by Tanya Huff
“Of course I’d care. While you’re under this roof, you’re my responsibility and she’s…well, she’s a little overpowering. You wouldn’t have much choice. Any choice.”
“I’m not a kid,” he said quietly, squaring his shoulders.
“I know that.”
“Okay.” Eyes on his shoes, Dean moved toward the basement stairs. “I’m done here.”
“Lock your door.”
He paused and stared back at her, his expression unreadable. “Sure.”
Confused, Claire went to her own rooms, hoping that Jacques had been released from his attendance on Persephone. The way she was feeling, if he pushed her tonight…
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately since she knew she’d regret it in the morning, Jacques’ nightly petition had been preempted by a goddess.
Dean had a suspicion that a locked door would stop no one in the hotel except him. He locked his anyway.
Right about now, down at the Portsmouth, Bobby would be attempting to wrest control of the jukebox away from the inevitable crowd of country-western types. He’d be unsuccessful, and Karen would have to go over. They’d have finished talking about the news from home and begun making plans to go back. Mike would be suggesting Colin’d had enough to drink and Colin’d be telling Mike to mind his own business.
The same thing happened every Saturday night.
Lying on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, Dean realized Claire hadn’t actually asked him to stay and cook dinner. They’d both simply assumed he would because it needed to be done.
That seemed to make him more than a mere employee.
What would Aphrodite have done if he hadn’t moved?
As more than a mere employee, did that give him…
Would she have done it right there in the kitchen?
…a chance to talk with Claire as an equal or would that whole Keeper thing…
So she was a bit older, but she was a goddess. She was probably a lot more flexible than she looked.
Claire was a bit older, too….
“Okay. That’s it.” That was as far as those trains of thought were merging. Closing his eyes, he resolutely counted sheep until sleep claimed him.
Next door, in the furnace room, Hell sighed.
“Claire. Claire, wake up.”
Pushing Austin’s paw away from her face, Claire grunted, “What is it?” without actually opening her eyes.
“I just thought you ought to know there’s a swan in your bathroom.”
“A swan?”
“A really old swan.”
“I am not going to sleep with you for a multitude of reasons, but for now, let’s just deal with the first two.” She flicked a finger into the air. “One, I am not even slightly attracted to poultry.” A second finger rose. “And two, you’re married.”
“Hera’s sound asleep.” Shaking off his feathers, Zeus stepped out of the bathtub; chest out, stomach sucked in over skinny legs. “We’re perfectly safe if no one wakes her up, and no one’s going to wake her up.”
Eyes closed, Claire missed seeing an orange something with yellow highlights speed out from under the sink and disappear through the open bathroom door. She groped for a towel and held a terry cloth bath sheet out in Zeus’ general direction. “Here. Cover up.”
When she felt him take it, she opened her eyes. Wrapped around his waist, the towel was a small improvement.
Leaning toward her, Zeus leered. “Would you prefer a shower of gold?”
“No.”
“An eagle?”
“No.”
“A satyr?”
“No.”
“A white bull?”
“I said no.”
“An ant?”
“You’re kidding.”
“Eurymedusa, daughter of Cleitus, bore me a son named Myrmidon when I seduced her in the form of an ant.”
“Must’ve been some ant.”
“Ant it is, then.” Before Claire could stop him, his features twisted, his eyes briefly faceted, and a hair from each eyebrow grew about three feet. Panting, he collapsed against the vanity. “On second thought…” His right clutching his chest, he flung out his left arm, the flesh between elbow and armpit swaying gently. “…take me as I am.”
Claire sighed. “Out of respect for your age and your mythology, I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t get out of my bathroom and go back to your own bed, you’re going to be very sorry.”
“I could call down the lightning for you,” Zeus offered, continuing to support his weight on the sink. “And with any luck it’ll strike more than once. Wink, wink, nudge…” The second nudge remained unvoiced as a violent banging on the door to Claire’s suite cut him off.
“Open this door right now, you tramp! I know you’ve got my husband in there!”
Zeus paled. “It’s Hera.”
“What was your first clue?” Claire snapped, furious that the Lord of Olympus had involved her in such a humiliating situation. “I’ll stall her, you get back to your own room.”
“How? She’s right outside the door.”
“How did you get into my tub?”
His face brightened. “The tub. Right.” Staggering back to it, he stepped inside and pulled the shower curtain closed. “I’ll hide in here. You get rid of her.”
Claire yanked the shower curtain open. “I meant that you should disappear the same way you appeared.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“I’m old. Do you have any idea how much effort that took?” His lower lip went out in a classic pout. “Not that you appreciated it.”
“Keeper, I’m warning you!” Mere wood and plaster did little to hinder Hera’s volume. “Open this door, or I’ll blow it off its hinges!”
“Can she?” Claire demanded.
Zeus shrugged. “Probably not.”
“All right. I’ve had enough. Get out of there.”
“But…”
“Now.”
Muttering under his breath, the god obeyed.
Once he stood squarely on the bath mat, Claire grabbed his wrist and dragged him, mat and all, toward her sitting room.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to explain this whole mess to your wife.” Working one-handed, she released the wards around the sitting-room door. “This is your problem, not mine.”
