by Grace,Viola
Lenora smiled at the motions of the woman who had spent nearly as much time in the kitchen as Benny. “Well done, Minerva. I will leave you and your mother to your discussion.”
Lenora got up, got a plate of cookies and set it on the table next to them. With her duties as hostess done, she left her apprentice to the discussion of her origins. She wondered if her suspicions were correct.
* * * *
Minerva got the coffee ready and poured her mom a cup, setting the cream and sugar in just the way she liked it. “There you go. Thanks for coming. Today was a little unreal.”
“You had a bad date?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Something like that. You know the kind of work I do.”
“Of course. You negotiate between extranatural folk.”
“Yes, and yesterday or possibly a few days ago, I met a man I felt attracted to, but he wasn’t going to let me go easily, so I bespelled him and ran for it, so to speak.”
“And you are afraid that he will come after you.”
She shrugged. “If anyone could get through the wards, it would be him. Now, as we have been left alone for a discussion, shall we have it? What were you going to tell me about my origin?”
Her mother gripped her coffee cup and sipped slowly. “It was a cold moon. I remember that much. The rest is a little fuzzy...”
“I can lift it from your mind as you think of it.”
Deirdre nodded. “I think that would be best.”
She walked to her small temple to the goddess of magic, and she knelt with her offering, placing the rare herbs on the altar and lighting the candles.
“Beloved Hecate, I beg for magic in my life. I am a hollow being without the touch of the energy that so many take for granted. Please, grant me magic.”
She knelt there for hours as the moon moved above her. She was about to leave when she heard a small cry.
She looked at the altar, and in the place of the exotic herbs was a naked baby girl, wailing under the moon.
A woman appeared behind the infant and more women appeared behind her.
The voice was in her ears, her mind and her soul. “Deirdre, we charge you with raising our daughter. We have created her from our own beings, and she is the magic that you seek. Take her to one of your places of refuge and apply to adopt her. We will make sure that you are the one to take this piece of us into your home.”
Deirdre stuttered, “My ladies, I do not have the means to raise a child properly.”
A bag dropped to the ground in front of Deirdre and gold spilled out.
“You may use it all and create a space that will honour our daughter and her new mother. Tonight is the day that you receive your magic, daughter.”
A moment later and the goddesses were gone, leaving only the child and the gold behind.
Deirdre quickly took off her robes, and she wrapped them around the baby. The infant smiled up at her with wise eyes, and Deirdre felt her heart thud until it beat for the little goddess in her arms.
Following directions, she took the baby to the local abandonment drop, leaving her wrapped and comfortable. After ringing the bell, the child was taken into the warmth immediately.
She was excited. The next morning, she went to a goldsmith and traded for a handful of the metal she had gotten. The money she received went straight into her bank account, and she was confident that the goddesses were looking out for their child.
A shockingly short wait and she had the baby in her arms again. It was like life was starting over.
Minerva blinked. She wiped tears from her cheeks. “Well, that was intense.”
Deirdre smiled. “They did give me my magic.”
“Do you know who they were?”
“Hecate, obviously. Over the years, I have heard the names of Rhea and Metis as well as Tyche, Psyche and the muse, Calliope. You were a group effort with each of them contributing part of themselves to you.”
“Why do they want to talk to me now?”
Deirdre nibbled at a cookie and didn’t meet her gaze. “You are a master mage now. It is possible that they want to set you to your purpose.”
Minerva sat back and frowned. “Well, fuck.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
Minerva and her mother were in agreement, but what the hell could the goddesses want? There was really only one way to find out. She had to ask them.
Chapter Six
When there was no dragon in the skies above the Ganger home after two days, Minerva felt confident enough to go home with her mother.
If the goddesses wanted a conversation, she was going to make herself accessible.
It was best to get this kind of thing over with. For immortal beings, deities were fairly impatient.
She left her mother in the house and headed deep into their property. She went to the small temple and sat cross-legged on the floor with her mind open and her body relaxed.
“You are taller than I had guessed, daughter.” A woman with chalky skin and midnight hair stepped away from the wall.
“I am as I was made to be.” She remained sitting.
Another figure stepped out of the shadows and then more. Goddesses finally surrounded her; waves of power filled the room.
She remained seated.
“Rise up, daughter. We would greet you properly.” Hecate was amused.
With a sigh, Minerva got to her feet and faced the collection of ancient power.
An older, very tall woman stepped forward. “I am Rhea, and I gave you poise and your form.”
A slightly smaller woman stood next to Rhea. “I am Metis, and I gave you wisdom.”
A graceful woman smiled. “I am Psyche, and I gave you hope for love, a soulmate.”
“I am Tyche; I gave you a grasp of fortune and fate.”
“I am Calliope, and I offered you the ability to write and create.”
“And I am Hecate; I gave you the floodgates of magic at your command.”
“I am pleased to meet you, creators.”
