“What about Yaya? She doesn’t look old enough to be our grandmother anymore, yet she is.”
I held up the papers, and the scrawled words on them.
“Are you sure?” Tad stared at the papers in my hand.
The words looked like a diabolical recipe, and Gramps’s love for the kitchen took on a new light. He’d been a cook of a different kind.
A grain of brains, an ounce of blood of troll, fire from a green-bellied lizard. I flipped through the papers, fanning them out in front of me. The script was all Gramps; I recognized his handwriting. But over and over, all I could think was why the hell hadn’t Merlin—Gramps—said anything? And why would he try and get me killed? Why hadn’t he helped us more? My heart clenched at the betrayal.
Yet again, someone in my life had turned on me.
“I don’t think they are the same person,” Tad said, flipping through a few of the sheets.
“How?”
“I’ve seen Merlin’s handwriting. It’s huge and loopy, not this tight-knit scrawl of Gramps’s. But maybe . . . could they just be related?”
I wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. No, it was better. Better that I didn’t have to think ill of Gramps, that he could possibly do something as diabolical as Merlin, in making me into a monster just to be killed. But then why would Merlin use us at all?
He rubbed at his chin. “Do you think Merlin knows we’re related?”
I ran a hand over the table. “We could ask.”
Tad shrugged. “But does it really matter right now? I mean, so we’ve got warlock blood. For all we know, warlocks don’t have close family ties. A lot of Supes don’t.”
I knew it probably didn’t matter in the long and short of things, but I couldn’t push it away. “Maybe that’s why Merlin wants to help now? Could he possibly have not known we were related, and now that he does, he decided that he could actually be nice to us?”
Tad snorted. “Who knows? I certainly don’t.”
I took the papers from him and smoothed them all out, putting them on a pile on the countertop. Well, that was one secret I wasn’t sure that I could swallow whole. Like a loaf of bread going down my throat sideways. Ugh. I tapped my fingers on the counter. “Okay. So we know this means we have warlock blood. What does that tell us? Anything helpful?”
He scratched at one ear. “Well, what I know about warlocks isn’t a lot. They can do spells, have magic, and are born with their abilities. They also tend to be a bit reclusive because everyone wants them to do stuff for them.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “So none of that really changes things unless we have to deal with Merlin, right? I mean, does it?”
Tad shook his head, and I went on. “We have to go back through the Wall on our way to find Zeus tomorrow, so we should stop at Merlin’s place and ask him if we really are related. And what it might mean for you and me.”
I wondered now if one of the pictures in the hallway between Merlin’s poker room and where he turned people into Super Dupers was a portrait of a young Gramps. There had been one with a resemblance to Tad the last time I’d walked down the hall. Perhaps it was possible I’d just missed the one of Gramps. I was so fogged in that moment of waking up a Super Duper I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d missed something as obvious as my own grandfather staring back at me.
Tad yawned and, with a wave of his hand, disappeared back down the hall. “Fine, whatever.”
I was too jazzed up, though, my body all but humming with nervous energy. A flutter of wings snapped me around, and Ernie held up his hands. “Easy, no biting the messenger.”
“You aren’t a messenger.” I smiled, but the smile fell quickly. “I’m going to bake. What do you want?”
“Ooh, I get to choose?” He rubbed his hands together.
“If you’re here with information about Hercules, you’d better believe you get to choose,” I said.
He flew across the room and landed on the top of my stand mixer. “I ate this dessert once. It was amazing. Graham-cracker crust, different fruit-flavored gelatin, and whipped-cream filling. Not what I’d call high end, but it was delicious. Think you can reproduce something like that?”
I moved through the kitchen, grabbing the few packs of flavored gelatin I had, and got them started with hot water to dissolve. Then I grabbed a can of Sprite to give a bit more texture in the mouth. I put three colors, blue, red, and green, in separate bowls in the fridge and then started on a crust.
“How do you know how to make this?” Ernie asked, moving to sit on the counter right in front of me. I smiled at him.
