by Casey Wyatt
“Yeah, about that . . .” Nix dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry, Devlin.” She looked back at his face and truly saw him for the first time. What she had previously observed as unruly brown hair and unkempt clothes took on a new light. He wasn’t anywhere near as disheveled as she perceived. His chestnut brown hair was neatly waved and his clothes were clean and pressed. A muscled physique was hidden under a baggy T-shirt, like he wanted to appear weaker than he actually was.
Devlin shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. But his eyes still held a steely gaze. Warrior’s eyes. “Anyway, to answer your original question. I think Pannis took one of your sisters.”
“It was a Nereid.” Not a question. A statement of fact. As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew they had to be true. “Whatever happened to Pannis?”
“No one knows for sure. He disappeared. Probably went mad. A Satyr can’t function for long without his manly package. If you know what I mean.”
Nix also knew that if the Final Arbiter took Pannis’ “equipment,” there would be no regrowing the missing parts. The Final Arbiter’s judgment was absolute, and no one—not even a God—would interfere with Divine Retribution. Not if they wanted to continue their immortal existence.
Devlin had done Nix a huge favor. He had given her insight into her past. The timeframe fit. She was on active duty in the late 1800s. There was a high probability that she could have been either the Destroyer or . . . the kidnap victim. Either scenario could have resulted in her hating Satyrs, above and beyond natural interspecies aversion. But was she the Final Arbiter?
Her hand absently reached out to clasp Rocky’s soul. His reassuring warmth calmed her. Her fingers felt for the second chain. A chill ran down her neck.
The hourglass was gone.
The chain must have broken during the fight with the Harpies. She swore under her breath and stood up. “Devlin, excuse me.” She stopped and smiled at him. “Thank you. I . . . appreciate you sharing your story with me.”
Devlin waved her off, the serious side gone, replaced by the carefree façade she realized was a mask. “It’s the least I can do. You’re giving me Sanctuary. I’ll clean up here. No worries.”
Nix raced down the back stairs and into the shop. She searched frantically on her hands and knees. Nothing. Not a damn thing. Those bitches had better not have stolen the hourglass. Hades was emphatic that she keep it safe.
“Looking for this?” Cal’s low voice rang in her left ear, startling her.
“Don’t sneak up on me!” Nix snatched the hourglass from his hand. She had had enough shocks for one day. “Thank you,” she said more gruffly than intended.
Cal didn’t seem bothered. “I had the chain repaired over at that bead store down the street. A present from Hades?”
“Yeah, I guess. If you think having a doomsday clock around your neck is the perfect gift.” Nix tried not to let dismay swallow her whole. Half the sand was gone. Time was running down too fast.
“I don’t know. It seems like the ideal present for my father.” Cal smiled and she felt warm all over.
Nix didn’t get a chance to enjoy the smile. Angry screeches echoed out on the sidewalk. Basil and Mary were back, and the parrot didn’t sound too happy. Mary’s hair was frizzy and wild. She actually had beads of sweat on her perfect forehead. Her typical calm demeanor appeared close to shattering.
“So how did it go?” Nix asked as Mary deposited Basil on his perch. The bird turned around giving them all his back. He groomed his feathers with gusto, like he would never be clean again.
Mary slung her bag under the desk as if she was bowling for a strike. “You do not pay me enough to put up with that kind of crap.” She pointed at the parrot. Basil opened his beak, then clamped it shut after a murderous look from Mary. She stormed into the backroom, muttering the whole way.
The door chimes clanged.
“Lucky you. Saved by the bell,” Cal quipped.
The last appointment of the day had arrived. Nix wanted to scream. They didn’t have time for this. She gave Cal a desperate look.
“Nix, I need time to do some research and regroup. Take care of business. There’s nothing more we can do for today.”
He left her there with her mouth hanging open. How did he know? It was like he could read her mind. When this was over, she was going to get answers out of him, by whatever means necessary.
She shivered at the possibilities.
