by Nicole Hall
Lindsey frowned, but Calliope kept going.
In time, the gods turned to humans instead and found that those children were not only fertile, but produced more energy than a normal human. What better way to gather power than to tie it to them through blood? They chose their pairings carefully. The selective breeding led to twelve gods who amassed a majority of the power—the Pantheon.
“Where do you fall in all of this?”
Calliope flicked her tail and turned to stare out the window again. I, along with my sisters, were among the lesser gods who eventually died out.
“I think your definition of ‘dead’ differs drastically from mine.”
The cat’s ear twitched. We didn’t all die. Some of us were able to collect enough power to endure.
The explanation trailed off, and Lindsey squelched her impatience. Calliope’s silence spoke of hard memories, and as much as Lindsey wanted to hurry things along, she gathered the best information when she let the informant set the pace.
Impatience made her restless, so she gathered the plates and brought them to the sink. There were a few more dishes, a coffee cup, bowl, and spoon, so she washed them all while Calliope brooded.
Lindsey shut off the water and made a note to discuss chores with Dax. She didn’t want him to foist the dishes off on her for the entire summer. By the time she finished wiping down the counters, Calliope had turned her back on the woods.
The gods couldn’t create the energy used to make magic—that trait was unique to humans—but the Pantheon discovered that the offspring of a human-god pairing could do both. They ran the risk of their power sources suddenly choosing to use the magic for themselves, so they tried to keep the knowledge hidden.
“Naturally, that plan didn’t work,” Lindsey muttered.
Calliope ignored the interruption. The ensuing generations discovered magic on their own. They had all the benefits of the gods with only one drawback. They inherited a human lifespan.
“Are you saying I don’t just have magic powers, I have god-like magic powers?”
For the most part, yes. You’re also not limited by the humans around you. Different humans create different levels of energy based loosely on belief, so a god needs a steady supply of supplicants to maintain his or her power. Children inherently believe in their parents, but other humans required more convincing. You’re constrained only by what you can produce within yourself.
Calliope seemed to expect her explanation to make Lindsey feel powerful, but it had the opposite effect. The idea that she had access to potentially massive amounts of magic squeezed her chest and doused her in icy dread.
“Great, but I still don’t understand how the guardians connect to this history lesson.”
Magic manifests differently for everyone. No one knows why, but the skills are shared among family lines. The Fates are blessed with the ability to see glimpses of the future. What they foresaw prompted them to act. They promised a war among the gods and their offspring. Their solution was to tie the fate of each demigod to a human. The connection would seal off the demigod’s power until a bond formed with the human to restore access.
Lindsey shot forward. “Wait, they only picked on the demigods? Why not do both groups? And why declare the humans to be guardians if their only purpose was to act as a restriction?”
A sigh passed through her mind. The Fates weren’t powerful enough to outright hinder the gods, but they could manipulate them. Without being able to access the power of the demigods, the Pantheon lost interest. By inhibiting their power, the guardian humans acted as protection to the demigods. Or so we were told.
Helpless fury rose up in Lindsey, sticking in her throat as she tried to stop it from escaping in the form of an angry tirade. Or worse, god-like magic that seemed to really like the shape of fire. Her hands clenched into fists, and she wished she had something to take apart.
“That’s the shittiest of shitty reasons.”
Calliope walked over and nearly sat on Lindsey’s hands. I understand your anger, but this all happened centuries ago.
“And yet, I have dangerous magic randomly leaking out of me with no way to control it unless I meet these arbitrary requirements decided by the Fates.”
To be fair, the leaking magic is my fault. A few months ago, I sent out a call to awaken the demigods and draw them here. I wasn’t expecting it to activate your power, but in hindsight it makes sense.
Lindsey took a deep, calming breath and spread out her fingers. She’d like to throttle the cat for messing around with magic without anticipating all the consequences, but she still had so many questions. To her surprise, Calliope leaned down and rubbed her face against Lindsey’s wrist.
“Did you just mark me?”
Ugh. I apologize. Cat instincts are strange and hard to ignore. It was an attempt at comfort.
Weirdly enough, the attempt sort of worked. Lindsey’s scrunched shoulders relaxed, and she sat back in the chair again. The frustration remained though. “Did you just do some kind of cat voodoo?”
A tiny bit of magic, perhaps enhanced by the cat form.
Lindsey blew out a breath. “Next time, let me handle it on my own.”
The cat raised her chin and returned to her half of the table. Of course.
“Okay, so anger issues aside, I think I understand the history. As misguided as it is. Why aren’t there more demigods descending on this place if you put out a magical want ad?”
A thousand years ago, the demigods were plentiful, but I’m afraid the meddling of the Fates caused some lasting damage.
Lasting damage sounded like something Sabine should have mentioned. “What does that mean?”
Your magic is a natural part of you, and the Fates essentially took it away. I’ve heard that the demigods reacted poorly to feeling half-empty all the time. They spent their days sensitive to their magic—something inside that ached to be used—but unable to reach it.