Rhea quirked her lips. “You do not call us mothers?”
“Deirdre is my mother. She sacrificed for me, watched me flourish where she had failed and held me and wiped my tears. I honour you as my creators, and I honour her for her sacrifices.”
Metis nodded. “Wise statement.”
“Now I must ask, creators, why did you bring me to life?”
Hecate smirked. “With the waves of magic in the world, I wanted another woman who could stand as goddess for the modern age, but I could not create her alone.”
Rhea shook her head. “The first new goddess went mad. She had to be destroyed. Hecate chose Chaos as one of the contributors, and things went wrong. That would have been the great fire of seventeen twelve.”
Minerva blinked. “Oh. Right. May I inquire as to my name?”
Tyche smiled. “Minerva oversaw our efforts so that none would overpower the offering of the others. You are equally a natural woman as you are a natural poet, creative writer, mage, lover, take your pick. No part of you wins out over the others.”
“Good to know.”
The goddesses came to her and embraced her. She didn’t recognize what they said as they whispered into her ear, but part of her soul clicked into place with each contact.
She didn’t grow stronger, but she felt whole.
Hecate came to her finally and kissed her forehead. “And now you will have whatever magic you wish at your command.”
“Thank you, madam, I already do.”
A hard hand gripped her chin. “You think you are clever?”
“I know I am intelligent, madam. It was designed into me. I believe that was Calliope.”
Calliope cleared her throat. “Actually, it was.”
Hecate looked at her with completely black eyes, and she grinned. “Good. You will need every bit of that confidence and intelligence. We are seeking our other daughters. They were not as balanced as you
are. They are causing trouble.”
Rhea crossed her arms and shook her head. “That is because Hecate thought that Chaos and Nyx would be good influences.”
Metis sighed. “And Hera.”
The crowd murmured in agreement.
Minerva raised her voice. “Wait. How many attempts have there been before me?”
Hecate muttered, “Seven. There are three still alive. Gods killed the others.”
“Why?”
Rhea answered, “Childbirth. They wanted to plow the new goddess and start another pantheon.”
Minerva winced. “Why was that a problem?”
Hecate shrugged, “Chaos wanted them to seek their own fame and fortune with no worries about family. They cannot have children.”
Rhea smirked. “I did not make that mistake with you. You are built to care about those around you. That includes your family. Hecate had to agree that I could make you as human as possible before I would participate.”
Minerva looked around. “They haven’t come for me.”
Hecate snorted. “You have hidden yourself well. Even we had to ask your mother to send you to us. If you had not come here, we would not have been able to touch you.”
“That is... surprising.”
Metis cocked her head. “Why?”
“You are goddesses.”
Rhea laughed and Psyche smiled.
Psyche explained, “We have not been worshipped in over a thousand years in any way that matters. You were our last chance to make a mark on the world.”
The other goddesses were silent.
“What do you mean, ‘last chance’?”
Rhea came to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We do not have the power to do this again. We gave our all to you and made sure that you were taken care of. Even though Hecate will not admit it, she is proud of you.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
Psyche stepped forward and smiled. “We need you to find a champion. You are settled in your power and can defend yourself against most comers. After our gathering, the gods will look for you, and they will find you. It is old fashioned, but I would urge you to find a mate who will stand with you.”
Images of Zemuel flashed through her mind. Psyche smiled. “He might do. I am partial to men with wings.”
Minerva felt a blush rise in her cheeks. She didn’t answer, but the goddess of emotion stroked her face.
“I need to think about what I have learned.”
Hecate nodded. “You can summon us one at a time or all together. Just come here and ask. We will answer you.”
“I have one request. May I give my mother magic?”
The gathering froze.
Hecate cocked her head with a smile. It was the first true smile she had exhibited. “You know how?”
“I am fairly sure. I merely want to give her power over her own gardens. They are her favourite place to be, and I believe she would enjoy it.”
Hecate nodded. “If she agrees to it, you may give her the power over her gardens.”
Minerva pressed her palms together and nodded to the goddesses. “Thank you, Mothers. I will endeavour to be worthy of your efforts.”
Light surrounded her, and when she blinked to clear her vision, they were gone.
She let out a low and shaking breath, rubbing her hands down her thighs before she walked back through the woods to the house.
Her mother was waiting for her and gave her a cup of her favourite tea. The peach and strawberry flavours made Minerva smile. “Thank you.”
“You look like you need it. How was it?”
“They are pleasant and appreciative of your efforts to bring me to adulthood.”
Deirdre smiled and sat down at the counter. Minerva joined her.
She told her about the meeting and the conclusion.
“So, Mom. Would you like possession of enough magic to keep your gardens?”
Deirdre scowled. “I don’t know. What would happen if I decided to make a plant bloom in winter?”
“It would die.”
“Or change the colour of the flowers?”
“Only the ones you touched would change, and it would last as long as the limb on the flower lasted.” She smiled. “You have a good grasp of this.”
