The Trickster's Strings: A Superhero Adventure-Romance (Godsongs Book 2)

by Jax Garren

  “Sure you want this level of dysfunction in your life?” she asked her roommate.

  Rawan swung higher. “You’ve never seen my parents fight. They yell like nobody’s business.” Her expression turned surprisingly impish. “Then they disappear into their bedroom for an hour and everything’s fine again when they get back.”

  Giselle blanched at the innuendo and pulled back even farther as Coyote dropped the chain like it was hot and sidestepped out of the way.

  Weird. Usually he was cool with implications of that nature, but Rawan’s statement had him studying the ground in fumbling silence. Giselle waited until the arc of Rawan’s swing was heading backward and pushed back to match her pace.

  “And we’re... swinging now?” Coyote asked. Condescending irritation coated his words. “Fine.” He took the swing on the other side of Giselle and pushed off. His own pendulum didn’t match theirs, but he was still swinging along with them like they were kids.

  Giselle waited to talk until his back was to her and then blurted out, “You guys wouldn’t have liked me two years ago.”

  “Of course I would’ve!” Rawan assured her with all the innocence of someone who’d never had to turn her life around.

  “No, you don’t get it. I was belligerent.”

  “And that’s changed?” Coyote mouthed off.

  “Dude!” Rawan chided. “She’s trying to talk!”

  “By all means, then, tell us what a rotten person you were.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.” She tried to think of something they definitely wouldn’t like. “I’ve shoplifted.”

  Coyote’s voice stayed neutral. “What did you shoplift?”

  She blinked, not expecting that. “Does it matter? A necklace for homecoming.” As she swung forward, the memory crashed over her with its fear and embarrassment, and more of the story tumbled out. “I’d just moved to Holy Book, and I wasn’t supposed to be at the mall. Everyone else was stealing, and they threatened to leave me there if I didn’t bring something cool back. I was scared of getting in trouble with my new place if they found out where I was, and if I got left behind, I’d have to call them.” And for some reason shoplifting had seemed like the lesser of two evils. “Fifteen-year-olds can be really stupid.”

  “People at my private school did a lot of shoplifting,” Coyote commented, still using that strangely neutral tone.

  “Why? Were the scholarship kids trying to keep up with the rest of you or something?”

  “No, the rich kids did it so they could use their allowances on coke and Molly.”

  “Oh. Oh!” Now, that was crazy.

  “Have you tried either of those?” he continued.

  “No!” she said, unable to keep the disdain from her voice. “I know a lot of people who get high. They tend to end up in worse shit than the pile we started in.” A creepy suspicion took root, and she had to ask, “Did you do that?”

  “Shoplift so I could buy drugs? No. I wasn’t invited to the popular students’ parties in high school.” Judging by the hint of amusement that had crept into his voice, that didn’t seem to bother him. He gave her a side-eye as they passed each other. “But if you’re asking if I’ve tried coke or Molly, then yeah. Since graduating, I’ve tried all kinds of things, and I don’t regret any of it.” Another sideways glance as he slowed down to match her pace. “You gonna walk out on me because I didn’t just say no?”

  For some reason, his admission surprised her. And if she was honest, it did make her a little nervous. “You’re not doing them anymore, right? People on cocaine can get... a little out of hand.” To put it mildly.

  He shot her a sardonic smile. “Oh, mi diosita, you may drive my newfound sobriety right out of me, but I don’t think my stress level could survive cocaine at this point.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  He chuckled, and she relaxed at the warmth in it. “Nah, I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I’ve got a good life, and I’d like to keep it that way.” His earnestness was sweet, and maybe it was gullible of her, but she believed him. He looked past her to Rawan. “Sekhmet, what stupid shit have you done that we’re not caring about?”

  “Oh,” Rawan said, her tone thick with embarrassment. “I, uh, I... fornicated.” She said the last word softly. “With my boyfriend.”

  Coyote dragged his feet on the ground, stopping his swing. “You... fornicated with your boyfriend? I’m asking for bad things. I used to do cocaine, and she’s shoplifted. Boyfriends are for—do we have to use the word fornicate?” He shot Giselle a hooded look. “Freyja, not my business, but you’ve, uh...”

