by Casey Wyatt
“Is Portia in today?” Nix’s attention fixed on a jar of blue sand displayed on the counter. It wasn’t an outlandish blue, like the kind of color created in a lab, but a pale, chalky blue more reminiscent of . . .
“No.” The girl frowned slightly, as if Nix had asked a strange question. “Portia hasn’t been here in months. She does send regular e-mails, though. So I can take a message.”
“No. I’ll try her cell phone.” Nix turned to leave, but stopped. Her eyes zoomed back to the sand. “Can you tell me where this sand is from?”
“Oh, that’s from some desert in Chile.” She pointed to a framed photo of a barren landscape placed near the jar. The tag underneath read: DRIEST PLACE ON EARTH. “Portia sent it back after a recent trip to South America. Have a good day.”
“Thanks. You, too.” Nix left the shop, distracted. When had Portia had time to go to South America? With a shake of her head, she told herself that it wasn’t her concern. Unfortunately, she would also have to hang onto the Mantle. At least until she could give it back to Nereus. When she got back to the shop, she would lock it in the safe in her apartment.
The air outside was refreshing, even with the cloying scent of incense stuck to her clothes. The Village’s antique clock chimed out the hour, reminding Nix that she needed return to Mystic Ink. A swim back was out of the question. Even if there were no one in the cemetery, there would be plenty of mortals out and about along the river at this hour.
So she’d have to walk. Since someone took her car. Where was Cal? While he wasn’t her bodyguard or even her keeper, he had been spending a good deal of time with her, supposedly observing her for signs of madness. It wasn’t like him to go so long without contacting her. Nix quickly checked her cell phone—it was on and receiving a signal.
Of course, he had no idea where she was. Cal was probably already at the shop shooting the shit with Jason. Yeah, that must be it. Content, she started the trip back.
It was close to noon by the time she arrived. The shop was dark—unusual—but not unheard of. Jason did cover for her last night so he was probably sleeping in. And Mary—she showed up whenever she felt like it. In all fairness to Mary, maybe they didn’t have a noon appointment. But still, Nix would have to broach the subject of tardiness. She did have a business to run, and it couldn’t turn a profit if it wasn’t open. They did do a brisk business in walk-ins.
Nix, thoughts still swirling in her mind, headed toward the side door. After she unlocked the deadbolt, her eyes automatically went to the dumpster. Nothing. Thank the Gods. Her sigh of relief was quickly sucked back in. A dark shape further down the alley caught her eye. Maybe it was a heap of clothes or a bag of garbage. Whatever it was, it was lying near the entrance of the Underworld Gate. The Gate was invisible to all eyes, except Guardians—like her, Hades, and Charon. Whoever or whatever was back there couldn’t have known how close they were to the Underworld.
“Hell. Now what?” Please, be trash that some rude asshole left in my alley.
Rather than kick it with her foot, she decided to be more prudent and find something long to use as a poker. While grabbing a shop broom inside, she registered how quiet the place was. Of course, Basil wasn’t there. He was still with Jason.
Back in the alley, Nix slowly approached, straining for a better look. The pile was inside the building’s shadow. The closer she got, the more the lump resembled a body. She cursed. “Oh, come on! Why does this keep happening?”
Broom at the ready, she gave it jab. The mass was solid and there was no crinkle of plastic. So much for the garbage bag theory. Man, she did not want to have to call the police. At the rate she was going, they would probably arrest her just on principle.
Stupid mound.
She lifted the broom, ready to strike. An arm sprouted from the pile and shot up, stopping the handle from falling.
Nix barked, “What the hell?”
The broom clattered to the ground.
A dark figure rose up. The set of the shoulders, the short black hair . . . it was awfully familiar. “Cal?”
“Nix,” he said, his voice strained and tired. His arm extended, propping his body against the brick wall.
“If this is your idea of a joke, it’s not funny.” When he didn’t respond, Nix came up behind him and placed her hand on his back. “Are you—”
The words choked off. There was something wrong. Really wrong. His energy, the essence of his life, was out of whack. Like he was missing . . .
She put her hand up to her mouth, swallowing dread as he turned to face her. “Cal, where’s your soul?”
