Author: Casey Wyatt
Date: 2012-01-25 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Fantasy; Romance; Paranormal Romance; Urban Fantasy; Supernatural; Magic; Fiction; Demons
Description: Welcome to Mystic, Connecticut, where a Satyr owns the local pawn shop, a Minotaur serves the tastiest pizza in town, and the nearest gate to the Underworld resides in the alley outside a tattoo parlor. Nix–Sea Nymph, talented artist and proprietor of Mystic Ink–just wants to run her tattoo shop in peace and quiet. Peace and quiet, however, are the least of her problems. Mortal corpses keep springing up in her alley like daisies. Hades is angry that the mortals’ souls are missing. And to top it all off, the human authorities suspect Nix of foul play. Before long, the supernatural police force
Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing

Table of Contents

MYSTIC INK

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

MYSTIC INK

CASEY WYATT

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

MYSTIC INK

Copyright©2012

CASEY WYATT

Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the priority written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.  The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

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Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-072-4

ISBN-10: 1-61935-072-6
www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

To Lisa, Lisa, and Brandon, my number one fans.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, I have to thank my awesome friends and first readers Lisa G. and Lisa S. for their unwavering loyalty and honesty.  To Jane and Paula: you are the best critique partners in the world. Without your comments, motivation, and encouragement, this book would not be complete.

To Debby Gilbert and the awesome staff at Soul Mate Publishing–thank you for your support and guidance.

Many thanks to my friends in Other Worldly Words – Lisa, Betsy, Bill, Laura, and Brandon for their patience during book chats (I skipped reading a lot of books so I could write this one!).

To my friends in the CT RWA–you are the best, most supportive group in the world, and I am privileged to be in your company!

To the 7 Scribes: Jamie, Katy, J, Viv, Susannah, and PJ–you all keep me sane and grounded. I am eternally grateful.

And to my sons and husband–thanks for letting me write in peace and quiet.

Chapter 1

“For Zeus’ sake. Not another one!” Nix stood in the alley, garbage bag in hand, shaking her head with disbelief. A pair of work boots, toes up, peeked out from behind the dumpster, like a construction worker version of the Wicked Witch of the East.

“Not again!” Basil, her parrot, squawked loudly from his perch. The wide open side door, leading into her tattoo shop—Mystic Ink—gave the pesky bird a view of the alley outside.

“Shut up, stupid bird!” Nix yelled back. She gingerly nudged the boots with her toe. “Come on, Mister, please don’t be dead.” She pushed harder. When the man didn’t wake up and apologize for rudely passing out by her shop, she kicked the solid metal container and swore. There was no use denying it, she had another dead body in her alley. She peered behind the dumpster, studying the mortal: Pasty flesh, eyes staring sightless into space, soul departed.

Yup. Dead as a doornail. A sultry summer breeze drifted by, carrying the sickening sweet scent of decay mixed with salt water from the nearby Mystic River. She wrinkled her nose. The heat wasn’t doing the corpse any favors either. The wind reversed. Cinnamon and warm dough from the bakery next door wiped away the stench.

“Shut up! Holy shit! Another body!” Basil screeched so loud, the whole neighborhood could probably hear him. “Time to call, Charon.”

Nix pitched the trash into the dumpster and stomped back into the building. She really shouldn’t be surprised. A gate to the Underworld resided at the end of the alley. Yeah, the Underworld, where Hades ruled over his souls like a dragon hording a stash of gold. Normally, it was only the souls of the dead that drifted by and not the actual bodies.

“Basil, you’re really not helping the situation.” Her bird watched as she paced the shop for a moment, then stopped. Three corpses in a week was more than a coincidence. She drummed her fingers on the receptionist’s desk.

As far as she knew, nothing like this had ever happened to her Uncle Memphis, previous owner of Mystic Ink. After he’d disappeared, she had assumed full ownership of the business, the parking lot next door, Basil, and two employees. Along with the shop came the guardianship of the Underworld Gate. Since Nix wasn’t a mortal, she could handle the job. There wasn’t much to it—just let the dead souls pass through. But the dead bodies . . . they were something new.

A police siren, shrill and insistent, grabbed her attention. She shot a dark look at Basil when he imitated the noise. His high-pitched parrot voice was equally annoying. When the cruiser arrived, Basil stopped and belted out, “Here comes the Fuzz!”

“Great. Just great.” She wouldn’t have time now to call Charon before the mortals got involved. Again. Last time, Charon had bitched her out for letting the police take the body. As if she could have stopped them without throwing more suspicion on herself. She’d snapped back at Charon that if Hades didn’t like it, he could come and clean his own mess.

“Uh, oh. Officer Dickface,” Basil announced.

Nix winced at the nickname her assistant, Jason Argos, had given the policeman. She wished Jason would be more careful about what he said around the bird. Basil repeated everything. The more embarrassing, the more he said it. She had no clue how Basil knew what irritated her the most, but he did.

“Basil, cut it out. That’s Officer Dinsdale.” Nix always suspected Basil was more than a parrot but was still trying to prove it. Uncle Memphis had a penchant for the weird, and it wouldn’t surprise her if Basil was something otherworldly. “Let’s hope the man didn’t hear you.” Before the parrot could say anything else, Nix covered his cage to quiet him down. So what if it was only seven-fifteen in the morning and she had just removed the overnight cover for the day. “Remember, if I get arrested, there won’t be anyone to feed you or scratch your ratty feathers.” Hopefully that would shut him up.

Nix went out to the alley to intercept the policeman, firmly shutting the heavy metal door and effectively muffling any chatter from Basil. The officer perked up when he saw her, his eyes automatically fixing on her breasts. It wasn’t really his fault. Mortals couldn’t help their attraction. He didn’t know that she was a Nereid—a Sea Nymph. One of the fifty daughters of Nereus, the Old Man of the Sea, Nix had inherited the natural beauty and sex appeal of her race.

Since she had taken over the shop a few weeks earlier, she had dyed her naturally blond hair to black and had thrown in a few bright red streaks for good measure. She thought it would help her look the part of a tattoo artist and dim the attention to her body. So far, it didn’t seem to be working.

“Ms. Eudora Nixon. Why am I not surprised you have another body?” Officer Dinsdale approached, his hand casually resting on the butt of his handgun. Connecticut’s finest in action.

“Nix. My name is Nix, Officer Dinsdale.” She tried to contain her annoyance. She hated the name Eudora and preferred her middle name, Nix, instead. The surname Nixon was fabricated so she could blend in with the mortal world.

“Yes, you have mentioned it,” he paused, “a few times. I should know since I have been here on three calls now. What have we got today?” Not waiting for an invitation, he headed straight over to the dumpster and peered around the side.

Nix piped in, for form’s sake, “I haven’t gone back there. Or touched anything. This is how I found him.”

“I wonder. What is so interesting about your dumpster, that men keep dying back there?” He sighed again, gripped the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder and radioed for an ambulance. He flipped open his notebook. “Did you know the deceased?”

“No.”

“Was he a customer?”

Nix gaped at him. Which part of “no” did this man not understand?

“No, Officer. He was not one of my customers,” she clipped out.

“At approximately what time did you find the body?” he asked.

Nix resisted the urge to sigh. This was going to be a long morning. “A little before seven a.m.”

Pen poised over his pad, Dinsdale looked up when no more details were forthcoming. “Ms. Nixon, please don’t make me have to pull information out of you.”

As if. Nix could bench press the mortal, but she kept her mouth shut and continued providing details. The interview had concluded when an ambulance pulled up to the end of the alley. No lights and no sirens since there was no rescue involved.

The low rumble of a motorcycle engine cut through the air.

Nix tensed. The motorcycle meant her handler, Calder Quinne, had arrived. Like her morning wasn’t crappy enough.

Officer Dinsdale, conferring with the ambulance driver, didn’t give Calder a second look as he passed by them. The mortal policeman and Calder had already exchanged official credentials when the last body was found. Dinsdale was under the impression Calder was a CIA operative. The mortal had no idea that Calder was really an agent for The Delian League—a top secret organization comprised of Gods from various world religions. The League oversaw the supernatural world, ensuring they stayed under humanity’s radar.

Calder approached with two Styrofoam cups from the bakery next door. Nix tried not to gape at his sculpted physique, displayed by a form-fitting gray T-shirt and perfectly worn blue jeans. For the past two weeks, she had acted like a sappy admirer every time he had arrived. He was a Demigod—Son of Ares. No big deal. His face, framed by cropped black hair, was really no more beautiful than other Demigods. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

She scowled. He was a male, and probably a jerk, like her ex-boyfriend Nathaniel Adonis. Besides, Calder Quinne was unwelcome. She didn’t need a handler. An overgrown baby sitter disguised as an evaluator. How could her father do this to her? Didn’t Nereus trust her?

“Good morning, Nix. I hope I remembered how you like your morning coffee.” He grinned, flashing perfectly white teeth. She tried to ignore his voice, a smooth and captivating baritone rumble that poured over her senses like satin. “Black, one sugar and a dash of cinnamon.”

Damn, he was charming, too. And that was her coffee order of choice... With a mental head slap, she reminded herself to keep her distance. “I’ve already had my coffee today.”

Calder shrugged. “No problem. I’ll just leave it in the backroom for you in case you change your mind.” He entered the shop using the alley door that led directly into the storage room/employee break area.

Basil called, “Here comes Mr. Dreamy.”

Nix cringed. She had never said anything like that—out loud.

Officer Dinsdale returned and issued the standard, we’ll call you if we have more questions, message before departing with the ambulance.

“Damn. Did I miss all the fun?”

“Jason! I thought I asked you not to sneak up on me.” Nix planted a hand on her chest, as if that could slow her racing heart.

“Sorry, boss.” Jason attempted a sheepish look, but wasn’t very convincing. His blue eyes sparkled with merriment. Jason, also a Demigod, was descended from a long line of Heroes. Skull-trimmed blond hair, copious tattoos, and body piercings made him appear menacing, but in reality, he was a sweet guy and an accomplished artist. Technically, he was still an apprentice, but there was no reason for it. He did superb work and already had a strong client list. He could start his own shop if he really wanted. Nix planned on officially promoting him, if things ever calmed down long enough.

“I’ll start prepping for the day’s customers. Hey, did Cal arrive yet? He promised to have a hot chili eating contest with me later.”

Jason and Cal had hit it off after about two minutes. Nix suspected that Jason was relieved to have another male around. She didn’t want to think that Cal might really be a nice guy. Nope. Didn’t want to go there.

“Yeah, he’s here.” Nix tried to keep her voice light and even. Jason didn’t need to know about the resentment building inside her at the whole babysitting situation.

“Awesome.” He went inside, closing the door behind him. Lights in the main shop blazed to life, throwing pale light through the side windows into the dim alleyway.

Nix muttered, “I’m a Destroyer, damn it. I don’t need Cal hanging around. So what if one of my sisters went insane after her tour of duty ended. That’s not going to happen to me.” She stopped, yanked open the side door, and quickly retreated inside before anyone caught her talking to herself.

For the past two weeks, Cal had tried his best not to crowd Nix. He knew she resented his presence, but it couldn’t be helped. Nereus was right to be concerned—a Destroyer’s power was vast and hard to contain. When one of Nix’s sisters had lost control, it had sent every member of The Delian League High Council, at least the ones with two brain cells to rub together, into a justified panic. Properly armed, a Destroyer could be a God killer.

“Don’t you have anything better to do besides watch dog me?” Nix stepped in from the alley. The heavy door slammed behind her with a metallic clang. A perfect echo of her grouchy attitude.

“I can’t complain. There are worse jobs.” Cal folded his arms and leaned against the kitchenette counter. The coffee pot was gurgling and pumping out its fragrant brew. Normally, Mary Swain, the receptionist made the coffee, but she hadn’t arrived yet and Cal needed something to do.

“I don’t need you hanging around. I’m fine. It’s been over two weeks since I gave up the Destroyer’s Mantle.” Nix gave him her back and rummaged through a box marked “sterile pads.” When she bent down, her blue T-shirt rode up her back, giving him an enjoyable glimpse of her tan flesh and nicely curved ass. His fingers twitched at the memories: the feel of her soft curves, the taste of her skin.

Memories she no longer retained, he reminded himself. Touching her now would earn him a slap. Or with Nix’s training, probable broken bones. Not that Cal would grope Nix without invitation. He had manners and was a gentleman. Gods or Demigods who raped unwilling mortals and Nymphs deserved to be punished.

“I think if I was going to go nuts, I would have done it by now.” She turned and tossed the box onto the counter, then swept her shoulder length hair off her neck and pinned it up with wooden sticks. Cal had seen Nix do this a dozen times already, but was always fascinated by the seemingly magical process that allowed two chopsticks to hold her hair in place.

“I know it’s all hush-hush about which sister went nuts. But I’m different from the others.” She dropped another container, labeled “Viricide,” onto the first box, where it balanced haphazardly. Cal reached out to steady the second, larger box before it crashed to the ground.

Gods, she was adorable when she was irate. Cal had known it would be hard to see Nix again but wanted the assignment anyway. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, he had maneuvered his way into getting it. A part of him hoped she would remember their earlier time together, even in some small way. But after two weeks, she still treated him like a total stranger.

After war camp ended, he and Nix frequently crossed paths at Delian League gatherings. True to form, she was the only Nereid who questioned her orders and asked pertinent questions. Unfortunately, given the nature of her duty, she never remembered any of those times.

When a Destroyer pulled on the Mantle, she lost her sense of self. After the proscribed term of duty ended, Nereus erased the Destroyer’s on the job memories to ensure her sanity. And it was a potent security measure. If one of his daughters was kidnapped, she couldn’t disclose any top-secret information.

“I’m sure they have my sister locked down in the Greek God’s version of the loony bin. I don’t have any of the signs. See?” Nix crossed her pale, blue eyes and made a goofy face.

“You shouldn’t joke about such things. Talus died when your sister lost control,” Cal said, surprised to hear the bitterness in his voice. Granted, it had only been a few months since the tragedy, but after centuries, it galled Cal that he still had to work to control his emotions. The death of his best friend and partner crushed him. Cal often wondered why he had been spared.

Their mission in Central America—to stop a rogue Troll terrorizing the local populace—had gone horribly wrong when their Destroyer lost control in a crowded marketplace. Talus had put himself between the Destroyer and a group of mortal children. Cal had been steering a family to safety when the Destroyer knocked Cal aside, then plunged her hand into Talus’ chest. Even an immortal can’t live long without a heart.

His hands heated. Flames attempted to burst through his palms as his emotions overrode his self-control. A Son of Ares, he could harness fire and bend it to his will. He took a deep breath, stilling the flames before they escaped. A light touch on his shoulder brought him back to the present.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t know.” Nix’s sentiment seemed genuine and for a moment her defiant eat shit and die attitude toward him lessened. “All I’m trying to say is . . . with her, it happened while she was wearing the Mantle.”

“Your father is not taking any chances. The policy stands for good reason. If you would like a new agent assigned, I’m sure your father would accommodate you. I hear Nate Adonis is free.”

It was a low blow, using her ex-boyfriend, but he really wanted to stay with her. He had to give Nix credit. She did a good job of not reacting to the name of her former lover. Adonis was a jerk who had publicly divulged the details of their brief love affair. Details Cal could have lived without knowing. The God community’s relative smallness meant that the gossip traveled quickly; whether it was true or not, didn’t matter. He knew his own relationship disaster, with a princess in the Amazon court, was still fodder for the rumor mill.

“I don’t have a problem with you personally.” Nix handed him a carton marked ‘black ink’. “If you’re going to hang around, you can at least be useful.” Nix left him standing there, box in hand. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he had a chance with her. Maybe she would remember him and their shared past.

He shook his head. He was a fool. Reclamation was always permanent. If he wanted Nix, he would have to win her heart, all over again.

The front door chimes tinkled. Then the musky scent of Satyr hit his nose.

“What the hell do you want?” He heard Nix say, anger clear in her tone.

Shit! Not good. Cal arrived in time to see her palming a watermelon-sized ball of water, ready to douse the Satyr standing in the shop.

The power of the ocean surged through Nix’s veins. She could command water at will. There were limits to her power on dry land, so she always kept water supplies nearby. The ball in her hand came from the employee water cooler. The jug would have to be refilled later. But she didn’t give a crap. The dirty Satyr was getting a bath.

“Nix! Wait.” Cal came up behind her, but was smart enough to not touch her. She couldn’t stand Satyrs and this one in particular was a real pain in the ass.

Devlin Ward stood still as a statue, his eyes fixed on the liquid orb in her hands.

“What do you want, Devlin?” Nix dialed down her temper. She didn’t want Cal running back to her father reporting she was unstable. Like most of his kind, Devlin was a slob. He wore rumpled clothes and sported a mop of brown curls, dangling in different directions. A five o’clock shadow and bushy sideburns rounded out his unkempt appearance.

“I’m here on official business. So I would appreciate it if you would direct your anger elsewhere.” Devlin’s shoulders un-bunched and he stood taller. “The neighborhood watch committee has asked that you please do something about your alley.”

“Really? Are you implying that I’m killing mortals and hiding them behind my dumpster?”

“No. Of course not,” he replied. “But Fourth of July is approaching. Dead bodies attract negative publicity and scare away business.”

Nix wanted to laugh in Devlin’s face. He owned a grimy junk shop—Fawn’s Pawns—over on Cottrel Street, a few blocks away. She doubted there would be a big tourist rush for second-hand goods of dubious origin.

She also tried to ignore the odor he emitted. Satyrs and Nymphs were natural adversaries. In order to trap a Nymph, a Satyr would use an enticing scent as a lure. For Nereids, it was the delicious aroma of salty air and sweet coconut. Once a Satyr got hold of a Nymph, he would rape her repeatedly and try to keep her as a love slave.

“The local police are handling the matter.” Cal spoke from behind Nix. Devlin’s eyes widened and his face paled. When Nix turned around, Cal’s expression was neutral. Jason swept around the workstations wearing an amused expression.

“Is that all you wanted to say?” Nix asked. “I have clients coming in soon.”

“That’s it.” Devlin nodded.

The door chime jangled.

Mary Swain had finally arrived. Nix’s prissy bitch receptionist wrinkled her nose at Devlin. While sauntering into the backroom, she said, “Morning, Cal” and ignored everyone else.

Nix shot Cal a look. What made him so damn special? Mary had barely said two words to her in two weeks. Nix signed her paycheck, for Zeus’ sake. Uncle Memphis had stipulated that Mary, Jason, and Basil must remain part of the staff. The only explanation offered was that they would be great assets to her. If Nix had known that Mary would have a bug up her colon on a daily basis, she might not have agreed.

As near as she could tell, Mary was not part of the Greek Pantheon of Gods. The current theory between Nix and Jason was that Mary was part of the Egyptian Pantheon. They based this hypothesis on Mary’s black hair and ageless café au lait skin. Mary was also partial to heavy dark eyeliner that accentuated her deep brown eyes. Jason swore to Nix that tattoos were hidden underneath Mary’s silver cuff bracelets: The Eye of Horus on her right wrist and an Ankh on her left one. He had seen them one day when she slipped the bracelets off to apply hand lotion.

Devlin cleared his throat. “The block watch appreciates your attention to this matter.” He escaped out the door before Nix could hurl the water ball at his curly head.

“You really need to work on your people skills,” Cal commented.

“Well, he’s not a person. He’s a goat bastard.” Nix inhaled and exhaled, then sent the water to the potted plants outside the front door.

“Technically, he’s part fawn, part man,” Cal said, the reasonable calm in his voice irking her.

“I don’t care. He’s still half beast.” She picked up a broom and swiped it across the already clean floor, trying to brush away the creepy crawlies on her skin. She couldn’t explain her aversion. Satyrs were just . . . ewww.

“You really should give him a chance, Nix,” Jason piped in from the workstations where he was disinfecting the counters. “Devlin’s a pretty good guy. Don’t lump him in with the rest of the bad apples. He’s not like the others.” He sprayed down the chairs. “I know for a fact that he goes to the shelter on his days off to feed and play with the animals.”

Nix snorted. “He’s probably looking for his next bed partner.”

“There hasn’t been a known case of Satyrs attacking Nymphs in the last hundred years,” Cal added.

“Gee. What a coincidence. Wasn’t that around the time The Delian League offered membership to the United States Government?” Nix’s father had invited the U.S. because the fledgling nation espoused the ideals of the ancient Greeks—to defend freedom and promote democracy. “The Satyrs in this country know they’ll get their furry gonads handed to them if they put one hoof out of line.”

“You’re so cynical,” Cal said. Nix tried not to stare at the curve of his pecs. He worked out regularly, judging by the definition in his arms and abs. Why did he have to wear such form fitting T-shirts? And why was she scoping out his body? Granted it was a hot body.

Her phone rang. Saved by the bell, thank the Gods. She needed saving from herself.

When she read caller ID, she almost let it go to voicemail. But if she did, Doris would just keep calling. It was kind of hard to tattoo someone when her phone was ringing every five minutes. “Hello, Mother.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t called me yet. I told you to call. It’s been two weeks. I must know. Is Calder Quinne as much of a dreamboat as everyone says he is?” her mother asked in a breathy tone. Nix could almost feel her mother quivering with anticipation.

“I’m getting ready to open the shop. I’m a little busy here.” Nix had no intention of indulging her mother’s curiosity. Definitely not with Cal standing a few feet away, chatting with Mary at the receptionist desk. “I can’t talk now . . . if you know what I mean?” Honestly, like the hotness of Calder Quinne was the most important thing in the world. Not.

“Oh. Of course, dear. I understand. He’s standing nearby. All right then. I’ll call you later after my appointments. Bye, dear.” Her mother always had appointments: the hair salon, manicures, pedicures, waxing. You name it, she did it. Nix couldn’t relate to her mother’s Manhattan lifestyle. Way too shallow and self-indulgent.

Aside from dying her hair a garish shade of black, Nix spent almost zero time on her personal appearance. She bathed daily, but she was lucky if she remembered to comb out her hair before running downstairs to open for the day. Which reminded her . . . she still had a phone call to make. And shit, an hour had already passed since the body was removed.

“Jason, I’ll be right back.” Nix passed through the break room, unlocked the door marked ‘Private’ and took the stairs up to her apartment. She needed to call Charon before there were any more interruptions. Her first appointment wasn’t due to arrive for another twenty minutes. She was inking a full back tattoo of a dragon fighting with a tiger. Today she would start adding the color, so she wouldn’t get the chance to make the call for several more hours.

Charon answered on the first ring. “Again, Nix?” His raspy voice sounded resigned, like the whole thing was somehow her fault. “And I suppose the mortal officer of the law took the body again?”

“Yes.” Nix refused to feel guilty about the situation. All she wanted was to run the shop and enjoy her leave time. Was that really too much to ask?

“Meet me in the alley.” The connection ended, leaving dead silence.

Charon was already waiting in the alley by the time Nix made the one-minute trip out of the building. He was alone this time, no Cerberus. A pity, because she liked the three-headed dog.

“Nix, how many times must I stress that the body should not be moved?” He wheezed like a bottled up steam valve. “Without the body, I can’t trace my way back to the soul.” Charon’s perennial gray hoodie was pulled over his face, leaving his features shadowed.

“The soul hasn’t appeared in the Underworld?”

Charon looked at his feet, his hands tucked deep into the hoodie’s pockets. Nix hoped the hands stayed hidden, because one time, they had come out—while he gesticulated about how she shouldn’t let the mortals take the bodies—and they were hideous. She shuddered. Rumor had it that no one knew what Charon actually looked like except Hades. Thank the Gods for that. Seeing his creepy, cadaver hands once was one occasion too many. He finally answered, “No.”

Interesting, yet disturbing, she thought. “Have any of the souls shown up yet?” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen any souls traveling to the Gate since the bodies began appearing. A worm of dread burrowed into her stomach. “What’s going on?”

Charon took an eternity to answer. “Nothing good. Hades is investigating this more actively now. ” He flashed back to the Underworld, leaving her alone.

“That’s great. Thank you so much for the useful information!” she yelled to the end of the alley, where the Underworld Gate resided. “I don’t need this shit.”

Nix stopped. She was doing it again. Talking to herself. A car door slammed shut in the parking lot next door. It was her client. Good. Something to think about besides where the souls might be. Though, it was very strange . . . where could they be?

Nope. She wasn’t going there. She was off duty. Let someone else deal with the problem.

Chapter 2

Cal stood on the balcony of his rented condo and watched the sun sink past the horizon. He took a long swig of beer, not tasting it. The stunning vista of Long Island sound only reminded him that he was alone. Nix would have appreciated it. She would have—

He shut the line of thinking down. No point in wishing for what he couldn’t have.

At least he had survived another day, his dignity still intact. Nix was none the wiser about his true feelings, and he didn’t shame himself by trying too hard to please her. Her icy reaction to his presence seemed to be melting. A bit.

I asked for this. It could be worse. She could still be dating Adonis. The prick.

He had wanted the assignment and now he had to deal with the consequential feelings. Man, he was whacked in the head. But then again, he was a glutton for punishment. So was Nix. Maybe that was why they were meant to be together.

His lips curved into a small smile as he remembered the first time he had ever seen her.

Nix had been a new trainee at war camp. Full of defiance, a regular spitfire, and nothing like her other Nymph sisters. New recruit orientation had barely been completed before she and Nate Adonis had exchanged barbs.

On the verge of graduation, Cal and his best friend, Talus, nominally put up with Adonis’ presence. More out of classmate loyalty, not because they actually liked the guy. Nate, Son of Apollo, was like most Demigods—a conceited ass. Adonis had zeroed in on Nix’s sisters, Chloe and Tabby, like a lion singling out the weakest prey. Cal and Talus had, long ago, outgrown picking on the younger gods. But not Nate. He took on more than he could chew that day.

Cal grinned at the memory of Nix blackening Nate’s eye. She called him a coward in front of the upperclassmen. Nix would have given Nate a serious run for the money on just anger alone, since she had no real combat training.

Unfortunately, Teacher Shyama, an angry tiger deity from India, caught Nix. Nate, the sneak, had slipped away with Nix’s sister, Portia, before Shyama could notice him. Nix alone was whipped—a common discipline in camp. Gods who couldn’t stomach the harsh training or camp lifestyle were summarily banished. And rightly so. Their world was brutal. Only those who could defend humanity from supernatural threats were admitted into the Delian League.

Cal had stood and watched as Nix took the beating. Each lash of the multi-tailed whip had cut into her flesh, tearing it raw, spraying silvery blue blood. The pain must have been incredible. He could vouch. He’d had plenty of firsthand experience. About five strokes later, Nix cried out in agony. Anyone would have.

He had admired her. Not for her unashamed crying, but for her strength in the face of unyielding pain. Even under the excruciating onslaught of blows, her spine had never bent and she had remained upright and rigid on her knees. The righteous fire in her eyes had never diminished.

That wouldn’t be the last time Nix’s mouth or behavior resulted in punishment. Nymphs, almost universally, were fun-loving, docile females. The Nereids, in particular, had a reputation for being laid back and doing anything to please their father, Nereus. She had even refused to answer to her given name Eudora. Nix had freely challenged her teachers and classmates alike on matters large and small.

“Incredible,” Talus, his best friend, had murmured under his breath. “How can she still be standing? She is either stubborn or stupid.”

“No. Not stupid,” he’d replied. He already knew what he wanted. “Talus, mark this moment. One day, I will know this Nymph. She will be mine,” he had vowed.

And for a brief, glorious time, Nix had been his to love.

Shit. That was a long time ago. And Talus—it hurt too much to think about. He tamped down the loss and finished the beer. The sky had darkened, the last bits of light nearly extinguished. He left the balcony, stashing the empty bottle on the cold, granite countertop. The shiny surface reflected a wavy image back at him. He knew there were dark circles under his eyes. Lack of sleep would do that to anyone, even a Demigod.

Nix didn’t seem to care. She barely noticed him, except to scowl at him. Whenever he tried to capture her gaze, she always looked away or found a reason to leave the room.

It had been a rough two weeks for him. Trying to keep it cool and pretend that they had never met. The whole time he wanted to scream. Nereus had given him strict instructions—no mentioning past missions. Of course, his boss had no idea how much of a past Cal had shared with his daughter.

A few times, he had comments on the tip of his tongue that were too personal and would have raised Nix’s suspicions. He had nearly blown it at their first meeting when he blurted out,—“You dyed your hair black.” He had smoothed over the gaffe by explaining that he had seen her before at League meetings. Nix seemed satisfied and unconcerned. Which was a good thing. She was sharp and could ferret out duplicity in an instant. It made her a great Destroyer, but also made his mission tricky. He would have to continue to think before he spoke and not let himself get tangled in their shared past.

It wouldn’t be easy. Nix was just as beautiful and ethereal as he remembered. Her eyes bottomless pools of blue, reminiscent of a tropical sea. Her tanned skin soft, supple, and so touchable. He could still remember the taste . . . the smell of her sweet flesh under his tongue. When he first saw her, it was all he could do not to reach out to her, to grab her and crush her to his chest and ask if she could remember anything, anything at all.

A loud rap got his attention. He opened the door and found a delivery box. Before touching it, he examined it, using his senses to be sure it wasn’t booby-trapped. He had enemies, and he didn’t need to give them an assist by being stupid.

Once he was satisfied the box was legitimate, he brought it inside. The package was most likely from Nereus. The old man had asked him to review some of the old Destroyer case files for signs of post-traumatic stress in his daughters. The Delian League still used paper since it was harder to mess with than computer records. Cal suspected Nereus couldn’t be bothered to convert the information over.

He was still puzzled by Nereus’ request. Why did he want Cal to evaluate the files? Cal had pointed out that there were experts better equipped to do the assessment. Nereus had replied cryptically that Cal was meant to be involved in the events about to unfold. That was the problem working with Nereus—he had the gift of prophecy. It was impossible to naysay him because, in the end, his visions were always right.

After several hours of reading, Cal stretched out his back with a long pull, then put the files aside. Work could wait. He wanted a shower to ease his tense muscles. The information contained in the Destroyer archives was a revelation. He had been a covert agent for centuries, sometimes for mortals, but most often for The Delian League. Needless to say, he had been around and was not naïve when it came to the activities these groups engaged in. But even he was surprised by the League’s level of infiltration and manipulation in mortal affairs.

Political events from the Twentieth Century bore the marks of the Gods’ interference. The ascension of the United States as a world super power was a prime example. Even in the late 1800s, the signs of influence were there, for those who looked closely enough. Destroyers had been used to target specific officials or to seduce powerful men—royalty and tycoons alike. The United States was carefully positioned to assert world dominance when the right war arose.

When he read between the lines, he could see a Destroyer’s involvement in the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, the catalyst that led to World War I. And later during World War II, Destroyers had ferried key scientists out of Nazi Europe; the same men who later worked on the Manhattan Project, ushering in the atomic bomb. The Destroyers’ identities were not included so he had no idea which of the daughters had been involved.

His mind kept circling back to Nix. Her file was in the box, but he wasn’t ready to read it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know who she had seduced in the line of duty. That bothered him more than the assassinations, so he left the folder on his desk. She had always told him that her greatest fear was that she was being used for nefarious purposes. So far the U.S. had proven to be a just nation, but he was disturbed by how easily the Gods could still sway human events. In some ways, it was like Age of the Gods had never ended.

In the bathroom, he stripped off his clothes, leaving them in a neatly folded pile on the toilet lid. Old soldier habits never died. He stepped under the shower’s pounding jets and ran the soap across his pecs. Suds and water sluiced down the ridges of his abdomen, then split into a parallel course down each leg. As the warm spray massaged his muscles, he put world events out of his mind and thought about Nix. The cascade of water reminded him of the cold waterfall in the hills of the Poconos where he had first kissed her.

Remembrances of her sleek, tight body, naked in the waterfall, brought his cock to life. She was blond then, her hair like spun gold as it had plastered down her back in the running water. They had found the secluded spot while scouting the area for a place to camp for the evening.

The year: 1899. The area: still wild and largely unpopulated. Rich mortals owned the only residences, the mountain retreats, or cabins, as they called them. Cal and Nix had been combing the area for days trying to locate a socialite who had run off with a rich tycoon. The hapless mortal female had no idea she had chosen the company of a notorious Satyr. One who was wanted on two continents for human and Nymph trafficking.

Nix had explained at the start of the mission that she had an axe to grind with the Satyr. She never said which sister it was, but she explained that one of them had been captured and raped by the same miscreant. When they had finally captured the Satyr—well, he got what he deserved. Too bad Nix had no memory of that event either.

Through the spray of the shower, he could hear his cell phone ring on the bathroom vanity. He turned off the water and grabbed a towel. “Hello?”

“What did you think of the files I sent over?”

Cal could hear the wind blowing roughly in the background. Nereus must be calling from the beach or his boat. He didn’t bother to ask where Nereus was. He wouldn’t answer.

“It’s a lot of information to digest,” Cal said, hoping Nereus wouldn’t ask specific questions about the contents.

“Have you read Nix’s file yet? She’s my favorite, you know.”

“No. Not yet.” Interesting. Nereus made a point to ask about Nix specifically. “I thought all your daughters were your favorite, Sir.”

Nereus chuckled. “Don’t wait too long to read her case file.” He hung up.

Nix woke with a start, her cheeks damp and her throat sore, as if she had swallowed a rock. She’d been crying again and she had no idea why. The sheets were in a tangle around her legs, the recipients of a good overnight thrashing. A damp sheen coated her skin. For a single fleeting moment, she thought she saw a face . . . of someone . . . important? Then, it was gone, replaced by a hollow ache in her chest and a feeling of despair.

When the dreams had first started, she told herself it was probably the residual effect of having her memories wiped. It was mission related, probably a fever dream, like a phantom limb that still tingled after it was amputated. But honestly, it felt more personal, as if something precious had been taken from her. And it was getting worse.

She wasn’t about to say anything about it. Not with her father and the council on a tear looking for Destroyers ready to snap. No way. She wasn’t about to be locked up or put into stasis or whatever it was they did to Destroyers who cracked up.

No more sleep for me this morning, she thought, resigned. She sat up and attempted to untangle the mess of sheets. Daybreak was near. Dim light peeked from behind the shades, making the windows appear soft and gray. After a few hard swallows, the tightness in her neck and throat began to diminish, but not the feeling of loss.

From the apartment’s living room came the dulcet and slightly creaky sound of Basil singing, “Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum” to himself. Jason had played a pirate movie for the bird and he had been singing and cackling catch phrases for most of the week.

Most days it would have annoyed the hell out her.

Not today.

She silently thanked Basil for the reminder that whatever had happened in the past, she still had something to look forward to every day. She had the shop to run and a chance, at least for a while, to be her own person before duty called again.

Nix pulled her arms overhead and stretched herself out. She tilted her head and focused on a small framed picture on her bedside table. The charcoal sketch had been one of her first, back in 1789. A momentous year for her—she discovered her talent for drawing and the guilty pleasures of the tattoo shop, courtesy of her Uncle Memphis. The portrait of Uncle Memphis was one of the few likenesses he had allowed her to capture. Tall and imposing, his face was all sharp angles and smooth planes. Dark hair and dark eyes complemented his olive skin. Memphis was her mother’s half-brother. His birth mother was a closely guarded mystery. The only conclusion Nix could draw was that it was either a shameful or forbidden union. Nix was guessing a combination of both circumstances since most of the family treated him like a pariah.

Nix couldn’t care less who his mother was. She loved him regardless of his heritage. Memphis had seen her potential as an artist early on. He had encouraged her to draw everywhere and anytime she could. Even in war camp he demanded that she send him regular sketches. During breaks from camp, he introduced her to body art and his glorious shop Mystic Ink.

Sadness washed over her. The shop was hers now. That meant her uncle was probably dead or never coming back. Nix brushed at a tear before it escaped from her left eye. He would come back. He had too. As much as Nix loved the shop, she loved her uncle more. In the entire world, he was the only one who really understood her.

Not true. The doubt lingered in the back of her mind. A face surfaced . . . Like the phantom dreams, the image was a wisp, gone as soon as she tried to grasp it.

Basil chirped out the theme song for Popeye, giving Nix a fit of giggles. She covered her mouth with her hand, not wanting to egg the bird on further. She surrendered to the morning, freeing herself from the rumpled linens and rolling out of bed.

Nix greeted Basil before heading to the shower. Maybe a long hot one would ease the loss in her heart, but she doubted it.

Chapter 3

Nix cursed the idiot who invented cell phones. Then she swore at herself for not checking caller ID before answering. If she had, she wouldn’t be stuck on the phone with Nate Adonis. Former lover and super dickhead.

“Come on, Nix. No hard feelings. Things were said in the heat of the moment. I didn’t mean them.”

“Just like it was a slip of the tongue to blab the intimate details of our short relationship to the world.”

“See, you understand.”

The nitwit wouldn’t recognize sarcasm if it crawled up his ass. Nix tuned him out for a moment, her eyes riveted on Cal. He had only arrived moments before, coffees in a tray and two boxes that probably held doughnuts. Or pastries. Cookies would have been good, too. Her stomach rumbled. She had skipped breakfast in order to open the shop in time.

“So what do you say, Nix? I’ll be in town tomorrow night. How about a night of fun? I know I could use a good rub and a tug.”

Nix pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it in disbelief. The motion caught Cal’s attention. He unloaded the coffees and boxes at the reception desk. Mary and Jason lunged at the treats in a twist of elbows. Mary was the ultimate victor, pulling out the first powdered jelly donut.

