I’m new on campus and was told I need to register here for research privileges.”
“You’re a grad student?” Funny, he looked older than typical doctoral students.
“No, actually, I’m a professor. I’ll be teaching comparative civilizations to undergrads who think they’re taking an easy A class. Love to catch them unaware.” He rubbed his hands together and flashed even white teeth in a maniacal grin. A deep throaty chuckle followed as he slipped his hand into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet.
He had a nice, warm laugh, the kind she’d love to hear again and again. She accepted the ID card from his hand.
Jax Callahan. Assigned to the history department at DCU. His badge was coded with the usual gibberish lines only a barcode reader could decipher. Clio pulled the nearest keyboard toward her and tapped the space bar. Once the screen flared to life, she entered in her passcode.
She navigated through a couple of screens until she found the information she sought. Sliding her gaze from the screen, she smiled at Professor Callahan. “This will just take a moment.”
He dropped his eyes to the name badge clipped on her thin silk blouse. “Take your time, Clio.” He relaxed against the counter, leaning one elbow on the stone and letting his glance wander around the library. “Holy hell, would you look at that ceiling? It’s like the freaking Sistine Chapel in here.”
Clio tossed a look above her head at the paintings on the ceiling. Used to seeing it every day, she mostly ignored the familiar faces staring down on her. But she understood why the newcomer was in awe. The colorful scenes above them truly did rival the famous work in the Sistine Chapel, except many gods lived here, versus the single deity Michelangelo had painted in Rome.
Hiding a tiny smile behind her curtain of her red hair, Clio waved the small rectangle of plastic under the crisscrossed red beams of the scan gun affixed to one side of the monitor. After a slight hesitation, the machine began populating the on-screen form.
“Excuse me, Ms. Library Lady. The computers are down.” Brian approached the side of the desk. The servers dedicated to the library’s collection frequently went down in bad weather. Thankfully, the administrative system was independent of the online catalog.
“Give it a minute, Brian. They’ll be back online shortly.”
“Got a class soon, can’t wait. Can you tell me where to look up when the Greek War of Independence was fought? Man, this class sucks. I knew I shouldn’t have registered for summer school.”
Clio gave the kid a sunny smile. “The war ended in 1828 when Ioannis Kapodistrias became the Governor of Greece. He was assassinated in 1831 and his broth
er, Augustinos, assumed power.”
The student twisted his mouth to the side. “Did you just make that up?”
“No…” Oh goddess. “It’s common knowledge.”
The kid squinted his eyes and curled his upper lip. “Yeah, maybe in Greece, but where would I find that information here?” He swept his arm around to indicate the library.
Heat flushed up her cheeks. Her problem was that she always knew the answer but forgot to cite a source. She grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled the Dewey number of the book the kid needed. “Second floor, ancient civilizations room, fifth stack from the door, about midway down on the third shelf.” She skipped mentioning the book was red as she pushed the paper across the counter. Narrowing her eyes, she gave him a mental nudge, the kind that had inspired countless others to take matters into their own hands.
That was her true purpose…to inspire others to creativity. And this kid needed all the influence she could spoon-feed him.
His gaze faltered as he took a step back, clutching the slip of paper. “Thanks.” The kid’s tennis shoes still squished on the marble floor as he hurried away. Clio shook her head, glanced at the computer, then at Professor Callahan.
Who stared at her as if she’d sprouted a second head. The skin between his brows had puckered.
Impatiently, she pushed a lock of hair back from her face. “What?”
“How’d you do that?”
“Again, what?”
He rapped his knuckles on the sleek cream and gray countertop. “I teach history, and it would have taken me at least five minutes to dig that answer from my brain. Honestly, I’m not even sure I could do that without resorting to the Internet to find the information you just spewed like it was your address.”
Tyranny: Goddesses of Delphi Page 1