Chapter 7
This can’t be happening. Nix prayed to every deity she knew. Please let me be wrong.
“I don’t know,” Cal said hoarsely, as though he had been screaming.
“Come on, we’re going inside.” Nix shouldered Cal’s arm and led him to the waiting room couch. “Where have you been?”
His eyes went distant. His mouth opened and shut. After a moment, he rubbed his face then seemed more himself. “Underworld.”
“What? No one goes there . . . unless they’re dead.” Nix’s heart hammered in her chest. Cal wasn’t dead. If he was, he wouldn’t be sitting on her couch. Hades kept his souls under lock and key. Charon’s earlier words slammed into her—souls were missing. “Do you remember where you were last night?”
“The beach house,” Cal answered firmly.
“But then I left to go on a mission. You remember that?” When Cal nodded, a tiny seed of fear grew inside her. “What happened to you after I left?”
“I . . .” Cal’s mouth worked hard to form an answer. “I died.”
“No. You’re not dead. I can feel life in you.” But his soul was absent. “Who took your soul?”
Cal jumped off the couch and paced the room. His shoulders bunched and his fists tightened into balls. “I’m trying to answer, but I can’t.” He rifled around the reception desk and yanked out a piece of paper. His hand shook as he tried to write words. Nix held his hand steady but the pen flew out, grabbed by an invisible force. Cal latched onto Nix’s shoulders. The muscles in his neck and jaw strained to move. Beads of sweat trickled down his temples and his body temperature shot up, like he was about to combust.
“Cal, stop. Don’t try to answer,” Nix said, trying to soothe him.
Cal clutched his head and screamed. The raw, primal sound unnerved Nix, evoking long buried ghosts from the past—sounds of the wounded, the cries of the dying, pleas for salvation. Bile rose, souring her stomach. Cal collapsed on the floor. A thin bead of silver blood trickled from his nose.
“Cal? Cal?” Nix touched his face. Out cold.
She tried to make him comfortable on the floor. She propped a pillow under his head and cleaned his face with a cool cloth. The silver blood glistened on the fabric and the end of her fingertip.
Oh Gods! A realization tackled her from behind.
Cal is a Demigod.
He has silver blood.
I woke up with silver blood on my clothes. I did this to him.
Cal was dreaming. He had to be. The fresh scent of ocean mist and sweet taffy drifted under his nose. Heat pressed against his side, comforting him. When he wrapped his arm around the warmth, a feminine sigh escaped. His eyelids flipped open. Nix was curled against his chest. For a moment, he thought he had been transported into the past, but a check of the red walls covered in mirrors and tattoo designs shattered the notion. He was in Mystic Ink. On the floor?
“Whoa! Did I miss the party?” Jason stepped into Cal’s line of sight with Basil perched on his shoulder.
“Gang bang!” Basil’s screech made Cal’s ears hurt. Nix startled awake under his arms. For a moment, she seemed confused but then shot upright, leaving a cold spot. He wanted to pull her back down and tell Jason to get the hell out. Except, he suppressed a sigh, Nix wouldn’t return the sentiment. Not the way she was now.
“Jason, where have you been?” Nix clambered to get up. Her eyes were
puffy, making Cal think she had been crying. While she and Jason spoke in tense tones over his head, reality returned. Someone had killed him and taken his soul. He had been trying to remember. Pain stabbed into his temples. Bad idea. There was a large gaping hole in his memory. A bitter laugh caught in his throat. Now he knew how Nix must feel.
“Cal, dude, you look like shit.” Jason offered him a hand up.
“Thanks for being such a pal.” Cal felt physically the same, but inside he could feel the emptiness, the void where his soul used to be. Funny, he had never been aware of his soul, until it was gone. “Where’s Nix?”
“She’s calling Nereus.” Jason eyed him up and down. “She’s hoping the old man can help you with your problem.”
“Fucking hell!” Nix barreled into the room and slammed the cordless phone onto its cradle. “My father is still out of pocket. His assistant has no idea when he’ll be back. He’s never around when I need him.”