  She let go of the swing with one hand and raised it. “Fornicator—also with my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. We weren’t exes at the time.”

  “Yeah, you guys are angels and make me feel old.”

  “I’m Muslim. I don’t even call him my boyfriend around my parents; they’d kill me.” Rawan coughed like she’d just made a huge error. “Not literally! Muslims don’t murder their kids, or whatever you read on the internet!”

  Coyote started swinging again and caught Giselle’s eye with another glimmer of his usual amusement. “Okay, so we have to get over that Sekhmet is perfect—which, let’s be honest, that’s way harder to forgive.”

  She couldn’t help feeling mildly amused at that. “This is illuminating and whatever, but it doesn’t change that I was a different person around these people, and you don’t need to be there to see that.”

  Once more Coyote stopped his swing to glare at her. “And here’s the difference between you and me. If I was going to see the people I used to hang with, I’d want you there to encourage me not to do anything stupid. If I had you, I think I could handle it—that’s what friends are for. So let me be your friend. Let me help you be the person you want to be and not the person you were.”

  Fear clutched her like a banshee, but what he said made a weird sort of sense. But if he really knew her, he’d leave. Everyone left. She stopped pumping her legs, dragging her toes along the ground with each pass until she stopped. Maybe it was better this way—rip off the Band-Aid. She stood up, clutching the warm chain between her fingers. “Fine. Come with me. But you don’t understand—you can’t. You’ll take one look at my friends and head for the hills because you in your gilded world have never met people like us. I hide it well. But they don’t.”

  She started toward the school, but Coyote grabbed her arm. She tamped down the instinct to defend herself. He wasn’t going to attack her; he was just grabby. “And when I stay, despite your dire prediction, will you quit waiting for me to walk out?”

  Her laughter sounded sad, even to her. “I will always be waiting for you to walk out. Think you can live with that?”

  The confusion in his face made her almost feel sorry for him.

  Rawan leaped from the swing when it was a good six feet in the air. “No, you won’t. You just think that now because you’ve met a lot of terrible people. But a person who sees only evil in the world is as naïve as someone who sees only good.”

  “What?” Giselle shook her head. Gullibility was the primary trait of the naïve. “How does understanding evil make you naïve?”

  “Let Coyote knock on the door, see what he can see.” Rawan turned to him. “We’ve got your back.”

  “Fine,” Giselle said. “If you see anything that looks like Ariana, call out. I’ll sneak around back and see what I can see through the windows.”

  Rawan snorted. “In your armor? No way. I’m a cat. Let me do the sneaky thing. You stay out front in case Coyote needs assistance. He’s the one with no armor and—no offense, dude—no fighting skills. So be his backup.”

  “Little taken. And I like your plan. Freyja? Divide and conquer. Can you handle it?”

  “I...” She stared at the ground. “So I just chill out across the street while you two do all the work helping my friend?”

  “Yeah. Until we call you,“ he added. “Then you come running and save our asses.”

 
; If the plan didn’t make sense, this’d be easy. But it did. She was going to suck at sneaking around with her holster and her chain mail. But she’d barely heard Rawan land off the swing from six feet in the air. And Coyote could knock looking like he wasn’t a conduit.

  “Call, and I will come running. Don’t be a martyr—either of you.”

  Coyote patted her on the head. “No intention of it. And maybe you could take your own advice.”

  I WILL NOT THROTTLE my partner. I will not throttle my partner. Rafael shoved the mantra back and forth through his head while he shifted back to a nondescript human and the three of them walked to the edge of the school grounds. As he started to leave Freyja in the shadow of a tree, she surprised him by taking his hand.

  “Thank you.” The words came out a fragile whisper as the look in her eyes spoke volumes of old hurt and new hope.

  I will not wrap my partner up in my arms and kiss her for all she’s worth. He licked his suddenly dry lips and tried not to stare at hers. “Of course. You’d do the same for me.”