“I’m a baker, and I collect recipes like some people collect baseball cards. I remember seeing something like what you are talking about a couple of years ago; I never made it, but it’s a straightforward idea.” I mixed the crust together with a good amount of melted butter and pressed it into a springform pan, then put it into the oven. I turned, wiped my hands on my apron, and gave him a look. “Now, that’s got about fifteen minutes to bake, which gives you time to spill the magic beans.”
He snickered. “You’re getting good at the puns.”
I winked. “You better believe it.”
He leaned back, no longer smiling. “Here’s the deal. Herc is holed up in a downtown building that is set to be demolished. The girl—the Hydra, I should say—is with him.”
“The Hydra,” I repeated, and he nodded.
“Yeah, she’s damn hot, and she’s all over Herc, pawing at his belt, and he’s trying hard to be all gentlemanly.” He snickered. “He always was a Goody Two-Shoes.”
“Any plans you could get out of them?” If I didn’t keep him on track, this conversation would go out the window in no time. He loved gossip almost as much as he loved baked goods.
“Only that they are planning a surprise attack in the next few days. They were pretty cagey, almost like they knew I was there.”
“Wait, you were spying on him?” That surprised me.
Ernie grinned. “You’re my home girl. I’m fully invested in team Drakaina now. No more Hera. No more Zeus. Team Alena through and through.” He pulled a shimmering piece of cloth from behind him (where he kept it when he was wearing a simple loincloth is beyond me), but the cloth . . . it glittered and sparkled with the same color and pattern as my scales. I took it from him, laughing. “You aren’t serious?”
He wound it around the upper part of his left arm. “Yup, I am. Just means that whatever your fate is, I’m tied into it. And . . . for the first time in years, I don’t feel torn. I don’t wonder if my boss is going to kill me for telling the truth.”
“You don’t have a boss,” I pointed out. “If you backed away from Aphrodite, Hera, and Zeus.”
“No, that’s true. But I don’t think I have to worry about you killing me either.” He smiled and the oven dinged. I went and pulled the springform pan out and set it on the counter to cool. “This isn’t a quick dessert; it could take a while.”
“That’s okay. Maybe we could have it for breakfast?”
He had a point; breakfast was only a short time away. I grabbed a bowl and put together some whipped filling mixed with a bit of pineapple juice that would be folded through the chunks of gelatin. I think, if I remembered right, it was called a broken-glass cake, the final product somewhat resembling a stained-glass window.
I put everything in the fridge and wiped the counters down while I tried to formulate a question. I had my doubts about Yaya, and I wondered if somehow she was playing me the way others had, or if she was just taking advantage of the situation as it presented itself to her. But there was no easy way to ask if my yaya was really on my side.
Finally I just blurted it out. “Do you think my yaya might be working with Hera somehow?”
Ernie flew backward, his hands over his mouth. “Girlfriend! Tell me you are shitting in my drinking water.”
I cringed at the image. “No, I’m not. Yaya is getting . . . younger. And so are her priestesses. They were all at Zeus�
��s today, at a pool party of sorts, and . . . she said that with the world changing, people were beginning to believe again. And that meant she was coming back into her own power in a way.” Left unsaid was that it was in her best interest for Hera’s plan to continue as it was. But Ernie was no fool, and he’d been at this game of the pantheon for far longer than I had. I rubbed at my face with both hands. “I just don’t know what to think anymore.”
“You really think she could be . . . using you?” Ernie shook his head, his eyes thoughtful. “I suppose it is possible, but really, she hasn’t given any indication before you were turned that she wanted you to be a Super Duper, right?”
He had a point, and I slowly nodded. “You’re right. She joined the Firstamentalists to keep our family away from all this.” I slid my hand to the back of my neck. “I guess she’s just making the best of her situation.”
“That would be my guess too,” Ernie said, but he didn’t sound all that confident. I glanced at him.
“What are you thinking?”
“That things change, people change. It wouldn’t hurt to be careful around her. Or maybe avoid her for the next little while.” He grimaced as he spoke, as if he didn’t like it any more than I did.