Nate droned on and on. When Nix held the phone back up to her ear, he was still rambling on about how much fun they could have. Something about the artful ministrations of Dr. Love.

Cal held out his palm. “May I?”

Nix shrugged and handed the phone over. This could be good. Cal listened for a moment or two, agreeing occasionally with high-pitched girlie sounding agreement. Nix stifled a laugh. To think she was even heartbroken for a moment over such a pompous jerkwad.

Nix still didn’t understand what had driven her to even accept Nate’s attentions, let alone allow him to have sex with her. She must have been out of her right mind.

Cal’s face darkened. His jaw clenched. “Don’t call Nix again,” he barked in his deep baritone voice. “She’s not one of your gutter whores.” He quieted for a moment, listening. Smoke curled from his fingertips. Nix hoped he didn’t melt her phone. “It is my business, you arrogant prick. If you want me to hand you your ass again, come on down to the shop tomorrow. I’ll be happy to oblige.”

Nate said something, probably idiotic.

Cal waited, a dark glint in his amber eyes. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You don’t want to start shit with me.” Cal ended the call and handed Nix the phone back with a sly smile.

He coolly walked back to the desk and helped himself to a chocolate cake donut. All the vim and fire had evaporated. Yet, the passion . . . had seemed so real. Could it have been an act?

For a brief moment, the thought of Cal fighting for her warmed her soul. And other private places. The fantasy popped like a bubble. Not gonna happen. No more romantic entanglements for her. They caused more pain than happiness as far as she was concerned.

Nix joined the others at the desk and half listened to Cal telling Jason that the bakery shop owner was retiring. Mortals got to do that. Retire and enjoy their final years. Nix knew exactly what she would do if retirement was an option. Run the shop, bask in the sun.

Except, for Destroyers there was no retirement plan. It was an eternal job. This was one of those times having an immortal lifespan really sucked. Nix looked over at Cal again. His warm, relaxed smile made her happy. It made no sense, but there it was.

She was an idiot for desiring a life she could never have. Turning on her heel, Nix mumbled some lame excuse about needing supplies at her station and hid in the backroom until her first customer arrived.

Some warrior she was.

Later that afternoon, their customers were a pair of Chinese Fu Dogs—supernatural guardians from the Asian Pantheon. They weren’t actually in dog form. Instead, they were in their mortal guises: two well-muscled young men of Asian descent. The shop attracted all kinds of beings, not just mortals wanting tattoos that said “I heart Mom,” or whatever the latest craze of the decade was.

Calder sat on the couch in the customer waiting area, flipping through folders. He had received a phone call an hour earlier and had been intent on the task—an added bonus—since it didn’t leave him any time to check on her every five minutes. Yet, she was curious to know the cause behind his furrowed brow. While it didn’t mar his gorgeous face any, it did make him appear more masculine, if that was possible.

Ugh! She really needed to stop ogling him. Even worse, his presence had become less bothersome to her. And she’d never admit to it, but his habit of bringing her favorite coffee was endearing rather than annoying.

“Yeah, she’s been like this since Cal showed up.” Jason’s conspiratorial whisper grabbed her attention. The Fu Dog, Chen, laughed.

“What did you say, Jason?” Nix’s face turned hot. Her client, Lin, was face down, but Jason and Chen had a ringside seat to her embarrassing episode of gawking at Cal.

“Nothing, boss. Chen says there’s new Titan gossip making the rounds.” Jason’s eyes sparkled, his face the model of innocence. The shit. She would have to drop a water bomb on his head when he least expected it.

“Do tell. What’s the latest one?” She had stopped giving credence to those rumors centuries ago. A new variation of the Titans are stirring theme appeared every generation or so.

As if on cue, Lin said, “The Titans are awakening.”

“That’s it?” Nix stopped the needle. She couldn’t stand rumors, let alone vague ones. “No details?”

“The latest buzz is that someone has located one of the Titan’s prison cells,” Chen said. Contrary to popular belief, the Titans were not all locked together in Tartarus. Before Zeus left the mortal world, with most of the major Gods and Goddesses, he made sure the Titans were separated in individual prisons around the world.

“Even if that were true, the Destroyers would prevent anyone from actually freeing the Titans.” Nix pushed the foot pedal and resumed the black work on Lin’s design—a camellia. Once the outline was complete, she would clean it up and then add color. “Sounds like the same old bullshit.” Nix glanced at Cal. His frown had deepened. She released her foot, stopping the needle. Was his normally tan skin . . . paler? Nah. She was projecting her own doubts onto him. She quickly looked down, before Jason could accuse her of mooning over Cal again, and resumed the tattoo.

By day’s end, the Titan rumor had been forgotten. With the approaching holiday, business had picked up. Not that Nix was complaining. Most of the day’s customers were sailors from the nearby naval base in Groton or college students. These young mortals flowed into the shop all day and kept Nix and Jason busy for the rest of the afternoon.

At three o’clock, the UPS man arrived with the latest delivery. While Mary signed for the box, Jason rushed over to take it off her hands.

“It’s here. This has got be it.” Jason pulled out a pocketknife and swiftly swiped through the tape.

“Why’s he so excited?” Cal asked Nix, his paperwork momentarily forgotten.

“Blacklight tattoo ink. Jason’s been waiting for the newest colors.” Nix’s customer had just departed, so she disinfected and properly disposed of the used materials. There were special biohazard boxes for the single use items, such as needles, gloves, and ink cups. The multi-use equipment, like the needle bar and tubing, went into an autoclave.

“And this is exciting, why?” The wrinkle on Cal’s brow returned.

“Dude, you’ve got to see this stuff.” Jason joined Cal on the couch with the open box, flourishing one of the new shades of orange. “It works like normal tattoo ink, but it can only be seen under a UV light. Come to the break room. I’ll show you.”

With the men in the back, only Nix, Mary, and Basil remained in the shop proper. Nix didn’t bother trying to chat with Mary. She had made it crystal clear on Nix’s first day that she wasn’t interested in socializing. Nix couldn’t understand what her uncle saw in Mary. Although she was a great receptionist, approachable and personable to customers, when there weren’t any clients she was another person—cold and silent as a block of granite. Nix had more animated conversations with Basil.

“Uh, oh. Look at the time.” Basil often randomly threw out phrases that meant nothing. He also specialized in giving the daily tide report. How he got the information was a mystery. Nix didn’t watch the news in the morning or listen to the radio in her apartment. The shop usually played 95.7 FM, the local top 40 station, and they definitely didn’t give out tidal information.

This time, Basil was onto something. Mary abruptly hauled her purse out from under the counter. “Taking a break.” She was in the backroom before Nix could say anything.

A thirty something man in a crisp polo shirt and khaki shorts stepped inside the shop. A golden, bronzed God, beautiful to behold. If she had been a mortal woman, Nix was sure she would be attracted to him. Instead, she rolled her eyes and sighed.

Basil whistled, “Hail to the Chief.”

“Hello, Father,” Nix said, shooting Basil a dirty look. The presidential theme song smacked of Jason’s handiwork. He obviously had way too much free time on his hands. “What brings you to Mystic today?”

Nereus pulled her into a big bear hug. Nix breathed in the scent of salty ocean water. “Oh, doing a little sailing this weekend. And I wanted to see how my favorite daughter was faring.” Her father told all her sisters that they were his favorite. They just played along and let him believe none of them knew it. Her father nodded toward the perch. “Good day to you, Basil.”

Basil made a series of high-pitched squeaks and sharp beak clicks. Her father nodded his head with understanding. Nix had no idea Basil had such a vast repertoire of sounds at his disposal.

“I see, so there was another body. Who is Officer Dickface?” Nereus’ perplexed stare fell on her.

How embarrassing. First chance, she was buying a muzzle for the bird and possibly one for Jason, too. Her father continued listening and translating. “Charon was here. Looks like I’ve been missing all the fun.”

“Dad, I have no idea why random mortals keep dying in the alley.” What if her father was there to drag her off? “I swear I have nothing to do with it.”

“I believe you, Nix. I really am just here to say hello.” Nereus touched her wrist, his ocean blue eyes capturing hers. “I’ll call around and see what I can find out. If there is anything to find out.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” For the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of calm. Of course, Nereus could help. She should have called him when it first started. He would fix everything . . . She started. “Dad, are you trying to influence me?”

Nereus smiled. “I was only trying to help you. You seem so tense. I should’ve known it wouldn’t work on you. You’re too stubborn. Must come from your mother’s side of the family.” They both knew that wasn’t true. Nix’s mother was so laid back it was surprising she could stand up at all.

“Well, my dear, I must be off. The ocean is calling my name.” Nereus gave her a peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry about the body thing. Enjoy your leave instead.”

Easy for you to say, Dad. You’re not dealing with corpses and Officer Dickface, she thought, watching Nereus leave. Since there was still time before her next client, she restocked the workstation. A strong gust of wind rattled the door. Nix smiled and turned around.

“Hello, Nix.” Zephyr, the West Wind, stood tall and resplendent in the doorway. His long, pale hair hung loosely split down his back and across his broad shoulders. He was her friend and a very distant cousin. He always emphasized the distant part.

“Hey. Come for some ink?” Nix patted the tattoo chair. “I’ve got time before my next appointment.”

“Sadly, no. Now that you’re back in town, I hoped to persuade you to reconsider my offer.” Zephyr glided over to the chair and leaned in close enough for their noses to touch. “We would be so good together.”

“Zeph, you know how I feel. We’re too good of friends to become more.” The offer was tempting. Zephyr was gorgeous and reportedly, a very good lover. But she just didn’t feel the heat for him, like she did for...

“Zephyr. Don’t you ever give up?” Cal said, emerging from the backroom. Jason made a beeline back to the break room.

“This is none of your concern, Son of Ares.”

Crap. Nix circled around the tattoo chair, ready to intervene. Cal’s possessiveness excited and concerned her at the same time. Zephyr was a giant flirt. He couldn’t help his nature. While it was flattering to have the attention of two desirable males, she didn’t want either of them to fight, let alone over her.

“When are you going to figure out that Nix isn’t a Maenad? If you want an orgy, go find one of them to satisfy you.” Cal stepped forward.

Zephyr closed the distance. “You don’t know anything about my needs, Fire Boy.”

“Listen, Windy, I know what happens to the women you court. You’ve got a terrible track record with lovers.” Cal ticked names off. “There was Lena, Cassandra, Astrid. And who could forget Flora?”

Nix sighed. Cal really shouldn’t have said that. Flora was a huge sore spot for Zephyr.

“I’ve changed since those days. What happened to Flora wasn’t entirely my fault.” The air pressure in the shop suddenly dropped, making Nix’s ears pop.

Zephyr shot back, “And you’re one to talk. Remember Princess Halcyon? You nearly started an international incident.”

The room’s temperature rose. White smoke trailed from Cal’s hands. Small flames appeared in his eyes. In response, Zephyr’s eyes went silver. Wind whipped the hair off his shoulders.

“Stop it! Right now. Both of you,” Nix fumed. “You’re not destroying my shop! If you two want to fight like cavemen, take it someplace else.”

“Customer coming!” Basil screeched.

Jason came up front, along with Mary.

“Nix, think about my offer.” Zephyr held the door open to let in Nix’s last appointment of the day. Mary had returned to the desk in time to receive the customer, and to flash a small finger wave at Zephyr, before he left the shop.

Cal tried and failed to summon up remorse for losing his temper with Zephyr. Gods, that guy bugged him. Bringing up the whole Amazon court incident . . . was so low. Of course, he did bring up Zephyr’s sordid past first. Regardless, Cal didn’t have a mile-long line of jilted lovers in his past.

There was only one female he had truly loved. And at the moment, Nix couldn’t remember him. Of course, it wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t mixed duty with pleasure. They were very discreet and no one knew about their love except him and Nix. If he had courted Nix in between assignments, events might have turned out differently. After Nereus wiped Nix’s memory, she left for break and fell in love with Nate Adonis. Cal was still away on assignment. By the time he returned and realized what had happened, it was too late.

And Cal, like an idiot, tried to bury his heartbreak with a foolish rebound relationship—with an Amazon Princess. Halcyon lost her virginity to Cal to ruin a marriage alliance she didn’t favor. After he had served his purpose, she dumped him and cruelly took it a step further. She publicly declared the relationship, exposing him to the Queen’s wrath. It was the one time he had regretted not listening to Ares’ advice. His father had been right—Amazons were ball-busting bitches. If Ares hadn’t intervened, Cal would probably be a eunuch.

Past aside, Cal did feel bad about upsetting Nix. He could see the strain in her shoulders as she inked the young mortal. He would have loved to rub those shoulders, erasing all that tension. She was strung so tight, he was amazed she kept such a steady hand. Hands he knew from experience. Hands that would feel soft and smooth, rubbing his . . .

Whoa. He shook his head. This line of thinking would get him into trouble. If he rushed things, he could ruin any future chances with her. Nix was different—he would only get one shot. She was straightforward, with no secret agendas and she didn’t put up with bullshit. He believed her when she had said two weeks earlier, “All I want to do is run the shop in peace.”

I wonder what it would be like, he thought massaging his neck, trying to relax the ache in his muscles, to have my own business?

The hum of the tattoo machine stopped. Nix reached over the young man for a jar at the workstation, her chest hovering near the kid’s face. From his vantage he could see the mortal’s eyes slightly widen. Lucky boy—to get a glimpse of her fine cleavage, barely contained by that tight little T-shirt. Cal wanted to feel those soft breasts pressing against his chest again. His body stirred. Desire slammed into his groin like a fist. He would wipe the leer off the mortal’s face, then crush the boy. There was a fine line between the heat of battle and the flames of passion, all of which Cal had now experienced in a span of fifteen minutes.

He needed a release, before someone got hurt. “Nix, I’ll be out in the backyard.” Cal cracked open the employee door. “Jason, up for a spar?”

Chapter 4

Nix didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but she could guess that Cal needed to let off some steam after the near beat down with Zephyr. And Jason would be happy to oblige. He loved learning new battle techniques. He blamed it on his restless Hero blood. She was relieved that Cal could find a productive way to release his pent-up tension. The last thing she needed was a fire in the shop. Ever since Zephyr had shown up, Cal seemed ready to combust.

When Nix’s final customer of the day departed, it was nearly five o’clock and she was impatient to leave. Jason, once he finished sparring with Cal, would cover the evening’s two appointments until the shop closed at nine p.m. He had even agreed to take care of Basil for the weekend; a decision she would probably regret later. Lord knows what else the bird would learn after a night with Jason.

Please don’t let it be porno movie night.

It didn’t matter. She had special plans for the weekend, and she wasn’t missing them for anything.

After a quick trip upstairs to get her overnight bag, Nix locked her apartment and went to the backyard. Good thing the back lot was surrounded by a high fence. Any mortal female with a pulse would have passed out at the sight that greeted Nix. Two, sleek, chiseled and bare-chested Demigods were grappling hand to hand. On the ground nearby were two double-edged short swords.

Nix gripped the handle of her bag and feasted on the sight. Their golden toned muscles flexed and bunched with each swing or block. When Cal maneuvered so he faced Nix, she gaped at his washboard abs and defined pecs. Jason was equally cut, but it was Cal who made her blood boil. She could have stood there all day, but she had somewhere to be—the beach house.

Reluctantly, she dragged her eyes away and skirted the workout, headed to the garage where her baby was stored—a mint condition 1970 Dodge Challenger Convertible in Plum Crazy. Nix had bought it straight from the factory. She rolled open the garage door, pulled off the protective cover, and slid inside the car. The leather seats were soft and supple. The interior gleamed. Not a grain of dirt or sand on the carpets. New car smell still lingered. She loved it.

When the ignition turned over, the car’s V8 engine roared to life, then settled down to a rumbling purr. It ran like a dream, thanks to her friend Denys, a mechanic and Son of Hephaestus, who regularly maintained the vehicle while she was on active duty. In exchange, Nix offered him free tattoos, piercings, or stays at the beach house.

She was about to shift into drive, when the passenger side door opened.

“Leaving without me?”

Shit. Nix had completely forgotten about Cal. Instead of mooning about the car, she should have driven off immediately. “Not quickly enough.”

“Look, the sooner you accept my presence, the easier this will be on both of us.” Cal dropped into the passenger seat and shut the door. His chest gleamed, still damp with sweat.

“At least put a shirt on. You’ll ruin my seats.” Nix hoped he would get out of the car, so she could take off, leaving him in the dust. But, no such luck.

“Hey, Cal. Here’s your bag. And I brought you one of my spare T-shirts. You can return it, whenever.” Jason, the traitor, winked at her. “Have a good time, boss.”

Nix shifted into drive, stomped on the accelerator and peeled out of the garage. Jason moved away so she couldn’t roll over his feet. Disappointing. She grumbled at Cal. “Are you always ready to go at a moment’s notice? You’re like a giant Boy Scout.”

Cal pulled on a Disturbed T-shirt and grinned at her. “Of course. Be prepared is a great motto to live by in our line of work.”

“Put your seatbelt on. I don’t want to get stopped because of you. You’re cutting into the little sun-time I have left today.” Fortunately, the beach house wasn’t far, only a short drive over the border into Rhode Island. Nix would have been happy to spend the drive in silence, but Cal kept talking to her.

“This is a very sweet ride. Did your daddy buy it for you?”

“No.” His tone irked her. “Unlike most of my sisters, I’ve earned my own money.” Nix didn’t want her father to support her and had refused his money every time he offered.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Cal twisted to face her. “I understand how you feel. I never let my father pay for anything for me either. It used to drive him nuts.”

She smiled, forcing her eyes to stay on the road and not on the strong line of his jaw. “When I was a teenager, Uncle Memphis gave me a job at the tattoo shop. I barged in with a book of my drawings and begged him to teach me. My mother was appalled, of course.”

“Hence, part of the appeal, I take it?” Cal said with a smile in his voice. “I like how you think.”

“Well, yes. In the beginning, but I really enjoyed the act of creation. And it was liberating to have my own money. Uncle Memphis taught me how to do things in the mortal world, too, like ride a horse, handle a carriage, harvest food. Then later on, he instructed me on how to pick food at a market, drive a car, and open a bank account.”

Cal nodded his head. “I hear you. As soon as I could, I left to enlist in the Colonial Militia.” There was a dark edge in his voice. “Ares couldn’t be bothered to take care of his offspring.”

“Did you say Colonial Militia?” Most Demigod children had inherited their parent’s immortality. That was one of Zeus’ few parting gifts to all of his children before abandoning them. “I bet that made your father proud.” Nix exited I-95 and headed down Route 234, toward Westerly, Rhode Island.

“Absolutely. Back then, my father’s approval and attention were important to me. I craved it. Not that I would’ve ever admitted it to him. Or myself.” Cal ran his hand through his dark hair. “I have pretty much served in every U.S. war. First in the Army and Marines, then the Navy, and later the Air Force. I’ve served in all branches, for the experience.”

“Wow. I take back the Boy Scout comment. You’re more like James Bond. Can you do it all?”

Cal shrugged. “Pretty much. I can pilot a plane or helicopter, sail, sky-dive, rock climb, storm a beach,” he paused, “take a bullet, and kill, when necessary.”

“So it’s true, then. You were in the CIA.” Nix steered the car onto US-1. Thankfully, the traffic wasn’t too dense. Most of the cars were heading away from the beach, not toward it.

“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.” Call laughed at the joke, then got serious. “Yes, but I have always primarily worked in The Delian League, since your father recruited me back in the 1860s.”

“Maybe you can settle a bet between Jason and me.” Nix hoped she would win, since they had wagered a body piercing over it.

“Shoot. If I can tell you, I will.” Cal gripped the dashboard when Nix made a sharp turn onto Rhode Island 1A.

“Did the Navy Seals really assassinate Osama Bin Laden? I say they didn’t and the US government is keeping it quiet.”

Cal chuckled. “Let me guess, Jason thinks he’s really dead and his head is prominently displayed over Ares’ fireplace mantle?”

“Oh my Gods! Yes. How did you know?” Nix shuddered. Jason had some gruesome theories.

“He told me. I had a hard time keeping a straight face. My father stopped displaying human trophies a long time ago.”

Nix slowed the car down. They were almost to the house. “Well . . . don’t keep me in suspense!”

“Yeah, they caught him.” Cal kindly paused long enough to let her whoop over her win. “The US government handed him over to The Delian League, where he was turned over to Circe’s tender mercies.”

“So the rumor that he was turned into a pig is true?” The scum deserved it. What a fitting punishment. And she had won the bet. No extreme piercing for her. Except, God knew what body part Jason would pick to pierce next. He delighted in the practice. And he was running out of visible places. Shuddering at where he might go next, she swore a mental oath—no more wagers with Jason that involved body piercing.

“Yup. In a nice, white cage that she keeps by her side.”

She parked the Challenger in the driveway, breathing in a deep lungful of salty, sea air. It was good to be at her home away from home. There were no other cars in the driveway, but she was sure her two sisters had already arrived by the faint laughter drifting from the house’s open windows. They probably swam over from Mystic in their water form. One big advantage of being a water deity, Nereids could travel at superhuman speed in bodies of water.

“So you bought this on your own, too?” Cal asked, taking his bag and hers.

“With my sisters, Tabitha and Chloe. We pooled our money and purchased the house after the Hurricane of 1938. This whole area was devastated, and the mortals who owned the place wanted to be far away from the sea.” Water nymphs also had the power to keep the ocean at bay and away from the beachfront if they wanted. “The house was built at the turn of the last century so it has plenty of rooms for guests. Back then, the rich mortals considered a house like this to be a cottage.”

“I can’t wait to see the beach.” Cal held the front porch door open for her.

Points for him. He likes the beach, Nix thought, then stopped. What was wrong with her? He was not boyfriend material.

“Come on through, I’ll show you the view.” Nix led him through the formal parlor and into the three-season sunroom. Every time she saw the magnificent view of the ocean, she wanted to pinch herself. It was a slice of heaven—the view of the Atlantic Ocean’s deep blue water, the white sandy shore, and the surf gently rolling in. The house’s elevation above the beach gave the illusion it was floating next to the water. “When we walked into this room, we knew we had found the right place.”

“I can understand why.” Cal said, circling around the room, taking in the view.

“Let’s hit the beach.” She opened the old screen door. The hinges protested with a loud creak and a sharp bang as Cal joined her on the outside porch. She led the way down to a small grassy lawn buffeted by a rock sea wall. Nix waited for Cal to kick off his shoes, before taking the concrete steps that opened onto the beach. The warm sand squished between her toes, then sprayed out with each kick of her feet.

The water beckoned her to join with it—the eternal struggle for land-bound Nereids—the call of the Sea. Some of her sisters chose to spend all their free time in their water form, completely shunning the mortal world, forgetting who they were until duty called them back. That kind of existence wasn’t even remotely tempting to her.

“Nix! Over here!” Chloe, her red hair glowing like a fiery beacon in the late afternoon sun, waved at them from a large beach blanket. Tabitha was face down, catching the last rays of sun on her back.

“Remember, you wanted to follow me,” Nix warned Cal. “They can be very Nymph-like at times.”

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” Cal said with a big smile as they approached the blanket.

Tabitha sat up, her ample breasts naked and fully exposed. “Hi, Nix! Who’s your hot-looking friend?”

“Tabby! Cover up. This is a family beach,” Nix scolded. She turned back to Cal, who was valiantly trying not to stare at her sister’s perky assets. “I did warn you.”

Cal breathed easier after Tabby covered up. Not because he was attracted to her, but because it made Nix less agitated. Once he got over the initial surprise, Nix’s sisters made him feel comfortable and peppered him with a million questions. When Tabby learned he was without swim trunks, she jogged back to the house to find him some.

Nix basked in the sun, throwing herself flat on her back. The baby doll T-shirt and jeans had been shucked off in place of a barely there bikini. Her skin glowed in tones of red and gold. When she pulled her arm over her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun, one breast shifted and threatened to spill over the sides of the skimpy top. Only Chloe’s presence prevented Cal from acting on his desire to pounce on Nix.

Before, they had never gotten the chance to fully consummate the relationship. But they had done plenty of exploring. Seeing Nix half naked brought back a flood of memories. All of them erotic and full of heat.

Cal needed to cool off.

Now.

He yanked off the borrowed T-shirt, emptied his pockets, and waded into the water. The surf buffeted his ankles, the tide tugging under his feet, drawing him into its embrace. It was only when the cool ocean water smacked him in the balls, while he was mentally chanting, I am not a beast. I am in command of my emotions, did he feel his control returning. He kept his back to the shore for good measure.

Chapter 5

“Nix, you didn’t mention how gorgeous Calder is.” Tabby pouted. The late afternoon breeze whisked dark strands of hair off Tabby’s face.

“So everyone keeps saying.” Nix was close to her sisters, but she didn’t want to discuss Cal. Yes, he was easy on the eyes. But once his assignment was over, he would be gone.

Chloe rejoined them on the blanket, a cooler in hand. “He’s still in the water? He is going to shrivel up if he stays in there any longer.” She always wore long-sleeved shirts, edges pulled over her wrists, no matter the time of year.

Nix had never learned all the details, but Chloe had been scarred on a mission, badly enough that Nereus permanently benched her from active duty. Whatever had happened, no amount of memory wiping had been able to totally erase the trauma.

“Isn’t he so handsome, Chloe?” Tabby gathered her hair back and wrangled a band around it, forming a short ponytail. “Nix is acting like he’s a troll.”

“He is pleasing to behold.” Chloe pulled open the cooler. “Drink anyone?”

Nix chose a diet soda, then popped it open. Bubbles fizzed, tickling her nose. She enjoyed how the chilled liquid slid down her throat. Her eyes automatically tracked Cal as he swam laps.

“So, Nix, isn’t it exciting? Daddy’s going to buy me a Porsche.” Tabby owned a hair salon—A Cut Above the Rest—over on Greenmanville Avenue. Nereus regularly bought his daughters property like cars, yachts, basically whatever they wanted.

“That’s nice, Tabby.” Nix couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm. It had always felt wrong to be given so much. Nix had started refusing the gifts at a very young age. So far, Nereus had respected her choice. Her mother, on the other hand, never gave her a moment’s peace about it. At least once, every visit, she would have to listen to a lecture from Doris about how ungrateful she was and how it hurt her father that she declined his largesse.

“Why can’t you enjoy all the comforts Daddy gives us?” Chloe tugged on her braid, twirling the end into a curl. With each twist, the late day sun danced warm coppery tones across her red hair. Chloe had never handled confrontations well, preferring to make peace when she could.

Nix released an exasperated breath. “That’s just it. I want to earn things for myself. Not just have them given to me. I’m tired of living in a gilded cage. Except instead of canaries, we’re Dad’s war birds.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Tabby huffed. “You always have to be different.”

“Doesn’t it bother either of you that none of us remembers what we do when we wear the Mantle?” Neither sister would meet her gaze. “It bugs me. A lot. Who knows what we’re doing out there. We only have Nereus’ word that we’re serving justice. For all we know, we could be murdering people for money—no better than assassins.”

“Zeus entrusted us to keep the mortal world safe, Nix. Who are we to question him, or our father?” Chloe spoke quietly, the braid pulled over her top lip.

“Zeus, and most of the Gods, abandoned us and the mortal race. As soon as Christianity got a foothold, he hid himself away from the mortal plane.” And it wasn’t just the Greek Gods that left. Many of the other Pantheons’ power players left, too. Cowards. The subject always got her blood boiling.

“Oh, look who’s out of the water.” Tabby grabbed a towel, jumped up, and ran over to Cal. Cal accepted it with a curt nod and walked toward Nix. Tabby hung back, her eyes at the level of his ass. She gave Nix a wink and thumbs up.

Good grief. Nix loved her sisters but sometimes they were so—Nymph-like. Of course Cal wasn’t making it easy for them not to stare. Nix had seen his naked torso once already, but she couldn’t resist. She enjoyed the view. He swiped the towel across his pecs then down his abs, the water erased by the cloth’s path. Maybe he needed a hand . . .

She was doing it again! The ogling just had to stop.

Tabby tittered, “So, Cal, is our sister treating you well?”

Nix froze as Cal turned to face Tabby. She didn’t hear his response. She couldn’t take her eyes off the network of scars that laced across his back. The orange glow of the setting sun highlighted the grooves, deepening them into cruel gashes. They looked like—whip marks. Demigods had nearly superhuman recuperative powers, so in order for the marks to be permanent, they must have been administered by a weapon of the Gods.

A finger snapped in her face. “Yo, Nix! Are you listening?” Tabby asked. “Cal’s offered to grill on the barbeque pit tonight. And after, he’ll start us a bonfire. Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah. Super.” Nix forced her gaze away, fixing it on the water.

Chloe stood up. “Come on, Cal. You can help me. I’m in charge of dinner tonight.”

“What is your problem?” Tabby dropped onto the beach blanket next to Nix, her eyes tracking Cal as he walked back to the house with Chloe. “That man is hot. Totally doable.”

“Don’t you think about anything besides sex?” Nix wasn’t in the mood to debate Cal’s finer points. The scars bothered her. They brought back unpleasant memories of war camp. Some things were not so easily forgotten. Their teacher, Shyama, had been a harsh taskmaster. When it suited her, she had many arms and eyes. The more to beat you with and catch you being lazy, she had said.

“Nix, you’re doing it again. Staring off into space. Maybe you need to think about sex.” Tabby gathered up her belongings. “Or better yet, go have some hot monkey sex with your handler.”

Nix clenched her jaw, biting back the harsh response on the tip of her tongue. Sex was the last thing she needed. Unlike her sisters, Nix couldn’t give her body without handing the male her heart too. No empty one-night-stands for her.

Exasperated, Tabby shook her head, then called over her shoulder. “Bring the blanket when you’re done brooding.”

Cal had forgotten how clear and beautiful the night sky was by the ocean. The backbone of the Milky Way glittered with a thousand stars, unfettered by clouds or light pollution. He admired the vista while stacking dry logs in the stone-lined fire pit.

Chloe and Tabby had stuffed him to the gills with a splendid meal of baby back ribs, corn on the cob, and savory mussels. Despite his protests, they insisted he save room for S’mores. After all, they pointed out, they couldn’t let the bonfire he was building for them go to waste. Nix hadn’t said more than two words to him the whole time. In fact, she had barely eaten, which was unusual because he knew, from past experience, she could tuck away food. Something was bothering her, and he was going to find out what it was.

“Do you like to dance, Cal?” Tabby approached with some beach chairs and a portable stereo—the kind where an MP3 player plugged into the center.

“Sometimes. Depends on how much I’ve had to drink.” Truth be told, he wasn’t a very good dancer, at least not at modern dances. If they were dancing a reel or a waltz, he could hold his own.

Tabby laughed. “We could get you drunk if you’d like.”

Cal shook his head. “Sorry. Not tonight. Technically, I’m on duty.”

“Speaking of duty, here come Miss Grumpy.” Tabby arranged the chairs and set up the stereo on a blanket.

Nix shot her sister a dark look, then placed a basket laden with graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars on the seat of an empty beach chair. Her other hand held a cooler, which she dropped on the sand with a soft thunk next to the chair.

“I can hear you, Tabby. I’m not deaf. Or grumpy.” Nix sat in a chair, flipped open the lid of the cooler, and pulled out a Dionysian Nectar.

Cal’s mouth watered, imagining its cool, sweet taste. Nectar was a rare treat, only made by the children of Dionysus.

“I would offer you one, Cal, but you are on duty after all.” She gave him a half smile as she popped the cap then took a long gulp.

Cal busied himself with the logs, tearing his eyes away from Nix. Even in the dim light, he could see the frown lines around her mouth. He wished he could kiss them away. Since he knew that wouldn’t be welcome, he went back to stacking wood.

Nix crossed her lean legs, her ankle twitching as if following a beat only she could hear. Pity she had to cover up the little bikini. She had traded it for a pair of ass hugging cut-offs and a tight tank top. Not a bad trade off. His eyes followed the ale bottle as she drew it up to her lips. Several times, at dinner, he had caught himself staring at her mouth, the few times she chose to eat. A sharp pain bit his finger. The logs had shifted, reminding him that needed to focus on the task at hand.

With the wood arranged to his satisfaction, he stepped back and held his hand above the pit, concentrating a small flame into the pile. Heat raced through the core of his body and jumped from his fingertips, exhilarating, yet dangerous, at the same time. Children of Ares who failed to master the flame, or who gave into the rush and allowed it free reign, could easily be consumed by it. Seconds later the wood was engulfed.

Tabby clapped her hands. “That’s great, Cal. It takes us forever to get a fire this nice.”

“Most of the time it just smokes or sputters out.” Chloe had joined them with long skewers in hand. “Here, everyone take one.”

Amidst jokes and laughter, Cal managed to eat enough S’mores to satisfy Tabby and Chloe. Belly full, he collapsed against the back of his sand chair. He lazily watched as the sisters danced on the beach together. A few songs in, Nix finally broke out of her funk and joined them. Maybe it was all the Nectar she had consumed, but whatever caused it, Cal enjoyed watching her loosen up. Even better, Nix’s lithe body moved to the rhythm, her cares seemingly set aside. This was the female he remembered—the real Nix—uninhibited and ready to take on the world.

The song switched and the women shouted in unison, “Bad Romance.” Tabby cranked up the volume.

“Lady Gaga!” Nix called to Cal as if he lived in a cave. The song only played on the tattoo shop’s radio at least sixteen times a day. Jason called the singer ‘Lady Gag Me’ behind Nix’s back. Another reason he liked the guy.

Of course, when Nix was working, she didn’t dance, not like she was doing at the moment. The sisters clearly had a routine worked out. They sang to the lyrics perfectly, dancing in step and moving like the beautiful Nymphs that they were. Cal was mesmerized by the orange firelight glinting off Nix’s bare shoulders. He concentrated on the fire, willing the color to blue, and was met with a chorus of delight. The change in hue, along with their gyrations, highlighted their flesh, giving it an eerie, silver tone—the silver tone of a Destroyer when she wore the Mantle. The color of certain death for anyone she targeted or who was foolish enough to get in her way.

Memories slammed into Cal’s mind with the force of an angry Minotaur.

Talus’ heart, still beating, clenched in a silver hand.

The gaping hole left behind as his friend’s body crumpled lifeless to the ground.

Talus’ hollow, sightless eyes—

Cal cut off the unwanted visions and let the flames slip back to orange.

Tabby and Chloe let out disappointed moans as he walked away from the fire.

Nix stopped dancing. The change in Cal’s face, from enjoyment to darkness, grabbed her. She knew the expression. It was the same face he had worn when he told her about his partner’s death. Without a second thought, she left her sisters to their fun and followed his path.

He wasn’t far. She found him leaning against the rock seawall, partially hidden in darkness. Flames danced in his eyes, casting harsh shadows across the planes of his cheekbones.

“Hey, you okay?” Nix joined him against the wall. After a moment, she hoisted herself onto the edge making her more equal to his height. “Talus?”

“Yeah,” his voice rasped.

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what had set him off, but somehow she felt like it was her fault.

“It’s not your fault,” he said, as if he heard her thoughts.

“Can you read my mind?”

“No.” He swallowed hard. “There’s a reason your father allowed me to be a handler. I have firsthand knowledge of post-traumatic stress.”

Nix nodded, “That’s Nereus. The grand puppet master.” Would he ever stop using them all?

Cal shook his head and turned to face her. The shadows disappeared from his face, erased by soft glowing lamplight from the houses that lined the shore. “Don’t judge your father too harshly. You have no idea what a truly manipulative parent is.”

“Ares.” Nix’s pulse sped up as Cal focused his eyes on her, the flames still dancing inside his pupils.

“Yes.” Cal moved in front of her. “Would it surprise you to learn that I asked to be assigned to your case?”

“Why?” she blurted out. Realizing that sounded harsher than she meant, she softened her voice. “I mean, why me?”

He didn’t respond immediately, his face shut down tight. After a moment, his shoulders relaxed and he gave her a smile. “I’ve been admiring you from afar for a long time.”

What? She bit the word back. “I . . . I don’t know what to say to that. Why?”

Cal lightly pressed his chest against her knees causing her breath to catch. His body was so warm, like beach sand on a hot sunny day. “You’re different.”

What the hell does that mean? Instead she asked, “Different, like weird?”

“No. Like brave. Compassionate.” He leaned in closer, the contours of his muscles hard against her shins as he lightly traced a line up the back of her calf with his finger. Shivers danced under skin. Heat traveled up her spine. He added, “I like that you’re outspoken and not afraid to be true to yourself.”

She was speechless for a moment. The angry flames in his eyes had dimmed to a comforting amber glow. “I don’t have a great track record with relationships.” The words spilled out. She was sure he already knew the story. Everyone did. “I should have known better than to get involved with a Son of Apollo, but Nate Adonis charmed me. He actually had me convinced that he would be waiting for me when my tour of duty ended. I was such an idiot to believe his line of bullshit.”

“Don’t think about him right now.” Cal squeezed her knees. “Nix, look at me.” She complied. His face was serious, his gaze capturing hers. “I’ve been hurt before too. This isn’t easy. For either of us. But I have to know if you would at least . . .” he breathed in hard, then words rushed out on the exhale, “. . . give me a chance. To prove to you that not all males are alike.”

Blood pounded in her ears. She must be drunk. Cal was one of the most desirable males in The Delian League. She had no idea that he had even noticed her before being assigned as a handler. They had been in the same room, maybe half a dozen times. “This isn’t some line. Is it?”