  He squeezed her hand and headed across the street, feeling confused and uneasy. The scent of fresh-cut grass and the faint odor of dog crap gave a suburban wholesomeness to the scene, something as alien to him as his life was to most people. It was late, around nine in the evening, but hopefully he looked innocuous enough to inspire an open door. He just wished he had pamphlets or a Book of Mormon or something to wave at the peephole.

  He’d just smile and hope.

  The doorbell rang with a classic ding, and the bark of a dog and scramble of claws made quick headway toward the door. Off to the side of the house, Sekhmet gave him a nod, which he returned. She shrunk to a gray cat—unlike him, her ability to transform was limited to felines—and blended into the night as she made her silent way into the brush.

  She knew who Freyja was. At the moment, he regretted making the promise not to look her up, because he wanted to know everything about her.

  But then she’d find out about him.

  “Rebel, shut it!” a male voice called from behind the door as the dog’s yapping intensified. “Who is it?”

  No pamphlets, no nothing, and the truth-ish tumbled from his mouth. “I’m looking for a friend who said she was here.”

  The door cracked open, and a young guy—younger than him, anyway—peeked out, holding a bulldog back by the collar. “Here about a girl?”

  “Yeah.” He gave a friendly smile. “She said she was here.”

  The door opened wider, and Rafael leaned down to let the dog sniff his fingers. After a moment, the animal licked his knuckles, and he scratched it under the chin.

  “I guess if Rebel likes you, you’re okay,” the guy said with a laugh. “Bad guard dog.” His voice was friendly, as was his smile, a salesman’s smile. Classic American features—dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and a stocky build—fit so well with a Texas A&M–Corpus T-shirt, blue jeans, and a Cowboys baseball cap that Rafael couldn’t tell if the guy was living the cliché intentionally or had just been brought up to be a Texas good old boy. “Want to come in?”

  Rafael stood, debating if that was an odd offer. Before he could make a decision, though, footsteps pounded across the road, and he turned to find Freyja sprinting toward them with a shocked expression on her face.

  The man had just enough time to look startled before she was there, panting a bit as she said, “EJ, what are you doing here?”

  The man—EJ—blinked his eyes in confusion. “You’re a conduit?”

  Freyja blinked, looking so confused Rafael thought maybe she’d forgotten that fact, then she sputtered for a moment before muttering, “Oh, yeah. I—yeah.” She stood up straight, attempting to pull herself together as she looked around like she already regretted coming over here. “We’re looking for Ariana.”

  EJ’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh my gods.” He held his hands out, letting the dog dash outside to run in circles on the front lawn. “Oh my gods!” With that he grabbed Freyja into a giant hug. “I’ve been so fucking worried about you, babe! You’re a conduit? When did that happen? Get your ass in here before somebody calls the cops!”

  “You... know her, I take it?” Rafael said stupidly as Freyja put her arms stiffly around this EJ guy, then tried to back away, her face crimson.

  He didn’t let her go. “Of course. I’d recognize my girlfriend anywhere.”

  Chapter 28

  “WHAT?” WAS THE ONLY sound Rafael could make.

  “You look amazing!” the dude said, dragging Freyja inside with his hand on her ass.

  The door started to shut, and Rafael caught it, shoving his way in. “Excuse me? Freyja? The fuck?” Hadn’t she just said earlier today that she didn’t have a boyfriend? Did he need to surgically remove the man’s fingers from her ass?

  Freyja managed to relocate his digits but didn’t throw his arm off, her nervous attention now pinned to EJ. “Ariana messaged me saying she needed to be picked up. The location data said she was here. You live here?” She took a brief glance around like that surprised her.

  “Yeah! Turned eighteen, and since you were gone, I checked out of that hellhole and moved in with my brother. He lives here with his wife and kid.”

  Freyja’s shoulders relaxed a fraction in what looked like genuine happiness. “That’s awesome. And you’re doing well?”

  “Best ever.” He let go of her to rub his hands together. “I got money. I got a job. Looking pretty, if I do say so myself.” He winked, then grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. “I tried to find you, but you haven’t been returning my messages.”

