by Anh Leod
Besides, after witnessing what he’d seen Saturday, he didn’t need any pretend supernatural in his life. He’d seen things—real things. Sure, there had been stories from Sam about Cherokee Ares and his otherworldly physical powers, but Greg hadn’t caught a glimpse of anything otherworldly since he was four years old and his grandmother had persuaded him that faeries were helping her make her flower garden grow. She’d pointed one out one bright spring morning and he’d never forgotten the diaphanous wings and pointed ears on the tiny creature. He’d believed his nanna since his mother had a black thumb and she didn’t believe in faeries. Of course, later on, he’d persuaded himself that he’d imagined the whole thing with Nanna’s guidance but now he wondered.
The other thing that was bugging Greg was Holly. First of all, he’d never forgotten her adoring glances at the Halloween gig, when she’d seen him practically naked. It made a man feel good to know his sexual equipment was admired when it was on display. Then, he’d gotten that insanely hot glance at her panties last Friday. She had the sweetest long folds between her legs, and he’d seen how damp that sheer fabric was and had even been able to tell she was a true redhead. Of course, he’d seen her naked at the club during the fire too, but the near death experience had kept him too busy to admire more than her courage and athleticism. Now, how could mousy Jewel compete with that? Plus, Holly was a part of the strange paranormal doings in his life. No need for secrets.
Jewel dropped her pizza plate on the table. It made a wet splat as the greasy paper plate settled.
“How can you eat that?” Greg asked, looking at the pepperoni and sausage on her slices. He was considering becoming a vegetarian. The smell of burned human flesh did that to a person. Poor Holly had been covered with small burns by the time they’d gotten out of Torc’s club, since she’d taken off her jacket so they could get doors open. He was a little vague on where the rest of her clothes had gone. He distinctly remembered her wearing a pretty yellow dress when they’d entered the club but it was all a blur. Maybe the dress had burned.
Jewel took a large bite. Cheese dripped from her chin. “I’m starved.” The words were slightly muffled and she waved her hand in front of her mouth then grabbed for his cola and took a long sip.
“Hot,” she said.
Greg pushed his soda bottle over to her. “Keep it.”
“What’s got you in such a bad mood?” She tapped her fingers on the table. “Hey, I know. Let’s rent a bunch of Dracula movies tonight and make popcorn. That would be fun.”
“No it wouldn’t,” Greg said.
Jewel’s eyes widened.
He leaned toward her and took her non-greasy hand in his. “Look, Jewel, it just isn’t working out. I don’t really like vampires, at least not very much.”
“You don’t? I thought you loved freaky stuff.”
He shook his head. “Maybe not as much as you thought. Halloween just carried me away. I know vamps are a major passion of yours but I just can’t get into it anymore. You should find someone who is as crazy about them as you are.”
“My ex wishes he was a vampire,” she muttered.
“Maybe you should look him up,” Greg suggested. “You never told me why you broke up with him.”
“He wanted to do a threesome with this other wannabe,” Jewel said. “Then you brought me that vampire book and I thought you’d be better for me.”
“I guess that’s where we are different,” Greg said. “If I loved someone, I’d have taken the threesome.”
She squinted at him.
He stood. “I’m sorry, Jewel.”
She shrugged and took another bite of her pizza. “Thanks for the soda.”
He looked at her, bemused. That was it? Maybe the entire relationship had been a figment of his imagination. It had lasted less than two months, after all. “See you back at work.”
“Sure.”
Greg left the cafeteria, limping slightly then headed into the smaller break room to buy another soda. He felt a little lightheaded, almost guilty that the breakup hadn’t turned into a scene. What had possessed him to end things at the office cafeteria? Maybe he’d instinctively sensed Jewel wouldn’t care.
Now he had to figure out what to do next. As far as he knew, Holly was single, and he knew where she lived. Maybe he’d stop by with a gift in the next few days and ask her out. Even if he was wrong about her being interested, he still wanted to see how she was doing. She hadn’t been hurt nearly as badly as Ellery but she must still be in pain.
Meanwhile, he’d give Sam a call and check on everyone before he had to be back at his desk. Work. As if he could focus on that when his life had turned into something out of a novel. He hoped his next sex scene would be soon and with Holly of the curves and brilliant sea blue eyes. Claudia told him Holly thought he was hot, regardless of whatever she’d been doing with the dead warrior, Glaukos. Their relationship didn’t matter now and he didn’t care. Only the future was important.
Chapter Five
After work on Tuesday, Holly followed her boss home to his palatial estate. Cherokee still lived in the Spanish Colonial-style guesthouse on the producer’s property. She’d texted her brother’s lover and he said he’d be home if she wanted to talk.
She certainly did. Now that she’d caught up on a little sleep and Ellery’s parents had taken charge of their daughter’s care, thoughts of Glaukos had become hard to block from her mind. What had really happened to him? Could he simply return to his old life as his father’s Underworld bailiff or would he share Acalle’s fate?