Lindsey sat stunned for a moment. She knew that sensation. Calliope had basically described Lindsey’s life up until a few months ago. She’d always blamed the awareness on her mom. The woman had constantly talked about how she wasn’t whole without Lindsey’s dad, usually followed by a hefty dose of blame directed at Lindsey.
“What happened to them?”
Most died alone, unhappy, and unfulfilled. A few forged connections and passed their power on, but I haven’t felt any large bursts of magic that would denote a demigod regaining access.
“None? In a thousand years, none of the demigods found their guardians? If it’s fate, shouldn’t they eventually meet up?”
That’s not how fate actually works. Free will plays a much greater role than humans realize.
Lindsey scoffed. “I’d argue that most humans don’t think fate is real, so they have a pretty good idea of the role free will plays.”
She inclined her head. That does appear to be true among modern humans. Your analysis is incorrect though. There was one demigod who regained her power. Sabine.
Lindsey’s spirits sank. If she had to guess, Alex was Sabine’s guardian. Alex, who’d been Sabine’s first love and happened to have elite training in protection courtesy of the U.S. Army. She glared at the cat, though she wasn’t mad at Calliope specifically.
“To sum up: I have to find this bullshit guardian tied to me by the Fates and create a connection that will somehow allow me to control my magic.”
Yes. There’s a high likelihood that the guardian is trained in combat. They tend to embrace warrior lifestyles, which is, I believe, why the Fates chose them. Your guardian will also be drawn to you. An allure that goes both ways.
The memory of Dax easily countering her moves by the hot tub snuck into her mind and wouldn’t leave. Trained in combat. Eerie fascination. Lindsey’s gut clenched at the thought. On the one hand, if Dax was fated to be her guardian, the search would be over. On the other, she despised being manipulated.
“Is this connection a sexual thing?”
C
alliope laughed. Not necessarily. Bonds can be formed many ways, and I don’t believe the guardian to demigod connection was always conducive to a sexual relationship. Trust is more important than physical pleasure. That said, Sabine believes sex should be the first thing you try to forge the bond.
Lindsey groaned and pushed away from the table. She paced the length of the kitchen, circling the large island and trying to work past her reluctance. The wild magic posed a risk to everyone around her, and she didn’t particularly want to end up unhappy and alone. But trusting someone she didn’t know? Not to mention everything else Calliope had told her pushed the boundaries of insane.
Ancient gods and political maneuvering and magic. The whole story sounded so far-fetched, but she’d seen the magic firsthand. She’d nearly burned down an apartment complex.
At Lindsey’s third turn around the island, Calliope hopped onto the counter next to her. I understand this is hard to take in all at once, but there’s more at stake than your comfort.
The cat’s words made her stop abruptly and backtrack. Her comfort? Clearly, the mind powers didn’t include empathy. Lindsey leaned down close to Calliope’s face and spoke slowly.
“My comfort is the least of my worries.” Not entirely true, but finding a means to neuter any damage she could potentially cause came way, way ahead of trying to trust someone who’d only disappoint her in the end. “I could hurt people with this kind of power, so whatever it takes, I’ll find my guardian and figure out how to make the damned connection.”
Calliope didn’t respond outwardly, but her tone turned icy. People will be hurt either way. The gods are no longer contained, and unlike you, they’re eager to use their power.
A cold chill slid down Lindsey’s spine. “Sabine said they were sealed away.”
They were. The seal was broken, and I need you to help me put them back.
Dread churned in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know anything about the seal, but she’d bet powerful gods that had been trapped for a thousand years would want revenge on whoever trapped them. Lindsey had the feeling she’d been flung into the crossfire. “I think I need another history lesson.”
That will have to wait. Dax wants your attention.
Lindsey spun around to find she wasn’t alone with the cat anymore. Dax stood in the doorway, watching her with an amused smile.
Dax
Lindsey wore a ratty college tee-shirt and soft shorts that showed off long, toned legs. Her damp hair spilled past her shoulders in russet waves that he wanted to sink his fingers into, and Dax had to amend his statement to Alex from the night before. He might have a thing for her.
She glared at the black and orange speckled cat, who sat on the kitchen counter with her tail twitching back and forth, then turned her fury on him.
Dax had come downstairs with the intention of irking Lindsey, just to see how she’d react, but something had beaten him to it. Without knowing the cause of her anger, he’d be better off diffusing the situation.
Instead of entering the kitchen, he leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. “Good morning.”
Lindsey straightened. “Morning. Thanks for the coffee.”
Despite the gratitude, her stiff shoulders and tense jaw indicated wariness, but Dax could work with wary. “You’re welcome, roomie. Sleep well?”
She huffed, backing away from the cat. “Can we skip the awkward morning after conversation?”
“Does it count as a morning after if there was never a night before?”
She skewered him with a withering look. “So that’s a no then? We’re just leaning heavily into the sexual innuendo?”
Dax shrugged. “Innuendo, invitation…take it as you like.”
Her quiet indrawn breath gave away her surprise. So much for diffusing the situation. He’d spoken without thinking, but the comment stood.
