Mystic Ink

by Casey Wyatt

  On the left of the foyer was a formal living room. Front and center, a two-sided fireplace visually separated the living room from the kitchen. Cal headed to the right of the foyer and opened a smooth white door. “This is the guest room. There’s a private bath to the left.” He deposited her bag on the bed and placed Basil’s cage on the floor by the bathroom door.

  “Are you hungry?” Cal said, while she let Basil out of the cage.

  “Famished.” Nix’s stomach let out a loud howl.

  “Come on then. You, too, Basil,” he said, scooping the bird up and placing him on his shoulder.

  As she followed Cal back through the living room and into the kitchen, she marveled at the richness of the place. The kitchen was a wonderland of stainless steel, shiny black granite, and richly grained wood cabinets. The oven was big enough to cook a whole cow. Past the kitchen was another smaller living room with a large, flat panel TV. Beyond that was a stunning view of the ocean.

  She had forgotten that most of her kind enjoyed a luxurious standard of living—only high end and only the best. A lifestyle she could partake in at any time with a single phone call to her parents. Cal seemed indifferent to the place. But then again, it wasn’t his.

  “Do you have a place of your own?” Nix blurted out. She instantly regretted it as Cal’s face tightened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  His face softened. “We’re beyond that now, Nix.” He didn’t elaborate further. Instead, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs, cheese, vegetables, and butter. “How about omelets? The sun will be up in a few hours anyway.”

  “Sure. We can be ahead of the game.” Nix pulled out a barstool and sat at the vast kitchen island and watched him cook. Each movement was precise and economical. The eggs were tapped and cracked in one swift motion. Not a single drop of egg was dripped on the counter. The eggs were then beaten with a steady rhythm to a perfect, frothy yellow. He measured the butter in even squares, then melted them in a singular swirling motion in the frying pan. And at the right moment, he filled the omelet with cheese and neatly chopped vegetables before flipping it perfectly.

  “I’m guessing you’ve done this before?” Nix couldn’t take her eyes off him. She was hungry for more than food. The fluid movements of his body were like a dance. The muscles in his forearms bunched and flexed as he moved the pan over the heat.

  “I’ve done this a few times.” Again, the dark look. Or more accurately, sadness. More than anything, Nix wanted to walk up to him and wrap her arms around his waist and . . .

  Comfort him? Her arms tingled with the sensation of their last embrace. A memory surfaced—the night at the beach house—he had asked her to choose him. At the time she didn’t understand where the sentiment had come from. She believed that they hadn’t really known each other, but now . . .

  The television clicked on, sound clips punctuated the air, changing as the channels rapidly flipped.

  Nix tore her gaze away from Cal. Basil was settled on the back of the leather sofa in the sitting room, TV remote next to his foot. He tapped the buttons with the tip of his claw.

  That little shit. All this time, she’d been blaming Jason, but it looked like Basil was perfectly capable of learning bad habits on his own. What else was he up to when she wasn’t in the apartment? Maybe she should teach him how to clean his own cage.

  Her eyes landed on a white box next to the couch. The kind file folders or copy paper could be stored in. The Delian League symbol and the word “Archive” were stamped across the box’s side. Piled on the glass coffee table were manila folders and a pad of paper. Were those Destroyer files?

  “Hey, order’s up.” Cal slid a plate over to her. He didn’t sit down and join her until he saw her eat a few bites. During the entire meal, her attention was divided by the desire to go through the folders and wanting to ask Cal about that night on the beach.

  In the end, she did neither. She offered to wash the dishes and was flatly denied. Not satisfied with doing nothing, Nix pulled out Memphis’ design books. She strategically placed them on the glass coffee table, next to the Destroyer files. While Cal had his back turned, she opened the design books and then started sorting through the Destroyer files looking for hers. It didn’t take her long to realize that hers wasn’t there. Gods be damned.

  Standing up, she casually stretched her arms and back while scanning the room. After a quick search, she saw an office next to the sitting room. Clear as day, there was another manila folder. That had to be hers. All her trusted instincts told her so. Now to get over there without Cal noticing . . .