“No.” He grabbed her hands. His palms were as warm as his chest, the heat pleasant against her skin. “It’s not. I swear it.”

For a beautiful moment, she let herself imagine a life with Cal. To be with someone who cared about her, someone honest. To know love. She could love this man. He was sought after not only for his stunning good looks, but because he treated others with respect. Hell, he had been putting up with her shitty attitude for several weeks with a smile and infinite patience. She smiled.

But then, reality crashed in. There was no way. Her life wasn’t her own. The Delian League owned her. It was her duty to be a Destroyer—that was how she was raised—to put the needs of humanity before her own. Very few of her sisters had married: Amphirite to Poseidon, Thetis to the mortal King Peleus, and Galatea to Polyphemus. Well, Galatea’s relationship with the Cyclops was plain tragic.

Her heart ached. A large lump welled in her throat and threatened to choke her. “Cal,” she whispered, “I can’t.”

Cal raked his fingers through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh. “Nix . . . all I ask is . . . don’t shut me out.”

The sadness in his eyes killed her. She wished things could be different. “Cal.”

“Please.” He gently tilted her face up, his eyes pleading with hers. “Don’t say no. Not yet.”

Nix never got to reply. The surf behind Cal foamed and churned. Bright light glowed under the water.

Cal whipped around, following her line of sight. “A Nereid?”

“Yes. One of my sisters is about to visit.” Nix hopped off the wall.

The question was—which one?

The sister Nix wanted to see the least appeared. Portia.

“Holy Hera,” Nix muttered, all her anger bubbling to the surface. What did she want?

Cal cast a curious look over his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Nix wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. “We have some issues. Remember the whole Nate thing? Portia was the other woman.”

He nodded with understanding. “I’m sorry, Nix.”

It was common knowledge that Nate had dumped Nix, but no one outside of the family knew it had been for Portia. Nix had no idea how Nereus had managed to keep that a secret, but she was still grateful. It was humiliating enough without everyone knowing it was her own sister that had stabbed her in the back.

Portia finished her dramatic entrance—like Aphrodite rising nude from the sea—and morphed from her water form to a mortal one, complete with the smallest bikini Nix had ever seen. “Portia, you stand out like a sore thumb. This isn’t Rio. You can’t parade around on this beach dressed only in string.”

“Nix, you need to lighten up. It’s dark. No one will see me.” Portia fluffed her copious auburn hair and pouted her lips at Cal. “Who do we have here? Is this Calder Quinne?” Portia held out her hand, jutting out her large breasts at the same time. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Nix blocked her sister from approaching Cal, positioning her body in front of his. “Why are you here?”

A flicker of amusement passed over Portia’s beautiful face. Too bad Nix knew that behind the façade was a shallow, sex-obsessed Nymph. Only Portia wasn’t harmless or well-meaning like most of their kind. Portia only wanted what she couldn’t have. Nix had made Cal more interesting by making a point of stepping between them. Dumb move. When would she learn?

“Daddy sent me.” Portia sashayed around Nix, then turned around, flashing her thong and naked buttocks for Cal’s benefit.

“I’ll give you some privacy, Nix.” Cal brushed his fingers across the back of her neck and whispered, “I won’t be far.”

Nix suppressed the shudder she felt from his touch, not wanting to inflame her sister’s interest any further.

Portia watched Cal move a few feet away with animalistic interest. “You will have to tell me how you managed to get such a fine assignment.”

“I thought you were off duty.” In fact, Portia had finished at least a month before Nix had.

Portia ignored the question. “You know, Daddy says I’m his favorite.”

Nix resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Portia was the only one deluded enough to believe it, having never caught on that Nereus told them all the same thing.

“So what does the Old Man of the Sea want?” Gods, she wanted her sister to get to the point and leave.

“He has a final, last minute assignment for you.” Portia held her hands palms up. A light shimmered. A neatly folded cape appeared—the Destroyer’s Mantle. “He’ll tack on an extra year of leave if you do this one thing for him.”

“What’s the assignment?” Nix really didn’t want to do it, but Nereus rarely asked, so it must be important. He had the gift of prophecy. Maybe it was a vision or something.

Portia shrugged, her long tresses cascading across her shoulder with the motion. “He didn’t say. The mission is already preloaded into the Mantle. He did say it was only for a few hours.” Portia held the cloth out, beckoning her to take it.

Nix reconsidered. A whole year for a few hours of work. “Okay.” Nix took the cloak. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Cal approaching. He didn’t look happy.

“Great,” Portia chirped. “I’m going to go say hello to my other sisters. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see me.” Portia sauntered toward the direction of Tabby and Chloe, making sure to sway her hips as much as possible.

Cal didn’t care about the show Portia was throwing for his benefit. Her reputation preceded her. Most of the guys he knew steered clear of her because she was unstable and really very hard to get rid of later—at least that’s what he had heard. Apparently, Nate Adonis either didn’t know or was too stupid to care. Poor Nix. It was no surprise that a self-centered prick like Adonis would betray Nix, but with her own sister? That just sucked.

After he’d heard that story, he decided to stick nearby. Nix looked ready to explode and he didn’t want any of her actions to cast a bad light on her later. Portia seemed to be the type who would stir Nix into a frenzy and then go crying to Daddy if the fur started flying. Nereus would probably take Nix’s side, but he wasn’t sure about the council. Cal wasn’t going to take the risk.

As he watched the sisters verbally spar, Cal let his mind wander back to his offer to Nix. She wanted to say yes. He could see it in her eyes. Maybe there was hope . . .

The air pulsed with magic.

Portia had a Mantle—she was offering Nix a mission? Nereus had recently called Cal and he hadn’t mentioned another mission for Nix. He would have at least warned Cal. As her handler, he had a right to know if there was a change in plans or if she was going to be offered an off duty assignment.

Nix must refuse. His instincts were all fired up; his gut told him it was a bad idea. Portia handed Nix the Mantle before he could get close enough to say anything.

Without giving Portia a second glance, he marched over to Nix. “Don’t go.” A sense of urgency overwhelmed him, like he should knock the thing from her hands. But if he did that, Nix would misinterpret the gesture and probably don the cloak to spite him.

“What?” Nix held the Mantle tighter. “I already accepted the mission.”

“Just put the Mantle down. I’ll call Nereus. There must be a mistake.” Cal pulled out his phone but before he could dial, it rang. “Damn. Nix, please. Just wait.” Nereus’ cell number appeared on the display. When he answered, he received an earful of static. “Nereus?”

The static eased up. A small tinny voice was barely audible. “Is Nix with you?”

“Yes.” Cal watched her as she unfolded the Mantle. “Nix, wait!” The interference in the line increased. More distorted speech. “Please repeat. I can’t hear you.”

A garbled voice tried to break through. All Cal could make out was something that sounded like ‘Nix’. “God damn it. Nereus, call me back. I can’t—” The line went dead.

When Cal looked back up, it was too late. The Mantle had settled over Nix, molding over her features. The Destroyer manifested—a tall, sleek warrior coated in silver from head to toe. No unique facial features, no sign that Nix was underneath.

“Nix! No!” With a bright flash, she disappeared.

Chapter 6

Waking up after a mission always sucked. When Nix raised her head, it pounded as if the surf was trapped between her ears. Her mouth was dry and gritty, like she had eaten sand. For a moment, she had no idea where she was. Then it hit her. She was at the beach house, in her room. Why was she sitting at the desk? Normally, she would have woken up either on her bed or lying on the floor.

The sun was up and the house was quiet. Through the open windows, she could hear the surf slapping against the shore. If Basil had been there, he would have reported high tide.

Where was everybody? A quick glance of the clock told her it was later than she first thought. By this time, her sisters would be at their shops getting ready to open for the day. Chloe taught a knitting class first thing in the morning at her yarn shop in Olde Mistik Village. And Tabby would already be styling hair for her mostly mortal clientele.

Nix pulled her arms over her head and yawned. She stopped mid-stretch—there were silvery stains on the front of her T-shirt. A quick examination confirmed what she suspected. She had God blood on her and no memory of how or why it was there. She really hated being a tool for The Delian League.

With a grunt, she yanked off the soiled shirt and stood up, tossing the shirt in her closet where it landed in a wrinkled heap. She shut the closet door, took two steps and stopped. Pain pinched her feet. Her sneakers were filled with something gravelly. She kicked them off. Sand spilled onto the floor. The color was odd—a faint blue. Maybe she did eat sand last night. Her stomach let out an angry growl. She was famished. Figuring out where ever she’d been and whatever she’d been doing could wait until later.

After a hearty breakfast: a three egg omelet with toast and a glass of orange juice, she realized she hadn’t seen or heard from Cal. She took a quick tour of the house. The guest bed was neatly made, giving no indication if it had been used one way or the other. Cal seemed the type to make his bed every morning with military precision. Padding down the stairs, she stopped. There was note pinned on the front door.

Nix,

Tabby said you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your car. I will bring it right back. I promise.

Cal

Tabby, that bitch! Nix never let anyone drive her car. Even Denys, her mechanic, only drove it when absolutely necessary. She would kick Tabby’s butt the next time she saw her. And she had her own shop to open in a few hours. With a growl, Nix crumpled the note and dropped it in the nearest trash bin. Looked like she was swimming back to Mystic.

All Nereids loved the sea. It was their birthplace, their cradle, their home for the early years of their life. Doris birthed them in their mortal form on land. Nereus unlocked their Godhood and returned them to the sea in their water form. Nix waded into the surf, checking carefully for mortals. Thankfully, the few on the beach were either reading or napping. She couldn’t risk someone seeing her go under and mistakenly think she was drowning.

Nix slid under the water, the weight of her clothes and shoes dragging her down. As a nice bonus, when she got out of the water, her power would dry and restore her clothes. She could manifest new ones and swim naked, but why bother? Besides, she needed pockets to carry her keys, ID, and the Destroyer’s Mantle. Fully submerged, she released her mortal form and became water.

For a few moments, she reveled in the feeling of oneness with the ocean. It had its own life force that beckoned to her to join with it—to return to the fold. Nix resisted and flowed toward the Connecticut coastline, headed toward Mystic. When she reached the mouth of the Mystic River, she sensed another Nereid close by.

Hail, Nix, her sister said, communicating with Nix mind to mind.

Juni! Nix hadn’t had a chance to see her since returning. Juni worked at Mystic Aquarium as a rehabilitator and was often away rescuing marine animals.

I wish I was calling under glad tidings, but I am here on behalf of a friend, Juni replied, sadly.

Nix’s happiness deflated. It was Rocky. It had to be. Nix had rescued the harbor seal from a shark attack as a pup and brought him to the aquarium. His flippers had been damaged and he wouldn’t have been able to survive in the wild. That had been thirty years earlier, in between Nix’s tours of duty. Nix had visited him whenever she could, swimming and playing with him after hours. When Nix had been depressed after her breakup with Nate, communing with Rocky had helped ground her, reminding her of what was truly important: caring for the ones you loved. Yet, time had sped by and now he was old, having lived much longer than he would have in the wild.

I am so sorry. He is but a mortal creature.

I know, Juni. Nix followed her sister silently as they traveled up the Mystic River. When they reached Elm Grove Cemetery, they poked their heads up. The cemetery was one of Nix’s favorite landing spots since it was generally quiet and mostly deserted early in the day. After verifying that no humans were about, they emerged from the water, fully clothed and, with a bit of Nereid magic, completely dry. They walked up Greenmanville Avenue until they reached Coogan Boulevard where the Aquarium was located.

Juni led her into the still closed facility and to the enclosure where Rocky lived. The place reeked of salt water, urine, and fish. Nix didn’t mind though. Her thoughts were all on the gray speckled animal resting in a shallow pool.

“Hey, buddy.” Nix got on all fours and leaned down so Rocky could smell her. His eyesight had diminished and his large dark eyes were cloudy. The seal let out a low bark and glided closer. After the short trip, he rested his head next to her hand. His long whiskers, like brush bristles, poked her skin. She tried to stem the tide of tears, but it was too hard. He was her friend, and she would miss him when he was gone.

Nix ran her hand down his smooth, sleek body. Rocky’s eyes closed. His breathing became more labored. “How long has he been like this?” Nix felt his life force ebbing.

“Not long. It started yesterday. I think he’s been holding out for you.” Juni tugged at her short, spiky hair. Her sea blue eyes, so like their father’s, were sad.

That punched Nix in the gut—the reminder that time is finite for mortal creatures. Since she’d been back, she had only visited Rocky once. A lot less than she should have. And now it was too late. This would be their last meeting.

Nix bent down and captured Rocky’s gaze. As a Nereid, she could enter the mind of sea creatures and, depending on the animal, she could share thoughts, even communicate. Rocky’s kind, gentle mind was still alert. He knew his time had come. Waves of gratitude poured from his brain to hers. He thanked her for saving him, for taking care of him, and for being his friend.

While in captivity, Rocky had been able to mate several times. Some of his children were even returned to the wild. He had a final request for Nix—deliver his soul back to the place he was born—the sea near the rocky coast of Greenland. There he would be free again, to swim in the waters of his ancestors, a ghostly presence keeping watch over his offspring.

“Of course. I would be honored,” she whispered into the top of his head. With a final sigh, Rocky breathed his last breath and released his soul. It floated out above his body and formed into a small, milk-white teardrop, then hovered, waiting. Nix tenderly plucked it from the air and cradled it in her palms. Juni came from behind and put her arms around Nix, hugging her tight, sharing her tears.

Nix sat on a bench beside the duck pond in Olde Mistick Village. Her mind turned the same thought over and over—life was slipping by her. Rocky’s death was a stark reminder that the wheel of time was always in motion.

Cal’s question bobbed to the surface.

Give me a chance, he had suggested. Should she do it? Allow herself happiness—dare to dream of freedom? Freedom . . . Nix had given up on the idea long ago. Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember exactly why. She wondered if having her mind wiped so many times had given her brain damage.

A group of excited children burst onto the scene, yelling to their mothers, pointing to the ducks. Nix couldn’t help but smile. Children were a wonderful blessing. She had always wanted babies of her own. Did Cal want children? Even Rocky had young somewhere in the world. She squeezed the hard teardrop still in her palm.

Ah, who was she kidding? All this daydreaming about the future was pointless. She would never be anything more than a Destroyer. An instrument of death, not life. Reluctantly, Nix stood up, taking a last look at the mortals enjoying the day.

I can help you reach your goals.

Nix froze. What the hell? The thought was not her own.

Open your mind to me, and we can help each other.

Thank the Gods that Cal wasn’t around to witness the panic she knew was plastered on her face. Or to see her sweat. To hear her heavy breathing. Was this how madness began? Hearing voices?

Nix stood up and swiveled around, methodically scanning the area. Children darted around her oblivious, intent on feeding the ducks. There was no one else nearby except chatting parents. One of the first things Nix had learned, almost before she could walk, was to protect her mind. Nereus had drilled into all his daughters the importance of mind shields. Destroyers, while wearing the Mantle, could not be mind-influenced, but Nymphs could.

She shored up her mind, double checked her mental barriers, and resolved to ignore the voice. She refused to believe she was going crazy. There must have been another God nearby. That was all. She still had another errand to run before Mystic Ink opened. Taking the path to the left, Nix headed toward The Exotic Emporium, a curio shop owned by Portia. On the way, she swung by Chloe’s yarn shop—Me and Ewe. The lights were on, but the store was closed. A note was tacked to the door stating the shop would reopen at noon. Both Chloe’s and Portia’s storefront locations were gifts from Nereus—anything to keep his daughters happy, content, and unquestioning.

Nix generally avoided Portia, but the Destroyer’s Mantle hadn’t returned automatically to Nereus like it should have. Maybe it was because it was an unscheduled mission. In any case, Nix didn’t want the thing lying around, so she planned to give it to Portia. Then it could be her sister’s problem. The cape was folded into a square the size of a handkerchief in her pocket. Thankfully, Portia’s shop was open. The front door was ajar. The reek of incense hit her nose, making her want to sneeze.

A perky mortal greeted Nix as soon as she crossed the threshold. “Is there something I can help you find today?” The female clerk was positioned behind a trinket laden glass counter at the store’s entrance.

Nix hadn’t been inside the shop in a very long time, so the mortal clerk had no idea who she was. Despite herself, Nix was drawn to the variety of objects for sale. Floor to ceiling, the place was packed with imported tchotchkes and exotic curios, many from the Far East. Or from whatever third world country sweatshop the items actually came from.

Nix still had time. She could take a look around. “No. Just looking.”

The store was longer than it was wide. The aisles were loaded with items ranging from small lucky cats, a personal favorite—Nix owned several of those—to large lacquered cabinets and rattan chairs. As she made her way around, Nix was stuck by a single thought—nothing about this place matched Portia’s personality. Her sister was sophisticated and elegant, much like their mother, Doris, who wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.

Oh, well. Maybe Nix didn’t know Portia as well as she thought. When Nix returned to the front of the store, the young woman expectantly asked, “Find anything you like?”

“Is Portia in today?” Nix’s attention fixed on a jar of blue sand displayed on the counter. It wasn’t an outlandish blue, like the kind of color created in a lab, but a pale, chalky blue more reminiscent of . . .

“No.” The girl frowned slightly, as if Nix had asked a strange question. “Portia hasn’t been here in months. She does send regular e-mails, though. So I can take a message.”

“No. I’ll try her cell phone.” Nix turned to leave, but stopped. Her eyes zoomed back to the sand. “Can you tell me where this sand is from?”

“Oh, that’s from some desert in Chile.” She pointed to a framed photo of a barren landscape placed near the jar. The tag underneath read: DRIEST PLACE ON EARTH. “Portia sent it back after a recent trip to South America. Have a good day.”

“Thanks. You, too.” Nix left the shop, distracted. When had Portia had time to go to South America? With a shake of her head, she told herself that it wasn’t her concern. Unfortunately, she would also have to hang onto the Mantle. At least until she could give it back to Nereus. When she got back to the shop, she would lock it in the safe in her apartment.

The air outside was refreshing, even with the cloying scent of incense stuck to her clothes. The Village’s antique clock chimed out the hour, reminding Nix that she needed return to Mystic Ink. A swim back was out of the question. Even if there were no one in the cemetery, there would be plenty of mortals out and about along the river at this hour.

So she’d have to walk. Since someone took her car. Where was Cal? While he wasn’t her bodyguard or even her keeper, he had been spending a good deal of time with her, supposedly observing her for signs of madness. It wasn’t like him to go so long without contacting her. Nix quickly checked her cell phone—it was on and receiving a signal.

Of course, he had no idea where she was. Cal was probably already at the shop shooting the shit with Jason. Yeah, that must be it. Content, she started the trip back.

It was close to noon by the time she arrived. The shop was dark—unusual—but not unheard of. Jason did cover for her last night so he was probably sleeping in. And Mary—she showed up whenever she felt like it. In all fairness to Mary, maybe they didn’t have a noon appointment. But still, Nix would have to broach the subject of tardiness. She did have a business to run, and it couldn’t turn a profit if it wasn’t open. They did do a brisk business in walk-ins.

Nix, thoughts still swirling in her mind, headed toward the side door. After she unlocked the deadbolt, her eyes automatically went to the dumpster. Nothing. Thank the Gods. Her sigh of relief was quickly sucked back in. A dark shape further down the alley caught her eye. Maybe it was a heap of clothes or a bag of garbage. Whatever it was, it was lying near the entrance of the Underworld Gate. The Gate was invisible to all eyes, except Guardians—like her, Hades, and Charon. Whoever or whatever was back there couldn’t have known how close they were to the Underworld.

“Hell. Now what?” Please, be trash that some rude asshole left in my alley.

Rather than kick it with her foot, she decided to be more prudent and find something long to use as a poker. While grabbing a shop broom inside, she registered how quiet the place was. Of course, Basil wasn’t there. He was still with Jason.

Back in the alley, Nix slowly approached, straining for a better look. The pile was inside the building’s shadow. The closer she got, the more the lump resembled a body. She cursed. “Oh, come on! Why does this keep happening?”

Broom at the ready, she gave it jab. The mass was solid and there was no crinkle of plastic. So much for the garbage bag theory. Man, she did not want to have to call the police. At the rate she was going, they would probably arrest her just on principle.

Stupid mound.

She lifted the broom, ready to strike. An arm sprouted from the pile and shot up, stopping the handle from falling.

Nix barked, “What the hell?”

The broom clattered to the ground.

A dark figure rose up. The set of the shoulders, the short black hair . . . it was awfully familiar. “Cal?”

“Nix,” he said, his voice strained and tired. His arm extended, propping his body against the brick wall.

“If this is your idea of a joke, it’s not funny.” When he didn’t respond, Nix came up behind him and placed her hand on his back. “Are you—”

The words choked off. There was something wrong. Really wrong. His energy, the essence of his life, was out of whack. Like he was missing . . .

She put her hand up to her mouth, swallowing dread as he turned to face her. “Cal, where’s your soul?”

Chapter 7

This can’t be happening. Nix prayed to every deity she knew. Please let me be wrong.

“I don’t know,” Cal said hoarsely, as though he had been screaming.

“Come on, we’re going inside.” Nix shouldered Cal’s arm and led him to the waiting room couch. “Where have you been?”

His eyes went distant. His mouth opened and shut. After a moment, he rubbed his face then seemed more himself. “Underworld.”

“What? No one goes there . . . unless they’re dead.” Nix’s heart hammered in her chest. Cal wasn’t dead. If he was, he wouldn’t be sitting on her couch. Hades kept his souls under lock and key. Charon’s earlier words slammed into her—souls were missing. “Do you remember where you were last night?”

“The beach house,” Cal answered firmly.

“But then I left to go on a mission. You remember that?” When Cal nodded, a tiny seed of fear grew inside her. “What happened to you after I left?”

“I . . .” Cal’s mouth worked hard to form an answer. “I died.”

“No. You’re not dead. I can feel life in you.” But his soul was absent. “Who took your soul?”

Cal jumped off the couch and paced the room. His shoulders bunched and his fists tightened into balls. “I’m trying to answer, but I can’t.” He rifled around the reception desk and yanked out a piece of paper. His hand shook as he tried to write words. Nix held his hand steady but the pen flew out, grabbed by an invisible force. Cal latched onto Nix’s shoulders. The muscles in his neck and jaw strained to move. Beads of sweat trickled down his temples and his body temperature shot up, like he was about to combust.

“Cal, stop. Don’t try to answer,” Nix said, trying to soothe him.

Cal clutched his head and screamed. The raw, primal sound unnerved Nix, evoking long buried ghosts from the past—sounds of the wounded, the cries of the dying, pleas for salvation. Bile rose, souring her stomach. Cal collapsed on the floor. A thin bead of silver blood trickled from his nose.

“Cal? Cal?” Nix touched his face. Out cold.

She tried to make him comfortable on the floor. She propped a pillow under his head and cleaned his face with a cool cloth. The silver blood glistened on the fabric and the end of her fingertip.

Oh Gods! A realization tackled her from behind.

Cal is a Demigod.

He has silver blood.

I woke up with silver blood on my clothes. I did this to him.

Cal was dreaming. He had to be. The fresh scent of ocean mist and sweet taffy drifted under his nose. Heat pressed against his side, comforting him. When he wrapped his arm around the warmth, a feminine sigh escaped. His eyelids flipped open. Nix was curled against his chest. For a moment, he thought he had been transported into the past, but a check of the red walls covered in mirrors and tattoo designs shattered the notion. He was in Mystic Ink. On the floor?

“Whoa! Did I miss the party?” Jason stepped into Cal’s line of sight with Basil perched on his shoulder.

“Gang bang!” Basil’s screech made Cal’s ears hurt. Nix startled awake under his arms. For a moment, she seemed confused but then shot upright, leaving a cold spot. He wanted to pull her back down and tell Jason to get the hell out. Except, he suppressed a sigh, Nix wouldn’t return the sentiment. Not the way she was now.

“Jason, where have you been?” Nix clambered to get up. Her eyes were puffy, making Cal think she had been crying. While she and Jason spoke in tense tones over his head, reality returned. Someone had killed him and taken his soul. He had been trying to remember. Pain stabbed into his temples. Bad idea. There was a large gaping hole in his memory. A bitter laugh caught in his throat. Now he knew how Nix must feel.

“Cal, dude, you look like shit.” Jason offered him a hand up.

“Thanks for being such a pal.” Cal felt physically the same, but inside he could feel the emptiness, the void where his soul used to be. Funny, he had never been aware of his soul, until it was gone. “Where’s Nix?”

“She’s calling Nereus.” Jason eyed him up and down. “She’s hoping the old man can help you with your problem.”

“Fucking hell!” Nix barreled into the room and slammed the cordless phone onto its cradle. “My father is still out of pocket. His assistant has no idea when he’ll be back. He’s never around when I need him.”

Cal saddened at the sentiment. At least her father loved her. Ares was a horrible father. Where Nereus would do nearly anything for his daughters, Ares did virtually nothing for his children. His offspring had to compete for his love, and those who didn’t toe the line paid a heavy price. Cal knew—he had the physical and emotional scars to prove it.

“Jason, you and Mary will have to move or cancel my appointments.” Nix tugged Cal’s arm. “Come on, we have to go out.” Her eyes narrowed. “Where’s my car?”

Cal wondered when she would ask him about that. Unfortunately, he wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to it last night.

Nix, obviously expecting the answer, grumbled, “We’ll have to take your motorcycle. It’s the only vehicle faster than a ten-speed parked in my garage.” She frowned at him, but didn’t say anything else about the Challenger. The implied threat hung in the air. If he had damaged the car, she would take it out of his hide.

Five minutes later, they were headed toward The Gallup Inn, Zephyr’s bed and breakfast in Stonington. Cal couldn’t understand what the windbag could do for him, but Nix insisted. She clutched his waist, her inner thighs pressed against his backside. Last time she had hung on this close, they had been riding on a horse. Their last mission together, before ...“Hey, wake up! Take a right onto Water Street,” Nix screamed into her helmet microphone, nearly deafening him.

“You don’t have to yell in my ear,” Cal said.

“I told you three times. If you weren’t in La La Land, I wouldn’t have to shout to get your attention.” Nix pounded his back for emphasis.

He couldn’t help but notice that she seemed more tense than usual. When he had asked if she was okay, she growled at him. “Pull into the side lot, over to your left.”

While Nix was stowing her helmet, he took a long look at Stonington Harbor. The sun shone down from a clear blue sky and glittered across the water’s rippling surface.

The inn was across the street. Its four stories were covered in white clapboard siding, the windows framed by black shutters. Nix had informed him earlier that the Inn was nearly as old as Mystic Ink, dating back to the early seventeen hundreds. Zephyr had owned it the entire time, occasionally expanding the building and modernizing it for the times. The latest addition was the day spa. Not that Cal was planning on letting anyone manicure him or whatever a spa did.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Nix said, behind him. Gods he wished she was still pressed against his body. It was getting harder not to touch her. Not to pull her tight against his chest and tell her that he never got over her. “Cal? You’re doing it again.”

“What?” He hurried to catch up with her.

“Zoning out.” Worry lines formed around her mouth and eyes.

Did it make him a sick bastard to see those as encouraging signs? Cal rushed to hold the door open for her. The lobby was like a window into the past. A cleaner, nicer smelling version. The foyer had been reconfigured to allow space for a reception desk, and elevators were discretely tucked against a far wall.

“Nix. I’m happy to see you.” Zephyr, in all his God-given glory, rushed across the foyer and scooped Nix into his arms. Cal wanted to pound Zephyr into the dirt. He didn’t have a chance to act on the impulse. Nix quickly extracted herself from the Wind God’s embrace.

“Is there somewhere more private we can talk?” she asked.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want, as long as we’re alone.” Zephyr winked, pretending he didn’t notice Cal. Heat rose up the back of Cal’s hands.

Nix scolded Zephyr, “Please Zeph, give it a rest for five minutes.”

“As you wish, darling. We’ll use my office.” Zephyr led them behind the reception desk to the back wall. He pushed open a door disguised to blend in with the wood paneling. “Put this in during Prohibition. You should see the network of tunnels I installed around here.”

Cal tuned out Zephyr as he droned on about how he cleverly outran the human authorities all through the 1930s. Like it was that hard to outwit mortals. They only saw what they wanted to and were easily fooled. Trickery irked Cal. A vestige of the old Gods’ attitudes—lure unsuspecting mortals into dilemmas, then doom them for eternity, all for the Gods’ amusement.

The Delian League officer in Cal wanted to bust Zephyr for being a dick. Even though the guy wasn’t doing anything punishable by human or God law, it didn’t matter. In fairness to Zephyr, other than his rogue’s reputation with females, he was always on the side of good. Cal guessed that counted for something.

Once the door was closed and they were seated in a set of overly cushioned armchairs, Zephyr eyed Cal and frowned. “Nix, I’m sorry. I know why you’re here. I can’t fix this.”

It hurt to see the hope on Nix’s face crushed. Cal could have told her their trip was a waste of time.

Zephyr turned to Cal. “Can you remember what happened?”

Cal opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Every time he thought about what happened, he got a bitch of headache. So, he stopped. He refused to pass out on Zephyr’s floor like a weakling. He had secretly hoped Zephyr might have some ideas on how to help him out. Without his soul, if Cal died, he would face mortal death. And eternity spent, in-between, neither here nor there—purgatory. No green fields of Elysium. No reunion with his mother, his sister, Talus, or other lost friends. Not even the searing punishments of Tartarus. Just nothingness.

“You cold, Cal?” Zephyr asked. “I see you shivering over there.”

What a dick. “No. I’m fine.” Cal glanced at Nix, who quickly looked away. “Come on, Nix, he can’t help us.” Cal stood up.

“Sit down, hothead. I didn’t say I couldn’t help.” When Cal sat back down, Zephyr continued. “Both of you are too young to have witnessed the fall of Rome. Times were hard for us Gods, with humans turning to Christianity and Islam. Both intolerant of multi-god religions. When Zeus ran off, he left a gaping vacuum that needed to be filled. For a brief time, a group of disillusioned nitwits tried to locate the Titans and unleash them on humanity.”

“You’re not telling us anything we don’t already know.” Cal burned with impatience. Nix laid a hand on his knee, her touch a slight balm to his need to leave the room. “Get to the point. Please.”

“Oh, I bet that hurt.” Zephyr smiled and kicked his feet up onto his desk. “Having to say ‘Please.’”

Cal gripped the arms of the cushy chair, heat building under his palms. One slip of control and he could torch the whole piece of furniture. Bet that would piss the smile right off of Zephyr’s smug face.

“Don’t start, you two,” Nix warned.

Zephyr dropped his feet off the desk, his spine straight. “All right, love. I’ll behave for you. I’ll skip the history lesson then and go to the heart of the matter. Someone is trying to free the Titans again. This time, they know what they’re doing and have started an Unstoppable Event.”

Nix gasped and gripped Cal’s leg harder. “What? An Unstoppable Event. I thought that was a legend.”

“Nope. Because this affects Fate, capital F, I can’t say more. I’m bound by silence.”

“Shit.” Cal breathed out heavily. This was bad. Really bad.

“Exactly.” Zephyr stood and offered his hand to Cal. “I will help in whatever way I can.”

Zephyr smiled at Nix and pulled her into a tight hug. “Have you considered visiting Hades about your dead body problem?”

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Cal grumbled, handing Nix a helmet and straddling his motorcycle.

“Not exactly.” Nix swept her hair up and tucked it into the helmet. Once she settled onto her seat and grasped Cal’s waist, he gunned it out of the parking lot. Learning that Cal’s missing soul was tied to a more epic event was not the news she wanted to hear.

“The suggestion to visit Hades?” Cal said, his voice tinny through the headset.

“Yup.” Nix’s mind churned furiously. Cal had no idea about the missing souls. She had forgotten about it, lost in recent events. Charon hadn’t told her to keep it quiet. “Charon visited me after the last body turned up. He told me that none of the mortals’ souls had arrived in the Underworld.”

A car in front made a sudden lane change. The cycle swerved, jerking side to side. Nix clung to Cal like a barnacle. Her stomach rolled in a matching flip-flop. Gods she hated motorcycles.

Cal didn’t seem to mind her death grip around his waist. “What? Does anyone else know about this?”

“I don’t know. Charon didn’t stick around for me to interrogate him. He dropped that little nugget and vanished.” Nix tightened her already cramped grip on Cal’s waist as he prepared to turn onto Route 1.

Cal commented. “It’s better if you lean into the turn with me. Don’t ride bikes too much, do you?”

“No. They’re just like horses. Too narrow and unpredictable.” It had been a happy day for her when cars replaced horses. She liked the animal all right, just not riding on them. And motorcycles, the whole break/clutch thing on the handle grips had always confounded her. Nope, give her a steering wheel and big old car any day.

“Well, that all depends on how much you trust the driver . . . or the horse.” Cal’s voice sounded wistful for a fleeting moment. “Where to now?”

“I guess I’m taking a trip to the Underworld.”

Oh joy.

Chapter 8

Normally, anyone with half a brain steered clear of the Underworld. Mortals and Gods alike detested the place. With good reason, Nix thought, walking behind Charon. Despite Persephone’s efforts to give the inner offices a facelift—exotic wood paneling in the corridors and Italian marble floors—the place stank of gloom.

It wasn’t easy for the living to gain entrance either. If you were dead, no problem. For the deceased, their journey was one way—either to the fields of Elysium or the pits of Tartarus. Thankfully, she wasn’t stopping in either place. Charon was escorting her directly to Hades’ office. Since Nix was a Guardian of a Gate, she was allowed special access. Contrary to human myth, Charon could, and did, leave the River Styx at will. He had a staff of underlings to handle ferrying souls. Whenever Persephone was above ground, Charon would act as Hades’ personal assistant. And like a good assistant, Charon was a giant pain in the ass about granting access to his master.

“So the Son of Ares didn’t want to come down here with you today?” Charon cackled, his voice dry and gritty.

“Funny. I can’t imagine why. This place is so charming. Besides, he’s already been here. At least that’s what I heard.”

Charon ignored her blatant fishing expedition. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Eudora.” He swung open the heavy oak door of Hades’ office. “Live one here to see you, Boss.”

“Nix. Call me Nix.”

Charon left her standing in Hades’ overly bright office. The smell of fresh paint rolled out of the room. Drop cloths were draped over most of the furniture and part of the floor in the far corner. The God of the Underworld, dressed in beat up, paint-stained overalls, was on his knees painting baseboard trim.

“What’s up with all the light? And when did you become a painter?” Nix asked, resisting the urge to shade her eyes.

“My wife says we need to go green. She switched every light bulb for those obnoxious CFL ones.” Hades put aside the paintbrush, pulled a drop cloth off a chair, and motioned for Nix to take a seat. “And she insists we need to freshen up the place. So here I am, in all my Godly glory, painting.”

“Don’t you have people who can paint for you? There must be someone in Tartarus who thinks painting walls is a form of punishment.” Nix suppressed a grin. It was never a good idea to laugh at a God as powerful as Hades. Although, the sight of him with cream-colored paint smeared in his raven dark hair and smudged on his nose was comical.

“Already went that route. My bedroom ended up a nasty shade of chartreuse. Took me a whole week to do it again.” Hades sniffed, rubbed his nose, and looked at the paint on his fingers. “Damn it. It’s in my hair, too, isn’t it?” A blip of power coursed through the air. The paint disappeared from his face and hair. “So what can I do for you today?”

“I have a little problem.” Actually a big, huge problem. “Cal’s soul has gone missing. Is this by any chance related to the corpse problem I’m having?” Nix held her breath and waited.

Hades took a long time to respond. “No.” The word was short, clipped, as if he had to fight to spit that one word out of his mouth.

Oh. Shit. Nix’s heart sank. She knew what was coming next. Before she could speak, Hades held up his hand. “I cannot comment on this. It falls under the Old Rules. As you know, they prevent me from directly interfering with the fate of humanity.”

“What a load of crap. What about indirectly? You old Gods practically have that down to an art form.” Nix crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “Mythology is loaded with tales of how Gods used, tricked, or forced humans into acting on events, changing history.” Hello, Trojan War.

Hades waved his hand, dismissing the comment. “Mostly untrue and exaggerated. The events in play right now are Epic.”

With a capital frickin’ E, Nix thought bitterly. She stayed quiet. Hades wasn’t done.

“And no, before you ask, I can’t empower a human to act on my behalf.” Hades frowned. “I can see you’re mad, Nix. But I can’t interfere.”

“Can you give me any information?”

“Nereus had Cal working on some special project. Something Top Secret. I suggest you ask Nereus about it. Since I don’t know if this is related to the Epic Event, I am permitted to speak.” Hades leaned forward. “And I’m looking into the dead body situation. I don’t like that my souls are going missing.”

“Nereus is out of communication right now. Probably off in his boat somewhere fishing.”

Hades’ eyes brightened. He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got an idea.” He pulled open a desk drawer, retrieved a large scroll and unrolled it across his desk. After several “ah-has,” he grinned. “Here’s the best deal I can offer you. Since Cal is soulless, I can offer a Hero’s Journey. He can search for his soul and if he finds it, I can reunite them.”

Nix’s heart sped up. A chance, no matter how small, was better than doing nothing. In Cal’s present state, if he was killed without his soul, he was doomed to spend eternity as a shade. A fate worse than Tartarus. He would be sentenced to a half existence in an endless void. Aware the entire time of his fate, he would eventually go mad.

“But, you know, there’s always a catch. He has only two weeks to find his soul. If he fails to do so, it’s off to the Land of Shadow.” Hades rolled the scroll up, and it blinked out of sight.

