by Casey Wyatt
“Fuck you. I’m not telling.” Even under the press of the water and heat of the flame, the Cyclops refused to talk.
Devlin stood up. “May I try?”
“Sure, why not?” Nix said. She wanted to add, hurry up. Holding the water in one position was taking its toll. Her arms quivered. She wouldn’t last much longer.
Devlin got in front of the Cyclops, his head blocking Nix’s view. For a long moment, Devlin spoke in low tones, his voice edgy and angry. Devlin inclined his chin over his shoulder in Nix’s direction.
Ten seconds later, the Cyclops started to shake. “I’ll talk. I’ll talk. I don’t know much, but please don’t put my man parts in a jar.”
Cal faced Nix. “Wow. Do you want to explain that one to me?”
A hot blush crept up Nix’s neck. “No!” She snapped the word out like a wet towel being whipped in a locker room. She was fairly certain Cal already knew the answer. The crinkles around his eyes were a dead giveaway.
For someone who didn’t know anything, the Cyclops—his name was Eddie it turned out—blabbed for forty-five minutes. Most of it was the same thing over and over. His mission was to locate and deliver the sacred seal. He wasn’t the only one looking. No surprise there. He didn’t know how many others there were.
“And you get all your instructions from this cell phone?” Cal palmed the slim device in his hands. “Devlin, can you extract any information off of this?”
Nix surveyed the disarray that was once Devlin’s desk. A laptop lay twisted and dead on the ground, the screen separated from the keyboard. Good luck with that.
“Yes. Once I straighten up this mess.” Devlin glared at Eddie and started picking up papers.
“You still haven’t said who you work for.” Nix knew at this point, the question was moot. They appeared to work in a cell structure, with only a specific contact. No one else knew who the other operatives were. That way, if they were caught and questioned, no information could end up in enemy hands. Not too different than Nereus cleansing the Destroyers after missions. Seems the monsters were following mortal terrorist group tactics. At least this bunch was.
“I don’t know.” Eddie sagged against the heavy iron links of an anchor chain. Devlin had dug it out of his warehouse. Nix wondered why someone would pawn that. But whatever. It was helping them out now.
“What do you know, you useless piece of shit?” Nix paced the room.
“I know that Nymphs are succulent. Especially the marrow of their bones.” The Cyclops cried out in pain. The iron links were glowing red-hot.
“What did I tell you last time we met?” Cal’s voice was like death. His fists balled by his sides, his jaw clenched.
“Sorry. I’m sorry!” Eddie wailed.
A rhythmic beat sounded in the office. “Quiet!” Nix shouted. “Do you hear that?” The sound was ticking like a clock.
Eddie smiled. A blissful smile. Like he knew what was coming next.
“Get down!” Cal pulled Nix behind the overturned desk and down to the floor, blanketing her with his large body. His mass crushed her into the musty shag rug.
Alarm bells clanged. Nix braced herself for a loud boom and flying Cyclops chunks. Instead, there was a pop. Metal rings crashed to the floor.
“What the hell?” Cal eased back enough to look, but kept Nix pinned down. She punched high inside of his groin, narrowly missing his sack. He flinched. “Nix, stay down.”
“Screw you, Cal. You’re not the one breathing in this nasty rug.”
Cal released her. “Fine.”
The chains were in a pile. Eddie was gone. Devlin was crouched down on the floor, sniffing the area like a dog. “Whoever this guy works for is either very well connected or is a major Power.” With a capital P. “This is not your garden variety escape spell.”
“That should narrow it down a little.” Cal rubbed his thigh. Nix hoped she left a bruise there. Then again, she could offer to kiss it and make it better.
Okaaay. She pretended to examine the chains, trying not to think of kissing Cal in places other than his lips. A faint reek of sulfur tickled her nose. Like the fire and brimstone kind. “Cal, Devlin, check this out.”
Devlin took a big sniff, then leaned back on his haunches, his face pale. “I need to get my back-up system. We’re dealing with something big and bad here.”
Devlin unlocked a small safe behind a fake wall. He pulled out a laptop case and several old tomes. He stuffed the old books and Eddie’s cell phone into a duffle bag, while he booted up the laptop. Cal flipped Devlin’s desk upright. Nix wheeled a chair to him.