  “All cleaned up.” Cal sat on the couch next to Basil and grabbed a book. “Shall we each take one?”

  She would just have to be a little more patient. Maybe Cal, after a big meal, would nod off like every male she had ever met. Her patience was rewarded about a half hour later.

  After a fit of long, jaw-stretching yawns, Cal was finally asleep, chin resting against his chest. The moment she’d been waiting for. Sure, she was just as exhausted, but she might never get another chance.

  She eased off the couch, careful not to jostle Cal, and headed into the office. Basil had fallen asleep as well. Good thing. She didn’t need his big mouth blowing her plans.

  Karma.

  What goes around comes around.

  Be careful what you wish for.

  All these maxims floated around in Nix’s head before she flopped open the manila folder, her name on the tab in bold, black ink. Did she really want to know what was inside?

  Hell, yeah. Even if the truth was more horrible than expected, at least she would know what she had done.

  The first few pages were anti-climactic—all information she already knew: birth date, birth place, war camp evaluations. Sweet Jesus! Nereus had even catalogued her disastrous relationship with Nate Adonis. She rifled past that page, skipping the details, some of which were still embarrassingly fresh.

  After a few more pages, she hit pay dirt. A blue document marked “Confidential—Need to Know” rose to the top of the file. It only took her a half an hour to read the information. With trembling fingers, she placed the folder back where she found it and headed to the balcony.

  Whoever had said ignorance is bliss was right.

  Cal woke up to a hot breeze flowing down his stiff neck. He had only meant to close his eyes for a moment. So much for that. He stretched, popping his spine. Basil was asleep on the arm of the sofa, head tucked under his wing. Hard to believe the noisy bird was one of the most dangerous creatures in existence.

  Another warm wind raced across the room. He could have sworn the balcony doors were closed before. He should shut them before Basil took off. Nix would kill him . . .

  He paused. Nix was slumped in a deck chair, arms folded tight across her chest. Her face was hard, the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown.

  “Hey,” he said. She remained silent as he sat on the end of the chaise lounge. “What’s doing?”

  The silence stretched out for another minute or two. Nix uncrossed her arms, her eyes bright and shiny with unshed tears. “I read my file.”

  Fuck. Now he wished he had read it instead of waiting. “Nix . . . why?”

  She shrugged and wiped her nose. “I had to. I hated not knowing. I feel so used all the time.”

  “And what did you learn?” He kept his voice as even as he could. She must know they worked the Pannis mission together. That had to have been in the notes.

  “Lots.” She sniffed. “I’m a killer, a whore, a sneak, a liar.” She turned her head away from him. When she looked back, her eyes glinted like sharp steel. “Oh, and I’m the Final Arbiter.”

  Cal’s eyes popped wide. That was unexpected. Even on the Pannis mission, he hadn’t seen that side of her. But they weren’t together the whole time. In the end, she had dealt with the Satyr warlord alone while Cal had rescued the stolen females.

  “Did you know?” Her voice turned to ice.

 
“No. I haven’t read your file.”

  “I’m tired of being lied to,” she barked. “I’ve always known that the Destroyers were used for a variety of tasks. But it never had any meaning to me since I could never recall the details. It was like it was happening to someone else.”

  When she didn’t mention his role, Cal realized that she still didn’t know they had been lovers. Of course, what had he expected? Their affair had been a secret between them. Nereus never knew. No one did, except Nix and Cal.

  “And I don’t even know what to think of the Final Arbiter. I have read all the details of the things I’ve done. The criminals, who had to be stopped lest innocents died . . . but I have no memory of any of it. I can’t feel pride, or even shame.”

  “I’m sorry.” And he was. At least he had to own and live with all his decisions, and past actions.

  “Nereus owes me an explanation. Why did he choose me?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  Nix looked skeptical. She turned her head away.

  Cal leaned in and tilted her face to look at him. “By the blood of my father, I swear I didn’t know.” And that was the Gods honest truth. Time to get with the program and find out what was in her file.