“Two weeks? I thought Hero’s Journeys had longer time limits. Ulysses spent twenty years,” Nix grumbled. It figured. The one chance, and it had a ridiculously short deadline.

“Sorry, but this is a more advanced age. You don’t need to factor in travel time nowadays.”

“I take it this also means that the Epic Event is tied into the two week limit. So, basically, we have to find Cal’s soul and save the world. With no hints or help from any of the Gods.”

“You got it, sister.” Hades stood up and offered his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

She shook on it. What other choice did she have?

“Here, take this.” Hades held out a silver chain. A small object dangled from the end. “This will keep track of the time you have left.”

Nix studied the small hourglass. The sands had already started falling. She dropped the chain around her neck. It nestled against the pendant holding Rocky’s soul.

Before he sent her back above, Hades confided, “Don’t tell Nereus I said this, but you are my favorite Destroyer.”

The bright lights of Hades’ office were replaced by sunshine and blue sky. Hades had deposited her outside of Mystic Ice Cream Shop, an obvious hint that she needed to indulge in some chocolate therapy before heading back. After consuming in a triple scoop, chocolate sundae with gobs of whipped cream, Nix ordered some extra sundaes for her staff and Cal. Jason’s favorite of the moment was vanilla with caramel, candy, and nuts. Mary, despite her prickly personality, enjoyed ice cream—strawberry shortcake sundae was her favorite—even if it was from Nix. And for Cal, she improvised: coffee ice cream with raspberry and chocolate sauce.

The hot July sun would soon melt the ice cream, so she rushed down the two blocks back to her shop. A dark, eerie feeling, like two eyes boring into her back, hounded her the entire way. Along with panic. She didn’t want to fail Cal. Deep in her heart, she was afraid that, somehow, it was her fault this had happened to him. And, if she was honest, she liked him. She actually looked forward to seeing him. He had somehow wormed into her psyche. She enjoyed his cocky, lopsided smile whenever Jason challenged Cal to some crazy stunt on a daily basis. And his laugh, deep and rich, made her toes curl.

Gods. Cal was missing his soul, and she was mooning over him. Again.

With a shake of her head, she shoved open the shop’s front door, rattling the door chimes. Her eyes immediately sought out, and found, Cal. Her heart skipped a beat, then another. He leaned against the front counter, rolling peanuts to Basil. The parrot eagerly followed them, beak to the countertop. Cal’s amusement with Basil’s antics was undiminished by his lack of a soul.

“Sweet, boss! Thanks.” Jason relieved Nix of the bags, snapping her back to reality.

Jason laid out Mary’s sundae, swept Basil onto his perch, then handed the bag to Cal. “This one must be yours. What did she pick for you?”

Cal took the sundae out, cracked open the lid, dipped in a spoon and tasted. Nix couldn’t decipher the strange look on his face, a combination of surprise and wistfulness.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, man. Our girl here has a knack for choosing a person’s favorite flavor.” Jason rocked on the balls of his feet, his own sundae temporarily forgotten. “Did Nix break her winning streak with you?”

Cal cleared his throat. “She picked another winner. Coffee ice cream with hot fudge and raspberry sauce. Thanks, Nix.”

“Jason, why do you doubt my powers of perception?” Nix wanted to make an “in your face” gesture, but something about Cal’s tight smile dampened her enthusiasm. That, and the fact she still hadn’t informed Cal they only had two weeks to locate his soul.

Two weeks. If they failed, he would be damned forever. Her throat constricted while her stomach threatened to unload triple chocolate sundae all over the shop floor. She was overwhelmed by that same hopeless feeling she had whenever she woke up in tears. Nix knew, deep in her heart, that she couldn’t lose Cal. How strange was that? She barely knew him.

“I need to go check inventory.” Nix retreated to the backroom, haunted by Cal’s thoughtful expression. Like he could see into her soul.

“Man, what is wrong with her today?” Jason heaped a large spoonful of whipped cream into his mouth. A smear of white stained his lower lip piercing. He ran his blue eyes up and down Cal. “Whoa. What happened to you?”

“Yes. Where is your soul, Calder?” Mary Swain sidled around the front desk, her ice cream forgotten. Her exotic accent purred in the air. “Who did this to you, Son of Ares?”

“I don’t remember,” Cal said, wishing he could escape into the back with Nix. “And when I try too hard, I pass out.”

“Cool. Can we try it now?” Jason laughed and continued to eat. Caramel ran down the spoon as he drew it up for another bite.

“Jason. You are such an infant. This is serious.” Mary stared until Jason suddenly decided he needed to finish cleaning his workstation. She swiveled back to Cal. “There are very few beings left on Earth who can do something like this to a God-born child like you.”

Mary’s kohl-lined eyes glinted like steel, her gaze unsettling. Cal wondered, not for the first time, how old she really was. “I know. Nix and I will figure this out.”

“Do you suspect a Destroyer’s hand?” Mary picked up her sundae, cracked the lid, and gave it a long sniff. Her nose twitched like a cat. Cal wouldn’t have been surprised if she suddenly transformed into one. Mary had a cold, predatory grace about her. Like she would play with you before she killed you.

“Can’t say.” His mouth tingled, as if ready to lock down if he speculated too much. He suspected that Nix’s conversation with Hades had upset her. She couldn’t meet his eyes. Then again, Nix had thrown him for a loop. The coffee ice cream with raspberry and chocolate were three of his favorite dessert flavors. Maybe some small part of her psyche remembered their time together after all. Hope filled his heart for a brief moment before he stamped it out. Hope was the most dangerous emotion. He had seen dashed hopes crush the heartiest of spirits.

“Don’t wait too long to solve the mystery, Calder Quinne,” Mary said. Her eyes, black as night, captured his. In his mind, he saw desert sands, a bright blue sky, and an oasis of fertile palm trees. A hot, dry breeze caressed his face . . .

The phone rang, breaking the spell.

Glass shattered in the backroom. “Gods damn it. Curse Zeus!” Nix’s muffled yell was followed by a cardboard thud and the clinks of small bottles rolling across the floor.

Jason sighed. “Shall we draw straws?”

“No. I’ll go help her.” Cal capped his sundae. On the way to the storage shelves, he popped the container in the small freezer in the employee fridge. He smiled, listening to Nix’s sailor-like cursing. Jason took a lot of the blame for Basil’s fresh mouth. Unfairly, it seemed.

Cal found Nix on her knees, arranging small ink bottles inside a cardboard box. Another tattered old box lay crumpled on the floor behind her feet, the bottom torn out. “I don’t know why we still have these ancient bottles,” she complained. “Will you hand me that roll of duct tape?”

“You don’t use those anymore?” Cal joined her and helped gather the stray vials that had rolled under the shelves.

“No. Nowadays all our supplies are pre-sealed and sterile before opening. These are Uncle Memphis’ stash of relics. If we used these today, the Board of Health would have my ass.” Nix quickly and efficiently tore into the silver tape with her teeth. Adhesive strips lined the bottom of the new box in a matter of moments. “There. That should hold it.”

“So this box breaks open a lot, I take it,” Cal said.

“Yes. It’s totally annoying.” She held up her hand. “Don’t ask why. I have no idea. Will you hand me those books? On the floor by your feet.”

Cal handed her a stack of dusty ledgers. Battered volumes that looked to be a hundred or more years old, judging by the homemade bindings. “What are these?”

“My Uncle’s custom art books from the late 1890s, early twentieth century. There are even older volumes that date back to the shop’s opening, but those are up in my apartment. I should take these upstairs. It can’t be good for them to be in this box.” Nix’s hands trembled as she stacked the books into a pile on a nearby shelf.

“What’s wrong?” Without thinking, Cal reached for her hand, like he had done so many times in the past. When her fingers automatically clasped his, he closed his eyes and savored her touch. If only she could remember . . .

All too quickly Nix dropped his hand. When he reopened his eyes, she was studying his face suspiciously. Uh, oh. Cal knew that look. The I suspect you’re hiding something face. “Here, let me shelve this box for you. Why don’t you fill me in on what Hades said?”

Cal listened carefully as Nix explained the situation. He cleared his throat when she finished. “We can do this.” It sounded like if they didn’t, in two weeks it wouldn’t matter anymore. Humanity-destroying forces were at work.

“I hope so.” Nix wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself tightly. “I’m a little worried about what we’re going to uncover along the way.”

“Me, too. Did you call Nereus again?” Knowing Nix, she had probably called him ten times by now.

She nodded. “I tried Doris, too. She has no clue where he is either.”

The deflated slump of Nix’s shoulders tugged at Cal’s heart. He wanted to reach over and pull her into a hug. Instead, he offered her his hand. “Come on, I have an idea.”

Nix took the proffered hand. Her fingers fit perfectly into his palm. “I’m all ears.”

“While you were out, I was thinking about where I went after you left.” He left out the part about taking her car. Which was still missing. “I wasn’t able to remember anything, but I kept smelling pizza.”

Nix arched a delicate eyebrow. “So, you’re hungry?”

“No. The pizza smell is on my clothes.” Cal waved his hand over his T-shirt.

“Well, that’s so helpful,” she said sarcastically. “There are half a dozen pizza joints in the immediate area.”

Cal reached into his jeans pocket with his free hand and pulled out a napkin. “Yes. But how many of them have this symbol on their napkins?”

Nix examined the crumpled white paper. “Bull’s horns. Toro’s Pizza?”

“Exactly.”

Nix tugged Cal’s hand, leading him out of the backroom. “Jason. Cal and I are going to Toro’s Pizza. You’re in charge.”

The whir of the tattoo machine stopped as Jason looked up. “Hungry again? Bring us back some chow when you’re done.”

“We’re not going for lunch.” Nix patted her pockets as if searching then stopped and glared at Cal. “I guess we can’t take my car. Since someone’s lost it.”

“It’s not lost. I’m sure it’s around town somewhere.” Cal winced, and Nix banged out the door. He hoped that was true. He waved at Jason.

The smart ass slowly drew his finger across his neck. “Dude, she will gut you if you lost her car.”

“I know.” Cal shook his head and joined Nix out on his motorcycle.

The drive to Toro’s took a few minutes longer than normal while they waited for the old drawbridge to lower. Located on Water Street, across the Mystic River, Toro’s was an old favorite. The place had been open for at least fifty years and, bar none, had the crispiest, most delectable crust on the planet. Cal never missed eating there whenever he was in the area which, sadly, wasn’t very often any more.

After Nix’s memories had been purged and their relationship lost, he had spent time haunting the streets of Mystic, trying to cope with her loss. It didn’t really work. The moping only made his heart ache more. He finally gave up and asked Nereus to assign him to the West Coast. He worked in Northern California, but even that wasn’t far enough away. He asked for a more difficult mission—Africa and the Middle East. The assignments, hardcore and deep undercover, had kept him busy for several decades. Still drowning in grief, his recklessness had nearly cost him his life on several occasions. Eventually he landed on a secluded island off the coast of Africa. There, he tried to drown out his love for Nix by becoming entangled in Amazon Warrior court intrigues. Not a wise decision. If his father hadn’t intervened, he might have become a eunuch.

The drawbridge lowered and traffic moved forward. Vibrations from the grated surface rumbled through the bike, rattling the steering. Nix tightened her grip in response, her warm body pressing deeper against his. Feral signals raced into Cal’s brain. He wanted nothing more than to take her, then and there. Instead, he concentrated on the traffic slowing down in front of him and prayed to every God and Goddess he knew that he would find some clue as to what had happened.

How could someone have taken his soul, if it already belonged to Nix?

Chapter 9

Nix tensed when Cal pulled up to the curbside parking lot of Toro’s Pizza. Tingles raced down the base of her spine. The small hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. The windows were dark, yet it was the middle of the day. A closed sign was tacked askew to the shop door. The characteristic aromas of dough and fragrant spices were noticeably absent.

Cal parked the bike and surveyed the area, his hands flexing. Warm energy radiated off his body, his power amped up. “I don’t like this.”

Nix stopped dead in her tracks. “My baby.” The Challenger was parked in the back alley in Toro’s reserved spot. Lucky for Cal, it looked okay. She headed toward it, only to be jerked backward by Cal’s firm grip.

“Later.” Grim-faced, he approached the back door and placed his palm across the flat surface. The slight touch pushed the unlocked door open. Easing into the backroom pantry, Nix followed Cal through the kitchen.

Dead silence greeted them. Along with half-made food and cold pizza ovens. An overturned pan of sauce had congealed on the prep station. Thick splatters of red liquid trailed out the kitchen door.

Nix drew the water from a stack of nearby water bottles, palming its heavy weight into a ball as they approached the dining room. The old floorboards creaked and groaned under their weight. Toro had left the main part of the restaurant in its original state. The old, wide-plank flooring, decorative molding, and wooden clapboards gave it an Eighteenth century feel. He had been reluctant to update, beyond the required amenities like electric lights, heat, and plumbing required for modern building codes. He enjoyed the ambience. Said it reminded him of when he first opened the place.

A furious roar ripped the air around them, rattling the walls, vibrating the floor. Heavy hooves clomped into the room. Loud puffs of breath approached, like an oncoming freight train. Cal slammed into the wall. Delivery, courtesy of an angry black mountain of fur and muscle. Toro had morphed into his full Minotaur form: cloven feet, a bull’s body melded with a man’s chest and abdomen. His bull-like face, twisted with anger and confusion, sported a large welt on his forehead. Someone had whacked him good and hard.

Someone either very powerful or incredibly stupid. Since Nix didn’t see any body parts strewn around, he must have been attacked by another God or God-born entity fast enough to escape Toro’s wrath.

“Toro! No!” Two sharply pointed horns swung toward Nix’s throat. Hot garlic breath assaulted her nostrils. What was she doing? Only a crazy person interfered with a Minotaur and his prey. Not that she would leave Cal to be crushed. Definitely not an option. Nix kept her voice low and calm. “Please, put Cal down. Don’t hurt him.”

Toro’s left hand eased its grip on Cal’s throat. His thick, roped muscles quivered as he slowly regained control over his emotions.

“Nix? That you?” Toro panted heavily. “Head hurts.”

“Please put Cal down. He’s your friend, remember?” Nix heaved a sigh of relief when Cal’s feet touched the ground. “Can I get you some ice for your head?”

When Toro nodded and slumped down to the floor, Nix concentrated on the water ball still in her hand. She adjusted the temperature and froze it. Cal raised his eyebrows as if surprised. It was a trick she had taught herself.

After a few moments of soothing words and gentle ministrations, Toro reverted to his mortal form. A big, burly man, with heavy sideburns and a body builder’s physique, Toro was equally imposing in any guise. Jason had pierced Toro’s nose and lip with thick gold hoops. Gods only knew where else the Minotaur was pierced. Their species was big on self-mutilation and painful body modifications. Nix didn’t really want to know, so she never asked.

“Cal, I’m sorry.” Toro stood up and stuck out his hand. “I lost control.”

Cal accepted the lift up. “No hard feelings. Any ideas on who attacked you?”

“I don’t know. The coward snuck up from behind and bagged my head. He must have spelled me or drugged me because I passed out. When I woke up, I was in the freezer. Before he left, he hit me on the head and set me free to attack.”

Nix jumped up and ran to the front door. The street was deserted on both sides. “We must have just missed him.” She righted an overturned chair and sat down. “This makes no sense. No one knew we were coming here. It was a spur of the moment decision.”

Toro moved around the room, cleaning up furniture. He stopped, sniffing the air. “I smell blood.”

“Where?” Cal circled the area.

“Under here.” Toro pushed a table aside, knelt down and dipped a finger in the blood. After a taste, he announced, “It’s a Satyr.”

“Let me guess. Devlin Ward. He’s the only goat bastard around here,” Nix huffed.

“Fawn,” Cal corrected.

Nix wanted to shout, who cares? Goat, fawn . . .

“Nix, please don’t be so prejudiced against us hoofed species,” Toro said.

“I have good reason to feel the way I do about Satyrs.” Except, she didn’t have any concrete details as to why she knew it, but that didn’t matter. Satyrs were vermin. The whole lot of them could jump off a cliff. Nix’s blood boiled. She must have looked as dangerous as she felt because Cal stepped in front of her.

“Nix, let’s stick to the matter at hand.” Cal faced Toro. “Was I here last night?”

Toro wrinkled his heavy brows as if Cal had asked him a trick question. “Of course you were.”

“And was I with anyone?”

“Not at first. You were alone. You sat in that booth by the door.” Toro thought for a moment. “After I brought your pizza, Devlin Ward joined you.”

When Toro didn’t continue, Nix prompted, “And then what happened?”

“Nothing. They talked. I came out to pick up the tray. . .” Toro went silent again. Nix counted backward slowly before her impatience caused more problems. Minotaurs were slow, and rushing them was a bad idea. A frustrated Minotaur could become an angry Minotaur. Not a good thing. Toro was old and well in control of his emotions. Most of the time. But even he had his limits.

“Someone killed the power. Everything went dark. That’s when I was knocked out. The next thing I remember is waking up in the freezer with a big bump and feeling really angry.”

“Where are all your employees?” Nix wandered back toward the kitchen. “Shouldn’t they be here by now?”

“Good question. Let me make a few phone calls.”

After Toro left, Cal stopped Nix from pacing another circuit around the dining room. “I don’t like this. My decision to come to Toro’s was on a whim. Remember, I had planned on spending the night at your beach house.”

“I agree. Too many coincidences. I don’t think Toro knows much else. I say we pay Devlin Ward a visit.” It pained her to say it. Voluntarily visiting a Satyr gave her the shudders, but it was necessary.

“We can wave to Toro on our way out.” Cal headed back through the trashed kitchen and politely held the back door open for her.

Nix looked longingly at her car. She would have to come back for it later.

“I’ll stop by on the way back,” Cal said, as if reading her mind. He seemed to be so in tune with her. Her vow against romantic entanglements wavered. Cal made it easy to like him. Damn.

“Thanks. And Cal, I can’t promise to behave myself with Devlin. But, I’ll try. ” Nix stopped before blurting out only because of you.

“Not a problem.” Cal hopped on the bike, patting the passenger seat. “Hop on, adorable.”

A memory flashed, dropping into Nix’s mind like a cold stone. Cal was on the back of a horse, hand outstretched. His words echoed across time . . . hop on  . . . Nix took a hesitant step backward, her mind reeling. The image disappeared, as if caught on the wind, then blew away.

“Nix? You okay?” Cal’s worried face appeared in front of hers.

Nix took another step back. What the hell? Was it real? Or a Residual—an after effect of wearing the Destroyer’s Mantle. Wishful thinking brought to life. But why a horse? She hated riding on horses.

Holy hell . . . maybe she was losing her mind. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Cal if they had worked together before. Nereus forbade them from asking or telling about missions, but still . . . What if Cal said no? Then she would really worry about being delusional.

“Let’s go and get this over with.” She brushed by Cal, seating herself on the Harley. The helmet was on her head before he could ask her any more questions. Clearly confused, he joined her, his weight bouncing the shocks.

As they traveled back over the bridge, Nix reaffirmed her decision not to ask. Ignorance was bliss, right?

Fawn’s Pawns was housed in an old brick-clad factory. The building, which took up an entire block, was mainly a warehouse. Devlin kept a relatively small storefront, sacrificing the space so he had enough room to store all his “treasures.” Cal thought of them more as the wreckage of broken dreams and shattered lives.

“I hate Satyrs,” Nix ground out through clenched teeth. The words spoken so softly that Cal wondered if she had meant for him to hear. He knew the reason behind her feelings. He hated pretending ignorance.

Cal offered, “Maybe it would be better if you let me question him. For some reason, he seems intimidated by you.” That remark earned Cal a chuckle.

“Why were you meeting Devlin in the first place?” Nix asked.

He should have known to expect this question. He was surprised she hadn’t asked back at the pizza place. “I asked him to meet with me. It’s related to Delian League business.”

“Meaning, you can’t tell me, right?” Nix sighed, exasperated. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me straight up what my father has you working on.”

“It’s not related to my soul.” At least Cal hoped that was a true statement. He really didn’t want to have to tell Nix about the box of Destroyer archives sitting in his apartment. Or about how Nereus had asked Cal to review the case files for signs of post-traumatic stress. It would only worry Nix. He still hadn’t worked up the courage to read her case file yet. He had left it unopened on his desk, separate from the others. If they survived the next two weeks, then he would take a look at it.

“How do you know? There is obviously something much bigger happening.” Nix hopped off the motorcycle as soon as Cal braked in the parking lot. She tore off the helmet and glared at him. “I’m sick of being kept in the dark. It sucks!”

She marched to the shop door, flung it open with an angry pull, and disappeared inside. Cal silenced the motorcycle’s engine with a twist of the key and followed her inside. He didn’t make it far. The door blew back open. Nix flew into his chest with a hard bang.

“You bitches!” Nix growled, then bounced off him, spring-boarding back inside without a backward glance.

Cal raced in behind her, then stopped dead in the doorway.

Devlin Ward was trussed in thick ropes and suspended from a hook in the ceiling. And he looked happy about it. A dopey smile curved his lips, his eyes, dreamy. He was clearly unconcerned about his bondage at the hands of . . . teenaged cheerleaders?

Cal assessed the situation. Nix was tussling with a blonde. The girl’s short, red-pleated skirt flew up over her ass when she roundhouse kicked Nix into a display case. The blonde danced on her feet, her large boobs jiggling. Nix shook off the glass, then lunged at the blonde. Nix’s fist connected with the girl’s chin. Nix clearly had the situation in control and didn’t need Cal’s help.

The remaining cheerleaders poked and prodded Devlin. Their rapid-fire questions and taunts were an unintelligible cacophony of noise. The little skirts swung and flopped as they jumped up to slap and pinch Devlin whenever he failed to answer. Welts and red marks bloomed on his pale skin.

The blond cheerleader and Nix had devolved to hair pulling. No one seemed to notice or care that Cal observed them like it was a three-ringed circus. When a dark haired girl hefted a baseball bat, ready to crack Devlin’s knees, all while he continued to smile, Cal decided an intervention was in order.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Cal shouted above the din. The baseball girl twirled around and focused her gaze on him. She felt wrong . . . sinister. Her blue eyes glinted with an eerie cold light. His nostrils caught the scent of decay, like something rotten crawled out of the trash.

She sauntered his way, her voice carrying a seductive edge. “Hello, handsome. Come to join our party?” She hid the bat behind her back and aimed a burst of erotic magic at his crotch. His body burned with lust. An erection sprang up, unbidden.

Nix yelled. Glass exploded, shattering the illusion the  . . . Harpy . . . had woven around him.

“Nix, Harpies!” Cal punched the Harpy’s jaw. She sailed backward, landing on her ass.

“No shit, Sherlock!” Nix dove onto the big-boobed Harpy and pile-drove its head into the hard mahogany countertop. “Torch them or something!”

“My pleasure.” Cal unleashed a controlled fireball under their skirts. Squeals erupted, followed by the stench of burned feathers and blackened fabric. The polyester clothing disintegrated in the flames.

“You will pay for that, Son of Ares,” Big Boobs said, her unsightly nether parts exposed and charred. Bits of red skirt clung to charcoal flesh. Her companions screeched and moaned until Nix doused them with a violent gush of water.

“Get the fuck out of here, before I drown you next,” Nix threatened. Another basketball sized orb of water rose up from the ground at her feet.

The Harpies escaped in a single line, giving Nix and Cal a wide berth. All except for Big Boobs. “Satyr, you will tell me about the seal.” She punched Devlin in the nuts on the way out.

Cal whimpered in sympathy as Devlin howled in pain. The spell was broken. The Satyr was left with a nasty case of crushed gonads.

“Did they say something about a seal?” Nix said, peering out the door. Worry tainted her voice. Or maybe it was thoughtfulness. Devlin’s moaning intensified. Poor guy. Even a Satyr didn’t deserve to be trussed like a turkey. Well, at least Devlin didn’t.

“I have no idea.” Cal burned out the ropes and helped Devlin down. Devlin curled into a fetal ball on the floor, whimpering loudly.

“Devlin, what did they want?” Nix loomed over him like an angry storm cloud, water ball still in hand.

“Nix, give him a minute.” Cal gave her hands a pointed stare. “And lose the water.”

Nix reluctantly turned away and shot the water into the parking lot. “Happy now?”

Cal understood Nix’s struggle with Satyrs. The whole situation—no discussion of past missions—was total bullshit. The policy hindered their progress and might impede their ability to stop the impending catastrophe. Maybe he should just tell Nix the truth?

A loud groan from Devlin stopped Cal. “What happened? Is my store trashed?”

Nix muttered, “Figures that’s all he cares about.”

Cal held a finger to his lips for Nix to be quiet. “What did they want? Devlin, don’t drift off.”

“I don’t know. I . . . they were so beautiful . . .”

“Great. This is really so helpful,” Nix snapped. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Nix, why don’t you try and call your mother again,” Cal suggested. Nix was right. Time was slipping away, but her petulant attitude wasn’t helping. After she left, Cal helped Devlin to a battered desk chair. “Spill it, Devlin. Or I’ll let Nix back in here.”

The Satyr flinched. “Okay. Give me a second. My junk still hurts.” Devlin wiggled on the chair like he had ants in his pants, then settled down to speak. “They were waiting for me when I opened today. All pert and luscious.”

When Cal didn’t respond, Devlin kept talking. “The one with the giant rack, she told me she was looking for a special gift. So, I thought, okay. What a great way to start the day. As soon as I unlocked the door and invited them in, wham! They attacked me. Except of course, I didn’t mind,” Devlin said, still clearly confused.

“They spelled you. Harpies can do that, you know.”

Devlin shuddered. “Ugh. Even we Satyrs have standards. No one in their right mind would willingly touch a Harpy.”

“Devlin, we’re kind of in a hurry here.” Cal wanted to shake the guy. Stop babbling and start talking. Cal sucked in a deep breath. When did he get as impatient as Nix?

“They tied me up. And then the questions started. The same thing over and over again. Where is the seal?” Devlin stood up, stretched, and rearranged his privates.

“The seal? What kind of seal?” Cal tried to ignore Devlin. He could have lived a long happy life without watching the guy handling his package.

“No clue. I offered them some old, wax seals. You know the kind we used to use in the old days, to fasten letters with wax. No dice though.” Devlin opened the door to the backroom, stuck his arm around the corner, and fished out a push broom. “Well, I’ve got nothing else. If you’ll excuse me, I have a mess to clean up.”

Dismissed, Cal went out to the Harley and found Nix holding the phone away from her ear. When she saw Cal, she made a yapping motion with her hand and rolled her eyes.

“Mother, my marital state isn’t really important right now. What? No, I’m not sassing you.” A slow red flush crept up Nix’s neck. A sure sign she was about to blow her stack. “Why do you want to know if I’m with Cal? Of course he’s here. No. You don’t need to talk to him.” Nix listened for another moment, then pursed her lips tightly. “Fine. Do not ask him about his personal business, Mother.” Nix held the phone to him, her eyes pleading patience.

He took the phone. Doris began speaking the moment it touched his ear. He never got in a word edgewise as the female Goddess spoke firmly and plainly to him. None of the flighty behavior she liked to project to her daughters was evident. Her words were succinct and specific.

Nix danced from foot to foot until he handed the phone back to her. “Well?”

“We’re taking a trip to Manhattan.”

“When?” Nix said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Right now.” No time like the present. No point in delaying the inevitable showdown between Nix and her mother.

“Fuck you. I’m not at my mother’s beck and call.” When Nix ground her heels in, she was as stubborn as a rock.

“Trust me. For this, you’ll want to go.” Cal sat on the bike and waited for comprehension to dawn on Nix’s face.

“My father.” Nix didn’t wait for Cal to answer. She donned her helmet and took her place behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

The engine roared to life. Cal shifted into gear.

Nix demanded, “We’re taking a car. No way am I driving to NYC on this bike.”

Cal chuckled as they roared down the road. Some things never changed. If Nix could take a conveyance that didn’t involve straddling something, she would do it. And he would let her. It was the least he could do considering what awaited her in Manhattan.

Chapter 10

Nix tried her hardest not to fume all the way down Interstate 95. It wasn’t Cal’s fault he couldn’t assume water form and swim there. It would have been much faster, not to mention less stressful than sitting in late afternoon traffic.

The delays gave her plenty of time to ponder the Harpies. They were foul creatures. Almost no one in the God world liked to associate with them. They were shrill, uncouth, and they stank to high heaven in their natural form. And the seal. What was up with that?

Her hand clutched the pendant hanging from the chain around her neck. Before she left, she stowed Rocky’s teardrop-shaped soul into a large locket for safekeeping. With all the commotion, she hadn’t had time to properly carry out his last wish. Soon, she promised. The soul warmed under her fingers through the material of her T-shirt.

“You’re awfully quiet.” Cal’s eyes never strayed from the road, yet Nix could still feel his scrutiny as sure as if he were facing her.

“Just pondering events.” Nix smiled. “And before you say it’s a dangerous pastime, I know what you’re thinking. How deep can a Nymph’s thoughts really be?”

Cal’s shoulders stiffened at the remark. “Nix, I don’t think that at all.” He seemed . . . angry. “I’ve never bought into that stereotype. It’s like believing all blondes are dumb and all jocks are meatheads. Or that all Satyrs are crazed sex maniacs.”

Why did he have to go there? “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Nix, you’re wrong. I do know.” Cal’s lips spread into a grim line. “You forget that I have access to information. I can’t divulge the hows or whys, but I was briefed before this assignment.”

So she was just an assignment to him. For some reason, that stung. Nothing about their situation felt like a mission. It felt so . . . personal. After taking a few slow, deep breaths, Nix spoke with a calm she really didn’t feel. “Then you know why I don’t trust Satyrs.” Maybe he would tell her something useful. Or at least give her a hint about what had happened.

Cal’s voice softened as the car slowed for another construction delay. “I do, but I can’t discuss specifics. Hypothetically, if a Satyr had been caught abusing the fairer sex, then he would be dealt with. Harshly. Hypothetically speaking. You understand.”

Nix twisted in her seat to face Cal. His face betrayed nothing. No emotion at all. Only the battle-hardened face of a warrior who had seen too much suffering, too much death. “Thank you.” Even though he hadn’t told her anything specific, it still made her feel better. He had confirmed, that, possibly, she or one of her sisters had been abused by a Satyr. If that was the case, then of course she would hate the monster that did it.

Curse Nereus. If he would leave their memories alone, she wouldn’t be stuck with all these emotions she didn’t understand. At least Cal seemed to understand. Maybe he believed her father needed to change his policies. Cal at least seemed sympathetic. Or at the very least, open to thinking outside the box.

Nix cleared her throat, drew out Rocky’s pendant, and untangled it from the locket she always wore. Again, the locket’s origin was another casualty of memory wipes. Deep in her heart, she knew the battered gold heart was important, yet she had no idea why.

Cal’s eyes flashed sideways, taking in the activity with his peripheral vision.

“Since you shared with me, I’ll share this with you.” Nix fumbled with the chains, still stubbornly entwined.

“The locket?” Cal’s throat sounded constricted.

“Oh, I’ve had this for the last hundred years. I don’t remember who gave it to me. Guess it was during a mission.” And she had never been able to part with it. Anytime she considered it, her heart sped up, her instincts buzzing that it was too important to lose. “Maybe someday, I’ll find out.”

“So you were saying . . .” Cal tightened his grip on the steering wheel, the car speeding up now that they were past construction. When Nix insisted on taking a car, she had no idea Cal would switch the Harley out for a vintage Mercedes. While, it wasn’t as sweet as her Challenger, it was still a great car. Smooth ride, fully appointed interior . . .

“Nix?”

“Sorry, got lost in my head there for a second.” Not that she would admit she was admiring his car. “I have a friend who died recently.”

“I’m sorry, Nix,” he said, his voice sympathetic.

She wondered how sympathetic he’d still feel when he learned she grieved over an animal. A lump formed in her throat. She thought about Rocky’s big soulful gaze, his gentle spirit . . . his fishy breath. She missed him so much.

“Rocky was a longtime friend. I rescued him as a seal pup from a shark.” Nix waited for a snide comment. A snicker. When no ridicule materialized, she continued. “He died at the aquarium in my arms. His final wish was that I release his soul back to the waters of his birth.” Another quick glance. Was Cal misty-eyed?

“Oh, Nix.” Cal’s voice was thick with emotion. He seemed about to say more, but then he clammed up. “I would be honored to escort you on your errand.”

Wow. Not what she’d expected from Calder Quinne, Son of Ares. Nix furiously brushed away the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She looked out the window and watched the Welcome to New York sign pass by while wrangling her emotions into place. She tucked her sadness back into its mental box, along with her nagging idea that she had something to do with Cal’s missing soul. “Thank you. If we’re successful, it’s a date.”

The car slowed again as traffic stopped for another delay. “Now what?” Cal groused. A state trooper directed traffic, diverting cars into separate lanes, either to left or right of another construction site. “We’ll be lucky to make it there before nightfall at this rate.”

Cal steered toward the right, taking the detour posted on orange road signs. After traveling for about a mile through a suburban area, they emerged onto a hilly country road.

“Don’t you think this is weird?” A warning bell rang in Nix’s head. “There’s no other traffic. Where are all the other cars?”

“Shit. You’re right—”

Cal slammed on the brakes, narrowly missing a large hulking shape standing in the center of the road. Nix thanked the Gods they wore seatbelts, otherwise they would have kissed the dashboard hard enough to lose teeth. “You okay?” Cal said, throwing the car in park.

“Who the hell is that guy?” Nix rubbed her neck, trying to massage away near whiplash.

The man, sporting a scuffed leather jacket and jeans with torn out knees, stood a few feet from the hood of the car. A blue paisley bandanna covered his forehead, stopping slightly above two tufted eyebrows. Pale eyes, almost milky white, stared back at them.

Nix wondered if he was blind, except his gaze fixed onto her face and narrowed, as if he suspected the thought. Long, gray hair flowed down around his shoulders. He looked like a deranged, old nutcase—the kind of person who spoke in gibberish and smelled like he hadn’t bathed in weeks. A weirdo that you’d cross the street to avoid.

“Let’s find out what he wants, shall we?” Cal unhooked his seatbelt and left the car before Nix could protest. The old coot continued to stare at her like she was lunch. She didn’t like it.

“Ah, hell.” She left the car, circling around the trunk end to join Cal. Pungent odor, like dead skunk drifted, reaching her nose. Gods, he stank like road kill.

“Do you need some help?” Cal asked, his shoulders bunched, body poised to react. Looked like Cal didn’t trust the man either. The faint scent of wood smoke scented the air.

The man shuffled forward. His steps were misaligned for the size of his body, like he wore shoes too small for his feet. “The girl has what I want.” A sickly pink tongue darted out of his mouth, circling his thick, cracked lips.

“I don’t think so, mister,” Cal growled. “Go back the way you came and there won’t be any trouble.”

The stench grew stronger and more familiar. He bounded forward, the pavement cracking under his feet. Only a body of significant mass could chew up the road like that. Nix backpedaled, senses wildly seeking a source of water.

“Girlie, give me the seal.” The air shimmered. The illusion of the old man wavered. A large hulking shadow winked in, then out.

“Cal . . . Cyclops.” Nix’s heart beat out of control. She loathed the whine in her voice. Cyclopes loved Nymphs. As in loved to death. Her sister Galatea narrowly escaped with her life after Polyphemus’ ill-fated fixation.

The brute laughed at her fear. He slowly unwound the bandana until he uncovered his true, single eye. “Sweet Sea Nymph. Leave this puny Demigod and come with me. I promise to satisfy you and then some.” A thick unibrow, the size of a snake, wagged up and down.

Nix’s fear evaporated, replaced by disgust. “Males are all alike. Thinking Nymphs are sex maniacs.” She found water underneath her feet. A rich flow from the storm drains, ready to be tapped at a moment’s notice. “What is this seal that you want?”

The Cyclops shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know. I was asked to find it and take it by any means necessary.” For such a large creature, he moved fast. He swatted Cal across the road with a loud thwack.

There was nothing between her and the monster now. Good. Nix drove up a ten foot wall of water straight through the pavement. Her arms shook under the water’s tremendous weight. Her eardrums popped against the strain of holding so much power. With a roar, she unleashed it against the Cyclops, blasting him several yards in a violent cascade wave.

Nix raced back to the spot where Cal fell, but he was gone. Before she could search further, large chunks of asphalt rained down. She dodged debris that narrowly missed her head. Bursts of white hot fire erupted. It sailed across the sky and intercepted the rock deluge, vaporizing the chunks into dust. Cal strode down the road. His fists pumped out fiery artillery as efficiently as a cannon blast.

The Cyclops dropped all pretense of humanity and assumed its natural form. Twelve feet high, he easily closed the distance in two long strides. Deep fault lines cracked the road. His mouth gaped in an ugly frown. “I will eat you, Son of Ares. Raw. First, I’ll tear off your arms. And then your legs—”

Two orange fireballs landed in the Cyclops’ open mouth. He howled in pain, clawing at his throat. “That should shut him up.” Cal aimed another shot at its eye. The Cyclops hunched forward, deftly avoided the attack, then resumed its forward motion.

“I have an idea,” Nix shouted. They would never be able to beat the thing on sheer strength alone. And they couldn’t let it destroy the car. Nix pulled more ground water, pooling it into the cracked pavement. “Try and maneuver him toward the broken road.”