At lunch today, she’d gone to the production company’s extensive library and looked at a book of Greek mythology. The view of the afterlife that the Greeks held wasn’t nearly as romantic as the Christian notion of heaven. The idea of Glaukos existing as a drifting, insubstantial shade in some gloomy underground cave was torture. He had been so full of life and passion. Holly understood why he’d felt the need to avenge his sister’s killer but he shouldn’t have died in the process.
She slammed her car door behind her and walked up the steps to Cherokee’s porch. The door was unlocked so she stepped in. The guesthouse was a little dim, with its dark wood and the gallery on the floor above. Brandi described the place as romantic but Holly found it oppressive.
“Hey,” Cherokee called from the top of the steps. He came down, his dark hair flowing behind him.
“You look none the worse for wear.”
He shrugged. “How about you? You were burned.”
“It’s like I have a bunch of little cigarette burns all over my body. They’re blistered now but I have some medication to apply. If I take a painkiller I do okay.”
“Any update on Ellery today?”
“She’s hanging in there but she’s going to be in the hospital for a while and then she’ll need plastic surgery eventually. I’m glad her parents are here.” She paused, then added, “I’m so glad you were there Saturday night. You saved all our lives, except Glaukos’.”
He gestured to her right. “Let’s go into the kitchen. I’ve got a new espresso machine to try on someone.”
“Okay.” She was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Maybe she should have taken a nap instead of coming over here but she’d probably just have had nightmares about the fight in Torc’s office, as she had the past two nights.
Cherokee handed her the directions and she read them aloud so he could prepare their drinks. A good twenty minutes later, they both had nonfat caramel lattés in front of them and were seated at the kitchen table.
“Do you consider yourself an outcast?” Holly asked. “That’s what Dylan called you and Torc.”
“We cast ourselves out,” Cherokee said. “More or less. My only option if I want to hang around Olympus is to be my father’s slave and when your father is the god of war you do not want to do your father’s bidding.”
Holly shuddered. “What about Torc?”
“He is the son of the god of the Underworld. Instead of inciting wars and
the like, he could have hung around torturing the souls of the damned or doing some kind of administrative work like Glaukos does.”
“But he didn’t want to?”
“No. He would rather torture the living, the son of a bitch.”
Holly toyed with her hand-painted Italian ceramic caffé latte cup. It probably cost more than all the coffee mugs in her cabinet at home combined. “Was Glaukos right to avenge his sister?”
“If I hadn’t thought so, I would not have told him Torc was here.”
“Is Glaukos dead now, like a shade?” Her voice trembled slightly. “I read about the Underworld. We saw his throat get cut.”
“Yes, but he completed his mission.”
“And returned to the father of the, ummm, being, he was trying to kill?”
“No, he was never trying to kill Torc, just avenge his sister. He wanted to take away his freedom, as my father wants to do to me.”
“You just have to have a lot of sex, according to Dylan. What did Torc have to do to stay here?”
“Destroy a few innocents perhaps. But Hades will keep his word. Torc will not be seen here again any time soon.”
“What about Glaukos?” she asked again.
“His body was temporary, only good for thirty days. If he had died before he took Torc back, his father or uncle would still have judged him. They would not have made him a shade.”
“Did he get back fast enough to prevent that?”
“I think so. He was still conscious when he vanished. So then he would have appeared directly in front of Hades, in the intangible form of an Underworld servant. His mortal body, as well as Torc’s, would have been shed on the way into the Underworld. It is rare for mortals to enter the Underworld and it rarely goes well.”
The sour feeling in her stomach lightened for the first time in nearly two days. “So he didn’t really die?”
“Whatever you want to call it, he is back in the Underworld now.”
“Do you think there’s any chance he can get the rest of his thirty days here? Like a vacation?”
Cherokee took her hand in his and lightly kissed the small burn on one knuckle. The tiny nagging pain there vanished instantly. Maybe he had more healing power than he realized. “Holly, he had those thirty days for a mission, one he accomplished very efficiently, thanks to you.”
“So he’s not coming back.” She pulled her hand away and saw the burn was completely healed. The outcasts definitely had powers, no matter what her brother thought.
“Never say never, but it is not likely.”
She put her fingertips under her eyes, trying to stop the tears. “I really wanted to know him better. He made me feel so special. I’ve never felt like that before.”
“Maybe the experience will leave you open to new things,” Cherokee suggested. “I have always thought you were a dried-up workaholic.”
“What? Just because I turned you down?” Holly almost smiled at the outrage in her voice. “I’m not dried up. I’m much too young.”
His sly grin told her he’d been joking from the start. “I noticed that when I heard the sounds coming from your room Friday night.”
She blushed. “He was an amazing lover.”
Cherokee rolled his eyes as if protesting that no one but him deserved that designation. “Now you know what to look for in the next one. Don’t dry up again, waiting for someone to come back when they probably will not.”
“I don’t much like your advice.”
“I’m sorry. I hope that does not mean you dislike me.”
His crafty gaze reminded Holly of the stories Claudia told about his womanizing. “Don’t you try to seduce me. My brother’s in love with you.”
“I love him too,” Cherokee said simply. “But I’ve learned, in this long life of mine, that nothing ever remains the same.”