  Chapter 16

  Cal closed Nix’s folder and rubbed his eyes. He needed to speak with her. She had been so quiet in the guest room, maybe she had fallen asleep. She needed the rest. He’d wait. He tossed the folder on the coffee table. Basil stretched his wings, then rose up and headed toward the slider. Cal let the creature out and turned around to find Ares standing in his living room.

  Ah, Gods. This was the last thing he needed right now.

  “Son. I know you blame me for what happened to your mother.”

  And Ares had to go there now, when he had so much other shit to deal with.

  Cal didn’t say anything. He refused to even look at Ares’ face. He didn’t want to see the sadness that matched his father’s deep voice. Cal didn’t want to consider the possibility that Ares was telling the truth—that he really had loved Cal’s mother. Growing up, it had been easy to hate his father.

  In the beginning, as a child, Cal only knew his father from a few brief visits a year. The man was a virtual stranger. Often, when his father did show up, he closeted himself with Cal’s mother. Cal was shooed outside to play. Later, Cal grew to resent the man for not doing anything to make their lives easier. They lived in a crude log cabin, the floor dirty, the windows either shuttered in the winter or covered in oilskin in the summer.

  Cal did his best to help his mother. He hunted, tended their crops, and even helped birth his baby sister in the middle of a snowstorm. Grace had a mop of golden curls, crystal blue eyes, and a smile that melted his heart. Cal adored her. Grace was a bright light for him and his mother. Even his father caved into Grace’s every whim. When he was around.

  Grace disappeared when Cal was thirteen, kidnapped by Indians. His father returned, enraged at the loss, but even he couldn’t bring her back. Cal blamed himself—he was man of the house and should have been there to protect her. He held his father responsible, too. The man was never around. Grace’s loss affected his mother deeply. Some of her sparkle, the light in her eyes, dimmed, never to return.

  Cal had never really gotten over his boyhood guilt. Except he wasn’t a boy anymore. He hadn’t been for over four hundred years. Since then, he had learned that Ares had stayed away to protect Cal and his mother. The love between Ares and Cal’s mother had been forbidden. Zeus, in a final attempt to assert his dominance on his fellow Gods, had forbidden any liaisons with mortals. Zeus had been unable to procreate with mortals for close to a thousand years and had grown jealous of the others’ abilities to have children.

  What a douche. Cal was glad Zeus was gone.

  “Cal?” Ares touched his shoulder. Cal stiffened.

  “Father, do we really have to discuss this right now?” Cal didn’t want to think about how his mother died. He just couldn’t think about it.

  “Yes.” Ares studied the box of files on the coffee table, but didn’t touch them or appear interested in reading further. Which was a good thing. Cal didn’t want to have to fight Ares over Delian League business. Ares may have lost some of his potency when Zeus left, but he was still a full-blooded God and could mop the floor with Cal if he wanted to.

  “Why?” Annoyance colored Cal’s voice. He didn’t care if Ares was offended.

  “I think you’re right. It was my fault. All of it.”

  Cal’s head whipped around, his jaw slack with disbelief. What new game was his father playing?

  “I can see you don’t believe me.” Ares sat on the couch. The leather creaked and groaned under his weight. “Your mother’s been on my mind lately. A lot. I think it’s that lovely water pistol you’ve been hanging out with.”

  “Nix is my assignment.” No way was Cal discussing his true feelings for Nix. He didn’t know what was behind his father’s sudden bout of conscience, but he wasn’t letting his guard down. No. Cal knew Ares too well. A slip of the tongue today, a sign of weakness, and it could be used later against him. Or Nix, the next time Ares felt like stirring the shit pot.

  Ares waved away the comment. “The Nereid’s spunk reminds me so much of your mother. Sarah was feisty, too. The first time we ever met, your mother stabbed me in the thigh.”

  Cal wasn’t surprised. Ares was a jerk. He probably deserved it.

  “And you’re right, I did deserve it. I can see your thoughts on your face.” Ares sighed. “Sarah fascinated me. I couldn’t get her out of my mind.”