Zeus winced. “Actually, Keeper, if you’ve studied the classics, you’ll know that’s not how it usually…”
The door crashed open.
Framed in the doorway, her eyes blazing, Hera shook her hands free of the feathers trimming the sleeves of her peignoir and pointed a trembling finger at Claire. “I knew it, another one who can’t keep her hands off him!”
“That’s not…”
“Well, I know how to deal with you, you hussy, don’t for a moment think that I don’t!”
“Hera, I was asleep. I found him in my bathroom.”
The goddess’ lips thinned to invisibility. “That’s what they all say.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Ha!”
Claire could feel the possibilities expanding in unfamiliar ways. Yanking Zeus another couple of feet forward, she thrust him toward his wife. “Tell her!”
“I’m so sorry, my little myrtle leaf.” Clutching the towel, he scuttled to Hera’s side. “I was lured!”
“Shut up, you old goat I’ll deal with you later. But for now…” The finger still pointing at Claire began to tremble. “…we’ll see how many husbands you seduce as a linden tree!”
The world twisted sideways.
When Claire could see again, everything seemed strangely two-dimensional. And green. By concentrating on where her neck should be, she lowered her head and took a look at her body. She wasn’t a linden tree. She rather thought she was a dieffenbachia. And pot-bound at that.
“Isn’t that a house plant, ray love?”
“Shut up,” Hera snarled. “I know what it is.”
How dare she! Claire thought, leaves rustling. How dare she assume that I would ever have anything to do with that dirty old man!
A number of white flies with glowing red eyes, settled down on her stem. ANGER IS ONE OF OURS.
I know that. Carefully reaching toward the middle of the possibilities, Claire began to pull power. When she regained her own body, she was going to…
REVENGE IS ALSO ONE OF OURS.
Who asked you? Vaguely aware of a vibration in her fake terra-cotta pot, Claire swiveled her stem toward the doorway as Austin and Hermes pounded into the sitting room. Oh, great. An audience. How much more embarrassing can this get?
Hermes took one look at Claire and whirled to face Zeus. “Dad! What have you done?”
“It wasn’t me.”
“It’s always you!”
More vibration. Heavier, mortal footprints. Well, I guess that answers my previous question. She needed watering and that made it difficult to concentrate but she tried to pull power faster before anyone else showed up to see her like this.
“Boss? I heard shouting. Are you all right?” Wearing his jeans, his glasses, and not much else, Dean looked around at the assembled company, eyes widening when he took in Zeus’ equivalent state of undress. “Where’s Claire?”
“Down here.” Austin rubbed against her pot.
“She’s shrunk, then?”
“She’s a plant.”
What are you looking at me for? Claire wondered. When he tried to touch a leaf, she snatched it away from his fingers.
He straightened. “Why?”
“Because my father,” Hermes answered, “can’t keep his withered old pecker in his pants.”
“Here now, a little respect,” Zeus began, but when he saw the expression on Dean’s face, his voice trailed off and he sidled over behind Hera.
Weight forward on the balls of his feet, Dean brought his hands up, fingers not quite fists. “Change her back.”
Hermes sighed. “As attractive as all that flexing is, it’s not going to get you anywhere. At least not right now,” he amended, glancing over at his father and Hera. “Let me deal with this.” Adjusting the belt of his bathrobe, he fixed the Goddess of Marriage with a steely glare. “Try to remember this isn’t some mortal or nymph you’re unjustly accusing here. Even in a vegetative state, this is a Keeper. Eventually, she’ll change herself back.”
Hera sniffed. “I don’t believe you.”
“Then believe the cat. Would he be so calm if Claire’s form were dependent on your whim?”
Austin yawned.
“Dean.” Hermes turned around, came face to muscle with Dean’s chest and took a moment to reengage cognitive faculties. “You know Claire better than I do. How do you think she feels about all this?”
“About being a plant?”
“Yes. Do you think she’ll be angry when she’s herself again.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Hermes shifted his attention to the goddess. “Change her back, Hera. Or you’re going to have to deal with an angry Keeper.”
“What can she do?”
“She can confine everyone to Olympus. For all the years of her life, it’ll be nothing but shuffleboard, listening to Ares screw up the plots of old war movies, and actually looking forward to the night the Valkyrie come by for choral singing.”
The goddess folded her arms. “So what.”
Austin stretched and stood. “She can also cancel your cable.”
Round circles of rouge stood out against suddenly pale skin.
“She didn’t know what she was doing, lambie-kins.” Zeus reached out a tentative hand and patted his wife’s arm. “Change her back. For me.”
“For you?” Penciled brows drew in, wrinkles falling into their accustomed place. “All right. Since you got her into this, I’ll change her back for you.”
He started for the door.
Hera grabbed the two, three-foot eyebrow hairs and yanked him back to her side, her other hand gesturing toward Claire.
The world didn’t so much twist as flicker.
Fortunately, Claire had already pulled nearly enough power to effect the change on her own. Using the path Hera had opened, she stretched, straightened, and felt her lips draw back off her teeth. She couldn’t remember ever being so angry.