“We might as well check on your Uncle Memphis, before I get any more visitors.” Devlin tapped away, accessing files. “I have all my data stored on offsite servers, rather than individual machines. Here we go.”
A lengthy list of purchases and acquisitions were listed, some of them dating back more than a hundred years. None of them stood out as being relevant, mostly furniture, sculpture, wall art. Nix had never seen any of those items at the tattoo shop. Memphis must have had other houses, none of which she had ever visited.
“I don’t see anything related to our situation.” Nix hugged herself, chewing on her bottom lip. Devlin kept scrolling. A name caught her eye. “Wait. Is that Basil?”
“Yes. He’s a very rare specimen. Took me months of trading and negotiating to acquire him for Memphis,” Devlin said. “But that was over a hundred years ago. I don’t see how that matters.”
“Looks like the last thing Memphis bought was a cage for Basil.” Cal pointed to the screen.
“Another special order. Memphis was always very particular in his tastes.” Devlin clicked on the entry and a photo of the cage appeared.
“That’s his travel cage.” Nix had it in her apartment in the front hall closet.
“Was there a particular reason for Memphis wanting this kind of cage?” Cal rubbed his jaw, the stubble making a gritty sound.
“None that I’m aware of,” Devlin said.
Nix had to agree. There was nothing special about it—just a standard issue, wire-enclosed birdcage—like the kind you saw on TV. “Maybe it’s Basil who is special?”
“Devlin, can you try Eddie’s cell phone records, too?” Cal’s phone rang. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”
Nix swept up the glass while Devlin hacked into Eddie’s cell phone records. It was the least she could do. Her apartment looked Martha Stewart clean thanks to Devlin.
“Got’em.” Devlin tapped out a few more commands. “Nix, take a look at this.”
“He sure likes Chinese takeout.” Nix sighed. “So another dead end?” She stood and watched Cal from out the storefront window. His hands were animated, feet pacing in short, tight circles.
“Not entirely.” Devlin paused. “There was one call last week. The night Cal’s soul was stolen. The call came from Nereus’ office.”
Nix whipped around. “How do you know that? Nereus’ number is private. It’s always masked when he calls us.”
“I have my ways. I wasn’t always a pawnshop owner.” For a moment, Nix glimpsed that other side of Devlin. Underneath his fumbling, shy guy routine, there was a cold hard streak. Steel glinted in his eyes. She thought back to the Umbra tattoo on his stomach.
“How long did the call last?”
“Under a minute.” Devlin’s shoulders relaxed. The hard edge was gone as quickly as it appeared.
“Just enough time to issue an order.” Nix couldn’t believe her father would enlist a scumbag like Eddie to hurt Cal. It didn’t make any sense. Cal was a trusted confidant. No, it had to be someone else. Maybe they broke into his office?
“I don’t think it was Nereus,” Devlin placated. “When was the last time you spoke to him?”
“He came into the shop earlier that same day. And he called Cal right before I accepted a final mission.” Nix leaned her forehead against the glass pane. It would leave a smudge mark on the window, but she didn’t care. There had to be a traitor in her father’s circle
. Nothing else made sense.
“Have you heard from him or seen him since that day?”
“No.” Nix stared at Cal. He had stopped pacing. The corners of his mouth were down as he listened to the caller on the other end. After a moment, he turned around, his back to her. His spine was rigid. Only one person could do that to Cal. Ares.
Except, how did she know that? How did she know anything anymore? Nix faced Devlin. “Thank you for your help.”
The Satyr smiled, his face beaming. “My pleasure.”
Cal returned, tight-lipped about the phone call. Nix didn’t press the issue. Instead, she remained silent while Devlin shared his findings. None of them had any answers or further insight on the birdcage or Eddie’s phone call. Again, they were left with more questions than answers. After they helped Devlin clean up the mess, they headed back to Mystic Ink.
Bone tired and weary, Nix’s head ached from thinking too much. Her body was depleted from expending so much energy over the past week. She needed to rest before she collapsed. Cal wasn’t in much better shape, not that he would admit it. Black stubble shaded his face and dark circles had formed under his eyes. Devlin looked like hell. His breathing seemed tight and strained. She suspected the Cyclops had broken a few of his ribs.