My heart lurched at the thought of not being around Yaya. She was a bright light in my life, a support I hadn’t found elsewhere. But I couldn’t be a fool and deny that there were things that benefited her the more I challenged the current system. I blew out a sigh, and with it came a jaw-cracking yawn I felt all the way down to my toes.
“I think it’s time you go have a sleep.” Ernie waved at me with his hands, herding me toward the stairs. He flicked the light out as we left the kitchen, and followed me up to the second floor, the brush of his wings against my back gently urging me forward.
He was right, I was exhausted. There were only a few hours till dawn, but a little sleep now would do me good. My brain felt like a soggy oatmeal cookie. I fell into bed, and Ernie floated beside me. “I’ll keep watch over you both.” He tipped his head toward Sandy, who slept soundly in the bed across from me. “No fear. Nothing will get past me.”
“Thank you, Ernie,” I mumbled into my pillow as exhaustion pulled me down.
I woke to the back and forth of soft voices chattering. Sandy’s bed was empty, the sheets neatly folded, and the bed made neat as a pin.
I picked up her voice and then Tad’s out of the discussion going on below. I rolled over to see Ernie sitting on the edge of my bookshelf, his chin on his chest as he snored, sounding like an oversized bumblebee, of all things. “Some guard he is.” I kept the words quiet, though. He needed his sleep too. If Hercules was as hard to face as everyone was making him out to be, then I needed to be on my toes. And I needed to be at my best, along with my friends. I grabbed some clean clothes and hurried into the bathroom. I showered in record time and pulled my hair up into a high ponytail. I stared into the fogged mirror, my face distorted with the steam, and for a moment I didn’t know who I was looking at. Alena. Drakaina. Baker. Lover. Fighter.
I shook myself and headed down the stairs. Sandy was smiling at Tad, and he was oblivious to what I saw in her eyes. A bit of a crush going on there apparently. I cleared my throat, and she glanced at me, blushed, and looked away. “Have you talked to Dahlia?” I pointedly asked Tad.
He snorted and frowned at me. “She’s asleep right now. Did you suddenly forget that she’s a vamp?”
“Nope, I didn’t forget, just making sure I’m not the only one who remembers she’s a vampire.” I glanced at Sandy, and she gave me a quick bob of her head. Good, she was picking up what I was putting down.
I pulled out the pans from the fridge and started to combine the gelatin and whipped filling, then spooned it all into the springform pan with the graham-cracker crust. “What is that?” Tad breathed over my shoulder.
“Out of my way, it’s mine!” Ernie came flying—literally—into the room and grabbed at the pan. I spun sideways to keep him from snatching it right out of my hands.
“It needs to set still! I told you it wasn’t a quick dessert.” I laughed around the words while I continued to dodge both Tad and Ernie.
The cherub made a gimme gesture at me. I rolled my eyes and spooned him out some of the filling into a small bowl. He shoved it in his mouth, slurping at the different colored cubes and whipped cream, smearing it on his face. He let out a long groan as his eyes closed. “Oooh, that’s even better than I remember. Orgasmic.”
“I hope not, dude.” Tad snorted.
I sighed, gave up, and handed out spoons to everyone. The four of us dug into the dessert, silent while we stuffed our faces. Ernie was right, the cake, if it could be called that, was amazing. Soft and fluffy and sweet, with the buttery graham-cracker crust holding it all together. Not high end, not French baked goods, but I knew already I’d be getting requests to make it again.
“You need to make this in the bakery,” Tad mumbled around a mouthful, and it was my turn to groan. I looked up at the clock above the sink. Ten in the morning.
“Poop, thanks for the reminder. I have to go. I have to meet Mom at the bakery,” I said.
Tad grimaced. “You want me to come?” We both knew he didn’t really want to. While I had taken the share of mom’s ire over the years, Tad hadn’t been immune to it either.
More than once I remember lying in my bed and listening to Mom tell Tad that he was going to go to hell for his taste in music. That it was rotting his soul, and she’d lose him. The strange mix of condemnation and fear she put together and used on us growing up left both of us reluctant to be with her.