Hell’s silence stopped her after a single step. She could feel how much it was enjoying itself at her expense. Breathing heavily, she smoothed her pajamas and forced a smile. “Thank you for your intervention, Hermes. Now go to bed. All of you.”
YOU STILL WANT TO SMASH THEM.
“Extra points for overcoming temptation,” Claire told it. When the ex-Olympians hesitated, she added, “I’m going to try to forget this ever happened.”
“Not very convincing,” Hera muttered.
“Best you’re going to get,” Claire told her through clenched teeth.
The goddess nodded and, still holding Zeus’ eyebrow hairs, headed for the stairs.
“Ow! Honeybunch, that hurts….”
Hermes bowed slightly and followed.
Only Dean remained.
She had her hand raised to remove the humiliating memory from his mind when he asked, “Are you okay, Boss?” and she realized that was all that mattered to him. He didn’t care that she’d been a plant as long as she was all right now.
But there were one or two things they still had to be clear on.
“I didn’t invite Zeus in.”
“Okay.”
“He just appeared in my bathtub. As a swan.”
Dean looked appalled. “I’ll scour the tub tomorrow.”
“I could have gotten rid of him on my own if Hera hadn’t shown up.”
“I don’t doubt it for a moment.”
And he didn’t “Good night, Dean.”
“Good night, Boss.”
“You know,” Austin said as the door closed behind him, “that Boss is beginning to sound rather like an endearment.”
This was not the time, nor the mood, to deal with that. “At least the others didn’t show up.”
“I suspect they keep a low profile when Hera’s on the rampage.”
Claire slapped the wards back up and staggered to the bathroom. “I need a drink.”
“May I suggest a little compost tea?”
“No.”
“So you’d as leaf not?”
“Oh, shut up.”
Back in his own apartment Dean pulled Claire’s business card from his pocket expecting that it would give him some indication if she really wasn’t all right.
Aunt Claire, Keeper
your Accident is my Opportunity
(100% organically grown)
Reassured, he went back to bed.
The Olympians left directly after breakfast. Claire watched them climb into the van, fighting over who was sitting by what window, and raised a neutral hand in response to Hermes’ wave. The moment the van pulled away, she raced upstairs.
“Where are you going?” Austin demanded.
“Something woke Hera last night. I’m going to find out what it was.”
“With grape flavor crystals?”
“You’ll see.”
Standing by the bed in room one, she flung the crystals into the air. When they settled, there were tiny purple three-toed footprints on the bedside table.
“Go get Dean and Jacques,” Claire said.
Unusually quiet, Austin left the room.
“When Hermes said Poseidon leaves a room damp, he wasn’t kidding.”
“You think you have problems? I work like a dog for that Persephone and she does not even tip.”
“You’re dead. What would you do with money?”
“So I am dead.” Jacques sniffed disdainfully. “It is, how do you say, the principle of the thing.”
As they rounded the bed and saw Claire’s expression, they fell silent. She pointed toward the bedside table. “I want that imp caught,” she said.
It wasn’t as easy as a
ll that. Both men, the living and dead, were unsuccessful. The traps remained empty. Claire’s mood grew worse.
“If anything’s going to get done,” Austin sighed, leaping down off the bed as the bathroom door slammed the next morning, “I’ve clearly got to do it myself.”
“Uh, Boss? I can finish the wallpapering myself if you’d rather be somewhere else.”
Fighting the urge to photosynthesize, Claire stepped out of the shaft of sunlight. “No. I said I’d help.”
Wondering how much trouble he’d be in if he mentioned she was being more of a hindrance, Dean rolled the next sheet through the tray and laid it against the wall. “Could you please hand me the smoother.”
“The what?”
Hands still holding the paper to the wall, he turned to point and froze.
Claire frowned and followed his line of sight.
Picking his way over the folds in the drop cloth, Austin crossed the dining-room table with something small and squirming in his mouth. Its legs were froglike and ended in three toes. Its arms, nearly as long as its legs, ended in two fingers and a thumb. Its eyes were small and black and it appeared to have no teeth. Covered in something between fur and scale, it changed color constantly.
As Austin drew even with Claire, he spit the imp out. “Yuck, those things taste awful.”
The imp leaped off the table, scrambled up the wall, and dove under the wet wallpaper.
As the bulge headed for the ceiling, Claire snatched up the last full roll and, swinging it like a club bat, smacked it down again and again. And again.
When her arm dropped to her side, Dean pulled the roll from limp fingers.
Breathing heavily, she looked up at the barely noticeable lump. “I’m feeling much better now.”
In the furnace room the silence filled all available space and pushed against the shield. After a moment, it found a voice.
SHE DESTROYED MY IMP!
YOUR IMP?
MY IMP. NOW, IT’S PERSONAL.
ELEVEN
CLAIRE WOKE FROM UNEASY DREAMS where images of Hell unfolded like overdone special effects, realized the date, and gave serious consideration to remaining in bed. Although the origins of Halloween were far older than the beliefs that had defined the pit in the furnace room, greeting card companies had seen to it that pointy-hatted hags and men in red long Johns with pitchforks had risen to dominance over history.
