by Nicole Hall
Dax tugged her over to the sink and turned on the cold tap full blast. He thrust both their hands under the chilly water, and Lindsey clenched her jaw. His heart rate returned to normal as his fingers went numb.
“Why was the stove on?”
Lindsey spoke through gritted teeth. “Because I’m a dumbass and forgot to turn it off after I made eggs earlier. I got distracted.”
Dax frowned. “Didn’t you feel the heat?”
“Yeah, but not fast enough for my brain to process and stop me from touching it.”
Lindsey tried to yank her hand away, but he held her steady. They stood shoulder to shoulder, but he could tell when the pain started to ease. Lindsey’s tight muscles relaxed, and she exhaled softly.
“It feels better. You can let go now.”
Dax examined her burn where only a fading pink spot remained. He released her and shut off both the water and the stove. “I guess it wasn’t as bad as it looked.”
Lindsey examined her hand, then closed her fingers over her palm. “Yeah. I must have only brushed it. Sorry for scaring you.”
Dax waved the apology away. “It was only a couple of years of my life. No big deal. At least if you’re accident prone I can ask Alex for hazard pay.”
Lindsey scoffed. “He’s paying you?”
“I mean, not yet, but when I agreed to be the guardian of the house, I wasn’t expecting an alluring roommate to put me at risk.”
Her smile dropped and a bit of color drained from her face.
“Lindsey? What’s wrong?” She’d been warming up to him until his terrible joke.
She just realized you’re her guardian.
Dax twisted and shoved Lindsey behind him at the unknown female voice. He expected to see a woman standing in the doorway, but the kitchen was empty.
4
Dax
Where had the voice come from? Dax double-checked, but the only ones in the room were him, Lindsey, and the cat, who’d developed a sudden interest in what they were doing. Lindsey yanked on his arm holding her back, and when he didn’t release her, she pinched him in the side.
Dax flinched, but kept his arm right where it was. “Show yourself.”
No sound from the mysterious woman, but Lindsey sighed behind him. “Calm down. We’re not in danger. What did you do, Calliope?”
Lindsey’s exasperated tone calmed him more than her words. She knew the voice. He had no reason not to trust her judgement, but her question forced a connection he never would have made on his own. Dax shot a quick glance at the cat. She watched them with luminous eyes, but other than sitting up and facing them, she hadn’t moved.
I helped. A little twist of magic to strengthen your bond and allow me to communicate with both of you.
Lindsey groaned quietly, and Dax turned around to confront her. “Explain.”
She raised her chin and slid away from him. “I guess you can hear her now.”
“The cat?” Even with the influence of his grandma, he couldn’t help his skepticism.
Lindsey nodded, then grimaced. “No wonder Sabine didn’t want to explain this to me. There’s not a good place to start.” She studied Calliope. “Wouldn’t it be better for you to do this part?”
The cat looked smug—most of them did as a default—and Calliope dismissed him to address Lindsey. Your bond will help him overcome his natural distrust if you impart the information. Congratulations on finding your guardian. Share what you know, and when you’re ready, I’ll be here to finish explaining.
She leapt down from the windowsill and trotted out of the kitchen while Dax wrestled with indecision. His previous brushes with the occult had all been subtle and at least partially feasible. Good instincts and keen observational skills could justify a lot of miraculous events, but a telepathic cat—she hadn’t been physically talking—pushed well past the point of feasible. Then again, he had absolute faith in his grandma’s Sight. If one aspect existed, why not others?
Lindsey sat heavily at the table and gestured at the chair next to her. “Might as well sit down. This is all going to sound insane, and I completely understand if you want to run away screaming.”
Dax sat and leaned forward on his elbows. “Do I look like the screaming type? Tell me everything.”
He listened intently while Lindsey talked, only stopping her a couple of times for clarification. She knew how to give a report, and Dax found himself thankful for the succinct style that made her easy to understand.
