by Casey Wyatt
“Well, that all depends on how much you trust the driver . . . or the horse.” Cal’s voice sounded wistful for a fleeting moment. “Where to now?”
“I guess I’m taking a trip to the Underworld.”
Oh joy.
Chapter 8
Normally, anyone with half a brain steered clear of the Underworld. Mortals and Gods alike detested the place. With good reason, Nix thought, walking behind Charon. Despite Persephone’s efforts to give the inner offices a facelift—exotic wood paneling in the corridors and Italian marble floors—the place stank of gloom.
It wasn’t easy for the living to gain entrance either. If you were dead, no problem. For the deceased, their journey was one way—either to the fields of Elysium or the pits of Tartarus. Thankfully, she wasn’t stopping in either place. Charon was escorting her directly to Hades’ office. Since Nix was a Guardian of a Gate, she was allowed special access. Contrary to human myth, Charon could, and did, leave the River Styx at will. He had a staff of underlings to handle ferrying souls. Whenever Persephone was above ground, Charon would act as Hades’ personal assistant. And like a good assistant, Charon was a giant pain in the ass about granting access to his master.
“So the Son of Ares didn’t want to come down here with you today?” Charon cackled, his voice dry and gritty.
“Funny. I can’t imagine why. This place is so charming. Besides, he’s already been here. At least that’s what I heard.”
Charon ignored her blatant fishing expedition. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Eudora.” He swung open the heavy oak door of Hades’ office. “Live one here to see you, Boss.”
“Nix. Call me Nix.”
Charon left her standing in Hades’ overly bright office. The smell of fresh paint rolled out of the room. Drop cloths were draped over most of the furniture and part of the floor in the far corner. The God of the Underworld, dressed in beat up, paint-stained overalls, was on his knees painting baseboard trim.
“What’s up with all the light? And when did you become a painter?” Nix asked, resisting the urge to shade her eyes.
“My wife says we need to go green. She switched every light bulb for those obnoxious CFL ones.” Hades put aside the paintbrush, pulled a drop cloth off a chair, and motioned for Nix to take a seat. “And she insists we need to freshen up the place. So here I am, in all my Godly glory, painting.”
“Don’t you have people who can paint for you? There must be someone in Tartarus who thinks painting walls is a form of punishment.” Nix suppressed a grin. It was never a good idea to laugh at a God as powerful as Hades. Although, the sight of him with cream-colored paint smeared in his raven dark hair and smudged on his nose was comical.
“Already went that route. My bedroom ended up a nasty shade of chartreuse. Took me a whole week to do it again.” Hades sniffed, rubbed his nose, and looked at the paint on his fingers. “Damn it. It’s in my hair, too, isn’t it?” A blip of power coursed through the air. The paint disappeared from his face and hair. “So what can I do for you today?”
“I have a little problem.” Actually a big, huge problem. “Cal’s soul has gone missing. Is this by any chance related to the corpse problem I’m having?” Nix held her breath and waited.
Hades took a long time to respond. “No.” The word was short, clipped, as if he had to fight to spit that one word out of his mouth.
Oh. Shit. Nix’s heart sank. She knew what was coming next. Before she could speak, Hades held up his hand. “I cannot comment on this. It falls under the Old Rules. As you know, they prevent me from directly interfering with the fate of humanity.”
“What a load of crap. What about indirectly? You old Gods practically have that down to an art form.” Nix crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “Mythology is loaded with tales of how Gods used, tricked, or forced humans into acting on events, changing history.” Hello, Trojan War.
Hades waved his hand, dismissing the comment. “Mostly untrue and exaggerated. The events in play right now are Epic.”
With a capital frickin’ E, Nix thought bitterly. She stayed quiet. Hades wasn’t done.
“And no, before you ask, I can’t empower a human to act on my behalf.” Hades frowned. “I can see you’re mad, Nix. But I can’t interfere.”
“Can you give me any information?”
“Nereus had Cal working on some special project. Something Top Secret. I suggest you ask Nereus about it. Since I don’t know if this is related to the Epic Event, I am permitted to speak.” Hades leaned forward. “And I’m looking into the dead body situation. I don’t like that my souls are going missing.”