Without waiting for Cal to agree, Nix ran toward the Cyclops, taunting it. “Hey, I thought you were interested in me?”

Garbled moans roared out of his injured throat. Its large eye tracked Nix as she circled and danced under the Cyclops’ feet. Every time he got too close, Nix would shoot needles of water into his eye. Furious, the Cyclops stomped the road, deepening the cracks, churning the surface underneath into a muddy pit.

Nix was confident that Cal would figure out what she had planned. She just knew it. Later, when she wasn’t about to be ground into dust, she could examine why she felt that way.

Undaunted, the Cyclops continued to swipe at Nix and miss. Whenever the Cyclops pounded down, she funneled water under the ground’s surface until quicksand formed. “Come on, Blinky. If you want a piece of me, you’re going to have to work for it.”

Nix watched Cal out of the corner of her eye. He dodged blows, avoiding the Cyclops’ fists and feet alike until Cal was at the edge of the quicksand. Nix marveled at his agility. His movements were economical and precise. A warrior well honed and battle hardened. And her instincts were correct. He was on the same page, maneuvering the creature into her trap. Cal placed his palms on the hardtop and unleashed scorching hot heat. Moments later, the road melted into a liquid rock and pooled with the quicksand, creating a soupy mortar.

“Nymph . . .” the Cyclops ground out, his voice rough and raw, “Give me the seal.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Nix screamed back. She liquefied the sediment, making it more absorbent. The creature didn’t notice it had sunk up to its ankles. “I don’t understand. How can I give you what I don’t have?”

“Don’t care, little bitch.” Panic bloomed on his face. He finally noticed he was sinking. When he tried to lift his legs, ground sucked in around his knees, wedging his body further in the molten pool. “What have you done? Why am I so hot?”

“You’ll live,” Nix said. “We don’t have time to mess with you right now.” The Cyclops had sunk to his shoulders. She cut off the water and nodded at Cal to lay off the heat.

“A League retrieval squad will be coming to collect your sorry ass.” Cal punched buttons on his cell phone. “They’ll probably have to concoct a story about a localized earthquake to explain this mess.”

The area was a total wreck. Buckled pavement, chunks of road, and globs of mud. Oh yeah, a mini-earthquake would do the trick. The Cyclops wriggled and squirmed, but he was thoroughly trapped. “You can’t leave me here.”

“Yes, we can.” Cal bent down next to the Cyclops’ ear and whispered. Whatever he said caused the Cyclops to blanch. “We clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” The air shimmered around the giant’s eye. The image blurred then reformed. His true form disappeared, morphing into a boulder.

“Well, that was an interesting detour,” Nix said as the car sped down the road leaving the Cyclops behind. The highway entrance, straight ahead, showed no signs of any construction. The whole detour had been a set-up, a ruse designed to get them alone. But by which God or Goddess?

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.” Cal’s jaw clenched and unclenched. Dried blood had crusted along his hairline. “Bastard knocked me good. It’s been a long time since someone got the jump on me. I must be getting old.”

Nix remained silent. So the male ego had just taken a hit. It must have hurt Cal’s James Bond persona to have been fooled by such a dumb hit man. “I don’t get it.”

“What?”

“Why send such an imbecile after us? Cyclopes are not known for their brains.” Nix sighed as the exit for Manhattan approached. Her gut knotted. Visits to her mother always inevitably ended the same way—with a giant headache.

Cal’s phone buzzed on the seat between them. “Nix, you mind reading the text?”

“Gods damn it.” She read the short message again. “He got away. This must be the world’s smartest Cyclops. He tricked the retrieval team.”

“Seriously? Or the world’s dumbest retrieval squad.” Cal shook his head in disbelief.

“Apparently he created a secondary boulder, so when the team starting reforming the road, they freed him instead.” Nix stared out the window for a long moment. Each city block passed brought her closer to her mother. And another likely confrontation. “Cal, what did you say back there to the Cyclops?”

Cal shrugged. “Just man to man stuff.”

“Come on, don’t hold out on me. Whatever you said had him quaking.”

“I told him if he even thought about laying a finger on you, I would roast his nuts over an open fire. While he watched.” The last part was delivered with a growl.

“Wow. Thanks.” For some reason Cal’s defense of her honor thrilled her. She could take care of herself, but it was nice that he cared. She froze. She was doing it again. Mooning over Cal. Why? Why? Why?

“We’re here.” Cal stopped in front her mother’s exclusive luxury building. A valet rushed over, ready to park the car. Cal cradled Nix’s elbow and steered her toward the door. “I know it’s hard. But try not to let your mother’s comments get to you.”

“Cal. You have no idea how overbearing my mother is.” Nix nodded to the doorman as he held the door for them.

“I know your mother loves you,” Cal said, his tone regretful.

Nix instantly felt bad. Cal’s human mother had probably been dead for hundreds of years and here she was whining. “Okay. I’ll try.”

The elevator whisked them to the foyer of her mother’s floor. Yes, the woman had the entire twenty-eighth floor to herself. Nix could never fathom why one person needed so much space. Sure, her father had a room, but he traveled so much, he was hardly there.

The door clicked open. “Darling, you’re here. And you’re filthy.”

Nix suppressed a growl. “Yes, Mother. Being attacked by a Cyclops tends to get one dirty.”

Cal stuck out his hand. “Hello.”

“Calder Quinne, as I live and breathe, you are the handsomest Son of Ares I have ever met.” Doris’ eyelids fluttered.

Nix wanted to gag. “Mother, how about you invite us inside before laying on the charm?” A finger poked her back. She remembered her promise and plastered a fake grin on her face. She could do this. “I’m sure Cal would love a drink after our ordeal.”

“Of course, where are my manners?” Doris threaded her arm into Cal’s and steered him into a room that was the spitting image of King Louis’ Versailles. An exact replica of the Hall of Mirrors stretched out before them. The space appeared to be larger than it actually was. No doubt a spell. All the gilt and Rococo style furniture made Nix’s head spin. The whole place was like a shrine to every overdone style of years gone by.

Her mother enjoyed mixing styles of décor from different time periods. The sitting room was a dizzying collection of Victoriana. Heavy claw-footed couches and tables loaded with garish statues crowded the room, all competing for prominence.

“Nix, don’t sit on the couch. Go clean yourself off first.” Doris led Cal, who was equally filthy, to a couch built for two. Her mother was practically sitting on his lap. Judging by his bemused expression, Cal found her mother funny. He’d change his mind soon enough.

Nix scrubbed her hands in a gleaming white sink adorned with solid gold fixtures. She brushed the dirt off her clothes onto the equally white bathroom floor. One of her mother’s servants—Doris called them domestics—would clean up the dirt. Normally, Nix wouldn’t dream of leaving a mess for someone else, but she also wasn’t willing to leave Cal alone with her scheming mother for too long.

The woman was worse than Elizabeth Bennet’s mother. She was probably planning their nuptials already. Doris wanted as many grandchildren, to keep the family going, as possible. The only problem—it was a pipe dream. Immortals almost never had children anymore. Another one of Zeus’ parting gifts—he severely limited the Gods’ ability to procreate amongst themselves. Sure, full Gods like Ares and Hades could still have offspring with mortals, but more often than not, the children were largely normal. Hades had quit trying centuries ago. Cal was probably one of Ares’ last Demigod children.

Doris, ever hopeful, never stopped trying for the elusive grandchild. Her last grandson, Achilles, had died in the Trojan War. Of course, that was back in the day when the Gods lustily boinked their way through the mortal population.

Nix hurried back into Queen Victoria’s nightmare to find Doris deep in conversation with Cal. A serious discussion based on Cal’s face. Again, he wore that sad, tragic look. Doris patted his arm, consoling him. As soon as they realized Nix had returned, they clammed up. What was going on? If Nix didn’t know better, she’d think that Cal and Doris knew each other. She guessed that was possible. Cal didn’t have his mind tampered with like she did on a regular basis. He probably knew more about her then she did about herself. She would have to ask him later.

“Nix, I hate what you’ve done with your hair. Black doesn’t suit you,” Doris sniffed. “I hope you haven’t disfigured yourself with any awful tattoos. I really don’t know what my dear cousin Memphis was thinking when he encouraged your,” —she made air quotes—“artistic side.”

At that moment, Nix wanted to mess up her mother’s perfect Barbie hairdo and douse her designer clothes with a water blast. Cal’s pointed stare kept Nix on track. Instead she counted to ten and said, “I believe you asked for this meeting. You have something important to tell us?”

Cal admired Nix’s restraint. She had grown up since the days of their first mission. In the old days, she probably would have marched over to Doris and shaken her by the shoulders. He was sure that the urge to shake her mother was still in there, somewhere. Cal could almost see the destructive thoughts rising to the surface of Nix’s brain, traveling from her stiffened spine and through her clenched hands, until they landed in her tight jawbone. A bubble of tension hung over her as sure as if she had a helium balloon floating over her head.

Doris, definitely trying at times, did love her daughter, even if Nix couldn’t see it. Cal was never sure how much was real and how much was an act with Doris. He had seen Doris take a room full of stubborn Delian League delegates and have them tamed and eating out of her palm with a few well-placed comments. The daughter of Ocean, the Titan, she had a steel backbone, even if it was adorned with designer fashions, well coifed hair and an expensive manicure.

It was too bad Nix couldn’t see that. But then again, his mother, Gods rest her soul, had been just as protective and overbearing. Doris had shooed Nix away so she could speak with Cal privately, without raising her daughter’s suspicions. Her concern for Cal’s broken heart was touching. Doris had guessed at what Nereus never suspected.

“Give it time,” she had said. “Things will work out the way they were meant to.”

Cold comfort. Cal had been nursing his feelings for Nix for so long he hardly noticed he was brooding anymore. His need for Nix beat at him continuously, a never-ending drum pounding at his control. Every day it got harder and harder for him not to grab her and tell her the truth. After the run in with the Cyclops, he resolved to find a way to tell her the truth before he disappeared, forever.

The moment Nix was out of earshot, Doris had leaned over to Cal and placed a hand on his arm, “How are you doing, my dear boy?”

Cal hunkered down, lowering his face to hers. “I’ve seen better days.”

“I’ll bet. There are not many who can get the slip on you.” The overpowering scent of French perfume, some kind of flower, lavender perhaps, along with a fresh ocean breeze scented the air around Doris. “You’ve probably already heard that the Old Rules apply to your situation.”

“Yes, unfortunately.” Cal tried to keep the edge of frustration out of his voice. “Whatever is going on, it’s much bigger than my immediate need. If it’s my fate to lose my life, then so be it. But I can’t stand the thought of humanity’s destruction because I solved the riddle too late. Curse Zeus’ draconian rules.”

“No need to become angry, Son of Ares. Fate has a way of smoothing out the bumps in the road of life.”

Easy for her to say. Her soul wasn’t MIA. Bitterness clouded his vision for a moment. The old Gods—what were they thinking? Leaving humanity . . . He shook it off. Fatalism wasn’t his thing.

Doris opened her mouth, about to speak when Nix had rejoined them. Her expression guarded, she paused before calmly demanding her mother state the reason for their meeting.

“Sit down, dear. Right here next to Calder.” Doris vacated the spot and moved to a delicate chair. The legs were so thin, if Cal sat in it, the things would have probably broken like matchsticks. “I have some bad news. I can’t help you.”

“Really, Mother? I needed to hear that personally. A phone call would have sufficed,” Nix complained. Her fingers twisted around Cal’s. An unconscious gesture, he was sure.

“I’m sorry. Rules, you know?”

“Screw the rules! Cal needs help. The world needs help!” Only Cal’s firm grip on Nix’s hand prevented her from springing off the couch. She squeezed his fingers harder, her knuckles pressed painfully against his.

“And,” Doris paused, seeming to realize Nix’s agitation, “I can’t contact your father.” Worry lines sprang up on her face.

“Great. Fucking terrific.” Nix slumped back into the couch, releasing Cal’s aching fingers.

Doris stood abruptly and smoothed out her wrinkleless skirt. “I’m sorry, dear. I have a facial appointment.” She pecked Nix on the cheek. “Good luck, Nix. I have faith in you.”

Nix watched her leave. “I’m glad someone does.”

Chapter 11

Visits with Doris always wiped Nix out. Whenever they were together, they fell into the same routine—Doris being critical and Nix biting her tongue. Right before they left the penthouse, Doris made sure to express her dismay, again, at Nix’s hair color and Nix’s decision to run a tattoo shop. Why couldn’t she be more like her sisters and run a nice business? Like Nix should open a cookie shop or some shit. Nix should have been prepared for it, but once the visit was over, Nix wanted to get the hell back to Connecticut. Doris may have nothing better to do with herself, but Nix and Cal had serious business—like saving his soul and possibly saving humanity—on their agenda.

She sighed with relief when Cal pulled into Mystic Ink’s driveway, stopping in front of the garage.

“I need a hot shower. You’re more than welcome to stay and have dinner with me. And you can shower, too.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before her brain registered the offer. She lamely added, “Shower on your own . . . without me.” Her skin warmed. She had better not be blushing.

Cal’s smiled broadly. His brown eyes twinkled. “I’ll accept your offer. Both of them.”

When Nix opened her mouth to clarify the shower situation, Cal replied, “Understood. I shower alone. But, if you change your mind . . .” He left the offer there, between them, like low hanging fruit. All she had to do was reach out and take it.

Nix bounded up the back stairs before she could say anything else.

Old magic prickled her skin.

Someone was in her apartment.

Cal appeared at her back, small flame ball at the ready. For a moment, the whole drama felt familiar, like they had done this before. Like he had guarded her back while they breeched a room. A snippet of memory flashed into her mind—an old farmhouse, creaky floorboards, the stench of Satyr. Then it was gone.

What you seek isn’t lost. It’s only locked away. That voice again. Nix ignored it. The last thing she needed was for Cal to think she was crazy. Not that he could read her mind. Still, her thoughts felt bare and exposed. Cal tapped her shoulder and motioned for her to go forward.

Nix opened her apartment door slowly and stalked across the kitchen floor, careful to avoid the dip where the floor squeaked. Cal must have done the same since the telltale squeak was silent. The kitchen and living room were divided by a walled archway. Nix kept to the kitchen side, and peered around the wall.

“Gods, Zeph. Are you trying to get your ass kicked?”

The God of the West Wind was comfortably nestled on her oversized sofa, feet on the coffee table, an open book in his lap. “Yes. If it involves you touching my ass, I’m game.”

Cal stormed past Nix. “You didn’t answer her question. I didn’t know you were into breaking and entering.”

“There are so many things you don’t know about me, Calder.” Zephyr clapped the book shut and stood. “Too bad, you’ll never know, since you seem content to bark at me like an angry dog every time we meet.”

Nix rushed forward, standing between Cal and Zephyr. What was behind Cal’s territorial response? Zephyr, she could understand. They had been friends for years. Half the innuendo was simply teasing. That was just the way he was—a giant flirt. Cal, she had only really known for a few weeks, yet all his behavior suggested they had more of a relationship.

The voice in her head returned, singing “Memories.” It broke off its Barbara Streisand rendition—we can help each other. Nix clutched her head and growled. Two sets of strong hands reached for her at the same time. She moved away, not wanting their touch. “Both of you are giving me a headache. I’m taking a shower. And you’d better behave yourselves.” She left, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

After taking the world’s fastest shower, Nix returned to the living room, relieved to find it still intact. Cal and Zephyr were seated on opposite ends of the couch, talking in low tones. Each went silent the moment she stepped into the room. Nix bit back her annoyance. She wasn’t in the mood for the inevitable denials and non-answers. “I’m not gonna waste my breath asking.”

Her stomach rumbled. Gods, she was starved. Too bad edible food didn’t exist in her fridge. She called out, “Guys, who’s up for dinner out on the town?”

They settled on S& P Oyster Company, a stone’s throw down the street from her shop. The line waiting for tables was out the door. Zephyr bypassed it, ignoring Nix’s protests. Cal brought up the rear, glum and tightlipped.

“We don’t have reservations,” Nix complained.

“How do you know?” Zephyr aimed his charm at the young hostess manning the door.

The female perked up and smiled, her glossy pink lips shining almost as brightly as her super whitened teeth. “Right this way, Mr. Z. Your favorite table is waiting.”

The hostess led them through the restaurant and out onto a terrace overlooking the Mystic River. The table, situated along an iron railing, gave them a clear view of the glittering water, ripe with warm oranges and deep plums, from the fading sun. Artfully arranged potted plants and a lattice screen afforded almost complete privacy from the rest of the diners.

Nix looked back at Cal. He shrugged. “I have no idea,” was all he said until it was time to order their food.

“Nix, I can’t believe you’re ordering seafood. What if you end up eating a cousin?” Zephyr teased after she ordered shrimp scampi.

“We’ve been through this before.” Nix played along for Cal’s benefit. “Shellfish are not the brightest bulbs in the pack. And besides, I’m not related to fish.” They bantered like this all the time. In many ways, Zephyr was like a big brother to her, despite his suggestion that they become lovers.

She took a sip of red wine and savored it, her gaze settling on Cal. She couldn’t help but notice his silence. There was no point in asking him what was wrong. He wouldn’t say, not in front of Zephyr. She paused at the thought. How did she know that? She half expected the mystery voice to chime in an opinion, but it remained silent.

The meals arrived with alarming speed, the portions, immense. “Do you own this place?” Nix couldn’t help asking.

“No. The owner and I have . . . history.” Zephyr didn’t elaborate further and tucked into his food, a steaming plate of lobster and filet mignon. He stopped chewing long enough to add, “She grants me table access whenever I want it in exchange for on demand spa visits.”

Cal snorted, but remained silent. So did Zephyr. No retort, nothing. Nix watched and waited for a confrontation. When none was forthcoming, she relaxed and enjoyed the scampi. The shrimp, succulently drenched in a buttery, garlic sauce, nearly melted in her mouth. Without thinking, she placed a piece on the edge of Cal’s dish. He abruptly stopped eating, studied her face for a moment, then returned the favor by placing a steamed mussel on her plate.

Cal resumed eating, his face a neutral mask, but Nix thought she saw a smile on his lips.

Zephyr pretended disinterest, but Nix knew he would ask her later. She had no idea why she did it. Again, that nagging certainty, like she knew Cal from before, resurfaced.

Zephyr, never one for total silence, chatted amiably through the remainder of the meal. He inquired about Cal’s time in the mortal armed forces, shared the latest happenings in his spa, and asked Nix about the tattoo shop. He requested the dessert tray, despite Nix’s declaration that she couldn’t eat another bite.

“Nonsense. I know for a fact that you can out-eat an elephant,” Zephyr said.

“Thanks a lot! Are you saying I’m a pig?” Nix felt like one. She had finished the entire plate of scampi, a garden salad, half the bread in the bread basket, and had at least four glasses of wine.

“No. He said you were an elephant.” Cal’s rich baritone laugh made Nix’s heart patter. What was it about him? It couldn’t be his looks, although he was handsome. All the children of the Gods were gifted with physical beauty. No, it was something altogether different. He was genuine. Authentic. Not afraid to display his scars or let you know he was displeased. He didn’t carry the typical, I am perfect and never wrong crap attitude that many of the God-born bought into.

Zephyr’s loud laugh brought Nix back into the moment. “Does she do that often?”

“What? Stare into space?” Cal nodded his head. “Ever since I’ve been around.”

“Please. Don’t overrate yourself,” Nix scoffed.

The dessert cart arrived, ending all banter. Zephyr ordered one of everything. Good thing the table was private otherwise they would have looked like gluttons.

“Ladies first,” Zephyr said, waving his hand over the assortment of pies, cakes, and puddings. “My money says she picks the molten chocolate cake.”

“I say she goes for the strawberry shortcake.” Cal folded his muscled arms, confident that he was right. Damn him. Strawberry shortcake had been her first choice. She knew for a fact that the biscuits were fresh-baked on the premises daily. The pastry chef was a regular and often brought them leftovers when he came in to have his elaborate back art inked. And the cream filling was whipped right before the shortcake was assembled.

Nix examined the other choices while surreptitiously watching Cal and Zephyr. Zephyr casually studied his fingernails. Cal watched the boats drifting down the river. Neither seemed to care what she chose until her hand moved toward the plates. Their gazes shifted, watching her hand. Male pride was on the line. Good grief.

“Mmm . . . the peach cobbler looks delicious.” Steaming peaches were draped with crumbly butter and sugar topping, with a hint of cinnamon. Nix smiled. So there. They could take their ridiculous male posturing and shove it.

The tension deflated, Cal went for a chocolate raspberry torte and Zephyr, crème brulee. Neither choice surprised Nix. Zephyr always went for the non-chocolate dessert, and Cal had always favored raspberry flavored anything. It reminded him of his mother and the wild canes that grew outside their one-room cabin.

Nix stopped eating. How did she know that? Sweat dripped down her spine, chilling her skin. She was dead sure if she asked Cal why he liked raspberries, that would be his response. She swallowed down the peach lodged in her throat. Her appetite evaporated. She must be on the road to Crazyville. What else could it be?

Cal was aware of the moment Nix withdrew into her head. The set of her mouth and the distant gaze were all telltale signs something was bothering her. And he was fairly sure it wasn’t related to their current predicament. Of course, he couldn’t ask her. Not with the smug windbag sitting at the table.

“How about we take a walk along the river?” Zephyr suggested, after insisting he pay for their meals. Cal let him. His ego wasn’t so weak that he would dicker over a dinner tab. Nix made a half-assed attempt to protest, but her heart wasn’t in it. She gave up way too easily. Yeah, something was wrong.

The boardwalk area and small grassy park were devoid of tourists. They were either long gone or elsewhere in the restaurants or shops. Dark water lapped along the thick pilings, the river traffic mostly dried up once the sun set.

Nix took a seat on a wooden bench. “So what gives, Zeph? Why were you in my place?”

Cal crossed his arms and tapped his foot, too antsy to sit down. A decision he regretted when Zephyr parked his elegant ass next to Nix. If he got any closer, he would be sitting on her. It had been a long time since Cal had to remind himself to be patient.

“I have information.”

“I thought you couldn’t help us.” Nix frowned.

“This isn’t help, direct or indirect. This is common knowledge. It’s about Uncle Memphis.”

Nix seemed to sit up straighter. Cal remembered Nix’s desire to learn about her elusive uncle’s past. Memphis, always tight-lipped, had an aura of mystery about him, carefully honed and calculated over the centuries. Even Cal, with his Delian League connections, could only find scraps of information about the immortal.

Nix punched Zephyr in the arm. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Start talking.”

“Easy, girl. That’s my massaging arm.” Zephyr mock rubbed his right arm. “Before you were born, there was a rumor floating around. More like a suggestion or hint. I paid it no attention at the time, but now in light of what has happened, I’ve started to give it more credence. So I dug out my old journals—”

“Wait. You keep a diary!” Cal blurted out. He laughed so hard, his gut hurt. Tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes. “That is so girly.”

“Real men keep journals.” Zephyr popped off the bench and pointed at Cal. “It’s an ancient tradition. Not that I expect a young whelp like you, a cur of Ares, to understand.”

Flames erupted from Cal’s finger as he pointed back. “I’m no one’s dog.”

“Knock it off you two. Can we please get back to my uncle?” Nix placed her gentle fingers on Cal’s forearm. The flames quenched at her touch.

Chagrined, Cal stepped back and nodded. “Pardon my outburst. Please continue.”

Zephyr narrowed his eyes at Cal, but resumed. “As I was saying . . . after several hours of searching, I located the information. Turns out that Memphis and Hades had dealings.”

“What kind of dealings?” Nix asked.

“I have no idea. The rumor wasn’t that specific, but shortly thereafter, the Underworld Gate appeared and the shop opened.” Zephyr seemed quite pleased. Like he had discovered the secret of the universe.

Nix quieted, absorbed in thought. After a few more moments, she stood up. “Thank you. If you remember anything else, please let me know.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. Would you like me to walk you home?” Zephyr leaned toward Nix. Way too close.

“No need. I’ll be walking her home.” Cal moved behind her.

“Really. I don’t need an escort,” Nix said.

Cal glared at Zephyr over Nix’s head. He ignored her protests. Cal’s patience had vanished. “She’s my responsibility. She walks back with me.”

Zephyr smirked back. “It’s no contest between us. I’m older and stronger.”

“So you think. The only way you surpass me is in the size of your ego. It’s enormous.”

“Nix has been my friend longer. You’re a nobody. Just another of Nereus’ lackeys. You’ll be long gone, and Nix and I will still be friends.”

“It’s my job to protect her, not yours.” Cal silenced his tongue. He had almost let it slip that Nix had loved him first. Not the old windbag.

“Wind trumps flame.” Zephyr blasted him in the back of the head with a wind gust so hard his teeth rattled.

Cal stepped in front of Nix. His ears had stopped listening to her pleas for them to calm down. He was sure his eyes had flashed from brown to red. Fire and anger blended into one furious desire and danced from his fingertips. He welcomed the burn, ready to grant the fire its freedom. “We’ll see how triumphant you feel after I fry the hair off your head.”

Yes, the flames hissed in his mind. Their warmth sizzled under his skin. The release would be so sweet. It had been so long since he had let the fire rule him. He had forgotten the high of their power. Cal raised his palm, ready to let go—

Cold water dumped onto his head. He staggered under its force. The iciness bit into his skin, dousing the internal fury. When he blinked the water out of his eyes, Zephyr was equally drenched, his hair plastered down his face.

“If either of you tries to walk me home, I’ll sweep you both into Long Island Sound.” Nix stalked off, leaving them dripping wet.

“I guess we both deserved that,” Cal said, wiping the water out of his eyes.

“I agree.” Zephyr raised the wind and blew his clothes dry. “Would you allow me?”

Cal accepted. He hated having water in his shoes.

Once they were both dry, Zephyr offered Cal his hand. “No hard feelings?”

“No.” Cal shook Zephyr’s hand. The God’s natural power surged into his palm. It wasn’t threatening or even demanding. It just existed, like the elemental force that Zephyr was.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize before tonight that you . . .” Zephyr paused, as if unsure if he should continue. “. . . that you love her.”

Am I that obvious? A heavy weight settled on Cal’s chest. He swallowed hard, pushing the lump out of his throat. “You can never speak of this to Nix. Not ever.” Cal hoped Zephyr would heed the warning. “The information could jeopardize her mental health.”

“I understand, Cal. She will not hear of this from me.” Zephyr turned to go, then stopped and faced Cal. “What are your intentions toward her? Especially if you don’t get your soul back.”

That was easy. “I’ll fight to the end to stay with her. But if I lose, then I’ll find a way to the Elysian Fields. I won’t give her up again.”

Zephyr nodded. “I will help you both, however I can. Go with the Gods, Calder Quinne.”

Cal watched Zephyr walk away, aware that he had passed an important test. He had earned Zephyr’s respect. And he found that gratifying. Maybe the water had washed away some of his anger toward Zephyr. Or maybe it was the other male’s acknowledgement of his love for Nix. No matter the reason, he had gained a new ally and maybe even a friend.

Nix crept down the back stairs. The shop had been open for an hour and business was light. Basil was singing a horrid rendition of a pop song on the radio. In the background, Cal and Jason were egging the foolish bird along. She cracked open the back door, slipped outside, and walked down the garage side of her alley. If there was a body at the dumpster, she didn’t want to know. She headed for the coffee shop located behind the Whaler’s Inn on the next block. Chloe and Tabby had texted her, begging Nix to come meet them as soon as she could get away.

Mystic Ink was in a lull, between the morning rush and lunch crowd, so she could leave with no one the wiser. Cal thought she was upstairs doing paperwork.

“Nix. Over here.” Chloe waved her over to a small café table outside the shop. A box of pastries and a coffee were already waiting.

“Bless you, Sister. Hand over that box.” Nix polished off an apple Danish and half her coffee before giving in to Tabby’s pleading.

“Come on Nix, is it true?” Tabby whined again. “Is Cal really missing his soul?”

“Yes. How did you hear about it?” If Jason had blabbed, Nix was going to pierce his mouth shut.

“You know, through the grapevine.” Tabby shrugged.

“Seriously, Nix, the one guy in centuries who is truly interested in you and within two weeks, his soul is in peril?” Chloe teased. Of all her sisters, Chloe had the gentlest spirit. Father had permanently retired her from service after Chloe refused to wear the Mantle. Nix suspected that Nereus was so surprised to be challenged by Chloe he relented. A decision Nix agreed with. Chloe wasn’t suited for a hard life of combat and intrigue. Nix admired her for standing up to their father.

“That’s not how it happened.” At least Nix hoped she was telling the truth.

“He is really into you.” Tabby chose a cruller out of the pastry box and dipped it into her coffee.

Nix shook her head, “No. He’s only interested in finding out if I’m crazy.”

“No. He wanted to know all about you. Your hobbies, where you liked to go on your free time,” Tabby insisted.

“All part of the job, I’m sure.” Nix didn’t have the heart to argue with Tabby. Cal probably collected the information so he could find her when she snuck off. “When did he have time to ask you all these probing questions?”

“The night at the beach house,” Chloe answered. “I think he genuinely cares for you, Nix. You should give him the benefit of the doubt. He said he wanted to see you again after the assignment ends.”

That gave Nix pause. She popped the bubble of hope before it absorbed her common sense. She couldn’t have a normal life. The Fates had a different plan for her. Not to mention, she was still hearing the voice. When she had woken that morning, it buzzed into her head. It politely suggested she stop ignoring it and accept the offer for help. Who had ever heard of a well-mannered figment of imagination? Cal could never learn the truth, so she would have to keep him at arm’s length. No way was she being locked up or reduced to a bucket of water or whatever the League did to punish crazy Destroyers.

“So what are you going to do?” Tabby nibbled on a glazed doughnut.

“Nothing. We have a much bigger problem than my lame love life.” Nix brought her sisters up to date on events. They gasped, asked questions, offered suggestions, but in the end they didn’t have any new ideas either.

“There’s got to be something you can do. What about Daddy?” Chloe had twisted her braid around her fingertip.

“He seems to be out on one of his extended fishing trips.” Nix hid her concern. She suspected Nereus was either lying low, so he wouldn’t have to turn her away when she asked for his help, or something else was detaining him. Probably something bad.

“Well, how inconvenient,” Tabby lamented.

Chloe stared at her sister like she sprouted a third eye. “Tabby—”

A foul odor caught Nix’s nose. She knew that smell—trouble. Nix stood up. “I’ve got to go.”

“Keep us posted!” Tabby shouted as Nix ran toward Mystic Ink.

Gods damn it. What did those bitches want? Nix skidded around the block and stopped dead at the sight in her shop’s front window. Scantily clad, well-endowed cheerleaders had Jason surrounded. The most buxom of the bunch was seated on Jason’s lap while they shared his tattoo chair. Freaking Harpies. They all seemed to have recovered from Cal’s inferno. Speaking of Cal, he was nowhere to be seen, and neither were Mary or Basil for that matter.

Nix didn’t wait to find out where everyone else was. She barged in through the front door. “What are you skanks doing in my shop?” Nix kept her hands behind her back, a ball of water balanced in her palms.

“Go away, Nereid. Your lovely hero had agreed to give us whatever we want.” Miss Chesty straddled Jason, her long legs hanging wide on each armrest. An impressive stretch, even if it was revolting at the same time. The cheerleader persona was a façade. If the glamour dropped, the sight wouldn’t be pretty. Nix had no desire to see gray, scaly chicken legs dappled with moldy feathers. Ick.

“Really? What do you want?” This time Nix would ask questions first, then blast them.

The Harpy wriggled around on Jason’s lap and shifted her hand down between his legs. “Tell her what we want, big boy.”

Jason’s eyes lolled in his head, a slow smile crept across his face. “Give them the seal,” he said, his voice faraway and dreamy. Not this again.

“Get off him, you heinous bitch.” Bullets of water exploded from her fingertips, targeting each of the Harpies’ eyes. Hard drops hit their marks. They screamed in shock and anger.

“Fool!” Miss Chesty leaped off of Jason’s lap, leaving him in a confused daze. She faced Nix, eyes white and dead like a corpse. “This is the second time you’ve interfered.”

“Excuse me? I’m not the issue here. Go back to whatever hellhole you crawled out from.” Nix eyed the other Harpies. They were regaining their sight. She needed a game plan. She was outnumbered four to one. More water, this time hardened into ice balls, blinded the downed cheerleaders again. They writhed on the floor, rubbing their eyes and cursing Nix. The Harpy leader, Miss Chesty, evaded the next blast and tackled Nix to the ground. Nix fell backwards in time to see the ice ball smack Jason’s head instead.

Nix rode the backward momentum and flung the Harpy overhead into the hard oak receptionist desk. The desk groaned, but held fast, securely bolted to the floor. The Harpy’s legs jackknifed and twisted, trying to stand. The force would have broken a mortal spine. It merely slowed the bitch down.

“Give us the seal!” another demented cheerleader wailed from the corner. She used Nix’s tattoo chair to pull herself upright.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Get out of my shop!” Nix summoned more water, ready to drown them out if necessary. So far the damage to the place was minimal and she wanted to keep it that way. Water was easy to clean up. Broken furniture and cracked walls, not so much.

Nix raised her palms upward. Liquid flowed, pulsing. A sharp stinging blow hit her neck, and her concentration snapped. The water gushed onto the floor. Miss Chesty had tossed a stapler at the back of Nix’s head.

“If you don’t want to cooperate, we can make you.” Miss Chesty’s gnarled hands gripped Jason’s throat. He smiled blissfully as the color drained from his face, their enchantment still in full force.

Nix’s temper exploded. “Get your hands off him.” Anger spilled from her pores. The water boiled on the floor. Enough was enough. She flung her power at them, full force.

The Harpies screamed a long, keening wail. The air reeked of wet, moldy feathers and baked road kill. Flames erupted. The evil bitches’ hair burned. Burned?

Nix dropped her hands. This wasn’t her doing. She turned around.

Calder Quinne stood in the front door. Wave after wave of pissed off rolled inside the shop like a steam train. “I warned you last time. Didn’t I?”

Cal pulled off his sunglasses, exposing his eyes. Nix tried not to gape. Blue—the hottest color of fire—glowed from his eye sockets. The Harpies were about to become toast, and they were too stupid to notice.

The Harpies lined up. Defiant, chins held high, despite singed hair and clothes. Miss Chesty used Jason as a human shield. “Go ahead, Son of Ares. Toast the Hero.”

Cal laughed. The cold kind that meant death was coming. “So limited in your thinking.”

Nix took a step back at the intense heat. Cal seemed to be lost in the moment. The flames danced in his eyes. He was close to the edge of losing control.

Nix gathered all the water she could find and hurled it against the Harpies’ backs. The force knocked them forward. The water rushed under their feet, sweeping them toward the door.

“Cal! Grab Jason!” Nix increased the speed of the water, sending the Harpies outside in a flood of tangled arms and legs. Curious bystanders watched as a group of soaked, bedraggled teenagers moaned in the middle of the street. Motorists swerved to avoid them. The Harpies took the hint and crossed the street.

“You haven’t won, Nymph!” Miss Chesty yelled. “The end times are coming and you can’t stop us—”

She squealed, the rest of her speech cut short by a well-timed fireball up the miniskirt. They ran down the road, leaving behind the stench of smoked road kill.

“Good riddance to them.” Jason staggered on the sidewalk, holding his head. “I need a gallon of mouth wash and a long shower.”

Nix sniffed the air. “Yup, you do stink.”

“Thanks, boss.” Jason sat on the front step, rubbing his temples. “Man. I have a headache.”

“Do you remember what they wanted?” Cal asked.

“They kept babbling about a seal.” Jason lifted his head. “And they wanted me to dig out all the tattoo books. When I showed them what we had, they got angry and insisted I get Memphis’ older designs. Nix, you know which ones I mean, right?”

Nix nodded. She knew. Those books were locked in her safe.

Memphis had been specific in his directions that they be locked away. The designs, many of them ancient, were sacred and not to be inked on any old fool with coin to spare. Memphis’ exact words.

When she had asked her uncle, “Who could they be used on?” he had smiled and said, “You’ll know.”

Not very fucking helpful.

“Go clean up. I’ll take it from here.” Nix stopped him. “By the way, where are Mary and Basil?”

Jason pulled his sorry ass vertical. “She took him to the groomer. Remember? Today’s nail trimming day.” No one could trim Basil’s nails, except the local groomer. When anyone else tried it, he would bite and carry on. The bird was such a pain.

By the time Mary and Basil returned, the shop had been cleaned up in time for the next appointment. Cal spent his time in the backroom making phone calls. He resisted all of Nix’s attempts to find out where he had been prior to the Harpy attack.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful, until closing time. Nix smelled the Satyr before he even entered the shop. She stopped disinfecting, cracked her knuckles, ready to kick ass. Cal swung out of the backroom like Tarzan on a vine, intercepting her before she could knock the cretin out the door.

“Ward, why are you in my shop?”

“I’m here to request Sanctuary.” Devlin had a small valise in one hand, a potted plant in the other, and a backpack slung over his shoulder. “The Harpies are casing my joint. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Well, that just frosted her fanny. Sanctuary—a long forgotten and seldom followed tradition, invoking the old rules of hearth and home. To refuse Sanctuary in the face of genuine need was asking for all kinds of bad Karma, luck, fate, or however you wanted to see it.

Nix deflated. “Fine. I grant your request. You can sleep in the guest room.”

The Satyr’s face lit up. “Thanks, Nix.”