“We don’t know much about your kind,” Holly said. “Dylan is so convinced that you are pretty normal in some ways. But Torc could grow to twice his size, you can jump over cars and heal burns, not to mention how fast you heal yourself. I never got a chance to see what powers Glaukos must have had but I’m sure they were amazing.”
“Sometimes we surprise ourselves, but Glaukos was always a mortal. Torc and I, we’re the sons of gods, even if our mothers were mortal. We aren’t the same.”
“No, I guess you aren’t. But Glaukos beat him, right? The mortal against the half-god?”
Cherokee nodded. “He is a hero.”
“So is Sam, for rescuing Ellery. She might have died. And you, for getting us all out. Also Greg, for helping me. And—”
“We all did our share that night,” Cherokee said. “Thankfully there aren’t too many nights like that in any mortal life.”
“Have there been many in yours?”
“I’m the son of the god of war,” was his only response. His gaze became oddly unfocused and Holly let him ruminate while she finished her latte, even digging into the bottom with a spoon to get the rest of the caramel.
When her sweet tooth was satisfied, she asked, “What do you think the cost of invoking Panacea will be?”
He shrugged. “She is owed a favor. It will be paid.”
“By you?”
His brow knitted. “Or by Ellery. It is not likely to be paid by any of the rest of you.”
“I hope it’s nothing bad.”
“There is no point anticipating the cost. Panacea will make contact when she will.” Cherokee went to his new machine and made them fresh drinks.
“Still, it was worth it.” She hoped.
They sat nursing their drinks and talking about Italian china. A few minutes later, Holly heard the front door open then Dylan and Brandi came into the room. Brandi wrapped her arms around Cherokee and kissed the top of his head while Dylan went to inspect the new espresso machine.
“I could use one of those drinks,” he said casually.
Holly put her arms on the table and rested her cheek against them. “Like I made this? The instruction booklet is there by the sink. Have fun.”
“You need another one?” he asked sympathetically.
“No. I just need to go home to bed. Brandi, how is your face healing?”
Brandi touched the bandage. “It’s okay. Just stings a little.”
Holly stood. “Why don’t you talk to Cherokee about it? He might have a cure for you.” She kissed her friends and brother goodbye then grabbed her purse and left the house. With Glaukos gone, her heart felt too empty to appreciate the sight of others in love.
* * * * *
Early Thursday evening, Holly heard the doorbell ring. No footsteps sounded in the hallway, so Dylan must have gone over to Cherokee’s or Brandi’s after work. With a sigh, she sat up on her bed where she’d been resting, put the pomegranate she’d been holding on her bedside chest, and padded into the entryway.
The stained glass insert in her front door showed the wavering image of a man behind it. Wondering dully who it might be, she opened the door.
“Hi.” Greg shifted from one leg to the other. He was holding several boxes in his arms.
She felt a tiny flutter in her chest at the sight of him. Some sexy dreamlike memory fluttered through her brain and was gone. What was he doing here? She hadn’t known he had their address. “Hi, Greg. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty good. I’m hardly limping at all now.” His voice slowed. “It’s hard to believe it’s already been five days.”
“Yeah.” Five days since she’d lost Glaukos forever.
Greg peered at her. “How are you?”
“Good, good. The burns are healing.”
“That’s excellent.”
They stared at each other for a moment then Holly realized she was being rude. “Would you like to come in?”
He brightened. “Yes.”
Of course, she was blocking him from entering. She stood back, held the door so he could get through, then shut it. “Come into the living room.”
It was simply furnished wit
h a futon couch and a few tables and chairs. They spent their joint house account money mostly on the mortgage. Dylan, at twenty-seven, was still paying off school loans and she had a shoe habit to support. The house was sweet but small and no one would be featuring them in a decorating magazine anytime soon.
She gestured to the futon and he sat down, carefully holding the boxes on his lap. “What have you got there?”
He tapped the top box. “You’ll see.”
Mysterious. She kind of liked this side of him. “May I get you something to drink? We’ve got wine, beer, lemonade.”
“A beer would be great.”
“Sure. I’ll be back in a second.” She slipped back into her room to grab her precious pomegranate, put it back into the refrigerator so it wouldn’t spoil, then grabbed a beer and a frosted glass from the freezer. Dylan had stepped up his entertaining style since Brandi had come into their lives and Holly was getting used to pouring fancy beer from bottles into mugs instead of serving cheap brew directly from the can.
Back in the living room, she made a ceremony of pouring the beer into the mug and handed him the foamy drink. Greg tapped one of the boxes as she did so, dislodging it just enough so she could see the logo on the side. Gucci. What was Greg doing with a Gucci shoebox? She was intrigued.
“Thanks,” Greg said, after his first long sip. “This really hits the spot.”
“Had a hard evening of shopping?”
“I wouldn’t say hard. Actually, it was kind of fun.”
“No band rehearsal tonight?”
“No. Joe’s got a meeting at a club. He’s sure he can find us new gigs but everyone scheduled their holiday shows a long time ago so it might take a while to find us a new home.”
“It’s flu season,” she said optimistically. “Maybe you’ll get some substitute gigs that way.”