Lindsey shook her head when she’d finished. “Saying it all out loud, without Calliope speaking into my mind, makes me feel like I need a large alcoholic drink.”
Dax laughed absently, but his mind whirled with implications. Alex and Sabine were a part of this world, and his best friend had pulled him into something dangerous without giving even an inkling of what he’d be up against. Gods? Actual gods with magic?
A large alcoholic drink wasn’t too bad of an idea.
Lindsey met his eyes, and he saw the same overwhelmed apprehension he felt, though he expected hers stemmed from the forced connection part of the story. “So, you and me?”
She looked away quickly, confirming his guess. “That’s what the Fates decided. I’m not fully convinced.”
He had to choose his words with care here. “Lindsey, I don’t expect you to enter into any kind of relationship with me. I have preferences, specific, mostly naked preferences, but Fates or not, it’s your choice what you do with your life.”
A smile flitted across her face. “Calliope and I were just discussing the role of free will among humans.” She paused, then sat up straighter and seemed to shed all the doubt. “My magic is dangerous, and apparently, some kind of bond between us is the key to controlling it. Calliope assures me friendship is enough for the connection, and that’s my choice. For now. Luckily for me, you don’t seem like a total ass, so this relationship shouldn’t be too painful.”
“What a ringing endorsement. I might have shirts made.” Dax hoped the sarcasm hid his disappointment. She wanted friendship, so he’d abide by her wishes. But nothing stopped him from letting her know he wanted more, and hoping she’d change her mind later.
Lindsey raised a brow. “I can see it now. ‘Not a total ass’ written in big letters across the front. Maybe ‘guardian’ and a picture of the seal on the back, just to drive the point home.”
Dax tilted his head. “Have you seen the seal?”
“No, I didn’t even know there was something to see until this morning.”
He scooted his chair back and stood, suddenly pleased he had something to contribute besides status. “Alex keeps it in a safe in his office. He showed me before they took off.”
Her nose scrunched. “That is the worst place to keep something valuable.”
“That’s what I told him.” When she didn’t immediately get up to join him, he reached over to pull her to her feet. “Come on. Might as well see what all the fuss is about.”
Lindsey let him hoist her up with a reluctant sigh. “What does it matter? Calliope hasn’t explained anything about trapping—or re-trapping—the gods, so I’m not even sure if the seal has any more use. Did Alex say why he wanted you to guard it?”
Dax drew her closer, tempted to stay put and see how far she’d come willingly. The scent of coconut wafted past him, and he recognized he was playing a dangerous game with himself. Just last night, he’d stressed to Alex that he wasn’t interested in her, and now he’d gone so far the other direction that the smell of her shampoo was giving him a hard-on.
“No. He told me there were some potentially dangerous people looking for it, and not to mess with it. I assume the second part was his idea of a joke because he knew I would mess with it.”
Lindsey quirked an eyebrow as she moved, her gaze locked on his, and Dax understood the challenge. She’d asked for friendship, but friendly wasn’t the word he’d use to describe the heat building between them.
Dax stepped back, dropping her hand and conceding de
feat. He turned and led her to Alex’s first floor office. The safe was the approximate size of a microwave and hidden behind a non-descript painting of fruit. The frame had hidden hinges that allowed access.
Lindsey whistled when she got a good look. “Are you serious? An ugly, hinged painting? How is he rich when he makes terrible decisions like this?”
“He’s brilliant with code. Right after he got out, he sold this program he’d been tinkering with to a private cyber security company. It’s one-of-a-kind, so they wanted exclusive rights. He agreed as long as he got a percentage of the company’s profits. Bam. Big money.” He punched in the code and swung the door open.
Inside, a flat, round piece of bone-colored pottery sat on the top shelf. Dax reached in to pull it out, but stopped before he came in contact. Last time he’d done this, it had felt like holding a larger than average stoneware plate. Nothing mystical or weird.