Cal saddened at the sentiment. At least her father loved her. Ares was a horrible father. Where Nereus would do nearly anything for his daughters, Ares did virtually nothing for his children. His offspring had to compete for his love, and those who didn’t toe the line paid a heavy price. Cal knew—he had the physical and emotional scars to prove it.
“Jason, you and Mary will have to move or cancel my appointments.” Nix tugged Cal’s arm. “Come on, we have to go out.” Her eyes narrowed. “Where’s my car?”
Cal wondered when she would ask him about that. Unfortunately, he wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to it last night.
Nix, obviously expecting the answer, grumbled, “We’ll have to take your motorcycle. It’s the only vehicle faster than a ten-speed parked in my garage.” She frowned at him, but didn’t say anything else about the Challenger. The implied threat hung in the air. If he had damaged the car, she would take it out of his hide.
Five minutes later, they were headed toward The Gallup Inn, Zephyr’s bed and breakfast in Stonington. Cal couldn’t understand what the windbag could do for him, but Nix insisted. She clutched his waist, her inner thighs pressed against his backside. Last time she had hung on this close, they had been riding on a horse. Their last mission together, before ...“Hey, wake up! Take a right onto Water Street,” Nix screamed into her helmet microphone, nearly deafening him.
“You don’t have to yell in my ear,” Cal said.
“I told you three times. If you weren’t in La La Land, I wouldn’t have to shout to get your attention.” Nix pounded his back for emphasis.
He couldn’t help but notice that she seemed more tense than usual. When he had asked if she was okay, she growled at him. “Pull into the side lot, over to your left.”
While Nix was stowing her helmet, he took a long look at Stonington Harbor. The sun shone down from a clear blue sky and glittered across the water’s rippling surface.
The inn was across the street. Its four stories were covered in white clapboard siding, the windows framed by black shutters. Nix had informed him earlier that the Inn was nearly as old as Mystic Ink, dating back to the early seventeen hundreds. Zephyr had owned it the entire time, occasionally expanding the building and modernizing it for the times. The latest addition was the day spa. Not that Cal was planning on letting anyone manicure him or whatever a spa did.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” Nix said, behind him. Gods he wished she was still pressed against his body. It was getting harder not to touch her. Not to pull her tight against his chest and tell her that he never got over her. “Cal? You’re doing it again.”
“What?” He hurried to catch up with her.
“Zoning out.” Worry lines formed around her mouth and eyes.
Did it make him a sick bastard to see those as encouraging signs? Cal rushed to hold the door open for her. The lobby was like a window into the past. A cleaner, nicer smelling version. The foyer had been reconfigured to allow space for a reception desk, and elevators were discretely tucked against a far wall.
“Nix. I’m happy to see you.” Zephyr, in all his God-given glory, rushed across the foyer and scooped Nix into his arms. Cal wanted to pound Zephyr into the dirt. He didn’t have a chance to act on the impulse. Nix quickly extracted herself from the Wind God’s embrace.
“Is there somewhere more private we can talk?” she asked.
“I’ll take you anywhere you want, as long as we’re alone.” Zephyr winked, pretending he didn’t notice Cal. Heat rose up the back of Cal’s hands.
Nix scolded Zephyr, “Please Zeph, give it a rest for five minutes.”
“As you wish, darling. We’ll use my office.” Zephyr led them behind the reception desk to the back wall. He pushed open a door disguised to blend in with the wood paneling. “Put this in during Prohibition. You should see the network of tunnels I installed around here.”
Cal tuned out Zephyr as he droned on about how he cleverly outran the human authorities all through the 1930s. Like it was that hard to outwit mortals. They only saw what they wanted to and were easily fooled. Trickery irked Cal. A vestige of the old Gods’ attitudes—lure unsuspecting mortals into dilemmas, then doom them for eternity, all for the Gods’ amusement.
The Delian League officer in Cal wanted to bust Zephyr for being a dick. Even though the guy wasn’t doing anything punishable by human or God law, it didn’t matter. In fairness to Zephyr, other than his rogue’s reputation with females, he was always on the side of good. Cal guessed that counted for something.
Once the door was closed and they were seated in a set of overly cushioned armchairs, Zephyr eyed Cal and frowned. “Nix, I’m sorry. I know why you’re here. I can’t fix this.”