“Nereus is out of communication right now. Probably off in his boat somewhere fishing.”
Hades’ eyes brightened. He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got an idea.” He pulled open a desk drawer, retrieved a large scroll and unrolled it across his desk. After several “ah-has,” he grinned. “Here’s the best deal I can offer you. Since Cal is soulless, I can offer a Hero’s Journey. He can search for his soul and if he finds it, I can reunite them.”
Nix’s heart sped up. A chance, no matter how small, was better than doing nothing. In Cal’s present state, if he was killed without his soul, he was doomed to spend eternity as a shade. A fate worse than Tartarus. He would be sentenced to a half existence in an endless void. Aware the entire time of his fate, he would eventually go mad.
“But, you know, there’s always a catch. He has only two weeks to find his soul. If he fails to do so, it’s off to the Land of Shadow.” Hades rolled the scroll up, and it blinked out of sight.
“Two weeks? I thought Hero’s Journeys had longer time limits. Ulysses spent twenty years,” Nix grumbled. It figured. The one chance, and it had a ridiculously short deadline.
“Sorry, but this is a more advanced age. You don’t need to factor in travel time nowadays.”
“I take it this also means that the Epic Event is tied into the two week limit. So, basically, we have to find Cal’s soul and save the world. With no hints or help from any of the Gods.”
“You got it, sister.” Hades stood up and offered his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
She shook on it. What other choice did she have?
“Here, take this.” Hades held out a silver chain. A small object dangled from the end. “This will keep track of the time you have left.”
Nix studied the small hourglass. The sands had already started falling. She dropped the chain around her neck. It nestled against the pendant holding Rocky’s soul.
Before he sent her back above, Hades confided, “Don’t tell Nereus I said this, but you are my favorite Destroyer.”
The bright lights of Hades’ office were replaced by sunshine and blue sky. Hades had deposited her outside of Mystic Ice Cream Shop, an obvious hint that she needed to indulge in some chocolate therapy before heading back. After consuming in a triple scoop, chocolate sundae with gobs of whipped cream, Nix ordered some extra sundaes for her staff and Cal. Jason’s favorite of the moment was vanilla with caramel, candy, and nuts. Mary, despite her prickly personality, enjoyed ice cream—strawberry shortcake sundae was her favorite—even if it was from Nix. And for Cal, she improvised: coffee ice cream with raspberry and chocolate sauce.
The hot July sun would soon melt the ice cream, so she rushed down the two blocks back to her shop. A dark, eerie feeling, like two eyes boring into her back, hounded her the entire way. Along with panic. She didn’t want to fail Cal. Deep in her heart, she was afraid that, somehow, it was her fault this had happened to him. And, if she was honest, she liked him. She actually looked forward to seeing him. He had somehow wormed into her psyche. She enjoyed his cocky, lopsided smile whenever Jason challenged Cal to some crazy stunt on a daily basis. And his laugh, deep and rich, made her toes curl.
Gods. Cal was missing his soul, and she was mooning over him. Again.
With a shake of her head, she shoved open the shop’s front door, rattling the door chimes. Her eyes immediately sought out, and found
, Cal. Her heart skipped a beat, then another. He leaned against the front counter, rolling peanuts to Basil. The parrot eagerly followed them, beak to the countertop. Cal’s amusement with Basil’s antics was undiminished by his lack of a soul.
“Sweet, boss! Thanks.” Jason relieved Nix of the bags, snapping her back to reality.
Jason laid out Mary’s sundae, swept Basil onto his perch, then handed the bag to Cal. “This one must be yours. What did she pick for you?”
Cal took the sundae out, cracked open the lid, dipped in a spoon and tasted. Nix couldn’t decipher the strange look on his face, a combination of surprise and wistfulness.
“Don’t keep me in suspense, man. Our girl here has a knack for choosing a person’s favorite flavor.” Jason rocked on the balls of his feet, his own sundae temporarily forgotten. “Did Nix break her winning streak with you?”
Cal cleared his throat. “She picked another winner. Coffee ice cream with hot fudge and raspberry sauce. Thanks, Nix.”
“Jason, why do you doubt my powers of perception?” Nix wanted to make an “in your face” gesture, but something about Cal’s tight smile dampened her enthusiasm. That, and the fact she still hadn’t informed Cal they only had two weeks to locate his soul.