This time, his fingers tingled when they got close, like pushing his hand through warm water. The faint pressure increased as he touched the gold rim.
He spoke over his shoulder. “Lindsey, do you feel that?”
“Impatience? Yes. Are you going to keep fondling it or do I get to see it sometime today?”
When nothing untoward happened, Dax carefully extracted the seal and set it on the desk next to him. “Touch it and tell me what it feels like.”
She stepped toward the desk and sent him a fake smile. “Not the first time I’ve heard that. Certainly the—”
Dax smiled when she stopped mid-sentence to stare at the seal. “So, you do feel it.”
Lindsey moved her hand closer then farther from the stone. “What is that?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t there before.”
“I think it was, you just couldn’t sense it.” She ran a finger along the deep crack through the middle of the circle, then lifted her hand a couple of inches above it. “Whatever it is abruptly stops right about here. Like a bubble.”
A pale orange glow appeared between Lindsey’s hand and the seal. Before Dax could take more than a step, she’d gasped and skittered across the room.
“You need to put it away.” She’d locked her hands behind her back, but she didn’t look injured, like before.
“Are you all right?”
Lindsey didn’t take her focus off the desk. “I’m fine. Put it away please.”
Dax positioned himself between her and the seal, making sure not to crowd her, and trailed his fingers from her elbow to her wrist until he’d pulled her hand out where he could see it. She stared over his shoulder with her lips pressed together, but let him look.
No marks. Not even the one from the stove earlier. Nothing to explain why she’d panicked.
He gave her hand a squeeze then did as she asked. By the time he’d relocked the safe, Lindsey had drifted to the door on the opposite side of the room. She led him into the hall, where she stood cupping her elbows.
“We should find out everything Alex and Sabine know about that seal.”
“Agreed, but wouldn’t they simply be repeating whatever Calliope told you?”
“Calliope hasn’t told me much about the seal itself, and they’ve been living with it for months. They may have noticed something Calliope didn’t.”
Dax wasn’t so sure, but he wouldn’t cut off any potential sources of information. “I’ll call Alex tonight. He won’t answer his phone if he’s working.”
Lindsey glanced at the closed office door then nodded. “I could call Sabine, but that seems redundant. We’re probably fine waiting until tonight. In the meantime, I need to talk to Calliope again about some specific concerns.”
He moved past her to return to the kitchen, and Lindsey followed. She visibly relaxed the farther they got from the office. Whatever had happened with the seal had shaken her.
Dax glanced at her unmarred hands again as he resumed his seat at the table. “That was magic back there.”
She hovered in the doorway for a moment, then sighed and joined him. “Yes, and the seal made it worse. We need to keep it far away from me.”
He warmed at her use of ‘we’, but he didn’t understand how a bit of pressure and an orange glow cowed this fearless woman. “Why are you so sure magic is dangerous?”
“Personal experience.” Her stiff shoulders said there was more to the story.
Dax covered her hand with his. “You can tell me.”
She licked her lips and looked away. “I mostly destroyed my former apartment complex.” The words were torn from her, but she clearly wasn’t ready to share more just yet. Apparently, this fledgling friendship came with sharp limits.
He swallowed his disappointment and embraced the role of her guardian by changing the subject. She’d open up in time. “I’d like it noted that I find it completely unfair that you get magic and I don’t. Why pair you up with a powerless human?”
Lindsey shrugged. “Political reasons? I don’t know. It doesn’t make much sense to me. I get the feeling the Fates didn’t trouble themselves too much in explaining their reasoning to Calliope.”
“And what reasoning they did share has been filtered through Calliope’s distinct worldview. Too bad we can’t talk to the Fates and get another perspective.”
“Considering their complete disregard for the wishes of non-gods, I doubt they’d tell us everything. Or anything. As far as I can tell, they didn’t leave any instruction manuals for the demigods and humans they tied together.”