“Don’t get too comfortable. Once we kick their bitch asses back to Kingdom Come, you’re going back to your place.” Good grief, what was she going to do with a Satyr? Sleep with one eye open?

“I won’t forget this kindness. I’ll find my way upstairs.”

Nix shouted after him, “Stay out of my room, or I will make sure your bed stays perpetually wet.” As Devlin clomped up the stairs, his footsteps fading upward, she was overcome with the shakes. Adrenaline faded, and she wanted to collapse. What was this all about? Something about Satyrs pushed all her buttons. Damned memory block.

Strong, firm fingers gripped her arm. “Come here.” Cal dragged her into the backroom and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Shhh.” He rubbed her back in slow circles. Her body sank into his, comfortable, familiar with every nook and cranny.

“Why do I feel so safe with you?” she wondered out loud. When Cal’s muscles tensed, she pulled away. “What is it? You know something about me. Don’t you?”

Cal cursed his stupidity. He could never fool her for long. Nix had always been able to read him like a book. “Nix, please.”

“Don’t hide behind Father’s ridiculous rules.” Nix may have been angry, but she didn’t break the embrace either.

“The rules exist for a good reason. And no, I don’t know everything about your life during missions.” He skirted the question, hoping she wouldn’t make the distinction.

“Oh, so you know some things then.”

So much for hope. Cal drank in Nix’s ruffled appearance. Her black hair hung loose around her shoulders, tussled from the knockdown with the Harpies. The blush on her cheeks made her lush skin glow, ripe for his kisses.

Fingers snapped in his face. “Hey, quite daydreaming. Are you going to answer me?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss League business.” Cal’s whole body was alight for her. He took a step back.

Nix pressed in closer, the tips of her breasts just brushing his chest. “Tell me what you know.”

The scent of sweet taffy drifted on the air, tantalizing his nose. Gods she smelled good. He shook his head. “Don’t try Nymph charms on me.” Because it was working. Or really, it was her. He wanted her.

“Please. I have more class than that,” Nix huffed and stepped away, crossing her arms over her chest, flattening her cleavage.

Cal’s mouth watered. He knew the scent of her up close and personal. Knew the sounds she made before she came. The echo of her orgasms pinged around his mind. At that moment, he hated Fate. He hated that he remembered everything and she could recall nothing.

Nix’s cheeks flushed. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

Maybe that wasn’t true. She said she felt safe with him. Her body had to remember him, even if her mind didn’t. Before he could change his mind, Cal closed the distance between them, cupped Nix’s chin, and kissed her.

The moments his lips made contact with hers, electric jolts raced up and down his skin. A jumble of emotions competed for air time. Elation, hope, lust . . . fear of rejection. It all dashed away. Firm soft lips, smooth as velvet, welcomed his touch. Her mouth parted. He wasted no time teasing her tongue with his. He savored every second, because it wouldn’t be long before—

She broke it off. He nearly whimpered when her hot mouth pulled away from his.

“Cal . . .” Nix’s breath came in short, small bursts. She drew her fingertips across her lips. “I don’t understand.”

Before he could reply, she fled the backroom and headed to her upstairs apartment, leaving him alone.

Basil sang a pitiful rendition of “Don’t You Forget About Me.” Did the bird have x-ray vision?

Cal turned to leave. His shoe bumped a small silver object. It rolled across the floor and settled against a box. He picked it up, careful not to tangle the broken chain. The sand in the small hourglass charm was at the halfway point.

Shit. His time was running out.

Chapter 12

Devlin had only been in the shop for an hour and Nix was ready to toss him out on his rear—Sanctuary be damned. Case in point, the dirtbag was running into the shop like his ass was on fire.

Nix gaped at Devlin, momentarily speechless. Bloody scratches lined the right side of his face. And his normally disheveled hair was even more unruly, nearly standing on its curly ends.

“Dude, did you tussle with an alley cat or something?” Jason glanced up from coloring Chen’s arm sleeve. The Fu Dog laughed and nodded in agreement.

Devlin panted, right hand clutching his side. “There’s something out there,” he gasped.

Cal, without a word, set aside his paperwork and went into the backroom. The metal side alley door opened, then closed with a solid ring. Curious. Cal believed Devlin?

“Did you see what attacked you?” Nix asked.

“No. I was too busy protecting my eyes. I managed to tear whatever it was off, but it ran before I got a good look at it,” Devlin said, swiping at the cuts, smearing blood down to his chin.

Nix knew she should have felt some compassion. But that well had run dry by whatever event she could no longer remember. Nope, she didn’t see him. Paid him no mind, until the Satyr dropped into her vacant chair.

“Devlin, unless you’re getting a tattoo, I suggest you find somewhere else to sit.” Great, now she would have to disinfect the thing again so her customers wouldn’t get goat cooties.

“Nix, there’s something out in your alley,” Devlin said, still out of breath.

“Consider working out more. You need to be in better shape for when the angry pitchfork mob comes after you.”

Devlin just stared at Nix, ignoring the dig. “Hello? Didn’t you hear me? Something jumped me when I went to empty the trash in the dumpster.”

“Hey, Nix. That must be your killer. A rabid cat.” Chen joked, raising his palm. Jason high-fived it.

“What did the monster look like then?” she asked, eyebrow arched.

The steady whir of the tattoo needle stopped. Jason and Chen stared at Devlin.

“Gangly arms and legs, buggy eyes. And a long tail.” Devlin swallowed hard. “Like I said, it ran off so fast, I didn’t get a good look at it.”

“Sounds like an alley cat to me.” Jason resumed inking Chen. The two of them huddled close, laughing, probably at Devlin. Not that he seemed to notice.

“I’m serious,” Devlin insisted. “It feels wrong out there.”

“It’s probably the Underworld Gate. That’s all. Gods, grow a pair. You’re a discredit even for your race.” Nix banged the seatback. “Now get the heck out of the chair, Devlin, or I’ll ink pansy across your forehead.”

Devlin grumbled, but moved. “At least give me a bandage or something.” He pointed at the scratches on his cheek.

Mary stuck her head out from the employee break room. “Come back here, Devlin. I’ll fix you up.”

Jason and Chen exchanged glances. No rude comments, though. That sucked. Nix was fair game for their taunts, but not Mary? What the hell?

Yeah, yeah, life wasn’t fair. Nix would have slugged anyone at that moment if they said it out loud.

Devlin managed to stay out of Nix’s way for the rest of the afternoon. When Cal had returned, he shared a short, meaningful look with Devlin, then resumed reading files as if nothing happened. Fine, they could keep their secrets. She didn’t have the energy to care about a creature that was probably in Devlin’s imagination.

The day finally over, Nix headed straight for her bedroom. What was she thinking? A Satyr in her apartment? Karma sucked.

She ignored Devlin as he rummaged through her refrigerator. Good luck with that. Her fridge was a wasteland, consisting of half-alive takeout containers and stale condiments.

She leaned against the closed door. The first image that popped into her mind was Cal. Her heart raced. Her pulse pounded against her temples like heavy raindrops battering the ground. The wood smoke fragrance of Cal clung to her fingertips, reminding her once again of her visceral reaction to his touch. His kiss had pulled the breath from her lungs. She stopped her hand, stayed her fingers from touching her lips that tingled with remembrance. And his body...

Hard muscles sheathed with smooth skin. At least that was how his forearms felt wrapped around her. For a moment, before she came to her senses, she had curled her arms around his sculpted waist and run her hands down the fine planes of his back. She couldn’t deny it. For that brief minute, she had felt safe in his arms.

She banged her fist against the hard wooden doorframe. She couldn’t allow it. Not for one more second. No more fantasizing about another life—one she couldn’t have. She was a Destroyer. A savior of humanity. And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Devlin shrieked, “What the hell is that?” A wet smack followed.

Now what? Nix exhaled a heavy breath and left her bedroom. The refrigerator door was cranked wide open, cartons capsized all over the floor. Devlin stood, wide-eyed and quivering, gaze fixed on the inside. Freaked out was too mild a description for his expression. Terrified was more like it.

His finger shot out, arm trembling. “What kind of person keeps that in their fridge?”

“What are you babbling about?” Nix doubted her fridge’s food was enough to warrant fear.

“Twig and berries. Bait and tackle.”

Nix edged around him and followed where he pointed. “Oh that.” She had forgotten about the clear glass jar in the back. It had been buried behind the takeout containers for so long she no longer noticed it. The Destroyer’s Mark, a Trident crossed with a lightning bolt across a crested wave, sealed the container. An inscription in Ancient Greek read Let the punishment fit the crime. Justice has been done. A name, also in the ancient tongue, had been written, then crossed out, to symbolize the recipient of said justice.

Devlin snapped, “Holy Hades! Do I have to spell it out for you? Why do you have a penis and testicles in your fridge?”

“I’m not really sure.” And that was the truth. Uncle Memphis had left the jar for her, supposedly at her own request with strict directions—don’t open the jar or eat the contents. Yet another casualty of having her mind wiped after missions. “I didn’t realize what they even were. I’m guessing they’re Satyr, judging by all that brown goat hair.”

“That is fucked up. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“You mean any more than you already are?” Nix closed the fridge door. No sense in letting all the cold air out.

“Look. I don’t know what I did to you, but whatever it was, I’m really sorry.” Devlin backed away slowly as if Nix was ready to come after him, at any moment, with a sharp knife.

She bit back the laugh lodged in her throat. If that was all it took to scare a Satyr, then maybe she should carry the jar around with her.

Devlin’s skin had a green tinge. Both hands pressed against his stomach. Even though he looked nauseous, his stomach let out a hungry growl. Typical Satyr. Nothing got in the way of hunger. Not even revulsion.

“Devlin, go sit at the table.” Nix had ordered delivery from Toro’s, a large double meat and a small supreme veggie. After half the meat pizza was gone, Devlin nervously glanced again around the kitchen. Like the jar would come out and attack him for his private parts.

“You really don’t remember how you got them . . .” Devlin’s voice died out. Appetite unaffected, he heaped three more pizza slices onto his plate. At this rate, the goat was going to eat her out of house and home.

“Nope. I’ve been too busy with other things to really ponder the meaning.”

“It must have been your mission. That’s why you can’t remember it.” Devlin reached across the table and wiped up the crumbs he left behind. Then he poured them each a glass of wine.

Nix froze, pizza halfway to her mouth. “I had already figured that bit out.”

“Well, yeah. Nymphs are unfairly stereotyped as being dumb.” Devlin flushed, a slow, pink blush creeping up his cheeks. He stood up and started clearing the table. “What I mean is . . .”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Nix supplied. She had to give him credit. He was the neatest Satyr she had ever met.

“Exactly. I remember back in the late 1890s or maybe early 1900s, a rumor circulating about a white slavery ring led by a crime boss named Pannis. He was trying to revive a new version of the Hellfire Club.” Devlin sponged off, then towel dried Nix’s vintage chrome table before reseating himself.

“According to lore, Pannis was doing a pretty bang up job of it, too. He had started a white slave trade business. Very popular internationally.”

As if slavery were just another business, Nix thought, disgusted. She arched an eyebrow, then drew her fingers into a tight fist on the table top.

“Not that I knew anything about that personally,” Devlin said, hands up. “He might have gotten away with it longer except Pannis made the mistake of drawing attention to the group with reckless behavior.”

The hair on Nix’s neck stood on end, her instincts fired up full blast.

“Rumor was he kidnapped the daughter of a God. Supposedly, the Delian League went in there and busted up the operation.”

And around that time period, Nereus had imposed a permanent ban on God slave trafficking, including Satyrs kidnapping Nymphs. Anyone in their world caught engaging in that kind of behavior was dealt with severely—as in a one way trip to Tartarus. “So, what does that have to do with the jar in my kitchen?”

The Satyr stared at her for a moment. He seemed to measure his words before elaborating, “The Destroyer assigned to the case allegedly castrated Pannis. We had heard she fed him his own nuts, but I think  . . .” He swallowed hard and motioned to her fridge.

“I have the equipment in question.” Nix leaned back in her seat, arms crossed. There was a certain kind of sick logic to the theory. Not to mention, it could explain her innate hatred of Satyrs. “Any ideas on the Nymph’s true identity?”

Devlin gave Nix a long, hard look. “A couple of different suggestions have been made. Like she was the daughter of one the Major Players. But it’s highly unlikely that a Satyr could hold a Demigod hostage for long. Gossip at the time said it was a Nereid and that Pannis tried to blackmail Nereus. Once they located the female, the council sent the Final Arbiter to punish Pannis.”

Her stomach constricted into a tight knot. All that veggie pizza threatened to reappear on her kitchen floor.

“Nix, you okay? You look kind of green.”

“Yeah,” she lied, swallowing bitter bile. It burned all the way down.

“I saw her once,” Devlin said softly. “The Final Arbiter. She’s not just any Destroyer. She was . . . fearsome. Divine retribution in the flesh.”

Nix fought back the waves of nausea and strained to listen to Devlin, wondering when he would have been unfortunate enough to witness the Final Arbiter. Even among her sisters, they spoke of the Arbiter with dread. If they spoke of her at all.

“I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“When?” Nix’s voice was barely a whisper.

Devlin picked at the corner of his napkin. “I was a child. Maybe nine or ten years old. I lived with my uncles in the backwoods of Virginia. I don’t remember much other than we lived in a drafty log cabin. I was always cold. Always hungry.” In a small voice he said, “My mother was dead. My father’s whereabouts unknown. I was alone.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to bring up bad memories.”

“No. It’s okay.” Devlin finished his wine and poured himself more. “I vividly remember the cries. The screams of fear. My uncles liked to kidnap travelers. Mostly mortals. They played with them for days on end. When they grew tired of their captives, they killed them.”

“Son of a bitch,” Nix said.

“I hated it there.” Devlin’s dark brown eyes lifted, his gaze fixed on Nix. She couldn’t look away. No matter how awful the story. “Every night I prayed to the Gods. I begged them to free me from the hell I was in. Even at that age, their behavior sickened me. They tried to get me to join them. Instead, I hid in the woods. They beat me. Withheld food. So I learned how to survive eating from the forest.”

“Did you ever think about running away?”

“Yes. Every damn day. But it was 1615. There were scarier things in the woods besides my uncles. There were no towns. The closet human settlement was weeks away. I was too young to fend for myself. Satyrs are communal. We learn all we need from the tribe. In this case, my tribe was my twisted uncles. They schooled me well in how not to act.”

His jaw tightened. Survivor’s eyes stared at her. “My prayers were answered, in a fashion. That final night, she came. I was in the forest waiting for them to fall asleep so I could sleep in the barn.” Devlin shuddered. “I could feel her before I saw her. Raw power. Her skin was black as night. They had no idea she was coming.”

Nix could guess what had happened next. She gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles whitened.

“Yes. It was awful. Brutal. They were begging for death when she was done,” Devlin confirmed. “I’m forever grateful to her.”

Nix swallowed the remainder of her wine. “Why?”

“She freed me. When she was done, she easily found me cowering behind a woodpile. She looked into my soul and judged me innocent. Said I was untainted by my uncles’ stain and that I should walk the path of the righteous.” Devlin refilled Nix’s wine glass, a tight smile on his lips. “And I have lived a clean life, despite your belief in my depravity.”

“Yeah, about that . . .” Nix dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry, Devlin.” She looked back at his face and truly saw him for the first time. What she had previously observed as unruly brown hair and unkempt clothes took on a new light. He wasn’t anywhere near as disheveled as she perceived. His chestnut brown hair was neatly waved and his clothes were clean and pressed. A muscled physique was hidden under a baggy T-shirt, like he wanted to appear weaker than he actually was.

Devlin shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. But his eyes still held a steely gaze. Warrior’s eyes. “Anyway, to answer your original question. I think Pannis took one of your sisters.”

“It was a Nereid.” Not a question. A statement of fact. As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew they had to be true. “Whatever happened to Pannis?”

“No one knows for sure. He disappeared. Probably went mad. A Satyr can’t function for long without his manly package. If you know what I mean.”

Nix also knew that if the Final Arbiter took Pannis’ “equipment,” there would be no regrowing the missing parts. The Final Arbiter’s judgment was absolute, and no one—not even a God—would interfere with Divine Retribution. Not if they wanted to continue their immortal existence.

Devlin had done Nix a huge favor. He had given her insight into her past. The timeframe fit. She was on active duty in the late 1800s. There was a high probability that she could have been either the Destroyer or . . . the kidnap victim. Either scenario could have resulted in her hating Satyrs, above and beyond natural interspecies aversion. But was she the Final Arbiter?

Her hand absently reached out to clasp Rocky’s soul. His reassuring warmth calmed her. Her fingers felt for the second chain. A chill ran down her neck.

The hourglass was gone.

The chain must have broken during the fight with the Harpies. She swore under her breath and stood up. “Devlin, excuse me.” She stopped and smiled at him. “Thank you. I . . . appreciate you sharing your story with me.”

Devlin waved her off, the serious side gone, replaced by the carefree façade she realized was a mask. “It’s the least I can do. You’re giving me Sanctuary. I’ll clean up here. No worries.”

Nix raced down the back stairs and into the shop. She searched frantically on her hands and knees. Nothing. Not a damn thing. Those bitches had better not have stolen the hourglass. Hades was emphatic that she keep it safe.

“Looking for this?” Cal’s low voice rang in her left ear, startling her.

“Don’t sneak up on me!” Nix snatched the hourglass from his hand. She had had enough shocks for one day. “Thank you,” she said more gruffly than intended.

Cal didn’t seem bothered. “I had the chain repaired over at that bead store down the street. A present from Hades?”

“Yeah, I guess. If you think having a doomsday clock around your neck is the perfect gift.” Nix tried not to let dismay swallow her whole. Half the sand was gone. Time was running down too fast.

“I don’t know. It seems like the ideal present for my father.” Cal smiled and she felt warm all over.

Nix didn’t get a chance to enjoy the smile. Angry screeches echoed out on the sidewalk. Basil and Mary were back, and the parrot didn’t sound too happy. Mary’s hair was frizzy and wild. She actually had beads of sweat on her perfect forehead. Her typical calm demeanor appeared close to shattering.

“So how did it go?” Nix asked as Mary deposited Basil on his perch. The bird turned around giving them all his back. He groomed his feathers with gusto, like he would never be clean again.

Mary slung her bag under the desk as if she was bowling for a strike. “You do not pay me enough to put up with that kind of crap.” She pointed at the parrot. Basil opened his beak, then clamped it shut after a murderous look from Mary. She stormed into the backroom, muttering the whole way.

The door chimes clanged.

“Lucky you. Saved by the bell,” Cal quipped.

The last appointment of the day had arrived. Nix wanted to scream. They didn’t have time for this. She gave Cal a desperate look.

“Nix, I need time to do some research and regroup. Take care of business. There’s nothing more we can do for today.”

He left her there with her mouth hanging open. How did he know? It was like he could read her mind. When this was over, she was going to get answers out of him, by whatever means necessary.

She shivered at the possibilities.

Nix lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep had, once again, been ruined by crushing despair. The same nightmare: more frequent, more vivid and, frankly, more annoying. This time she tried to focus—to discern names or faces—anything to enlighten her. So far nothing.

The shower kicked on. Right, she had a new roommate. A temporary houseguest, she corrected.

How the Fates must be laughing at her.

At least, now, she had a more solid reason behind her extreme reaction to the Satyr. If she was honest, she’d have to admit Devlin seemed a decent guy. He was exceedingly neat, unfailingly polite and kind of shy. When she’d returned to the apartment, he had put her virgin vacuum cleaner to good use. He also had cleaned every nook and cranny in the place. Even Basil’s cage received a good scrubbing and that was one of the few things Nix cleaned regularly.

Devlin made no sense to her. All the Satyrs she had ever met were boorish, rude, and hedonistic. Nix had assumed, correctly it turned out, that somewhere in her past she’d had a very bad experience with a Satyr. It had to be mission related. Didn’t it?

What if she’d been the one raped and held captive? That might explain the nightmares—the sense of loss, the despair. It wasn’t impossible for a Destroyer to be captured. She could have been ambushed before she could don the Mantle.

Yet . . . her instincts told her that didn’t ring true. That she wasn’t the victim of a violent crime. She rubbed her eyes. There was no point in retracing that ground. She had no proof one way or the other. Whatever had happened was . . . inaccessible.

Nix flipped back the covers and pulled on a pair of shorts and an oversized cotton T-shirt. She filled Basil’s food dish and gave him fresh water. Basil was well into the weather report by the time she cleaned around the floor of his cage. The bird was a damn slob, scattering seeds everywhere.

Her stomach rumbled, hungry for breakfast. On a normal morning, she would have run down to the bakery next door and had a donut or something equally sweet with no redeeming nutritional value. Except, she had a houseguest and it was time to stock her refrigerator with more than takeout containers. And testicles. Maybe she should get rid of the Satyr bits out of respect for Devlin?

Nix paused. Did she just think that? Geesh, one heart to heart over pizza and she was ready to forgive all sins? Don’t judge a book, her conscience reminded her.

Her stomach growled again. She slipped on her sneakers. Grocery shopping would have to wait. It was the bakery or nothing. Nix was headed down the hallway when the bathroom door abruptly opened in front of her. Devlin emerged from the steam, clad only in a towel slung loosely around his waist.

Nix froze in place. The male in front of her was not the hairy goat man she expected. Devlin’s hair was slicked back, still damp from the shower. His body was smooth and hairless. Sleek defined muscles were carved into every inch of his body. Across his ripped abdomen was a tattoo. Her eyes were drawn to it. She had seen the design before: an olive branch intertwined with a sword.

Holy crap. Devlin was part of Umbra, the Delian League’s Special Forces team. They were exclusive and the members’ identities were under the same veil of secrecy as the Destroyers. Devlin must have proven that he was worthy to be initiated into such an elite group. She yanked her eyes upright, fixing them on a crack in the wall.

Devlin stepped back. “Nix, I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Just got up.” Her throat was tight, her voice squeaky. Should she say something to him? And then what? They could share more secrets. Except she had no secrets to share. “Be right back. I’ll just be getting us some breakfast.”

Nix hustled by Devlin and padded down the stairs before he could respond. She really needed to reassess Devlin. Instead of keeping one eye open at night, waiting for an attack by a sleazy sex-fiend, she would stay awake altogether, rehashing the implications. No, Devlin wasn’t a mild mannered pawnshop owner. He was a bad ass. Just like her.

When Nix returned from the bakery, with enough donuts and bagels to feed a small army, Devlin had already gone out for the day. What a relief. She had enough on her mind without trying to unravel the mystery of how a Satyr ended up in Black Ops.

“Hungry today?” Cal said over her shoulder.

“Starved actually.” Nix propped open the boxes on the back counter. “Dig in. I got enough for everyone. . .”

The words died on her lips when she turned around and saw Cal’s face. His gaze was predatory. Like he wanted to eat her for breakfast. Her traitorous body bloomed at the thought. Her skin flushed and heat raced up her spine. The walls of the backroom shrank, pressing in on her.

Please. Let me help you. Gods, the voice was back. Only this time, it was faint, as if buried behind a thick wall.

Not now.

Not in front of Cal.

Nix blinked and pressed her lower back into the counter. Her hands gripped the counter’s edge, bracing herself.

“Hey, you okay?” Cal’s expression softened. The feral gaze had vanished.

She stiffened her spine. No signs of weakness in front of Cal. No matter how desirable he was, he still worked for her father. “I’m fine.”

Cal arched an eyebrow. He clearly expected her to say more.

She elaborated, “I didn’t sleep much last night. It weirds me out having Devlin with me. Satisfied?”

“I could sleep over, if that would make you feel any better.”

Only if it’s in my bed. Naked. Gah! “No, thank you. I’m a big girl. I can handle him.”

Cal reached around her and took a bagel. The heady smell of wood smoke and manly shampoo tickled her nose. “You don’t have to worry. Devlin is a good guy. A male of worth.” He rooted around the brown bags. “Did you bring any cream cheese?”

“How do you know so much about Devlin?”

Cal paused, and his hand stilled in the bag. “I just know.”

Okay. There was clearly more to this story. “How about an example.” Nix reached into the bag and pulled out a tub of cream cheese. Again, her stomach protested. She had eaten a donut on the way back, but it wasn’t enough.

“Nix. Eat. Tend to your own needs first,” Cal said, pulling out a cinnamon raisin bagel. She wanted to march out of the room hungry. How dare he tell her to eat? She looked at the bagel again. He had chosen her favorite. Coincidence? Or lucky guess?

Déjà vu smacked her coldly in the face. They had done this dance before, with Cal fussing over her and her stubbornly refusing to do as he asked. Hadn’t they? Doubt filled her mind.

While she stood there, indecisive, Cal prepared a bagel and offered it to her. “Here you go. You only have one appointment today. I peeked at the book. Final color for Lin. Should be an easy day, then we can get down to business after lunch.”

Nix took the bagel. “Thanks.” Her body overruled her mind. Hunger reigned supreme so she gave in and ate the damn bagel.

The front door unlocked. The chime tinkled. Soft footsteps approached. Mary poked her head into the backroom. “Morning, Cal.” She simply nodded to Nix.

Nix scowled as soon as Mary moved back to the front room. Cal, wisely, kept his comments to himself. First moment she got alone with Mary, they were hashing it out. Nix was sick of her bullshit.

She had to wait until lunch for her moment of alone time with Mary. Cal, Gods bless him, guessed somehow. He offered to treat them all to Mystic Pizza for lunch. He enlisted Jason to help him retrieve the order. Cal’s expression broadcasted loud and clear, she’s all yours, Nix.

How did he know her mind so well? Nix put the question away for later.

Nix watched Jason and Cal walk down East Main Street toward the drawbridge. Basil napped on his perch. His mile a minute mouth had finally taken a much needed break. Nix took a deep, cleansing breath, ready to confront Mary.

The phone rang. Mary answered it efficiently. As always. Nix couldn’t find fault with Mary’s office skills. She ran a tight, efficient ship, reining in Jason’s impulse to order every color of ink in the known universe and making realistic appointments. Mary had a knack for knowing which customers would actually go through with their appointments and which customers would take longer because they couldn’t handle the pain.

Nope, nothing to complain about on the work front. Mary’s cool disinterest in her was driving her bat shit crazy. What had she ever done to Mary? Mary would barely look at her let alone speak two words—the two words always in response to a question initiated by Nix.

The phone call ended, and Nix lost her nerve. Some enforcer she was.

Nix arranged her supply drawers over and over, sneaking glances at Mary. She fidgeted around so much that Mary stopped her record keeping and glared at her. Nix crinkled the needle packages extra loud. Oh, that got a reaction. Mary shot daggers through narrowed eyelids. Nix mimicked the expression. Mary turned away, but not before shooting Nix a look that made her feel like something on the bottom of Mary’s shoe.

Enough.

Nix slammed her drawer shut and marched across the short distance to the desk.

“You know what Mary? I’ve had it with your shitty attitude toward me.” Nix leaned over the receptionist desk. “Why don’t you just spit out whatever it is that’s bothering you?”

Mary tilted up her chin, her gaze fixed on a spot over Nix’s shoulder. Her lips spread into a thin straight line, her jaw locked so tight Nix expected to hear Mary’s teeth squeak. After a long moment, Mary’s eyes traveled to Nix’s face. A single tear threatened to spill out of Mary’s right eye and onto her mocha skin.

That was unexpected. Nix sort of felt bad. “Look, Mary. I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

“No. It is I who owes you an apology, Eudora.”

Nix, she thought, but let it pass. “I don’t understand.”

“For weeks, I have blamed you for Memphis’ departure.” Mary opened a drawer and retrieved a tissue, then blotted away the tear. None of the heavy black eyeliner smudged. “It has been hard to accept that he left me behind. Again.”

So Memphis and Mary were doing the horizontal tango? Nix nipped the image of that union in the bud. “Where did he go?”

“It’s not for me to say. Memphis has his own agenda. I try not to interfere.” Mary stood up, art books in hand. “I promised him that I would assist you in any way that I could. Since I am not bound by the rules of your pantheon, I will keep my eyes and ears open.” Mary headed toward the backroom.

So, it was true. Just as she and Jason suspected. Mary wasn’t Greek. Nix had to know. “Mary, wait. Are you Egyptian?”

“Perhaps.” Mary smiled broadly and continued out of the room.

Not exactly the answer Nix hoped for, but it was a start.

Chapter 13

“We need to start thinking outside of the box.” Nix paced the floor of the tattoo shop. “We’re getting nowhere fast. We don’t have time to be figure this out the old school way.” Weeks of investigation, miles of traveling, and battles against foul creatures—the days of the Hero’s Journey were over.

“What do you have in mind?” Cal said.

Mary’s earlier comment about not being in the Greek pantheon had sowed the seed of an idea.

“We need help from someone who’s not bound by our race’s rules. You know, different supernaturals.” Over the centuries, Nix had encountered other magical beings—creatures who had also made their way, over time, into human stories and legends. Mostly, these races tended to their own business and didn’t mingle, a kind self-imposed separation of non-interference.

Cal thought for a moment, pulled out his cell, and dialed. “I know who can help us.” After a three-sentence conversation, Cal pocketed the phone. “Finally, some good news. He’s going to meet us in a half hour.”

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at a table in Mystic Drawbridge Ice Cream Shop, at Nix’s insistence. The ice cream shop was perched next to the mouth of the Mystic drawbridge on the Groton side of the river, a three-minute walk from Mystic Ink.

At this rate, she wouldn’t have any clients left. But time’s pressure weighed her down. She felt Cal slipping away. He remained calm and steadfast, while her agitation increased. Every so often, an elusive thought would enter her mind—that buried deep inside her was the reason behind her jumbled feelings for Cal. She desired him. There was no denying it anymore. Too bad she would never act on that desire . . .

The old wood floors creaked under a departing customer’s footsteps, breaking her thoughts. Aromas of coffee and sweet, sugary treats tantalized her as she scrutinized each arrival.

“Nix, you’ll know him when he gets here,” Cal reassured. Not that it helped. Her fingers tapped a drum roll against the glossy wood table. After a moment of inactivity, she scraped the metal café chair across the boards, then ordered two coffees and several baked goods from the perky teenager behind the counter.

“So how do you know this guy?” Nix sipped the coffee, her taste buds barely registering the flavor.

Cal swallowed down the bite of raspberry lemon bar he had been chewing. “We met back in old San Francisco. I was there on League business.” Small frown lines were etched around Cal’s mouth, then disappeared as quickly as they had arrived. “My contact and his brother were farmers and merchants. They sold wine from their vineyard in town. They still make great wine, by the way. After the 1906 earthquake, he was frantic, trying to find his brother. So I helped him out.”

Nix’s thoughts turned to where she had been in 1906 and, of course, she hit a blank wall. Must have been on duty. Damn. She hated not remembering anything. “Did you find his brother?”

“Yes. The brother had been injured during the quake and taken to a mortal field hospital. The poor guy was inconsolable. He had lost his lover, found her buried in the rubble.” Cal cracked the lid off his coffee and sniffed. Satisfied, he took a sip.

Nix’s spine tingled. A moment later a tall blond entered the shop. He turned every female head, and a few of the males, in his direction. And no wonder—his ethereal beauty was breathtaking.

Cal stood up with a big smile on his face and offered his hand. “Declan, old friend. It’s good to see you again.”

The blond pulled Cal into a bear hug and released him with a clap on the back. “It’s good to see you, too, Cal.” He turned his attention to Nix, his placid gray eyes fixing on her. “And you must be Nix.”

Oh, there was more to this male to be sure. Now that he was closer, she could feel the faint thrum of magic emanating from him, like subtle background music. “Yes,” she stammered, not having time to wonder how Declan knew who she was. Declan held out her chair. When she was seated, the men joined her at the table.

“I appreciate you taking a detour on your way to D.C.,” Cal said.

“It’s my pleasure to help you.” Declan turned his gaze onto Nix. Her agitation poured out of her, as if draining down from her head and out through her toes. Like a warm blanket, his magic coated her skin, calm and reassuring. How did he do that?

Nix tried not to openly stare at Declan. His long hair, pulled into a ponytail, hung down the back of his tailored shirt. He was a good two inches taller than Cal and he had to stretch his long legs out in order to sit at the table. The July heat didn’t seem to faze him either, his white skin remaining as smooth as cream. As Cal and Declan chatted, catching up on old times, Nix studied his energy. Definitely otherworldly with hints of Earth magic and . . . oh. She stilled her hand, preventing it from rising to her mouth. He was an Elf.

“ . . . so, you can see our dilemma. Zeus’ rules prevent any of the Gods from assisting us or even giving me a hint as to who stole my soul. Not to mention the larger issue at hand. Sinister forces are at work, of the Epic kind.” Cal leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.

Declan studied Cal for a moment, as if taking his measure. “My Queen has authorized me to help you however I can.”

Nix breathed a sigh of relief, even though she had no idea what this Elf could possibly do for them. She had heard rumors though. That the Elves were part of an extra-dimensional race stranded on Earth and that they had fantastical powers even the Gods envied.

“I have to warn you, I can’t tell you where your soul is because it has already been parted from your physical being. But I can look into your mind and possibly determine the hand behind its theft.” Declan waited patiently for Cal’s consent.

A cocktail of anticipation and dread slammed into Nix. This could be the moment of truth.

Nix leaned forward, sweat dripping down her spine. What if the last face Cal had seen before the theft was Nix’s? Before she could flee the table, Cal’s hand clasped her wrist. His warm fingers stroked the flesh of her inner wrist.

“Nix, no matter what Declan finds, it won’t change my feelings for you.” Cal’s smile reached all the way to his eyes.

Nix had an overwhelming urge to lean across the table and kiss Cal’s lips. To taste his tongue, to pull his head down to her breasts—

Nix cleared her throat and fidgeted under the men’s scrutiny. Declan watched her clinically, making her wonder if he was reading her thoughts. Cal’s face was expressionless, almost distant. Her mind raced, trying to uncover where that desire originated.

Declan broke the silence first. “Nix, I would not access your mind without permission.” He held up his hand, stopping her denial. “As soon as anyone learns of my gift, that is the first thing they all think. In any case, even if you invited me to reach deep inside your mind, I would have to proceed with caution. I perceive an alien energy surrounding you. It’s not of this earth or of any dimension I’m familiar with.”

Cal tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as if he was seeing Nix for the first time. He knew something about her. She was convinced of it.

“Interesting. I didn’t know that. But you’re not here for me. Can you help Cal?” she asked.

“Yes, to a point. I sense some of the same alien energy in him as well, but not to the degree you are affected.”

“Let’s do this then. I don’t want to delay you any longer,” Cal said, turning to face Declan.

“All right.” Declan’s gaze locked onto Cal’s. For a long moment, neither of them moved. Nix fidgeted, wondering what Declan could see.

Declan spoke, startling her. “With your permission, I can share this with you.”

Nix relaxed the shields guarding her mind. In a flash, her mind opened as Declan’s thoughts tapped into hers.

Don’t want you to feel left out, Declan chuckled in her head.

For a moment Nix lost her equilibrium, until she realized she was experiencing the world through Cal’s eyes. The view was distorted, fuzzy, like a poor television signal. Even though it was a shared vision, she could smell pizza. Along with a heavy-handed application of cologne. Devlin Ward was seated across the table.

Cal laughed at Devlin’s lame joke. She would never understand male humor. Her mind strained to see beyond the table . . .

You’ll only give yourself a headache, said Declan. We’re limited to Cal’s senses in this moment in time.

Frustrated, Nix concentrated on hearing, smelling, anything that might give them a hint of—

The lights went out. The dining room plunged into darkness. An eerie quiet filled the room.

Cal swore. “What the hell?”

Devlin shouted something.

A soft meaty thunk came next.

“Devlin?” Cal called out.

A flash of sliver glinted in the pale darkness, the only light from the streetlamps outside. A lone figure cut a silhouette against the dining room window.

Nix’s pulse sped up at the familiar shape. Before she could identify the figure, Cal grunted. A voice spoke . . .

. . . the vision cut out. . . whatever happened next couldn’t be seen or heard. . .

It’s the alien energy, Declan surmised.

The action resumed. Cal’s head throbbed. The wood floor hard against his back. Pain seared and tore into his chest. Tendrils of power ripped into his body, latching onto his inner light. A thousand tiny cuts peeled his skin, one layer at a time. Cal lay helpless in agony as his soul drained from his body.

Nix’s mind reeled, frustration and anger consuming her.

The memory abruptly ended.

She blinked hard a few times. Alone at the table, she looked around. Cal and Declan stood at the ice cream counter, the teenage girls all but drooling over them.

How long have I been sitting here in a daze? Nix wondered.

Cal took a seat from across the table and slid a dish of ice cream in her direction. “Eat some of this. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Chocolate therapy?” Nix took a bite. “With a hint of lemon?”

“Lemon Kiss ice cream. Sounded interesting. I guessed you might like it.” Cal reached over and touched her wrist. “Thanks.”

Nix stopped eating. “For what?”

“If you didn’t think outside of the box, I would’ve never thought to call Declan.”

Nix’s eyes tracked Declan at the ice cream counter, where the girls continued to try and catch his attention. He politely paid for his cone and sat down at the table. Nice to know the guy wasn’t a pervert. The young ladies would have happily given up their nether regions to him, yet he seemed completely uninterested.

Cal continued. “Seeing that night again. It gave me a better idea of who might have jumped me and Devlin.”

The ice cream soured in Nix’s stomach. She knew what Cal would say before he opened his mouth.