Deirdre sighed. “As much as I wish I was born with magic, I wasn’t. All the magic in my life, all that I have ever needed was in you.”
Minerva teared up and went to hug her mother. They remained together for long minutes until they both retreated, sniffling and smiling. She might be adopted, but the way she dealt with the world was the result of the upbringing by a woman who knew magic when she saw it.
Deirdre smiled and wiped her cheeks. “Well, now. What I would like to have is the ability to know when you need me.”
Minerva blinked. “That’s it?”
“That is it.”
Minerva got to her feet and went into the garden, grasping a two-inch river stone and turning it in her fingers.
She took it into the kitchen and headed to her lab. Some herbs for motherhood and communication and the stone would be ready.
Her mom came along and perched on a tall stool as she often did, watching Minerva with rapt attention.
The issue of Minerva being a goddess didn’t even come up.
* * * *
Zemuel woke and knew that something was wrong. He could smell a female on him and all over his bed, but no memory would come to him.
He wrapped some fabric around his hips and summoned Norman.
“Yes, Lord Zemuel?” Norman had his wings tight to his back.
“Who was my companion last night?”
“The Master Mage, Minerva Rogati. You were quite taken with her, and she with you.”
Zemuel’s lips twitched in amusement. “I cannot remember her.”
“You have many video recordings of her. Perhaps that will jog your memory.”
He rubbed his forehead. “She bewitched me.”
Norman smiled. “If anyone could manage it, it would be her. I will fetch your laptop.”
Half an hour later, Zemuel watched the recordings from his throne room, and he laughed at the expressions of those around her. She was a devastatingly impressive woman. Doubly so if she could bespell a dragon as old as he was.
He watched the subtle shift of her hips as she stalked to and from the bar. It was hypnotic.
“Where is she now?”
Norman cleared his throat. “I believe she is in Redbird City.”
Zemuel groaned silently. It would take time to get an audience with Matthias. “Ask Matthias if I may enter his territory and clear my path with permissions.”
“Yes, my lord.” Norman was grinning, which was not like him.
“Why are you smirking?”
“If you want the lady’s address, my lord, she left her bag when she departed.”
Zemuel stared at him. “Her bag?”
“Her luggage. It has a name tag on it, complete with address.”
He grinned. “Record the address and send the luggage to her via courier.”
“Yes, my lord. I am on it.”
Norman spread his wings and flew out of the centre of the building, heading for the nearest balcony to reach the guest tower.
Zemuel paused the video and zoomed in on Minerva’s face. She had done a good job wiping herself from his memories. He would just have to learn her body all over again.
Thinking about her curves made him eager to get to Redbird City to meet with her again. His body still smelled of musk and honey. He wanted to taste her and see if his instinct was right. Was she as sweet as she smelled?
Chapter Seven
Minerva was washing the dishes when she heard the knock at the door. Her mother was at the horticultural society, so she headed to answer the door.
The young male was dressed in a precisely pressed suit. He had two parcels, and he presented them with
a smile. “Ms. Rogati?”
“Yes.”
“These are for you. Courtesy of Zemuel. I was told to mention that you might have been missing the luggage.”
She took her bag and felt the blood drain from her face. “Thank you.”
“Oh, the other bag is from Mr. Norman. He said you might need it for the next time.”
She set her carryon aside and took the box. “Thank you. Wait and I will get my wallet.”
The young man held up his hands. “No. No need. Trust me, working for Lord Zemuel pays exceptionally well.”
He bobbed a bow and turned on his heel, heading for the black sedan.
He hadn’t just hired a courier company; he had sent his own man to deliver it.
She stood for a moment as if rooted to the spot before she retreated to the inside of her home. She was shaking as she brought the bag to her room and set the box down on her bed.
He knew where she lived.
Why hadn’t she taken the luggage with her when she left?
She stared at the bag accusingly but then turned her gaze to the box. There was a wide black ribbon holding the box shut, and when she pulled it apart, a gown encrusted with jewels, embroidery and flowing silk lifted from the cardboard.
“Oh, my.”
The fabric was a rich grey, and the pearls and stones were also in the same hue. The bodice was rigid, and when she flipped it over, the lacing up the back would leave a lot of her skin exposed. The skirt would throw her limbs into light shadow but not cover them. It was the opposite of what she normally wore. The opaque nature of her wardrobe was a matter of pride.
There was a letter in the box and a note. As Lord Zemuel was not kind with your clothing, I offer this to replace it. Yours, Norman.
She stroked the fabric and smiled before suspicion reared up, and she checked it for spell work. It hummed with energy, but it wasn’t enchanted.
It had been six days since she had been with the dragon, and the memories still woke her with her skin flushed and her thighs slick.
She folded the gown back into the box and stroked it before she put the lid back on. It would just have to sit on her shelf until she got drunk enough before she went out to put it on.