Nix lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep had, once again, been ruined by crushing despair. The same nightmare: more frequent, more vivid and, frankly, more annoying. This time she tried to focus—to discern names or faces—anything to enlighten her. So far nothing.
The shower kicked on. Right, she had a new roommate. A temporary houseguest, she corrected.
How the Fates must be laughing at her.
At least, now, she had a more solid reason behind her extreme reaction to the Satyr. If she was honest, she’d have to admit Devlin seemed a decent guy. He was exceedingly neat, unfailingly polite and kind of shy. When she’d returned to the apartment, he had put her virgin vacuum cleaner to good use. He also had cleaned every nook and cranny in the place. Even Basil’s cage received a good scrubbing and that was one of the few things Nix cleaned regularly.
Devlin made no sense to her. All the Satyrs she had ever met were boorish, rude, and hedonistic. Nix had assumed, correctly it turned out, that somewhere in her past she’d had a very bad experience with a Satyr. It had to be mission related. Didn’t it?
What if she’d been the one raped and held captive? That might explain the nightmares—the sense of loss, the despair. It wasn’t impossible for a Destroyer to be captured. She could have been ambushed before she could don the Mantle.
Yet . . . her instincts told her that didn’t ring true. That she wasn’t the victim of a violent crime. She rubbed her eyes. There was no point in retracing that ground. She had no proof one way or the other. Whatever had happened was . . . inaccessible.
Nix flipped back the covers and pulled on a pair of shorts and an oversized cotton T-shirt. She filled Basil’s food dish and gave him fresh water. Basil was well into the weather report by the time she cleaned around the floor of his cage. The bird was a damn slob, scattering seeds everywhere.
Her stomach rumbled, hungry for breakfast. On a normal morning, she would have run down to the bakery next door and had a donut or something equally sweet with no redeeming nutritional value. Except, she had a houseguest and it was time to stock her refrigerator with more than takeout containers. And testicles. Maybe she should get rid of the Satyr bits out of respect for Devlin?
Nix paused. Did she just think that? Geesh, one heart to heart over pizza and she was ready to forgive all sins? Don’t judge a book, her conscience reminded her.
Her stomach growled again. She slipped on her sneakers. Grocery shopping would have to wait. It was the bakery or nothing. Nix was headed down the hallway when the bathroom door abruptly opened in front of her. Devlin emerged from the steam, clad only in a towel slung loosely around his waist.
Nix froze in place. The male in front of her was not the hairy goat man she expected. Devlin’s hair was slicked back, still damp from the shower. His body was smooth and hairless. Sleek defined muscles were carved into every inch of his body. Across his ripped abdomen was a tattoo. Her eyes were drawn to it. She had seen the design before: an olive branch intertwined with a sword.
Holy crap. Devlin was part of Umbra, the Delian League’s Special Forces team. They were exclusive and the members’ identities were under the same veil of secrecy as the Destroyers. Devlin must have proven that he was worthy to be initiated into such an elite group. She yanked her eyes upright, fixing them on a crack in the wall.
Devlin stepped back. “Nix, I didn’t know you were awake.”
“Just got up.” Her throat was tight, her voice squeaky. Should she say something to him? And then what? They could share more secrets. Except she had no secre
ts to share. “Be right back. I’ll just be getting us some breakfast.”
Nix hustled by Devlin and padded down the stairs before he could respond. She really needed to reassess Devlin. Instead of keeping one eye open at night, waiting for an attack by a sleazy sex-fiend, she would stay awake altogether, rehashing the implications. No, Devlin wasn’t a mild mannered pawnshop owner. He was a bad ass. Just like her.
When Nix returned from the bakery, with enough donuts and bagels to feed a small army, Devlin had already gone out for the day. What a relief. She had enough on her mind without trying to unravel the mystery of how a Satyr ended up in Black Ops.
“Hungry today?” Cal said over her shoulder.
“Starved actually.” Nix propped open the boxes on the back counter. “Dig in. I got enough for everyone. . .”
The words died on her lips when she turned around and saw Cal’s face. His gaze was predatory. Like he wanted to eat her for breakfast. Her traitorous body bloomed at the thought. Her skin flushed and heat raced up her spine. The walls of the backroom shrank, pressing in on her.