“It was a Destroyer,” he confirmed.

Gods be damned.

Cal stuffed his hands deeper into the pockets of his jeans. They were cooling their heels outside of the ice cream shop waiting for the drawbridge to lower again. Nix was uncharacteristically quiet, her face inclined toward the river. Whether she was concerned about Declan’s revelation or just missed the water, he couldn’t be sure.

His phone rang and he answered it. He should have checked caller ID first.

“Hello, Son. Why do I have to hear about your troubles through the grapevine?” Ares sounded irritated.

“Greetings to you, too, Father.” Cal ran his fingers through his hair, wanting to pull it out. He had learned long ago that the last person to involve was Ares. The God couldn’t help but make a bad situation worse. He thrived on chaos and conflict.

“I know you’ll never openly ask for my help. Even when you were about to get your balls lopped off by the Amazons, you kept silent.”

Cal groaned. “Father, I look forward to the day when you stop reminding me about that incident.”

“It’s such a fun story. Have you told—”

Nix snatched the phone out of Cal’s hand. “Listen Ares, we don’t have time for your bullshit today. Either be helpful, or get lost.”

Cal had forgotten how easily Ares could provoke her. He hoped his father would abide by Nereus’ non-disclosure rule and not blurt out forbidden information.

Nix’s frown deepened and her mouth opened to speak again.

Cal deftly retrieved the phone from her, receiving a cross look in return. Ares laughed in Cal’s ear. “Oh, son, she is still so full of anger. Too bad she’s not of my blood. She’d make the clan proud. Bring your water pistol to me. I have a question for her.” The phone line went silent.

He felt the tug of magic a millisecond before it hit. Cal grabbed Nix a moment before they were transported from the street to an abandoned warehouse. Only the Gods knew where.

Nix yanked out of his grip. “What the hell, Cal? I don’t apprec—” The words died on her lips.

Cal swore under his breath. They were encircled by his siblings, Demigod sons and daughters of Ares. A sea of frowns and dark stares greeted Cal and Nix. All his siblings were less than pleased to see Cal. The feeling was completely mutual.

One of his sisters broke from the pack and approached. Aurelia’s lips were pulled into a grim line. Her scarlet red hair was swept up in a tight chignon, like a stern librarian in haute couture. The fact that she was pissed off echoed in the crisp clatter of her stiletto heels.

Aurelia stopped in front of him, her face so close he could see the dusting of light brown freckles across the bridge of her nose. She moved quickly, like a cobra strike. She slapped his face, the sound shattering the quiet. “Cal. You dare defy Father yet again. Because of you, I’m missing out on the closure of a million dollar deal.” Aurelia owned a financial management service in New York City.

Cal nursed his jaw with his left hand, while restraining Nix with his right one. “Good to see you too, Aurelia. Apologies on the deal. I have no idea what I did this time.” Nix struggled against his hold. He shot her a quick look, his eyes pleading for cooperation. They were in a bad situation if he had been summoned for the reason he feared. And Aurelia was the one sibling he actually had a good relationship with.

“This is your sister?” Nix asked. “I thought my family was messed up.”

“And this must be the Nereid Father was prattling on about.”

Cal winced inwardly. It was never good to be the focus of Ares’ attention. “Yes. Excuse me for a moment.”

“Only one. I’m sure if you think hard enough, you can figure out why we’re all here.” Aurelia stepped back, giving Cal a small space to speak with Nix privately.

Cal’s stomach sank to his toes. He was in for a great deal of misery. Even more horrifying—Nix would be there to witness it. And if she interfered, she’d become subject to the rules of his father’s brutal game. What a bastard.

“Nix. Do you trust me?” Cal tilted her chin, capturing her sea blue gaze.

She seemed surprised by the question, but thankfully answered him. “Yes.”

“You will claim neutrality. As a Guardian of an Underworld Gate, you have immunity from the event about to take place. And you must not interfere. Do you understand? If you do, my life could be forfeit.”

“Cal, I don’t understand. And I sure as shit don’t like this. We can take these guys,” Nix whispered back angrily.

“No. You said you trusted me. Promise me. Claim neutrality. Right now,” Cal begged. “Please, Nix.”

Maybe it was the tone in his voice or the look in his eyes, and he really didn’t care which, but when Nix nodded, he expelled a huge breath.

Nix turned away and straightened her back. She faced Aurelia and in a clear, loud voice proclaimed, “As a Guardian of the Underworld, I claim neutrality.”

Aurelia started at the statement, but only for a moment. She gave Cal an approving nod. “Very shrewd, brother.” Facing the circle, Aurelia took Nix by the hand. “Neutrality is granted. The Nereid is under my protection. Anyone who moves against her attacks me as well.”

Solitary applause echoed in the vast chamber. “Stunning move, Calder.” The words were spoken by Chaos, a total bastard. In personality and birth.

“I totally agree, Chaos. It seems our little brother is getting smarter as he ages.” Strife moved out of the shadow to join Chaos.

Cal inwardly groaned. Great. Just great. Could he be any more fucked? Strife and Chaos were the two most psychopathic children of Ares.

Strife smoothed down the lapels of his designer suit with long elegant fingers. “Nice of Father to include a guest. Too bad we can’t play with her.” On the surface, Strife appeared handsome, even desirable. If the polished, investment banker type was your thing. His tan, golden skin was devoid of wrinkles and other worldly imperfections. He wore his dark brown hair neat and short to match his efficiently pressed clothes.

Cal knew first hand that Strife worked his disruptive machinations behind the scenes. His MO was to create turmoil. A subtle master of manipulation, he specialized in rumors, gossip, and innuendo. Dangerous and sneaky, like a fatal disease spreading through a population, Strife had caused revolutions by riling the masses to dissatisfaction.

“Are you going to get your hands dirty this time? Or will you let Chaos do all the dirty work as usual?” Cal shot back.

“Tsk, tsk, little brother.” Strife removed his jacket, folded it precisely, and handed it to one of the siblings. He rolled up his sleeves. “Father says you are long overdue in receiving your reminder.”

Chaos erupted in laughter. “Is that fear I see on your face, Calder?”

“Why don’t you come closer and I’ll show you how scared I am?” Cal hoped Chaos would accept the offer. He’d like to choke his half-brother with the spiked collar around his neck. Where Strife was restrained, Chaos was plain over the top ridiculous. All black leather, studs, and punk attitude. He kept his blond hair shorn to his skull, the better to display the death’s head tattoo on his head.

And unlike Strife, Chaos worked openly, relishing in the everyday turmoil of the mortal world. Whether there was a border skirmish or flat out war, Chaos stood proudly by Ares’ side, stirring up trouble. He and Strife often worked in tandem, churning up the populace, then enjoying the fruits of their labor—suffering and destruction.

Granted, they could only work in small scale. The Delian League kept them mostly contained. Another point of contention in the family. Cal was viewed as a traitor to the clan since he didn’t engage in some form of cutthroat activity.

“I’m so ready to whip your ass, Cal. Let’s go.” Chaos stripped off his leather coat and dumped it on the floor. His naked chest sported piercings and a multitude of battle scars.

“Children, children. None of that in front of our guest,” Ares said, appearing in the center of the circle.

Nix scowled from the sidelines, clearly unimpressed by his father’s godly physique. At six foot eight, Ares commanded the room, both in attitude and physical perfection. Ares had grown a goatee since Cal had last seen him. Today his long, black hair was restrained into a slick ponytail.

A murderous urge took hold. Cal wanted to rip off his father’s head. How dare he summon him and Nix? For putting Nix in harm’s way, Cal would—

Cal took several deep breaths, trying to clear away Strife and Chaos’ influence. Their magic was insidious, and he should have been immune to it. He watched Nix out of the corner of his eye. His male protective instincts were all fired up. This was the worst place for anyone to know his true feelings. If they were discovered, he wasn’t sure if immunity would protect her. Strife and Chaos would pounce.

“Father, why am I here?” Cal asked.

Ares manifested two inches from his face. “Because I wanted you here.”

The siblings laughed. An awful chorus. Animalistic energy laced around the room. They were like jackals waiting for the spoils of the kill. The desire for destruction danced in Cal’s blood.

Cal fought the urge, swallowing the bloodlust. “Yeah, and as I explained on the phone, we’re in the middle of an investigation. Nereus—”

“Nereus can take it up with me if he wants,” Ares said dismissively. “You owe me your allegiance first.”

Gods, why did they keep having this argument over and over again? “Father, you swore a blood oath to leave me alone on this matter.” Heat rose up the back of Cal’s collar. The flame in his blood was building.

“True, but your brothers, Strife and Chaos, have reminded me that you are still part of the fold.”

Cal refused to look at them. If he turned around and saw their smug smiles, he would lose it. And if he did attack his brothers, then they would all have to fight until the last warrior was left standing. In this case, it would be two against one. That was how the chips landed in the Ares family. If you took on two or more opponents at once, you fought them both.

But that didn’t stay his hand. He was missing his soul. He could be killed and he wouldn’t face a mortal death. He would spend eternity as a shade. A fate worse than death.

“That may be true, but I swore a blood oath to the Delian League. My allegiance is to justice and order,” Cal said placidly, his tone even and measured, though his pulse pounded in his ears.

“Listen to him. He sounds like a mortal superhero,” Strife called out.

“Or a coward,” Chaos sneered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nix stiffen. Aurelia calmed her with a furtive whisper. He owed his sister when this was over.

“Father, I will ask again. Why am I here?”

“If you do not want to swear allegiance to me, then you will offer me equivalent flesh and blood.” A whip manifested in Ares hand. Metal barbs dangled from the end. Cal had survived its bite before. He wasn’t so sure he would this time.

“Cal, no!” Nix stepped forward, but was quickly restrained by Aurelia.

Ares’ attention switched to Nix. “Ah, yes, the little water pistol.”

“Leave her out of this,” Cal warned. “I’ll agree to your terms, but I have a condition, too.”

To Cal’s surprise, Ares didn’t laugh. He seemed thoughtful. “I see time in the mortal realm has taught you a few things. All right, let’s hear it.”

“It’s for your ears alone,” Cal insisted.

“Fine.” Ares enclosed them behind a barrier. Time outside the sphere stopped. Everyone outside the circle was frozen. Ares snapped his fingers. “Let’s not forget your little firecracker.”

Nix popped into the bubble, took one look at Ares and lunged for him. Cal captured her in his arms and pulled her into his chest. “Trust me. Remember?” She stilled, and he relaxed his arms, but didn’t let her go.

“What the fuck, Dad?” Cal blurted out. “Why are you doing this? I thought we made peace over this.”

Ares held up his hands. “I know. I’m sorry. Chaos and Strife maneuvered me into this position. I must be getting soft.” He waved his hand dismissively at the thought. “Anyhow, I’m not reneging on my deal with Nereus. How is my beloved black sheep?” Ares eyeballed Cal’s body. If he was dismayed by Cal’s lack of a soul, he didn’t show it. “I see the Delian League has done wonders for your health.”

Cal didn’t react to the criticism. He had heard most of it before. “We’re here at your request. What do you have to say to Nix?”

“We’ll get to her in a moment.” Ares laughed. “You are so serious, Calder. Aren’t you the tiniest bit angry about what’s been done to you?”

Nix surged forward, but Cal stopped her.

Ares only laughed harder. “I love your spirit, Nix. If only my son shared your passion. Your zest for life. I fear it was almost castrated out of him by the Amazons. I’m sure he hasn’t told you that they flailed him within an inch of his life with Diana’s Whip.”

Nix’s head swiveled around. She didn’t speak or rise to take the bait. And Cal was grateful. Not that he was off the hook. She would demand answers later.

“Ares, as much as this topic seems to fascinate you, we do have a schedule to keep. So would you please get to the reason why you wanted to speak to me?” Nix gave his father a slow smile, the kind that usually appeared before she administered a beat down.

“Very well.” Ares’ phone rang. He answered with an aggravated sigh. “What is it, Lord of the Gloom?” Ares turned around, ignoring them.

Cal clasped Nix’s hand and gave it a squeeze. If only he could tell her the truth . . . that he loved her. He needed to stop trying to change the past. If he kept wishing for things that couldn’t be, he would go crazy.

“Don’t tell me the rules! I know!” Ares’ angry outburst brought the world back into focus. Ares vanished the phone and closed the distance between them. “That was Hades. The jack wagon felt like he needed to mother my ass. Like I don’t know the code of silence is in force. Sorry about that, kiddies.”

Ares beckoned them closer. “So Nix, tell me, how much do you know about your Uncle Memphis’ extra-curricular activities?”

“Not much. Care to enlighten me?”

“I would love to. Unfortunately, I would be interfering,”— Ares flashed air quotes—“but there’s nothing stopping you from satisfying your own curiosity, now, is there?”

Cal couldn’t help but admire his father. Ares loved to bend or break rules as much as possible. He suspected that Hades had called, knowing it would provoke Ares into finding an angle to help them with their mission.

“Well, we must get back to the others. Sorry about what comes next. No hard feelings. Okay, son?”

The bubble disappeared, and time resumed where it had left off.

Ares clapped his hands, and Aurelia escorted Nix off to the sidelines. Cal mouthed trust me to her again. She wouldn’t like what was about to happen next. And he wasn’t thrilled about it either.

“Calder and I have discussed his issues. And now to the punishment part of our program.” Ares raised his arms. Two poles with shackles appeared on either side of Cal. The silver cuffs attached to Cal’s wrists. Another gesture from Ares and Cal was lifted onto his tiptoes.

“What the hell is this?” Nix demanded.

Ares turned to face her. “Unless you want to join him, I suggest you cling to your neutral status.”

Cal’s shirt disappeared. He steeled his nerves to handle what was about to come next.

Pain. Lots and lots of pain.

Nix watched in horror as Ares cracked the whip over his head with a deafening bang. And Cal, he just stood there as if expecting it. What the Hades?

“Do not interfere, Nereid,” Aurelia spoke softly into her right ear. “If you do, it will only go worse for Cal.”

“I don’t understand.” Especially after Ares seemed so paternal when they spoke privately. Ares was a freakin’ psycho.

“No, you wouldn’t. Our father is the God of War,” Aurelia sniffed.

“Why is Ares allowing this to happen?” Nix swallowed the bile rising from her stomach. The whip cracked again, loud and sharp. Memories of war camp rushed back from the past. Whipping was the preeminent punishment for unruly students. She had excelled at unruly.

“Chaos and Strife are behind it. They hate Calder. In their eyes, he is a traitor to the family for siding with the Delian League and its cause of peace.”

“What about you? Do you feel the same way?” Nix stared at Cal. His face was devoid of emotion. Strife and Chaos circled him like two sharks. Other siblings broke the circle, ready to join in.

“My views are more moderate. I enjoy the kill of a good business deal.”

Ares shouted out to the assembly, “Calder, your punishment for continued disobedience is to receive a lash from each of your siblings.”

Nix took a head count. Gods above! There were at least fifty. “This is barbaric.” She sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. She cast out her power, seeking the closest water. A nearby harbor offered a plentiful supply.

“Yes.” Aurelia seemed as unruffled as Cal. “He has survived this before. This time will be no different.”

Nix let the words sink in. Before, Aurelia had said before. “How often does this happen?”

“Oh, about every century. Thanks to Chaos and Strife, Cal is getting a double dose.”

“Good Lord.” How could he stand it? The pain, the humiliation. Admiration for Cal’s bravery and conviction stirred Nix’s heart. Followed closely by fear. If his soulless body died . . . No, she didn’t want to think about it.

“Who wants to go first?” Ares held out the whip to his children like they were taking turns at the playground. Chaos and Strife stood back. The cruel assholes probably wanted to go last when it would hurt Cal the most.

No way. She was not standing by idly while Cal was flogged within an inch of his life. Not with the stakes so high. Nix beckoned the water.

Not a Gods damned thing happened.

“Don’t bother. When you agreed to neutrality, your power was temporarily suspended.” Aurelia stepped forward with an apologetic smile at Nix. “Sorry, I’ll go first. Places to go, deals to make.”

Nix forced herself not to look away. If Cal could face the beating with dignity, so could she. Nix had been a bystander and recipient at war camp. Yet, she never became immune to the suffering of others. Witnessing Cal’s punishment made Nix feel helpless. Nix hated feeling helpless. At least when she had been on the receiving end of a whip, there was the pain to concentrate on. Not that there she had a choice. Agony had always taken all of her attention.

Aurelia coolly collected the whip from Ares, hefted it in her left hand, and let it fly. The skin on Cal’s back striped red. He stared straight ahead, his body still, as if unaffected by the blow.

Nix’s focus on Cal never wavered as brothers and sisters repeated the ritual over and over. A few were like Aurelia—indifferent—just wanting to get on with the rest of their day. Most of them were vicious bastards, striking Cal as hard as possible. After the first ten strokes, Cal’s composure started to break. Sweat covered his face, running down his neck. His legs quavered.

Nix moved into Cal’s line of sight, hoping to steel his courage. His gaze latched onto her like she was the last lifeboat leaving a sinking ship. When his legs buckled under a thick pool of his blood, Nix whispered words of encouragement until only Chaos and Strife remained. She didn’t know them, but she hated them. She could recognize sadistic assholes from a mile away.

“You are so weak, brother. To need a female to bolster your courage. If you embraced your heritage like the rest of us, you would be so much stronger,” Strife crooned, caressing the whip’s handle like it was a lover’s thigh.

“Fuck. You,” Cal spat out.

“No thanks.” Strife’s arm pulled the whip back. It impacted hard and fast. A fresh spray of blood burst from Cal’s back. Red rivulets landed on the floor with a gooey squelch.

Nix almost cracked. Her control was a razor thin line ready to snap. She glanced at Cal. His chin was down on his chest. He heaved a large breath and lifted his head. His eyes bore straight into hers. Red flames danced in his pupils.

Pull it together, she told herself. Cal needs me to be strong.

Chaos moved behind Strife, his hand eager and outstretched. “My turn.”

Unlike Strife, who seemed to take perverse pleasure in Cal’s pain, Chaos was more disturbing. His eyes told another story. They were dead, black pools. He was the kind of sociopath who tortured his victims and felt nothing.

Without warning, Strife had his arms around her. She tugged away, but he held her fast. “Get off me!”

Cal lunged forward, animated out of his stupor.

“Brother. Look. He cares for this one.” Strife sniffed the skin along the back of Nix’s neck. “Her scent is divine.”

“No sampling the goods without me, Strife.” Chaos leered. “Save some for me.”

Flames erupted from Cal’s fingertips. His eyes blazed red. “Take your hand off of her. Now.”

Nix glanced over at Ares, his face impassive—almost bored. Aurelia’s dire warning played back in Nix’s head. They were provoking Cal. If he lost control and broke free, the punishment would start all over again. Despite his mental strength, Cal’s body might not make it. Nix wasn’t willing to gamble on the chance.

She relaxed in Strife’s arms, ignoring her own disgust. Nix was ninety-nine percent sure that Strife couldn’t actually hurt her. Not with neutrality in play. “Cal. Look at me. I’m okay. This is no big deal.”

Cal growled, panting heavily. He stood up and pulled on the chains again. Damn it, she had to reach him.

“Cal! Cut the shit already.”

He stopped thrashing. When his gaze was finally focused on her again, she resumed talking. “One more strike,”— She wanted to gag at the thought—“Beers back at my place. I promise. Come on, no one has a better whip arm than Shyama. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Cal ground out the word. He sank back into himself, his gaze distant again.

When Strife ran his tongue down her neck, she acted like she didn’t care. Cal didn’t react, ignoring any further attempts to goad him.

“Well, this is no fun.” Strife pushed her away. “Come on, Chaos. Do it and let’s leave this place.”

The whip cracked against Cal’s back like a lightning bolt. Cal shuddered, but found the strength to stay upright.

“All right, kiddies. Show is over.” Ares pointed to Chaos and Strife. “You two, find some third world country to fuck up and leave me alone. Daddy has important work to do. Off you go.”

Magic swirled around the room. Small pops burst out as the sons and daughters of Ares whisked away.

Aurelia was the last one left. She unclasped the shackles, Cal’s blood staining her fingertips. Task completed, she faced Nix. “I now release you. Go in peace. Take good care of him.” Then she vanished.

Nix ran over to Cal and shouldered his weight as he tried to stay vertical. “Ares, you prick. They could’ve killed him. Are you trying to make him a Shade?”

Ares shook his head. “I would not have let that happen.” He paused, his fingers tapping the bottom of his chin as if weighing a decision, then he smirked and placed his index finger on the center of Nix’s forehead. “Funny. I seem to remember one of your older sisters had the ability to heal wounds.”

A warm sensation entered her skin. Only the effort of keeping Cal upright prevented her from knocking Ares’ hand away. “What did you just do?”

Ares ignored the question. “Soothe his wounds and he will be better by nightfall.” With a flourish, Ares transported them to the driveway of the beach house where Cal’s car remained parked in the driveway. How considerate of the jerk.

“Come on, let’s fix you up.” Nix helped Cal into the first floor washroom and sat him on the closed toilet lid.

“I’ll be all right in a few hours.” He swatted at her hand as she approached with a towel.

“Cal, let me help you.” Nix wanted to smack him. Stubborn, just like his father.

“Lay me out on a beach blanket with a beer.” He stood up, spine straight, his back cut to ribbons.

“You can’t go out on a public beach looking like a murder victim.” Nix turned on the shower. “Can you stand the water?”

“Not really, but I’ll keep my back to the wall.”

After a struggle shucking off his blood-soaked jeans, Nix left him to deal with his underwear. Funny, she would have thought he was the commando type.

Gods. She disgusted herself. Thinking about his undergarments, she thought as she headed to the dank cellar. She tossed the jeans and his T-shirt into the wash. Too bad Ares hadn’t thought of providing Cal with clean clothes. She rummaged through the bedroom closets until she located swim trunks that would fit him. He couldn’t lay naked on the beach either.

Even though she would enjoy that view. Gah! No more.

While Nix waited outside the bathroom, Ares’ words replayed in her mind. Soothe his wounds. The solution came to her, as if the tumbler in a lock had been correctly manipulated. She closed her eyes and concentrated on healing. Seizing control of the water spurting from the showerhead, she sent tendrils of power snaking along the wounds in Cal’s back, blending her magic with the water in Cal’s blood and tissues.

It took all her concentration, but the wounds knitted back together. Damaged sinews and shredded muscle repaired. Skin re-grew. Old scars were erased.

The shower abruptly turned off. The shower curtain hooks clanked as it was ripped aside. Dark spots danced in her vision . . . the floor retracted, slipping out from under her feet.

“Nix! Nix! Are you all right?”

She heard Cal’s voice as if from a great distance away. She forced open her eyes and Cal’s concerned face filled her vision. She must have blacked out. She was ass flat, back against the wall.

“I’m okay.” She leaned forward and gripped his arm. “How do you feel?”

A slow grin spread across Cal’s face. “Pretty damn good.”

Nix punched him in the biceps. Since he was okay, he had some explaining to do.

“What was that for?” Cal rubbed the spot, confusion on his face.

“You tricked me. With the whole neutrality thing.” Nix folded her arms across her chest so she wouldn’t strike him again. Only harder.

Realization dawned on Cal’s face. He extended his hand to her and waited for her to accept it. When she continued to scowl at him from the floor, he joined her against the wall. “Ahh, that.”

“Yeah, that,” she tossed back at him. Guess she was angrier than she wanted to admit. “I thought we were in this together. Partners.”

“We are. And I’m thankful that you trusted me enough to do as I asked without arguing about it.”

Well, didn’t he just make her feel like a child stomping her feet? She couldn’t let it go yet. “You knew my power wouldn’t work. That I wouldn’t be able to help you.”

Cal nodded. “Didn’t Aurelia explain to you that if you interfered magically, you could have been whipped, too?”

“Yes,” Nix said tightly.

“I remember war camp,”—He reached over and tilted her chin to face him—“and I would spare you that pain.”

Nix hoped he couldn’t see the rapid fire beat of her pulse from the vein on her neck. The closeness of him, the scent of his clean skin, and, more importantly, the fact he remembered her past humiliations and wanted to spare her, made her want to close the distance and kiss him.

She noticed Cal’s hooded gaze fixed on her mouth. Heat suffused her cheeks. Was it suddenly warmer? Or was it her imagination? Either way, the situation was too hot for her to handle. She stood on jittery legs, swaying back into the wall.

Cal popped upright and steadied her, lust seemingly replaced by concern. “What did you do to me?”

“I fixed your boo-boos. Help me to the kitchen. There’s cold beer in the fridge.”

A short time later, they were lounging on the beach in sand chairs with a cooler of drinks and loads of salty snacks between them. Watching the surf while scrunching the sand beneath her toes almost made her forget earlier events. She had seen many facets of Cal’s life all in one day. The unfailingly good—Declan and his kind soul, helping Cal reveal lost memories from the night he lost his soul. And the unspeakably bad—Cal’s psychotic, scheming brothers whose names she didn’t even want to think. They had ruined enough of the day.

Nix heaved a huge sigh of relief, speaking her thoughts aloud. “Thank the Gods this day is almost over. Remind me not to bitch about my family.”

A small smile lifted the corner of Cal’s lips. “Yeah. My family puts the fun in dysfunctional.”

“No arguments there. Another beer?”

“Sure.” Two beers later and Cal had visibly relaxed.

Perfect time to ask the question she’d been holding back. “How did you do it? You know, fight the pain?” Nix shivered at the memory of her own whippings. She had cried and wailed, agony owning her like a bitch. Every single time. No matter how often she had tried to block the misery or master the pain, she could never do it.

Cal cleared his throat. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“That is a completely lame and uninformative answer.” Nix ripped open the bag of pretzels, then offered some to Cal. Her eyes roved over the glorious sight of his bare chest and sleek shoulders. When he leaned forward, his back was unmarred and golden, as if the whole incident had never happened.

He pulled out a handful of pretzels and twisted in his chair to face her. “Talus taught me. He was intensely focused on disciplining the body and mind.”

Sadness tugged at Nix. Cal wore the same melancholy expression whenever he mentioned his lost friend. “Can you teach me?”

He laughed. “Maybe. If someone as stubborn as me can learn it, I don’t see why you can’t.”

After crunching more pretzels, Nix summoned the courage to broach another, touchier topic. It bugged her that Ares liked to pick certain scabs. Twice he had brought up Cal’s affair with Princess Halcyon.

“So, do you want to talk about the whole Amazon princess thing?” Nix offered.

“About as much as you want to discuss Adonis.” Cal scowled. He looked up at Nix and his expression softened. “She was a mistake. I was in a bad place and I let her use me.”

Nix could relate to that. She still wasn’t sure what had possessed her to let Nate worm his way into her life. She had always despised him as an arrogant prick. “We all have our moments of madness.”

Cal tipped his beer to hers. “I’ll drink to that.”

The faint scent of raspberries tickled Nix’s nose. Cal was idly picking the label on his bottle, lost in thought. Raspberries were important to him. Again, no idea how she knew that. She just did.

“Cal, will you tell me about your mother?” The words slipped out. She had a sudden, burning need to know about the woman. Cal grunted noncommittally.

“Please. She was important to you.” And that nagging déjà vu was back.

“She was mortal and she died a long time ago.” Cal cleared his throat and took a long pull of beer.

“And you blame Ares?”

Cal’s face clouded for a moment. He nodded. “And myself.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“How do you know? You weren’t there.”

“I just do. You’re the most responsible person I’ve ever met.” Like a giant Boy Scout. And Nix’s gut told her she was right. Cal would move heaven and earth for the ones he loved.

“She was gang raped, and I wasn’t there to stop it,” he snarled, his voice tight and low. “Look, can we please get off this subject?”

The bottom fell out of Nix’s stomach. What a horrible way for a female to die. She reached over and touched the ends of Cal’s fingertips. “I’m sorry, Cal. I wasn’t trying to intrude.”

He twined his fingers around hers. Heat raced down her arm and pooled in her belly. The faint scent of wood smoke tickled her nose.

“Don’t be sorry. When this is over. . . I want to tell you more.”

The implied, if he was still alive, hung in the air. Cold, paralyzing fear danced across Nix’s skin. She refused to lose Cal. “We are going to figure this out.”

They had to.

Chapter 14

“You’re being awfully quiet. Want to talk about it?” Cal asked as they drove back to Mystic.

They had each downed a dozen beers, but human alcohol couldn’t get them drunk. Not even buzzed. Nix didn’t have a lot to say. The whole situatio sucked. They had a week left and no real leads.

Yeah, Ares had dropped them a bone about her uncle, but she had no clue as to what Epic event was about to take place. If they were in a paper bag right now, they probably couldn’t find their way out of it. Why the Fates had chosen her to help solve this mystery was beyond her. It was like they were playing a big, cosmic joke. Nix kept her doubts to herself.

She needed to man up and stop whining. She answered Cal. “No, there’s nothing to discuss.”

Nix snuck a glance at Cal’s face. Why is this man so important to me? Before the shit had hit the fan, she had only encountered him, mostly long distance, at Delian League functions. Prior to that, they had shared a brief time together at war camp. Cal was older and hung around Nick Adonis and Talus. Other than his cold determination and extreme good looks, she had no reason to feel the way she did.

Or did she? Devlin’s assertion about the dick in a jar made her wonder.

“Cal, were you on assignment back at the turn of the last century?”

The lean jaw clenched ever so slightly. “I was,” he conceded after a moment.

“Any chance you were involved with breaking up a white slavery ring?”

Cal was silent for so long, she thought he wouldn’t answer the question at all. Instead, he pulled off the road and parked in the back of a supermarket parking lot. He turned off the engine, unsnapped his seat belt, and faced her. “You know I can’t discuss mission specifics. What is really going on, Nix?” He reached over and traced his finger along the edge of her chin.

That old feeling of familiarity, like they had done this tango before, ghosted into the car.

“I want to know why I have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I think about your lost soul. And I want to know why, whenever you touch me, my body feels safe.” A flood of emotions threatened to unhinge her, but what the hell, she was on a roll now, might as well lay all the cards out on the table. “Can you tell me why I wake up in tears, my heart ripped into a million pieces? I used to think it was because of my breakup with Nate.”

Cal frowned and inched closer, but remained silent.

“I don’t think Nate is the reason. Is he, Cal?”

Nix braced herself for another evasion, for placating words or even flat out lies.

“Don’t talk about Adonis.” Cal voice was tight, his lips pressed thin.

“Why? Does it bother you? You don’t even know me—”

Cal’s velvet soft lips captured hers, the heat of his mouth scorching her. As if on autopilot, her tongue dipped into his mouth, savoring the rich taste of him. The knot in her gut relaxed and her heart sang. Unbidden, tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as Cal tangled his fingers into her hair and drew her deeper, his lips and tongue making her whole body shiver.

She wanted him. Gods help her, she wanted something for herself. No more messing around.

Her hands groped under his T-shirt until her fingers were tracing the outline of his pecs, rubbing over his small tight nipples. Cal ran his hands up the back of her shirt, then down to cup her rear, his strong palms pulling her as close as he could with the gear shaft in the way. Tingles ran up and down her skin. Her whole body bloomed under his touch, as if she remembered the curves of his body, the weight of his hands, and the sensation of his mouth.

Oh, Gods, her heart ached. She clasped his face with her hands and broke the kiss. “Why, Cal, why do I feel this way? Like my heart is breaking?”

Her words were like ice water. Cal drew back, the emotional distance so palpable there was a cold void between them. A storm of emotions seemed to roll across his face in rapid succession before settling into the passive, emotionless countenance she was all too familiar with.

“I’m sorry, Nix. I overstepped my bounds.” Cal shifted back into his seat. The seatbelt clicked into place, and the engine revved to life.

No, this was not happening. What if Cal only kissed her because she was a Nymph? Maybe she was projecting a “come hither” vibe? Reality crashed over her. A relationship was out of the question.

No way. No how.

Who was she kidding? She was in trouble. Big trouble.

If it were possible, Cal would have kicked himself in the nuts. He should have kept his hands to himself. Tasting Nix again had brought him so close to the edge of his control. If they hadn’t been in a public parking lot, things could have gone further. Past the point of no return. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to make love to her without her knowing the truth. Not to mention, he couldn’t take the heartbreak if she rejected him.

He knew Nix. She valued honesty and wouldn’t appreciate the deception, even though he was following orders. Somehow that wouldn’t cut it. Damn Nereus and his stupid rules.

His mood headed further south when they walked into the shop. Zephyr stood at the receptionist desk laughing softly with Mary Swain, probably scheming to get into her pants. If anyone could break her ice queen exterior, it would be him.

“My, my, Son of Ares, who pissed in your cornflakes today?” Zephyr quipped.

Cal flipped Zephyr off, wishing he could pound the smug smile off Zephyr’s handsome face. He especially didn’t like the way Zephyr studied Nix, then him, like he knew what they had been doing in the car. Of course, he probably did. The Wind God could detect sexual heat from a mile away.

“Knock it off, Zeph,” Nix interrupted. “I’m not in the mood to deal with male bullshit right now.”

Zephyr held up his hands. “Understood. I came by to see if there have been any new developments.”

Cal parked his ass on the waiting area’s leather couch. A moment later he was joined by Devlin.

“You two aren’t going to make Nix mad, are you?” Devlin licked his lips. Tension thrummed off the guy.

“Not at the moment. Why are you so keyed up?” Zephyr raised a brow.

Cal added, “Dude, you need to relax.” The Satyr looked like he was ready to launch off the couch at a moment’s notice.

“Trust me on this, Cal. You do not want to make a Destroyer mad.” Devlin’s eyes darted over to Nix. She was speaking quietly to Zephyr. Once Devlin was sure Nix wasn’t listening, he lowered his voice and leaned closer. “If you saw what she kept in her fridge . . .”

When Devlin finished explaining the grisly discovery, Cal’s stomach dropped to his shoes. Now Nix’s questions about where he was in 1900 made a lot more sense. It was only a matter of time before Nix figured out her role in the whole Pannis affair. He had mixed feelings. On the one hand, maybe she would be amenable to hearing about their love affair. On the other, she just might want to add his balls to the jar for not telling her the truth.

Fucking Nereus. This was all his fault. If the old man hadn’t insisted on wiping away mission memories, her father could have spared Nix a lot of heartache. She probably would have never gotten mixed up with Nate, the douche bag. And, he and Nix . . . he liked to think they could have had a future together.

“Cal?” A nudge against the toe of his boot brought him out of his thoughts. Nix, hands on her hips, tapped his foot again. “Zephyr has no information on Uncle Memphis. At least not what he was up to in the last few years.”

Devlin chimed in, “Your uncle, he was one of my best customers. He loved to buy and sell merchandise. In fact, I saw him the day before he disappeared.”

Cal and Nix both zoomed in on the guy, who suddenly shrank back from Nix’s attention.

“Devlin, I could learn to like you,” Nix said. “Let’s take a trip to your shop, shall we?”

Even though Devlin’s shop was a short trip from Mystic Ink, Nix couldn’t get there fast enough. Time was pressing on her. Or the lack of it. All they knew for sure was a Destroyer had stolen Cal’s soul. Again, no idea if it was Nix herself. But she doubted it. If she had taken Cal’s soul, where was it?

And, somehow, her uncle fit into the picture. Not directly, but in some roundabout way, still yet to be determined. She prayed that Devlin kept good records. Given how neat he was, she’d be surprised if he didn’t.

Nix was a few feet ahead of Cal and Devlin when they reached the block before Fawn’s Pawn. The hairs on her arms stood up. A tendril of dark energy danced across her skin. Nix stopped dead in her tracks. “Gods damn it!”

“I feel it, too.” Cal’s fists clenched. Heat radiated outward from his palms, but no visible flame. Presumably because there were too many mortals out and about.

“I’m getting really sick of people breaking into my shop.” Devlin reached into the waistband of his pants and lifted his sweatshirt, revealing the butt end of a pistol.

“Whoa, Devlin,” Nix said.

“Hey, I protect what’s mine.” Devlin led them to the backside of the building. “We’ll go in through the warehouse entrance.” He unlocked the door and it swung open silently.

The space inside was cool and dark. The air, slightly musty from old books and antique furniture, was mixed with the odors of gun oil and Satyr musk. Devlin whispered, “Put your hand on my shoulder. If I turn on the lights, the intruder will know we’re here.”

When her hand landed on Devlin, she felt Cal give her elbow a squeeze. She still wasn’t ready to admit out loud that Devlin was not repulsive to her anymore. She needed to find time to ask Cal about Devlin’s Black Ops affiliation. Not that Cal would answer. That subject was probably top secret, too.

They marched forward through endless rows of high shelves, tall as oak trees. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she bit back her surprise. The warehouse must have been spelled because it was vastly larger than the actual dimensions of the building.

Items were lined up on the shelves like soldiers, each row organized and tidy. Underneath were neat labels, the writing too small to read in the dark, but many of the objects were easily recognized: various weapons, ranging from swords, muskets and even the latest assault rifles. Shelves upon shelves of vases, sculpture, furniture, and curios. Nix swore she saw a couple of Hands of Glory—good for granting wishes but with . . . unexpected side effects. The things should have been labeled Careful What You Wish For.

She wanted to break the silence and ask Devlin if there was any object he didn’t have in his inventory.

They stopped.

Devlin crouched down in front of a door. Magic pulsed off a symbol above the knob. When Devlin touched the rune lock and invoked the spell, the door dissolved, then reformed behind them once they were all in the next room. It was a small kitchenette, similar to the one in Mystic Ink. Except, Nix didn’t have a small bed tucked in the far corner. Gods, did Devlin actually live in this room?