Lindsey in a bikini was a goddess, and every moment after that first glimpse had made him like her more. As much as he’d denied his attraction, Dax had dreamed about her all night, then he’d come into the kitchen and felt that same gut punch from yesterday. If she took him up on the invitation, he’d enjoy the hell out of the next three months.
Her pause gave him hope, but he saw the moment she decided not to engage. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”
“I heard your voice and figured you’d finally gotten up.” He studied the cat—still standing on the counter—then the woman. “Who were you talking to?”
Lindsey scowled at the cat. “Calliope. Look, we need to agree on some house rules. Number one of which is that I won’t be your personal maid service.”
Dax made sure his amusement didn’t show on his face. “I don’t expect that. I clean up after myself.”
She pointed to the sink. “I did your dishes this morning.”
“I made you coffee.”
“You made yourself coffee. I just got the extra.”
He chuckled. “I made the extra coffee too.”
Lindsey huffed again. “Fine. You get points for the extra coffee.”
“Oh good, a points system. I do really well with those. Top of my class.” A reluctant smile broke out across Lindsey’s face, and he enjoyed the triumphant buzz from coaxing her out of her anger.
She cocked her head and raised a brow. “I thought Alex took top marks?”
Dax clutched his chest in a swoon, calling on every nonexistent ounce of drama he possessed. “You wound me. Second best was still roughly top of the class, and thanks for bringing up that painful memory.”
Her smile went from reluctant to wide and welcoming. Dax’s heart raced under his hand, and he regretted telling Alex he wasn’t interested in Lindsey. The man would never stop gloating now.
She met his eyes, and the air around them charged with tension. Dax straightened from his slouch and finally entered the kitchen, but the step toward her wiped away the laughter. Lindsey cleared her throat and circled the island to lean against the stove, putting the full room between them.
Dax let her go and kept his distance. Lindsey didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who wanted to be chased. “I promise to clean up after myself.”
He walked to the island to stroke the cat, and Lindsey relaxed when he stopped moving. “Me too. Do we need to work out food?”
“How about we go to the store together when the time comes and work it out then?”
She hesitated as if she wanted to avoid even that much time spent with him, but in the end, she glanced at the cat and nodded. “Sure.”
Calliope didn’t tolerate his touch for long. Her ears flattened, and she jumped down out of his reach. Dax watched her make her way to the windowsill and curl up with her back to them. He was surrounded by prickly females.
Beyond the sunny window, shadows writhed as the trees twisted in the wind. He hadn’t forgotten the flash yesterday, and the lack of blinds down here would make it easy for anyone to monitor them.
He stole a look at Lindsey, but she’d also trained her attention on the woods. What did she see out there? Alex had tasked him with protecting the house and the seal. Dax included Lindsey in that assignment, so the best course of action was to share his suspicions.
“I think someone’s watching the house.”
Lindsey started and shot a quick glance at the cat. “Yeah, about that. I thought someone was watching me earlier too, but it turned out to be Calliope. Her gaze is both weighty and judgmental.”
“I don’t doubt that, but I don’t think it was the cat this time. I saw a reflection of light in my bedroom come from somewhere in the backyard. Close to the house.”
Her brow furrowed. “You saw a light—in your room—and you jumped to secret surveillance?”
Dax understood her doubt. He didn’t normally assume the worst, but his instincts told him to pay attention. And after what happened with Beth, he always listened. “I know what it feels like to be watched.”
“Me too, but that doesn’t mean someone is staring at
me every time I feel it.”
“How do you know for sure? There are a lot of possibilities for someone to be monitoring you without directly using their eyeballs.”
Lindsey pursed her lips as she considered his point, and Dax tried valiantly to keep his thoughts out of his pants. He mostly succeeded.
“Okay. I’ll bite. That sounded like you have personal knowledge of non-eyeball monitoring.”
He hadn’t meant to take the conversation this direction. Some of his skills he wasn’t at liberty to discuss. “I do. Someone was watching the house.”
For a second, her mask of irreverence slipped and calculation crossed her face. “How sure are you?”
“Ninety-five percent. Be careful if you’re out here alone.” Dax didn’t expect her to believe only his word, but at least the warning would stick in her mind if she saw anything unusual.
He did expect her to bristle at the order, and she didn’t disappoint.
Her mask dropped back down, and she gave him a smug little grin. “And if I’m not alone? Am I supposed to come running to you for help?”
“If you could arrange it so you come running while wearing something skimpy and transparent that would be great. I find that my heroics are better perceived while scantily clad.”
“You’re going to be sorely disappointed.” She shook her head and reached back to brace herself on the counter, but her palm landed on the flat stovetop instead.
Lindsey hissed and yanked her hand back from the faintly glowing circle. Dax’s heart jumped into his throat as he hustled around the island. She cradled the injured hand against her chest and didn’t react when he reached for her. The second he touched her wrist, a bright light made him blink.
He scanned the room, but nothing obvious had caused the flash, so he focused on Lindsey’s burn, gently flipping her wrist over. An angry red mark marred the fleshy part of her palm under her thumb. No blisters, she must have moved fast enough to avoid major damage.