  “Father, I don’t understand why you’re telling me all this.” Cal resisted the urge to check the time. He had work to do. And Gods knew what Nix would do if she woke up and found Ares in Cal’s condo.

  “Right, places to go, people to see. I get it.” Ares leaned forward, his golden eyes locked onto Cal’s face. “I should have done more to protect her. I should have forced Godhood on her. Especially after Grace. She was never the same after that.”

  Cal hated that he felt pity for Ares. He really did. Except, Cal’s mother had had a stubborn streak a mile long. It wouldn’t have surprised him to learn that she refused Ares’ help either. He also remembered how much he had loved his sister Grace. How much it had hurt when she was taken. His mother had truly suffered.

  Sadness tinged Ares’ voice. “Every once in a while I trade favors with Hades. Do you know what I pick?”

  Cal could guess. A tight lump closed his throat. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear Ares say it out loud.

  “I visit Grace and Sarah.” Ares stood and went over to the window overlooking the water. “They’re okay. Happy together in the afterlife.”

  Yet, Cal noted, that didn’t seem to bring Ares comfort. “Mother’s death was avenged.”

  “Yes. You did me proud that day.” Ares, his back ramrod straight, didn’t turn around.

  “The bastards got what they deserved.” And then some. When Cal had returned from a trip trading animal hides and fur so they could buy seed for spring planting, he found the cabin ransacked. The little furniture they owned was broken. The dirt floor smeared with blood, so much blood he used it to track his mother. He found her battered and raped body by the brook that ran a half mile away from the cabin. She was barely alive.

  Cal had gathered her up and carried her home. He tended to her wounds and prayed that God would save her. As she lay dying, Sarah told Cal the truth. At first he refused to believe her. Then Ares showed up. The man magically appeared in the cabin. He was a God, but not the God Cal had been praying to.

  Startled and unbelieving, Cal shot Ares in the chest. Ares healed himself and cleaned up the mess in the cabin, repairing the furniture, removing the blood. Yet Cal still refused to believe him.

  “If you are a God, save her,” Cal had pleaded, desperate for his mother to live.

  Ares looked pained. “She has refused my offer.”

  Cal knelt down by his mother�
��s side. Dark purple bruises and red abrasions were the only color on her face. “Mother, please . . . I don’t understand. Why won’t you accept his help?”

  “Cal, my darling son. It’s true. All of it.” There was none of the usual strength in her voice. “You have a greater destiny. Your path is with Ares.”

  “No, Mother. I belong with you.” Cal fought back tears. All the anger diffused. She was dying. “Take his help. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

  “Cal, listen to me.” She held out her hand to him. He quickly clasped it, scared by the coldness already infecting her limbs. “Be who you were meant to be. I know you are a warrior, but there is great kindness in you, too.”

  Her grasp weakened. Her eyes clouded.

  “Ares, help her!” Cal begged.

  A strong hand landed on his shoulder. Heat coursed through Cal’s veins. Fire. Uncontrollable flame swept into his blood as if calling to him. “I cannot make her live, Cal. I will be there for you when you are ready.”

  Ares had left Cal alone as his mother expelled her last breath with a gentle sigh. When she was gone, Cal howled in agony and sobbed. Then, he vowed revenge. Anger mixed with hate. An unquenchable blood lust rose from his marrow. He came into his Godhood, right then and there: the power of fire at his command, new strength in his body, and heightened senses.

  Cal kissed his mother’s cold lips. He snipped a lock of her hair, pocketed her tiny silver cross, and tucked Grace’s favorite toy into a pack. Without looking back, he unleashed his fury. The fire rampaged and poured into the log cabin. It danced along the wood beams, spread along the roof, then greedily consumed everything in its path. His mother’s remains had been purified in the fire. In a few short moments, an inferno took hold, devouring the only home Cal had ever known.

  That evening, he left the woods of Virginia in search of his mother’s killers. It didn’t take long to find them. There were five of them, sitting around a fire. When he heard them boasting about his mother, how she had fought them like a wildcat, he felt a flicker of pride for her. Now her attackers would die slowly and painfully.