  Instead of telling him where to shove his assumptions, Freyja laughed lightly and turned a charming smile on her... ex? Please, gods, say this was her ex. “The new foster’s a dragon about social media.”

  “What a bitch. Need me to send her to the hospital for ya? Nobody keeps me from my girl.” His hands went wandering again, and Rafael couldn’t handle it anymore.

  He grabbed Freyja, yanking her away from the anaconda. “Dude, step back. Can’t you see you’re making her uncomfortable? She’s not your girlfriend anymore.”

  The halfway-to-psycho-town look EJ shot him sent a chill down Rafael’s back. Then the guy smiled at Freyja like nothing was wrong. “What’s with him?”

  “Oh, EJ, this is my friend... Chris. Chris, this is EJ. He was in the home with Ariana and me.”

  The home for bad kids. The one where someone had threatened to leave her at the mall if she didn’t steal shit.

  “Friend, huh?” The dude’s arm was back around Freyja as he looked Rafael’s bland form up and down—and why the fuck wasn’t she punching him in the face? “Thanks for bringing her here. I owe you one.”

  “Ariana,” Freyja spit out like a lifeline. “Have you seen her?”

  That seemed to throw him for a brief loop, then he smiled again. “Yeah, she came by earlier looking for handouts. She ran away from Holy Book again. I gave her a little cash, and she took off.”

  “She sounded like she was in trouble.”

  He just rolled his eyes. “When is she not in trouble? You know what a drama queen she is. Where are you living now? You still with the new foster? Shouldn’t you be graduated and out? You should move in here. Jesse’ll let you stay—he knows I’ve been trying to find you.” His hand cupped Freyja’s jaw. “God, I missed you.” Freyja stiffened up like a startled cat as he kissed her.

  “Okay,” Rafael ground out, shoving himself between them. Damn, EJ was stronger than he looked—and he looked like a fucking bruiser. “This is not—”

  “What’s your deal, man?” EJ growled at him before forcing lightness back into his voice. “Thanks for bringing her back, now back off before I think you’ve been doing something with my girl and have to kick your ass.”

  Oily disgust filled Rafael, and he tried to sort out how much was jealousy and how much was that this guy was a dick. “Freyja, punch him in the face and let’s get out of here.” She’d threatened to punch hi
m in the face for far less than this.

  Because she disliked him? Or because...

  EJ just laughed. “She’s not going to hit me. Who do you think taught her how to throw a punch?”

  Shit. Was that a threat? Rafael really looked at Freyja, at the shallowness of her breath and the way her eyes darted about fearfully—nothing at all like the brave woman he knew. She’d moved in with Andromeda soon after she’d inherited the godstone, or so he’d gathered. Which meant she’d been with this guy before she had power. And she was afraid of him.

  Okay then. The desire to punch her ex’s face until it was purple made Rafael’s hands clench. “Freyja—”

  “Wait, do you even know her real name?” EJ snickered. “Yeah, y’all are good friends, I can tell. Good thing you’re ugly or I’d be worried what she kept you around for.”

  To hell with this. Rafael transformed back into Coyote. “I’m a conduit too, moron.” When EJ gaped at him in confusion, Rafael punched him. His knuckles connected with the man’s ironhard jaw, stinging in a good sort of way. Rafael shook out his hand and grinned, proud of himself.

  Freyja looked at him in alarm. “What are you—”

  Faster than Rafael could see, EJ socked him in the eye. Pain shot through his skull as he backpedaled away from his first ever punch. Why did people do this for fun?

  EJ stepped forward, his fist shooting out low and into Rafael’s stomach once, then a second time, setting his nerve endings on fire and doubling him over in pain.

  “Stop! Stop it!” Freyja screamed, grabbing EJ around the waist and hauling him off.

  EJ pivoted and shoved, sending Freyja backward several feet, and the irate look on his face had lost touch with reality. “Did you ditch me for this pussy? You can do better than this.”

  “No, I... You—both of you—will put your damn fists down!” Freyja finally yelled with something resembling her usual attitude.