Two weeks. If they failed, he would be damned forever. Her throat constricted while her stomach threatened to unload triple chocolate sundae all over the shop floor. She was overwhelmed by that same hopeless feeling she had whenever she woke up in tears. Nix knew, deep in her heart, that she couldn’t lose Cal. How strange was that? She barely knew him.
“I need to go check inventory.” Nix retreated to the backroom, haunted by Cal’s thoughtful expression. Like he could see into her soul.
“Man, what is wrong with her today?” Jason heaped a large spoonful of whipped cream into his mouth. A smear of white stained his lower lip piercing. He ran his blue eyes up and down Cal. “Whoa. What happened to you?”
“Yes. Where is your soul, Calder?” Mary Swain sidled around the front desk, her ice cream forgotten. Her exotic accent purred in the air. “Who did this to you, Son of Ares?”
“I don’t remember,” Cal said, wishing he could escape into the back with Nix. “And when I try too hard, I pass out.”
“Cool. Can we try it now?” Jason laughed and continued to eat. Caramel ran down the spoon as he drew it up for another bite.
“Jason. You are such an infant. This is serious.” Mary stared until Jason suddenly decided he needed to finish cleaning his workstation. She swiveled back to Cal. “There are very few beings left on Earth who can do something like this to a God-born child like you.”
Mary’s kohl-lined eyes glinted like steel, her gaze unsettling. Cal wondered, not for the first time, how old she really was. “I know. Nix and I will figure this out.”
“Do you suspect a Destroyer’s hand?” Mary picked up her sundae, cracked the lid, and gave it a long sniff. Her nose twitched like a cat. Cal wouldn’t have been surprised if she suddenly transformed into one. Mary had a cold, predatory grace about her. Like she would play with you before she killed you.
“Can’t say.” His mouth tingled, as if ready to lock down if he speculated too much. He suspected that Nix’s conversation with Hades had upset her. She couldn’t meet his eyes. Then again, Nix had thrown him for a loop. The coffee ice cream with raspberry and chocolate were three of his favorite dessert flavors. Maybe some small part of her psyche remembered their time together after all. Hope filled his heart for a brief moment before he stamped it out. Hope was the most dangerous emotion. He had seen dashed hopes crush the heartiest of spirits.
“Don’t wait too long to solve the mystery, Calder Quinne,” Mary said. Her eyes, black as night, captured his. In his mind, he saw desert sands, a bright blue sky, and an oasis of fertile palm trees. A hot, dry breeze caressed his face . . .
The phone rang, breaking the spell.
Glass shattered in the backroom. “Gods damn it. Curse Zeus!” Nix’s muffled yell was followed by a cardboard thud and the clinks of small bottles rolling across the floor.
Jason sighed. “Shall we draw straws?”
“No. I’ll go help her.” Cal capped his sundae. On the way to the storage shelves, he popped the container in the small freezer in the employee fridge. He smiled, listening to Nix’s sailor-like cursing. Jason took a lot of the blame for Basil’s fresh mouth. Unfairly, it seemed.
Cal found Nix on her knees, arranging small ink bottles inside a cardboard box. Another tattered old box lay crumpled on the floor behind her feet, the bottom torn out. “I don’t know why we still have these ancient bottles,” she complained. “Will you hand me that roll of duct tape?”
“You don’t use those anymore?” Cal joined her and helped gather the stray vials that had rolled under the shelves.
“No. Nowadays all our supplies are pre-sealed and sterile before opening. These are Uncle Memphis’ stash of relics. If we used these today, the Board of Health would have my ass.” Nix quickly and efficiently tore into the silver tape with her teeth. Adhesive strips lined the bottom of the new box in a matter of moments. “There. That should hold it.”
“So this box breaks open a lot, I take it,” Cal said.
“Yes. It’s totally annoying.” She held up her hand. “Don’t ask why. I have no idea. Will you hand me those books? On the floor by your feet.”
Cal handed her a stack of dusty ledgers. Battered volumes that looked to be a hundred or more years old, judging by the homemade bindings. “What are these?”