Please. Let me help you. Gods, the voice was back. Only this time, it was faint, as if buried behind a thick wall.
Not now.
Not in front of Cal.
Nix blinked and pressed her lower back into the counter. Her hands gripped the counter’s edge, bracing herself.
“Hey, you okay?” Cal’s expression softened. The feral gaze had vanished.
She stiffened her spine. No signs of weakness in front of Cal. No matter how desirable he was, he still worked for her father. “I’m fine.”
Cal arched an eyebrow. He clearly expected her to say more.
She elaborated, “I didn’t sleep much last night. It weirds me out having Devlin with me. Satisfied?”
“I could sleep over, if that would make you feel any better.”
Only if it’s in my bed. Naked. Gah! “No, thank you. I’m a big girl. I can handle him.”
Cal reached around her and took a bagel. The heady smell of wood smoke and manly shampoo tickled her nose. “You don’t have to worry. Devlin is a good guy. A male of worth.” He rooted around the brown bags. “Did you bring any cream cheese?”
“How do you know so much about Devlin?”
Cal paused, and his hand stilled in the bag. “I just know.”
Okay. There was clearly more to this story. “How about an example.” Nix reached into the bag and pulled out a tub of cream cheese. Again, her stomach protested. She had eaten a donut on the way back, but it wasn’t enough.
“Nix. Eat. Tend to your own needs first,” Cal said, pulling out a cinnamon raisin bagel. She wanted to march out of the room hungry. How dare he tell her to eat? She looked at the bagel again. He had chosen her favorite. Coincidence? Or lucky guess?
Déjà vu smacked her coldly in the face. They had done this dance before, with Cal fussing over her and her stubbornly refusing to do as he asked. Hadn’t they? Doubt filled her mind.
While she stood there, indecisive, Cal prepared a bagel and offered it to her. “Here you go. You only have one appointment today. I peeked at the book. Final color for Lin. Should be an easy day, then we can get down to business after lunch.”
Nix took the bagel. “Thanks.” Her body overruled her mind. Hunger reigned supreme so she gave in and ate the damn bagel.
The front door unlocked. The chime tinkled. Soft footsteps approached. Mary poked her head into the backroom. “Morning, Cal.” She simply nodded to Nix.
Nix scowled as soon as Mary moved back to the front room. Cal, wisely, kept his comments to himself. First moment she got alone with Mary, they were hashing it out. Nix was sick of her bullshit.
She had to wait until lunch for her moment of alone time with Mary. Cal, Gods bless him, guessed somehow. He offered to treat them all to Mystic Pizza for lunch. He enlisted Jason to help him retrieve the order. Cal’s expression broadcasted loud and clear, she’s all yours, Nix.
How did he know her mind so well? Nix put the question away for later.
Nix watched Jason and Cal walk down East Main Street toward the drawbridge. Basil napped on his perch. His mile a minute mouth had finally taken a much needed break. Nix took a deep, cleansing breath, ready to confront Mary.
The phone rang. Mary answered it efficiently. As always. Nix couldn’t find fault with Mary’s office skills. She ran a tight, efficient ship, reining in Jason’s impulse to order every color of ink in the known universe and making realistic appointments. Mary had a knack for knowing which customers would actually go through with their appointments and which customers would take longer because they couldn’t handle the pain.
Nope, nothing to complain about on the work front. Mary’s cool disinterest in her was driving her bat shit crazy. What had she ever done to Mary? Mary would barely look at her let alone speak two words—the two words always in response to a question initiated by Nix.
The phone call ended, and Nix lost her nerve. Some enforcer she was.
Nix arranged her supply drawers over and over, sneaking glances at Mary. She fidgeted around so much that Mary stopped her record keeping and glared at her. Nix crinkled the needle packages extra loud. Oh, that got a reaction. Mary shot daggers through narrowed eyelids. Nix mimicked the expression. Mary turned away, but not before shooting Nix a look that made her feel like something on the bottom of Mary’s shoe.