As she exited the car, an overwhelming sense of evil overcame her. One look at the others and she could tell they felt the same way. Devlin exited the car first and scouted ahead, gun discreetly hidden in the pocket of his sweatshirt jacket.
“Really? Seriously? Now what?” Nix threw her hands up. At this point, she expected a kitchen sink to fall on her head.
Cal armed up, full flame, and ignored her complaining. She couldn’t blame him. She sounded like a pathetic whiner. Following Cal’s lead, Nix took on all the water available, the majority from the drainage system under the sidewalk.
Devlin darted back around from the front of the building like his ass was on fire.
“Okay, which band of merry men has come to demand the mystery seal this time?” Nix strode past him, ready to storm through the front door.
“Uh, Nix. I wouldn’t joke about what’s waiting for us,” Devlin said, clutching her elbow. “Look . . .”
“Come on, what could possibly be so . . .” The words died in her throat. What waited in the shop wasn’t an incompetent bunch of Harpies or a dimwit Cyclops.
“Shit,” Cal said. The orange flames at his fingertips flickered before turning blue.
Furies—the Bogeymen of the God realm—were waiting inside.
Yep, they were in a world of shit.
Chapter 15
The streets were quiet. Most of the locals were down on the waterfront waiting for Fourth of July Fireworks to start. Strains of patriotic music drifted across the sky.
“Do you think they know we’re here?” Nix said as they all crouched in the side alley.
Cal sure as hell hoped not, but he didn’t say that.
“No. If they knew, they would be kicking our asses already.” Devlin pulled out his handgun and slid out the ammo clip. He replaced it with a different one and shoved the clip home. “Special rounds. Designed them myself.”
Which meant they were probably highly illegal, but if the bullets gave them an advantage, Cal wasn’t about to protest. The Furies were creatures of legend in their own right. They were like the major Gods and Goddesses—not supposed to be on Earth anymore.
“How many do you see?” Nix asked. Every muscle in her body looked ready to spring.
Cal leaned around the corner and took a quick survey of the shop. “Three.” And Jason, the Son of Heroes, was ready to take them on by himself. Sword in hand, the guy stood defiant in front of the Furies. The balls on that kid were incredible. Cal ducked back and rejoined the others.
Devlin groaned when he heard the news. “Oh my hell! That is like the equivalent of twenty of us. We need help.”
“I totally agree.” For once Cal was happy about Nix’s friendship with Zephyr. He texted the wind deity. The response was instant.
Out in the alley, he heard Jason let out a battle cry. Nix uncoiled, ready to charge into the building. Cal restrained her. “Wait for Zephyr.”
Air blasted down the alleyway. The West Wind had arrived. He flashed his pearly whites, grinning like they were going to the prom. “You rang? What are we up against here?”
The guy was such a drama queen. “Furies,” Cal said. That killed Zephyr’s smile in its tracks.
“Fuck.” Zephyr’s expression turned rock hard and the air pressure dropped. “Really?”
“Yes.” Nix broke out of Cal’s grasp and bolted into the shop.
She was so reckless. Cal wanted to tie her up and lock her in a room where she would be safe. Completely chauvinistic, but hey, that was love, wasn’t it?
Nix expected to find more supernatural uglies in her shop. Instead, the Furies appeared as runway models plucked off the cover of a magazine. Tall, svelte, big-haired and wildly overdressed in slinky evening dresses, they were like a cocktail party with nowhere to go.
Ancient, untamed energy roiled off them. Nix staggered under its weight. The Furies collectively fixed their stare upon her, ignoring Cal, Devlin, and Zephyr as they flanked her on either side. Opalescent eyes radiated too many colors to track, outlandish even by God standards. Their perfectly angled faces were cold and heartless and gave new meaning to the concept of terrible beauty. Nix’s instincts screamed at her to run.
“Eudora,” the blonde one snarled, “we tire of waiting for you.”
“No one invited you, either,” Nix snapped back, sick and tired of the constant harassment. It didn’t matter if the mastermind sent Santa Claus, she couldn’t give them what she didn’t have.