Dax studied the stubborn set of her jaw. She did not like the idea of fate. Noted. “Maybe they did and we didn’t realize it.”
Lindsey sent him an incredulous look. “And no one figured it out in a thousand years?”
“How would they? The only one left to share the story of what happened couldn’t communicate with anyone until recently. Without the proper context, anything referencing the bond would be a mystery.” Dax leaned forward. “The idea of magic has persisted despite all our technological advances. There are plenty of unexplained phenomena in the universe. This could be another example.”
“Sure. Why not tie all the mythology together in one mess? Muses and Valkyries and Bigfoot all conspired together to entrap a bunch of gods, who have now been released. Only the Loch Ness Monster can tell us how to fix it. Makes complete sense.”
“You forgot aliens.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone knows aliens advanced enough for space travel would fly right on past us.”
Dax laughed, but his theory about fate unnerved him. How much of life was determined by a fate they couldn’t fathom? His grandma’s death? His sister’s? He’d come to terms with his role in Beth’s accident. Long periods of time went by when he didn’t think of that day at all, but had his actions—and her loss—been pre-ordained?
Part of him wanted to share his thoughts with Lindsey, but she stood and stretched.
“I’m going to go find Calliope and hopefully get some more unhelpful answers.” She studied him, then jerked her head toward the doorway. “You coming?”
Dax didn’t hesitate to follow her. Alex had given him some projects to work on, but they could wait. Lindsey was endlessly more interesting. Not to mention, he had some questions of his own for the cat.
In the span of one morning, his life had changed drastically. As far as he was concerned, any situation that merited a guardian meant there was a need for protection. They might not know the details, but he wouldn’t dismiss his role.
The mysterious watcher from the night before suddenly felt a lot more ominous. One thing was sure, sitting around in the kitchen wouldn’t provide any answers.
True to Lindsey’s guess, Calliope proved less than helpful. She couldn’t provide any more details about the Fates or the binding, and Alex and Sabine only knew what Calliope did. Dax hated that they understood so little, but no amount of cajoling over the next week helped them discover anything new.
Calliope did explain a little more about the seal. The guardians offered the demigods
a great deal of protection, but the gods still fought among themselves for power. The Fates had believed the only way to completely avoid the coming war was to remove the gods from the equation. The Fates had procured the seal—she didn’t know from where—and given it to the Muses. With the help of her sisters and some expert-level manipulation, Calliope had gotten the gods inside, then locked it closed.
When Dax had asked what that meant exactly, all she’d said was it was bigger on the inside. They’d all had to give up their physical forms to lock the magic into place. She wouldn’t talk about her sisters, and after hearing the pain in her voice, Dax didn’t ask again.
She could manipulate the latent magic in the seal, which she used for the demigod assemble maneuver and to make two shields—a protective bubble around the seal itself and a larger circle around the house. Apparently, the magic couldn’t get out, and the gods couldn’t get in. She didn’t explain it more than that. Calliope did not like sharing her knowledge.
After that first day, the three of them settled into a pattern of platonic hell. Calliope insisted that Lindsey needed to practice with what little magic she had, and if Lindsey’s foul moods were any indication, it wasn’t going well.
She often joined him for a workout or sparring outside after her sessions, and Dax recognized the need to sweat out frustration. It was the best part of his day, not only because he got to touch her, but because she taught him new moves every time they crossed.
They’d survived divvying up chores, cooking duties, and a trip to the local Walmart for supplies. Arguing with Lindsey over name-brand cheese versus generic felt surreal when he knew she’d spent the day trying to light fires with her mind. No, not her mind. Her magic. Calliope had corrected him on that point.
As agreed, Dax kept his hands to himself while they spent their evenings torturing each other with horrible choices on Netflix. When she stole his last piece of bacon in the morning, he resisted wrestling her to retrieve it. And every night, he went upstairs hoping she’d knock on his door, only to toss and turn alone as dreams of her taunted him.