Enough.
Nix slammed her drawer shut and marched across the short distance to the desk.
“You know what Mary? I’ve had it with your shitty attitude toward me.” Nix leaned over the receptionist desk. “Why don’t you just spit out whatever it is that’s bothering you?”
Mary tilted up her chin, her gaze fixed on a spot over Nix’s shoulder. Her lips spread into a thin straight line, her jaw locked so tight Nix expected to hear Mary’s teeth squeak. After a long moment, Mary’s eyes traveled to Nix’s face. A single tear threatened to spill out of Mary’s right eye and onto her mocha skin.
That was unexpected. Nix sort of felt bad. “Look, Mary. I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“No. It is I who owes you an apology, Eudora.”
Nix, she thought, but let it pass. “I don’t understand.”
“For weeks, I have blamed you for Memphis’ departure.” Mary opened a drawer and retrieved a tissue, then blotted away the tear. None of the heavy black eyeliner smudged. “It has been hard to accept that he left me behind. Again.”
So Memphis and Mary were doing the horizontal tango? Nix nipped the image of that union in the bud. “Where did he go?”
“It’s not for me to say. Memphis has his own agenda. I try not to interfere.” Mary stood up, art books in hand. “I promised him that I would assist you in any way that I could. Since I am not bound by the rules of your pantheon, I will keep my eyes and ears open.” Mary headed toward the backroom.
So, it was true. Just as she and Jason suspected. Mary wasn’t Greek. Nix had to know. “Mary, wait. Are you Egyptian?”
“Perhaps.” Mary smiled broadly and continued out of the room.
Not exactly the answer Nix hoped for, but it was a start.
Chapter 13
“We need to start thinking outside of the box.” Nix paced the floor of the tattoo shop. “We’re getting nowhere fast. We don’t have time to be figure this out the old school way.” Weeks of investigation, miles of traveling, and battles against foul creatures—the days of the Hero’s Journey were over.
“What do you have in mind?” Cal said.
Mary’s earlier comment about not being in the Greek pantheon had sowed the seed of an idea.
“We need help from someone who’s not bound by our race’s rules. You know, different supernaturals.” Over the centuries, Nix had encountered other magical beings—creatures who had also made their way, over time, into human stories and legends. Mostly, these races tended to their own business and didn’t mingle, a kind self-imposed separation of non-interference.
Cal thought
for a moment, pulled out his cell, and dialed. “I know who can help us.” After a three-sentence conversation, Cal pocketed the phone. “Finally, some good news. He’s going to meet us in a half hour.”
Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at a table in Mystic Drawbridge Ice Cream Shop, at Nix’s insistence. The ice cream shop was perched next to the mouth of the Mystic drawbridge on the Groton side of the river, a three-minute walk from Mystic Ink.
At this rate, she wouldn’t have any clients left. But time’s pressure weighed her down. She felt Cal slipping away. He remained calm and steadfast, while her agitation increased. Every so often, an elusive thought would enter her mind—that buried deep inside her was the reason behind her jumbled feelings for Cal. She desired him. There was no denying it anymore. Too bad she would never act on that desire . . .
The old wood floors creaked under a departing customer’s footsteps, breaking her thoughts. Aromas of coffee and sweet, sugary treats tantalized her as she scrutinized each arrival.
“Nix, you’ll know him when he gets here,” Cal reassured. Not that it helped. Her fingers tapped a drum roll against the glossy wood table. After a moment of inactivity, she scraped the metal café chair across the boards, then ordered two coffees and several baked goods from the perky teenager behind the counter.
“So how do you know this guy?” Nix sipped the coffee, her taste buds barely registering the flavor.
Cal swallowed down the bite of raspberry lemon bar he had been chewing. “We met back in old San Francisco. I was there on League business.” Small frown lines were etched around Cal’s mouth, then disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. “My contact and his brother were farmers and merchants. They sold wine from their vineyard in town. They still make great wine, by the way. After the 1906 earthquake, he was frantic, trying to find his brother. So I helped him out.”