“My Uncle’s custom art books from the late 1890s, early twentieth century. There are even older volumes that date back to the shop’s opening, but those are up in my apartment. I should take these upstairs. It can’t be good for them to be in this box.” Nix’s hands trembled as she stacked the books into a pile on a nearby shelf.
“What’s wrong?” Without thinking, Cal reached for her hand, like he had done so many times in the past. When her fingers automatically clasped his, he closed his eyes and savored her touch. If only she could remember . . .
All too quickly Nix dropped his hand. When he reopened his eyes, she was studying his face suspiciously. Uh, oh. Cal knew that look. The I suspect you’re hiding something face. “Here, let me shelve this box for you. Why don’t you fill me in on what Hades said?”
Cal listened carefully as Nix explained the situation. He cleared his throat when she finished. “We can do this.” It sounded like if they didn’t, in two weeks it wouldn’t matter anymore. Humanity-destroying forces were at work.
“I hope so.” Nix wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself tightly. “I’m a little worried about what we’re going to uncover along the way.”
“Me, too. Did you call Nereus again?” Knowing Nix, she had probably called him ten times by now.
She nodded. “I tried Doris, too. She has no clue where he is either.”
The deflated slump of Nix’s shoulders tugged at Cal’s heart. He wanted to reach over and pull her into a hug. Instead, he offered her his hand. “Come on, I have an idea.”
Nix took the proffered hand. Her fingers fit perfectly into his palm. “I’m all ears.”
“While you were out, I was thinking about where I went after you left.” He left out the part about taking her car. Which was still missing. “I wasn’t able to remember anything, but I kept smelling pizza.”
Nix arched a delicate eyebrow. “So, you’re hungry?”
“No. The pizza smell is on my clothes.” Cal waved his hand over his T-shirt.
“Well, that’s so helpful,” she said sarcastically. “There are half a dozen pizza joints in the immediate area.”
Cal reached into his jeans pocket with his free hand and pulled out a napkin. “Yes. But how many of them have this symbol on their napkins?”
Nix examined the crumpled white paper. “Bull’s horns. Toro’s Pizza?”
“Exactly.”
Nix tugged Cal’s hand, leading him out of the backroom. “Jason
. Cal and I are going to Toro’s Pizza. You’re in charge.”
The whir of the tattoo machine stopped as Jason looked up. “Hungry again? Bring us back some chow when you’re done.”
“We’re not going for lunch.” Nix patted her pockets as if searching then stopped and glared at Cal. “I guess we can’t take my car. Since someone’s lost it.”
“It’s not lost. I’m sure it’s around town somewhere.” Cal winced, and Nix banged out the door. He hoped that was true. He waved at Jason.
The smart ass slowly drew his finger across his neck. “Dude, she will gut you if you lost her car.”
“I know.” Cal shook his head and joined Nix out on his motorcycle.
The drive to Toro’s took a few minutes longer than normal while they waited for the old drawbridge to lower. Located on Water Street, across the Mystic River, Toro’s was an old favorite. The place had been open for at least fifty years and, bar none, had the crispiest, most delectable crust on the planet. Cal never missed eating there whenever he was in the area which, sadly, wasn’t very often any more.
After Nix’s memories had been purged and their relationship lost, he had spent time haunting the streets of Mystic, trying to cope with her loss. It didn’t really work. The moping only made his heart ache more. He finally gave up and asked Nereus to assign him to the West Coast. He worked in Northern California, but even that wasn’t far enough away. He asked for a more difficult mission—Africa and the Middle East. The assignments, hardcore and deep undercover, had kept him busy for several decades. Still drowning in grief, his recklessness had nearly cost him his life on several occasions. Eventually he landed on a secluded island off the coast of Africa. There, he tried to drown out his love for Nix by becoming entangled in Amazon Warrior court intrigues. Not a wise decision. If his father hadn’t intervened, he might have become a eunuch.
The drawbridge lowered and traffic moved forward. Vibrations from the grated surface rumbled through the bike, rattling the steering. Nix tightened her grip in response, her warm body pressing deeper against his. Feral signals raced into Cal’s brain. He wanted nothing more than to take her, then and there. Instead, he concentrated on the traffic slowing down in front of him and prayed to every God and Goddess he knew that he would find some clue as to what had happened.