Zephyr hissed, “Have a care, Nix.”
The third Fury, with raven black hair, stepped to the forefront. “Give us the seal, and we will kill only you.”
Mary emerged from the backroom, a curved scimitar in her hand. Her entire demeanor had changed from cold, disinterested bitch to warrior princess—weapon raised, body poised for a fight. Her golden wrist cuffs radiated warm, magical energy.
“We have no quarrel with you, Handmaiden of Anubis,” said the black-haired Fury. “This is not your God’s concern.”
Nix and Jason exchanged glances. So Mary was a Guardian of the Underworld and a concubine to an Egyptian God. Nix wondered how Anubis felt about one of his chosen ladies having an affair with Uncle Memphis.
“Nix is mine to protect. Leave now.” Mary’s lips curled into a predatory snarl. Her front incisors elongated into fangs. Basil screeched from the backroom. Mary barked a response in her native tongue. The bird quieted.
“We will not be responsible for your demise, Ma’at.”
Ma’at, the Goddess of Justice. That explained so much. Mary’s cool indifference suddenly took on a new light. When weighing the scales of justice, a calm impartiality was called for.
Mary scoffed, “As if.” Golden light emanated from the wrist cuffs and channeled into the scimitar. “Show your true selves.”
The light funneled from the sword, illuminating the Furies. The supermodel façades dissipated.
“I liked them better before,” Jason said out of the corner of his mouth.
Nix had to agree. The Furies in their true form were gruesome. The blonde had morphed into a gray beast: half female, half fanged with a sinuous tail banded with dark stripes. The redhead sported scaly red skin. Sharp spikes protruded in a ridged line across the top of her hairless scalp. The pointed tips dripped with black liquid. Probably poison.
The worst was the dark-haired Fury. Her true face was a living nightmare. Hideous gray flesh pulled tight over a bony skull, serrated teeth, and yellow eyes.
Nix had seen enough. “Get out of my shop.”
She unleashed all the water at her command, dousing the Furies down to the skin. The Furies laughed in unison, an awful, guttural chorus that vibrated her teeth. With a hand wave, the gray beast made the water disappear.
She tsked at Nix as if she were a naughty child. Cal and Devlin pulled Nix back by the elbows.
Chaos erupted in the room.
The gray beast latched onto Devlin in one swift motion. Her sharp fangs punctured his collarbone. Like a lion with its prey, she sprang out the front door, Devlin firmly gripped in her jaw. Zephyr pursued in a violent gust of wind and blew out the door.
Jason and Mary tag teamed the spiked Fury. The impact projected Spiky through the plate glass window. Mary, followed by Jason, leaped through the opening and disappeared in the night, chasing the Fury down East Main Street.
Gods damn it. Nix didn’t wait around to measure the damage. She charged the corpse Fury. Only to be blocked. A beam of power shot out and punched Nix hard in the gut. Nix rammed into the reception desk with a rending crack. Every bone in Nix’s body rattled from the impact. Good thing she wasn’t mortal or her back would be broken.
The dark Fury hauled Nix up by her shirt collar. “Where is it?”
Nix swung her fist. It connected with the Fury’s nose, then recoiled as if she hit a brick wall. Pins and needles shot down her arm. Her knuckles throbbed.
“You are nothing compared to us. We are ancient. We are more powerful.”
“And you talk way too much,” Cal said, raising his arms. He launched a fireball into the Fury. Nix fell to the floor. Her knees stung from the impact.
The Fury batted the flames away, then reached forward and grabbed Cal. With one swift movement, she catapulted Cal into the backroom. Metal shelves tumbled and crashed.
“Cal!” Nix was yanked backward.
A hand fisted her hair from behind. “We have unfinished business.” The Fury tilted Nix’s neck back.
“Yeah, you were leaving.” Nix twisted around, her scalp threatening to detach, as she cranked the Fury’s arm behind her back. The hold lasted for about a second before the Fury tossed Nix onto the couch like a rag doll.
“Give me the sacred seal, and I might let your friends live. You, I will kill for the pleasure of it.” The Fury’s hands changed shape, fingertips lengthening into razor sharp blades.