It hurt to see the hope on Nix’s face crushed. Cal could have told her their trip was a waste of time.
Zephyr turned to Cal. “Can you remember what happened?”
Cal opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Every time he thought about what happened, he got a bitch of headache. So, he stopped. He refused to pass out on Zephyr’s floor like a weakling. He had secretly hoped Zephyr might have some ideas on how to help him out. Without his soul, if Cal died, he would face mortal death. And eternity spent, in-between, neither here nor there—purgatory. No green fields of Elysium. No reunion with his mother, his sister, Talus, or other lost friends. Not even the searing punishments of Tartarus. Just nothingness.
“You cold, Cal?” Zephyr asked. “I see you shivering over there.”
What a dick. “No. I’m fine.” Cal glanced at Nix, who quickly looked away. “Come on, Nix, he can’t help us.” Cal stood up.
“Sit down, hothead. I didn’t say I couldn’t help.” When Cal sat back down, Zephyr continued. “Both of you are too young to have witnessed the fall of Rome. Times were hard for us Gods, with humans turning to Christianity and Islam. Both intolerant of multi-god religions. When Zeus ran off, he left a gaping vacuum that needed to be filled. For a brief time, a group of disillusioned nitwits tried to locate the Titans and unleash them on humanity.”
“You’re not telling us anything we don’t already know.” Cal burned with impatience. Nix laid a hand on his knee, her touch a slight balm to his need to leave the room. “Get to the point. Please.”
“Oh, I bet that hurt.” Zephyr smiled and kicked his feet up onto his desk. “Having to say ‘Please.’”
Cal gripped the arms of the cushy chair, heat building under his palms. One slip of control and he could torch the whole piece of furniture. Bet that would piss the smile right off of Zephyr’s smug face.
“Don’t start, you two,” Nix warned.
Zephyr dropped his feet off the desk, his spine straight. “All right, love. I’ll behave for you. I’ll skip the history lesson then and go to the heart of the matter. Someone is trying to free the Titans again. This time, they know what they’re doing and have started an Unstoppable Event.”
Nix gasped and gripped Cal’s leg harder. “What? An Unstoppable Event. I thought that was a legend.”
“Nope. Because this affects Fate, cap
ital F, I can’t say more. I’m bound by silence.”
“Shit.” Cal breathed out heavily. This was bad. Really bad.
“Exactly.” Zephyr stood and offered his hand to Cal. “I will help in whatever way I can.”
Zephyr smiled at Nix and pulled her into a tight hug. “Have you considered visiting Hades about your dead body problem?”
“Well, that was a waste of time,” Cal grumbled, handing Nix a helmet and straddling his motorcycle.
“Not exactly.” Nix swept her hair up and tucked it into the helmet. Once she settled onto her seat and grasped Cal’s waist, he gunned it out of the parking lot. Learning that Cal’s missing soul was tied to a more epic event was not the news she wanted to hear.
“The suggestion to visit Hades?” Cal said, his voice tinny through the headset.
“Yup.” Nix’s mind churned furiously. Cal had no idea about the missing souls. She had forgotten about it, lost in recent events. Charon hadn’t told her to keep it quiet. “Charon visited me after the last body turned up. He told me that none of the mortals’ souls had arrived in the Underworld.”
A car in front made a sudden lane change. The cycle swerved, jerking side to side. Nix clung to Cal like a barnacle. Her stomach rolled in a matching flip-flop. Gods she hated motorcycles.
Cal didn’t seem to mind her death grip around his waist. “What? Does anyone else know about this?”
“I don’t know. Charon didn’t stick around for me to interrogate him. He dropped that little nugget and vanished.” Nix tightened her already cramped grip on Cal’s waist as he prepared to turn onto Route 1.
Cal commented. “It’s better if you lean into the turn with me. Don’t ride bikes too much, do you?”
“No. They’re just like horses. Too narrow and unpredictable.” It had been a happy day for her when cars replaced horses. She liked the animal all right, just not riding on them. And motorcycles, the whole break/clutch thing on the handle grips had always confounded her. Nope, give her a steering wheel and big old car any day.