I shook my head. “No, it’s just a taste test. Diana will be there, along with the two new girls she hired last week. They’ll run things, and I’ll deal with Mom in the back.” At least that was what I was hoping for. I sighed again, swigged back a big glass of water, and headed to the front door, but then stopped. “You two don’t have a car here.”
Tad shook his head. “I’m going to keep searching the house. Maybe Sandy can help me?”
She nodded a bit too eagerly. I narrowed my eyes at her, and she blushed again.
Sandy was my friend, but she’d sided with Beth when Beth had lost her marbles and gone after Theseus. I trusted Sandy, but at the same time I would put Dahlia and Tad above her every time. It was a hard truth, but one I recognized. I loved them all, but some were closer to me than others in our group.
It only took me about ten minutes to get to the bakery. Such a nice change from driving all the way in from the Wall, which was a good two-hour drive even without border clogs. I didn’t want to think about the reasons why I’d continued to live in house number thirteen after I legally regained possession of my grandparents’ house. Probably had to do with Remo. I snorted to myself, and Ernie raised an eyebrow at me. I shook my head. “Never mind.”
“Didn’t say a word.” He mumbled and stroked one of his wings forward. “What is going on with the vamps, then?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I told Remo I didn’t need him.”
Ernie laughed, and I glanced at him as I pulled onto the road where my bakery was. The place was remarkably quiet. Like I wasn’t liking how quiet it was. There should have been customers for the bakery, or at least a few cars parked here and there for the other businesses in the area. There wasn’t even a single picketing Firstamentalist.
I parked in the back lot and stepped out of the Charger. I took a breath, and a tingle of apprehension went through me. Then again, it could have simply been my mother’s tiny Camry parked there, waiting for me.
My mom wasn’t what I’d call the most open-minded when it came to me and Tad being Super Dupers. She wasn’t excited that we hadn’t died. In fact, she’d said more than once it would have been better if we had, because as it was we were going to hell, and any association we had with her would damn her as well. She was as Firstamentalist as one could get, hard core through and through. But she was my mother, and I loved her, and like always I h
oped for the best while expecting the worst.
I squared my shoulders and headed in through the back door, Ernie right behind me. A sudden thought hit me. I had no idea how my mom would react to seeing a physical manifestation of a mythology she always said was stupid. I pointed to the ceiling, and Ernie shot up and out of the way. To be sure, I made a zipping motion across my mouth. Ernie grinned and crossed a finger over his heart. As if that would truly seal the deal.
I looked away from him. My mom was bent over a recipe book that had pictures next to each flavor. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun without a single hair escaping it. She was dressed in black slacks and a long-sleeved dark-gray blouse that actually highlighted her slim figure. That was a first. Normally she wore clothes that hid her body.
Diana was beside her, pointing things out. “So you can see that we can do the cream-filled cakes pretty much with any flavor you’d like. We can do red velvet, chocolate, pecan, vanilla, anything you can come up with, and we can pair it with any flavor of filling too, from fruit to . . .” She glanced up and saw me, then smiled. “Well, Alena is here, so I’ll let her show you the different choices and some of the bakery’s best options.”
Diana winked at me, and I pleaded with her with my eyes, but she just hurried out to the front counter as I groaned quietly to myself. “Hi, Mom.”
She didn’t turn around but pointed at the page. “This red velvet, what does it taste like, Alena?”
I went to the fridge and pulled out the samples I’d asked Diana to make up for me first thing that morning. “Here, you can try all the different flavors.”
I brought the plate over to her and set it down, labels in front of each little bite. She didn’t make eye contact with me, and my heart tightened further, the muscles in my chest contracting with growing anxiety. “This one here is the red velvet.”
She plucked it up and took a bite. A surprised sound slid out of her. “It’s chocolatey. I didn’t expect that.”
“Yes.” Good grief, this was about as stilted as it came. Here we go, I needed to just grab this conversation by the spatula and start whipping things together. I took a big breath and said the words before I changed my mind. “Mom, you know Dad is a Super Duper, right?”
Hisses and Honey (The Venom Trilogy Book 3) Page 9