Cal steered Nix away until they stopped at another door, presumably leading into the storefront.

Glass shattered. The intruder was obviously breaking into the display cases.

Devlin growled. Pistol in hand, he snicked off the safety. When Nix and Cal nodded, Devlin eased the door open. Again, no noise. It was probably WD-40’d within an inch of its life.

Devlin rushed out first, gun held out, eye level. Nix wondered how much of his bumbling was an act. He was Black Ops, so he obviously had killed before.

Nix chided herself. Save the curiosity for another day. Rushing into a potentially dangerous situation while distracted was a bad idea. Cal skimmed alongside the other wall, leaving Nix to choose a side. She followed Devlin, pulling water from wherever she could find it.

Another crash. Something big, something metal. It was an office desk. Papers were scattered everywhere, tossed by a hulking male figure so intent on searching, he didn’t notice their arrival. A glass paperweight flew by, jamming into the drywall next to Nix’s head.

Devlin snapped. He lunged onto the male’s bulky shoulders. “Get out of my stuff!”

The thief whirled around and smashed Devlin’s back into the wall.

“You again?” Nix swore when she saw the intruder’s face as he attempted to dislodge Devlin.

The Cyclops was back. Same biker disguise, same greasy bandana hiding his real eye. The monster hit Devlin again, knocking all the air out of the Satyr with a solid whoosh. The pistol clattered onto the floor. Devlin’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, but he remained tightly latched onto the Cyclops’ back like a barnacle.

“We should have killed you when we had the chance.” Nix dislodged the paperweight and whipped it into the beast’s forehead.

“Oww! You bitch!” He yowled in pain. The Cyclops cradled his head with his enormous hands, releasing Devlin. Devlin slumped onto the floor, winded.

“How original! Can’t you think of a better insult?” Nix unleashed a torrent of water. The velocity and weight pinned the one-eyed wonder against the same wall he had used to squish Devlin. Nix vice-gripped him to the spot using the water’s weight.

“Please, Nix, don’t drown my shop,” Devlin wheezed as he crawled out of the way.

Cal came up behind Nix. “Allow me.” He channeled his heat into her water. Wisps of steam rose into the air as the water began to superheat. “You better start talking, pal, or I’ll boil you alive.”

The Cyclops wasn’t completely dumb. He sang like a canary. The only problem—it was the same tune as before. Give him the sacred seal or else.

“Where is Cal’s soul?” Nix didn’t even bother arguing that she had no idea what they wanted. “Who do you work for?”

“Fuck you. I’m not telling.” Even under the press of the water and heat of the flame, the Cyclops refused to talk.

Devlin stood up. “May I try?”

“Sure, why not?” Nix said. She wanted to add, hurry up. Holding the water in one position was taking its toll. Her arms quivered. She wouldn’t last much longer.

Devlin got in front of the Cyclops, his head blocking Nix’s view. For a long moment, Devlin spoke in low tones, his voice edgy and angry. Devlin inclined his chin over his shoulder in Nix’s direction.

Ten seconds later, the Cyclops started to shake. “I’ll talk. I’ll talk. I don’t know much, but please don’t put my man parts in a jar.”

Cal faced Nix. “Wow. Do you want to explain that one to me?”

A hot blush crept up Nix’s neck. “No!” She snapped the word out like a wet towel being whipped in a locker room. She was fairly certain Cal already knew the answer. The crinkles around his eyes were a dead giveaway.

For someone who didn’t know anything, the Cyclops—his name was Eddie it turned out—blabbed for forty-five minutes. Most of it was the same thing over and over. His mission was to locate and deliver the sacred seal. He wasn’t the only one looking. No surprise there. He didn’t know how many others there were.

“And you get all your instructions from this cell phone?” Cal palmed the slim device in his hands. “Devlin, can you extract any information off of this?”

Nix surveyed the disarray that was once Devlin’s desk. A laptop lay twisted and dead on the ground, the screen separated from the keyboard. Good luck with that.

“Yes. Once I straighten up this mess.” Devlin glared at Eddie and started picking up papers.

“You still haven’t said who you work for.” Nix knew at this point, the question was moot. They appeared to work in a cell structure, with only a specific contact. No one else knew who the other operatives were. That way, if they were caught and questioned, no information could end up in enemy hands. Not too different than Nereus cleansing the Destroyers after missions. Seems the monsters were following mortal terrorist group tactics. At least this bunch was.

“I don’t know.” Eddie sagged against the heavy iron links of an anchor chain. Devlin had dug it out of his warehouse. Nix wondered why someone would pawn that. But whatever. It was helping them out now.

“What do you know, you useless piece of shit?” Nix paced the room.

“I know that Nymphs are succulent. Especially the marrow of their bones.” The Cyclops cried out in pain. The iron links were glowing red-hot.

“What did I tell you last time we met?” Cal’s voice was like death. His fists balled by his sides, his jaw clenched.

“Sorry. I’m sorry!” Eddie wailed.

A rhythmic beat sounded in the office. “Quiet!” Nix shouted. “Do you hear that?” The sound was ticking like a clock.

Eddie smiled. A blissful smile. Like he knew what was coming next.

“Get down!” Cal pulled Nix behind the overturned desk and down to the floor, blanketing her with his large body. His mass crushed her into the musty shag rug.

Alarm bells clanged. Nix braced herself for a loud boom and flying Cyclops chunks. Instead, there was a pop. Metal rings crashed to the floor.

“What the hell?” Cal eased back enough to look, but kept Nix pinned down. She punched high inside of his groin, narrowly missing his sack. He flinched. “Nix, stay down.”

“Screw you, Cal. You’re not the one breathing in this nasty rug.”

Cal released her. “Fine.”

The chains were in a pile. Eddie was gone. Devlin was crouched down on the floor, sniffing the area like a dog. “Whoever this guy works for is either very well connected or is a major Power.” With a capital P. “This is not your garden variety escape spell.”

“That should narrow it down a little.” Cal rubbed his thigh. Nix hoped she left a bruise there. Then again, she could offer to kiss it and make it better.

Okaaay. She pretended to examine the chains, trying not to think of kissing Cal in places other than his lips. A faint reek of sulfur tickled her nose. Like the fire and brimstone kind. “Cal, Devlin, check this out.”

Devlin took a big sniff, then leaned back on his haunches, his face pale. “I need to get my back-up system. We’re dealing with something big and bad here.”

Devlin unlocked a small safe behind a fake wall. He pulled out a laptop case and several old tomes. He stuffed the old books and Eddie’s cell phone into a duffle bag, while he booted up the laptop. Cal flipped Devlin’s desk upright. Nix wheeled a chair to him.

“We might as well check on your Uncle Memphis, before I get any more visitors.” Devlin tapped away, accessing files. “I have all my data stored on offsite servers, rather than individual machines. Here we go.”

A lengthy list of purchases and acquisitions were listed, some of them dating back more than a hundred years. None of them stood out as being relevant, mostly furniture, sculpture, wall art. Nix had never seen any of those items at the tattoo shop. Memphis must have had other houses, none of which she had ever visited.

“I don’t see anything related to our situation.” Nix hugged herself, chewing on her bottom lip. Devlin kept scrolling. A name caught her eye. “Wait. Is that Basil?”

“Yes. He’s a very rare specimen. Took me months of trading and negotiating to acquire him for Memphis,” Devlin said. “But that was over a hundred years ago. I don’t see how that matters.”

“Looks like the last thing Memphis bought was a cage for Basil.” Cal pointed to the screen.

“Another special order. Memphis was always very particular in his tastes.” Devlin clicked on the entry and a photo of the cage appeared.

“That’s his travel cage.” Nix had it in her apartment in the front hall closet.

“Was there a particular reason for Memphis wanting this kind of cage?” Cal rubbed his jaw, the stubble making a gritty sound.

“None that I’m aware of,” Devlin said.

Nix had to agree. There was nothing special about it—just a standard issue, wire-enclosed birdcage—like the kind you saw on TV. “Maybe it’s Basil who is special?”

“Devlin, can you try Eddie’s cell phone records, too?” Cal’s phone rang. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

Nix swept up the glass while Devlin hacked into Eddie’s cell phone records. It was the least she could do. Her apartment looked Martha Stewart clean thanks to Devlin.

“Got’em.” Devlin tapped out a few more commands. “Nix, take a look at this.”

“He sure likes Chinese takeout.” Nix sighed. “So another dead end?” She stood and watched Cal from out the storefront window. His hands were animated, feet pacing in short, tight circles.

“Not entirely.” Devlin paused. “There was one call last week. The night Cal’s soul was stolen. The call came from Nereus’ office.”

Nix whipped around. “How do you know that? Nereus’ number is private. It’s always masked when he calls us.”

“I have my ways. I wasn’t always a pawnshop owner.” For a moment, Nix glimpsed that other side of Devlin. Underneath his fumbling, shy guy routine, there was a cold hard streak. Steel glinted in his eyes. She thought back to the Umbra tattoo on his stomach.

“How long did the call last?”

“Under a minute.” Devlin’s shoulders relaxed. The hard edge was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Just enough time to issue an order.” Nix couldn’t believe her father would enlist a scumbag like Eddie to hurt Cal. It didn’t make any sense. Cal was a trusted confidant. No, it had to be someone else. Maybe they broke into his office?

“I don’t think it was Nereus,” Devlin placated. “When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“He came into the shop earlier that same day. And he called Cal right before I accepted a final mission.” Nix leaned her forehead against the glass pane. It would leave a smudge mark on the window, but she didn’t care. There had to be a traitor in her father’s circle. Nothing else made sense.

“Have you heard from him or seen him since that day?”

“No.” Nix stared at Cal. He had stopped pacing. The corners of his mouth were down as he listened to the caller on the other end. After a moment, he turned around, his back to her. His spine was rigid. Only one person could do that to Cal. Ares.

Except, how did she know that? How did she know anything anymore? Nix faced Devlin. “Thank you for your help.”

The Satyr smiled, his face beaming. “My pleasure.”

Cal returned, tight-lipped about the phone call. Nix didn’t press the issue. Instead, she remained silent while Devlin shared his findings. None of them had any answers or further insight on the birdcage or Eddie’s phone call. Again, they were left with more questions than answers. After they helped Devlin clean up the mess, they headed back to Mystic Ink.

Bone tired and weary, Nix’s head ached from thinking too much. Her body was depleted from expending so much energy over the past week. She needed to rest before she collapsed. Cal wasn’t in much better shape, not that he would admit it. Black stubble shaded his face and dark circles had formed under his eyes. Devlin looked like hell. His breathing seemed tight and strained. She suspected the Cyclops had broken a few of his ribs.

As she exited the car, an overwhelming sense of evil overcame her. One look at the others and she could tell they felt the same way. Devlin exited the car first and scouted ahead, gun discreetly hidden in the pocket of his sweatshirt jacket.

“Really? Seriously? Now what?” Nix threw her hands up. At this point, she expected a kitchen sink to fall on her head.

Cal armed up, full flame, and ignored her complaining. She couldn’t blame him. She sounded like a pathetic whiner. Following Cal’s lead, Nix took on all the water available, the majority from the drainage system under the sidewalk.

Devlin darted back around from the front of the building like his ass was on fire.

“Okay, which band of merry men has come to demand the mystery seal this time?” Nix strode past him, ready to storm through the front door.

“Uh, Nix. I wouldn’t joke about what’s waiting for us,” Devlin said, clutching her elbow. “Look . . .”

“Come on, what could possibly be so . . .” The words died in her throat. What waited in the shop wasn’t an incompetent bunch of Harpies or a dimwit Cyclops.

“Shit,” Cal said. The orange flames at his fingertips flickered before turning blue.

Furies—the Bogeymen of the God realm—were waiting inside.

Yep, they were in a world of shit.

Chapter 15

The streets were quiet. Most of the locals were down on the waterfront waiting for Fourth of July Fireworks to start. Strains of patriotic music drifted across the sky.

“Do you think they know we’re here?” Nix said as they all crouched in the side alley.

Cal sure as hell hoped not, but he didn’t say that.

“No. If they knew, they would be kicking our asses already.” Devlin pulled out his handgun and slid out the ammo clip. He replaced it with a different one and shoved the clip home. “Special rounds. Designed them myself.”

Which meant they were probably highly illegal, but if the bullets gave them an advantage, Cal wasn’t about to protest. The Furies were creatures of legend in their own right. They were like the major Gods and Goddesses—not supposed to be on Earth anymore.

“How many do you see?” Nix asked. Every muscle in her body looked ready to spring.

Cal leaned around the corner and took a quick survey of the shop. “Three.” And Jason, the Son of Heroes, was ready to take them on by himself. Sword in hand, the guy stood defiant in front of the Furies. The balls on that kid were incredible. Cal ducked back and rejoined the others.

Devlin groaned when he heard the news. “Oh my hell! That is like the equivalent of twenty of us. We need help.”

“I totally agree.” For once Cal was happy about Nix’s friendship with Zephyr. He texted the wind deity. The response was instant.

Out in the alley, he heard Jason let out a battle cry. Nix uncoiled, ready to charge into the building. Cal restrained her. “Wait for Zephyr.”

Air blasted down the alleyway. The West Wind had arrived. He flashed his pearly whites, grinning like they were going to the prom. “You rang? What are we up against here?”

The guy was such a drama queen. “Furies,” Cal said. That killed Zephyr’s smile in its tracks.

“Fuck.” Zephyr’s expression turned rock hard and the air pressure dropped. “Really?”

“Yes.” Nix broke out of Cal’s grasp and bolted into the shop.

She was so reckless. Cal wanted to tie her up and lock her in a room where she would be safe. Completely chauvinistic, but hey, that was love, wasn’t it?

Nix expected to find more supernatural uglies in her shop. Instead, the Furies appeared as runway models plucked off the cover of a magazine. Tall, svelte, big-haired and wildly overdressed in slinky evening dresses, they were like a cocktail party with nowhere to go.

Ancient, untamed energy roiled off them. Nix staggered under its weight. The Furies collectively fixed their stare upon her, ignoring Cal, Devlin, and Zephyr as they flanked her on either side. Opalescent eyes radiated too many colors to track, outlandish even by God standards. Their perfectly angled faces were cold and heartless and gave new meaning to the concept of terrible beauty. Nix’s instincts screamed at her to run.

“Eudora,” the blonde one snarled, “we tire of waiting for you.”

“No one invited you, either,” Nix snapped back, sick and tired of the constant harassment. It didn’t matter if the mastermind sent Santa Claus, she couldn’t give them what she didn’t have.

Zephyr hissed, “Have a care, Nix.”

The third Fury, with raven black hair, stepped to the forefront. “Give us the seal, and we will kill only you.”

Mary emerged from the backroom, a curved scimitar in her hand. Her entire demeanor had changed from cold, disinterested bitch to warrior princess—weapon raised, body poised for a fight. Her golden wrist cuffs radiated warm, magical energy.

“We have no quarrel with you, Handmaiden of Anubis,” said the black-haired Fury. “This is not your God’s concern.”

Nix and Jason exchanged glances. So Mary was a Guardian of the Underworld and a concubine to an Egyptian God. Nix wondered how Anubis felt about one of his chosen ladies having an affair with Uncle Memphis.

“Nix is mine to protect. Leave now.” Mary’s lips curled into a predatory snarl. Her front incisors elongated into fangs. Basil screeched from the backroom. Mary barked a response in her native tongue. The bird quieted.

“We will not be responsible for your demise, Ma’at.”

Ma’at, the Goddess of Justice. That explained so much. Mary’s cool indifference suddenly took on a new light. When weighing the scales of justice, a calm impartiality was called for.

Mary scoffed, “As if.” Golden light emanated from the wrist cuffs and channeled into the scimitar. “Show your true selves.”

The light funneled from the sword, illuminating the Furies. The supermodel façades dissipated.

“I liked them better before,” Jason said out of the corner of his mouth.

Nix had to agree. The Furies in their true form were gruesome. The blonde had morphed into a gray beast: half female, half fanged with a sinuous tail banded with dark stripes. The redhead sported scaly red skin. Sharp spikes protruded in a ridged line across the top of her hairless scalp. The pointed tips dripped with black liquid. Probably poison.

The worst was the dark-haired Fury. Her true face was a living nightmare. Hideous gray flesh pulled tight over a bony skull, serrated teeth, and yellow eyes.

Nix had seen enough. “Get out of my shop.”

She unleashed all the water at her command, dousing the Furies down to the skin. The Furies laughed in unison, an awful, guttural chorus that vibrated her teeth. With a hand wave, the gray beast made the water disappear. She tsked at Nix as if she were a naughty child. Cal and Devlin pulled Nix back by the elbows.

Chaos erupted in the room.

The gray beast latched onto Devlin in one swift motion. Her sharp fangs punctured his collarbone. Like a lion with its prey, she sprang out the front door, Devlin firmly gripped in her jaw. Zephyr pursued in a violent gust of wind and blew out the door.

Jason and Mary tag teamed the spiked Fury. The impact projected Spiky through the plate glass window. Mary, followed by Jason, leaped through the opening and disappeared in the night, chasing the Fury down East Main Street.

Gods damn it. Nix didn’t wait around to measure the damage. She charged the corpse Fury. Only to be blocked. A beam of power shot out and punched Nix hard in the gut. Nix rammed into the reception desk with a rending crack. Every bone in Nix’s body rattled from the impact. Good thing she wasn’t mortal or her back would be broken.

The dark Fury hauled Nix up by her shirt collar. “Where is it?”

Nix swung her fist. It connected with the Fury’s nose, then recoiled as if she hit a brick wall. Pins and needles shot down her arm. Her knuckles throbbed.

“You are nothing compared to us. We are ancient. We are more powerful.”

“And you talk way too much,” Cal said, raising his arms. He launched a fireball into the Fury. Nix fell to the floor. Her knees stung from the impact.

The Fury batted the flames away, then reached forward and grabbed Cal. With one swift movement, she catapulted Cal into the backroom. Metal shelves tumbled and crashed.

“Cal!” Nix was yanked backward.

A hand fisted her hair from behind. “We have unfinished business.” The Fury tilted Nix’s neck back.

“Yeah, you were leaving.” Nix twisted around, her scalp threatening to detach, as she cranked the Fury’s arm behind her back. The hold lasted for about a second before the Fury tossed Nix onto the couch like a rag doll.

“Give me the sacred seal, and I might let your friends live. You, I will kill for the pleasure of it.” The Fury’s hands changed shape, fingertips lengthening into razor sharp blades.

The air superheated. The Fury’s hair combusted, then her whole head burst into flames. The Fury shrieked and batted at the inferno as her face melted like wax. Her eyes exploded with a sickening burst. Nix gagged on the rancid stench of roasting flesh.

“Nix, run!” Cal shouted. Nix jumped up off the couch, then headed for the backroom.

A pair of arms stopped her. “No. Outside.” Cal pushed her forward.

“No. I can’t leave Basil.”

The bird’s screeches became more frantic. Something was wrong with him. He wasn’t talking.

“I’ll get him. You get the hell out. Now!” Cal was in the backroom before she could protest.

The Fury had extinguished the flames. She convulsed as her eyes reformed in the sockets. She pivoted in Nix’s direction. Yellow eyes zeroed in on her. Angry didn’t even begin to cover the rage on the Fury’s face. Nix raced out the door and onto the street. They might have a chance to escape into the crowd if the Furies abided by the ancient custom of remaining hidden among mortals. Nix glanced back at the Fury still twitching on the floor.

Cal appeared by her side, Basil tucked under his arm. “Any sign of the others?”

Nix shook her head. Three swift bangs sounded from the roof. “Up there!”

Basil broke free of Cal’s grip and flew up to the shop’s roof.

Nix saw Mary’s sword as it glinted in the light. It arced so fast it looked like a golden streak. Nix caught a quick glimpse of Jason before he was repelled toward the roof’s edge. Nix gasped, fearing he would fall off. A moment later, Jason picked himself up and disappeared out of view.

“Come on. They can handle themselves. We have to move.” Cal waved toward the shop. “The Fury must be healed by—”

The Fury was gone. The shop was empty.

Cal and Nix went back to back in a defensive crouch. Nix scanned the street, unable to locate the Fury.

“This isn’t good,” Cal said in a low voice. “There’s no way it just gave up.”

“I don’t trust any of them to follow the rules. We need to stop them here.” Nix assessed the water supply situation. With the river so close, she wouldn’t be running out anytime soon.

Overhead, bursts of color flared into multi-hued flowers of light. The air crackled with pops and whistles. The fireworks show had begun. Nix looked around. Where in Hades was Zephyr?

She didn’t have time to wonder. The corpse Fury barreled down the road, its razor-tipped fingers overhead. Her arms reached outward and stretched like rubber bands.

“Cal!” Nix knocked him off balance. The blades brushed by her head, narrowly missing.

Cal skirted around Nix. A violent burst of orange flame blasted into the Fury. The Fury sidestepped the fireball and whip-snapped her arms at Cal, knocking him into the alley.

The arms aimed for Nix next.

Nix ducked and rolled, barely avoiding being skewered. She couldn’t keep the pace up for long. The Fury was fast and could regenerate. Nix only had her training and adrenaline on her side. If she had the mantle on, the odds would be even. Too bad the cloak was locked in the safe.

Nix rose to her feet. The street was deserted. Nix summoned water into two whips. Two could play the long distance attack game. She cracked the watery ropes and shouted, “Scared already?”

The Fury laughed behind her, unimpressed. “Go ahead. Try and hurt me, Nereid.”

Gods, they were arrogant. Nix pivoted and let the whips fly. One coiled around the Fury’s leg. Nix yanked, throwing the bitch off balance. She flicked the second whip. The tip connected, slapping the Fury’s face. Nix dispersed the water into pins, driving them deeply into the creature’s eye sockets.

While the Fury howled and clawed at its face, Nix yelled to Cal as he emerged from the alley. “Any sign of Zephyr?”

A sonic boom went off in Nix’s backyard. Debris shot high into the air. A hubcap dropped onto the blinded Fury, further enraging it.

“That had better not be my car!” Damn it all to Hades.

Cal lobbed superheated rocks at the wounded Fury’s head. “Keep aiming for the face. That seems to be their weak point.” Cal grunted as a trash barrel crashed into his chest.

Distracted, Nix failed to see the hubcap in time. It smashed into her nose, breaking her concentration. The water whips splashed to the ground. When Nix looked up, the Fury had vanished. Warm blood dripped onto her lips. Nix ignored it.

“Where’d the one with the stretchy arms go?” Nix ran down the street, checking the alley. Panic bloomed. What if the thing went after the crowd?

Basil cried overhead and landed on Nix’s shoulder. “Dig a ditch and bury the bitch,” he sang.

“What?” Nix ran down the alley. She didn’t have time for Basil’s cryptic ditties. When she couldn’t find Zephyr or the Fury, she ran back to Cal.

“We need a plan. The Fury is healing too fast. We’ll wear down before it will.”

Cal joined Nix in the center of the street. “Agree. Any sign of the other one?”

The ground rumbled under their feet. Bright beams of light cut into the night. A large vehicle barreled down East Main Street—an eighteen-wheeler from Hell—helmed by an angry, scorched, and blinded Fury.

Blue flames traveled across the asphalt at high speed, igniting the tires on contact. The rubber vaporized. The truck’s rims sparked and screeched as the vehicle swerved. It continued to speed forward, not even slowed down by lack of tires.

Nix gathered all the water she could handle. She raised a giant liquid wall between them and the truck.

“Will that hold?” Cal asked.

“Not likely,” Nix grunted. Basil flapped his wings in her face. She batted them back. “Knock it off, birdbrain.”

The truck impacted the barrier with a deafening bang. The noise was masked by the booms from the fireworks display. The truck’s cab veered off the road, then headed straight for a vacant building. The trailer skidded and curved, tipping over. At the moment before the cab’s impact, wind gusts cushioned the blow. Not enough to save the side of the building. The structure buckled, releasing a torrent of broken wood, flying glass, and crushed bricks. The trailer slid to a halt against the debris.

Zephyr appeared in a whirlwind behind Nix.

“Where is the beast Fury?” Nix shifted Basil. His claws were digging holes into her shoulders. He flew up and perched on a streetlamp.

“She won’t be bothering us anymore.” The front of Zephyr’s white shirt was soaked in oily gray liquid and chunky bits of flesh. Nix swallowed back bile. Gross.

She looked around, fearing the worst. “Where’s Devlin?”

“Look out!” Cal shouted. Too late.

The no longer blinded Fury scooped her up and ran off with her at super-human speed. Her arms were pinned behind her, the Fury crushing her hard against its rotting chest. The sharp blades cut painfully into her skin.

“Put me down!” Nix tugged her arms and kicked her legs, deepening the wounds. She didn’t care. Alone with the Fury, she would be dead.

The Fury stopped and pile drove Nix into the pavement of a vacant parking lot. Gravel and rocks gouged her back.

“Now, the seal shall be mine.” With a wrench, it snapped the chain holding Rocky’s soul. “It’s mine. The master will be so pleased.”

The Fury’s glee was short-lived. Blue flames erupted, torching the remainder of its clothes. A ring of orange fire rose up, surrounding the monster.

Cal jumped into the wall of flame, swallowed by its intense heat. Nix’s back ached and her legs were numb as she attempted to move. She knew Cal wouldn’t be burned to death, but he had no soul . . . if the Fury wounded him—

The Fury shrieked, “Give it back!”

Cal emerged, the chain clutched in his fist. The Fury followed close behind, but Cal was too fast and disappeared into the darkness.

The Fury spun around, trying to locate Cal. Defeated, she turned back to Nix. “I can still kill you.”

Blood ran into Nix’s eyes and poured out of the wounds along her arms. Her legs wouldn’t move. If she had a little more time, she would heal, but time was running out. Nix created a water shield.

The Fury punched into the shield, shredding it like paper. Nix used the remainder of her energy to avoid the bladed fingertips as they attempted to skewer her. Too weak, she couldn’t hold the shield any longer. It collapsed, leaving her defenseless.

Cal and Zephyr ran toward her. Even with their God powers, they wouldn’t make it in time. Blade-tipped fingers were headed straight for her neck, the ends dripping with poison. Poison, Nix was sure, that could kill even a God.

Basil screeched, landing between Nix and the Fury. The Fury stopped and assessed the bird. Determining Basil was no threat, it swung the blade at him.

“You’re going down!” Basil cackled.

Bright green light flared out. Spots danced across Nix’s eyes.

Basil was gone, replaced by a Basilisk—a sinuous cross between a snake and a chicken. Its serpentine lower body had scales, the same green as Basil’s feathers. The upper body was birdlike. His face had a small chicken beak and enormous swiveling eyes.

The Fury froze—terror written all over its face. Every creature feared the Basilisk. It could petrify anyone or anything with its gaze. Even Zeus.

“Nix, cover your eyes!” Cal shouted, an arm across his face. Zephyr assumed a similar stance. They both inched their way toward her.

“Have no fear, Basilisk Man is here!” Basil slithered over to the Fury as she furiously backed away. The former bird peeked over and winked at Nix, his gaze meeting hers.

Oh. Shit. She braced herself for oblivion. Nothing happened.

Cal and Zephyr reached her at the same moment. She gasped, her strength fading. “Basil can control who he petrifies. Toast the Fury . . . before it gets away.”

They didn’t wait to be told twice. Cal and Zephyr ran behind Basil as the basilisk herded the Fury down a dark alley.

More spots floated in front of Nix’s eyes. She needed to rest . . . just for a minute. In the distance, she heard some whimpers, a loud squish, then silence. Gravel crunched. Two sets of heavy footsteps approached. Wings flapped overhead.

She opened her eyes.

“This is yours.” Cal placed Rocky’s soul into her palm and closed her trembling fingers with his. The gentle curve of his smile and his earnest brown eyes made her body warm. Not with desire, but with love. And gratitude. He had listened and remembered. It mattered to him that Rocky’s soul was safe. She pushed past the pain in her back and wrapped her arms around Cal’s neck, hugging him tight. Gods she loved him. Loved him. The moment was bittersweet. They still hadn’t found Cal’s soul.

She was bone tired. Her heavy eyelids drifted down. Arms lifted her up. She was floating. Cal’s comforting wood smoke scent filled her lungs.

Basil flew overhead, back in parrot form, whistling, “Stars and Stripes Forever.” The sounds of mortals as they flooded the streets assaulted her ears.

Nix peeled her eyelids back open. They were headed back to the shop against the wave of the crowd. The knife wounds throbbed as her body healed.

“I look like a murder victim,” Nix said, burying her face against Cal’s neck. “What happened to Mary and Jason?” What a shitty boss she was. Only thinking of them now.

“They’re fine. The Fury was destroyed. Basil froze it, and they hacked it apart.”

“Good. What about Devlin?”

Cal’s lips curled into a sly smile. “So, starting to like the Satyr after all?”

Nix scowled and feebly pushed Cal’s chest. “He’s not so bad.”

“Devlin will recover. He’s survived worse. He’s tough—”

Cal clammed up, like he had revealed too much. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Cal just how well he knew Devlin when Zephyr interrupted.

“We’re almost there,” Zephyr called over his shoulder. “A few more blocks.” Zephyr ran interference, attempting to shield Nix and Cal from the oncoming crowd.

How far had the Fury taken her? Just when Nix thought she would never see Mystic Ink again, the storefront appeared. A welcome sight. First thing she wanted was to heal and then take a long, hot shower.

Her relief evaporated. Officer Dinsdale came into view, like the proverbial bad penny, and intercepted them. Cal passed Nix to Zephyr and deftly steered the patrolman around, ear close to the mortal’s, as if in an intimate conversation. Basil landed on Cal’s shoulder and spread out his wings, shielding Nix’s injuries from Dinsdale’s view. Nix was relieved that Basil was silent for once. No Officer Dickface tonight.

A light fog rose around Zephyr. “This should mask us until we get inside.”

Clouds of sulfuric smoke, left over from the fireworks, hung low in the air. Nix was grateful for the hazy cover as they slipped into the shop through the side alley door. Zephyr sat her on the back counter and tended to her wounds. Most of the surface abrasions and cuts had healed, but there was a lot of caked-on blood to clean up. The internal bruises would take a few hours longer to repair themselves.

“Well, I got you off the hook again.” Cal entered the break room, depositing Basil on the counter next to Nix. “Officer Dinsdale wasn’t surprised to see the damage to your shop. Or the eighteen-wheeler accident nearby. You are becoming quite a curiosity to him.”

Not a good thing, either. For the mortal. If he poked too closely, he would become a target for a memory wipe, courtesy of Nereus.

“I hope you dissuaded him,” Zephyr warned as he tossed all the bloody waste in the bin.

“Of course I did,” Cal said, his gaze fixed on Nix. Cal torched the bloody towels into ash. Since blood could be used in rituals against a God, it was always a good idea to be cautious.

“How did you explain the broken window?” Nix asked.

“I blamed it on some drunk asshole.”

“Did he buy it?” Nix hoped so.

“Absolutely,” Cal said, picking bits of gravel out of her hair.

Nix trailed a finger over one of Basil’s emerald green tail feathers. “Thanks, birdbrain.”

Basil ruffled his plumage and responded with an eerie John Wayne imitation, “T’was nothing. Just doing my job, Ma’am.” He amused himself with a roll of adhesive tape while they all studied him.

“Now I understand why Memphis insisted that I keep this guy.” Nix hopped off the counter and washed the remainder of her blue-tinged blood in the sink. Unlike the silvery blood of Demigods and Gods, the Nereids had blood the color of the ocean.

“We can ponder the mysteries of Basil at a later time. We need to get out of here.” Cal turned to Zephyr. “Devlin and Jason should stay with you for the next few days.”

Zephyr agreed. “Mary is welcome to join them. She has a rather nasty bump on the head.”

Curious, Nix thought. No more male posturing. As long as they didn’t break out into Kumbaya, she was okay with it. But still, she wondered what had changed between them.

“Mary has decided to stay with relatives who live in the area,” Cal said.

How come everyone knew more about her receptionist than she did? Nix frowned. When this was over, it was time to change that. She and Mary were having girl time.

“No need to worry, Nix. I’ll take good care of them.” Zephyr misinterpreted her frown. He squeezed her hand before moving toward the back door. He stopped and said to Cal, “Take care of her.”

“I will,” Cal reassured. When Zephyr was gone, he said, “We need to go upstairs and pack you a bag.”

“What’s this all about?” Nix put the brakes on as Cal tried to lead her up to the apartment.

“You and Basil are coming with me. It’s not safe for you here right now.” Cal marched up the stairs. “Come on, pack some stuff.”

Basil squawked in delight, “Road trip!”

“How come I don’t get any say in all this?” Nix followed behind Cal, her aching muscles protesting with every step. She caught up with him in her bedroom. He went right to her closet and retrieved her overnight bag as if he had done it a million times before. She blocked his way when he tried to open the bureau’s top drawer.

“Would you rather stay with Zephyr instead?” Cal’s low voice rumbled by her ear as his arms reached around her and opened the drawer. Anger hung in the air as he pulled out a pile of T-shirts. Cal precisely folded the garments and neatly placed them in the bag.

She needed to tread carefully. If she said yes, he would be hurt. Except, she didn’t want to be with Zephyr. “No. I just don’t like everyone else making decisions for me. It’s too much like my day job.”

Cal’s anger diffused with a slow exhale of breath. He stopped and faced her. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He resumed packing and zipped the bag. “Please, stay with me.” Not a demand this time.

Nix’s heart raced as the request sank in. She had no idea where Cal lived. Hopefully, it wasn’t in a dark storeroom like Devlin. In any case, Cal’s offer to shelter her was above and beyond the call of duty. Yes, they needed each other, but he didn’t have to risk his life to keep the bad guys off her tail. Or put up with Basil’s big mouth.

“Thank you. I accept.” And it would be an opportunity to find out what he knew about her.

“Let’s go.” Cal hoisted the bag and headed to the living room.

Nix packed a travel bag for Basil, then hauled him up to her shoulder. Before they left the apartment, she stopped at the hall closet. “I want his travel cage. This is the one Memphis bought. We can study it at your place.”

They were halfway down the stairs when Nix stopped. “Wait.” She trudged back up the steps. “Let’s take Memphis’ old design books, too.” And she had one more item to retrieve, something she didn’t dare leave behind.

Five minutes later, they were on the road to Groton, headed to Cal’s temporary residence—a luxury condo, overlooking the Long Island Sound, courtesy of the Delian League.

Basil whistled, “Wowee!” as they entered the foyer.

The place was swank. Ultra-modern, filled with sleek furniture, gleaming fixtures, and granite and marble surfaces—a far cry from the creaky wooden floorboards, painted-shut windows, and mismatched furniture in her place.

On the left of the foyer was a formal living room. Front and center, a two-sided fireplace visually separated the living room from the kitchen. Cal headed to the right of the foyer and opened a smooth white door. “This is the guest room. There’s a private bath to the left.” He deposited her bag on the bed and placed Basil’s cage on the floor by the bathroom door.

“Are you hungry?” Cal said, while she let Basil out of the cage.

“Famished.” Nix’s stomach let out a loud howl.

“Come on then. You, too, Basil,” he said, scooping the bird up and placing him on his shoulder.

As she followed Cal back through the living room and into the kitchen, she marveled at the richness of the place. The kitchen was a wonderland of stainless steel, shiny black granite, and richly grained wood cabinets. The oven was big enough to cook a whole cow. Past the kitchen was another smaller living room with a large, flat panel TV. Beyond that was a stunning view of the ocean.

She had forgotten that most of her kind enjoyed a luxurious standard of living—only high end and only the best. A lifestyle she could partake in at any time with a single phone call to her parents. Cal seemed indifferent to the place. But then again, it wasn’t his.

“Do you have a place of your own?” Nix blurted out. She instantly regretted it as Cal’s face tightened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

His face softened. “We’re beyond that now, Nix.” He didn’t elaborate further. Instead, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs, cheese, vegetables, and butter. “How about omelets? The sun will be up in a few hours anyway.”

“Sure. We can be ahead of the game.” Nix pulled out a barstool and sat at the vast kitchen island and watched him cook. Each movement was precise and economical. The eggs were tapped and cracked in one swift motion. Not a single drop of egg was dripped on the counter. The eggs were then beaten with a steady rhythm to a perfect, frothy yellow. He measured the butter in even squares, then melted them in a singular swirling motion in the frying pan. And at the right moment, he filled the omelet with cheese and neatly chopped vegetables before flipping it perfectly.

“I’m guessing you’ve done this before?” Nix couldn’t take her eyes off him. She was hungry for more than food. The fluid movements of his body were like a dance. The muscles in his forearms bunched and flexed as he moved the pan over the heat.

“I’ve done this a few times.” Again, the dark look. Or more accurately, sadness. More than anything, Nix wanted to walk up to him and wrap her arms around his waist and . . .

Comfort him? Her arms tingled with the sensation of their last embrace. A memory surfaced—the night at the beach house—he had asked her to choose him. At the time she didn’t understand where the sentiment had come from. She believed that they hadn’t really known each other, but now . . .

The television clicked on, sound clips punctuated the air, changing as the channels rapidly flipped.

Nix tore her gaze away from Cal. Basil was settled on the back of the leather sofa in the sitting room, TV remote next to his foot. He tapped the buttons with the tip of his claw.

That little shit. All this time, she’d been blaming Jason, but it looked like Basil was perfectly capable of learning bad habits on his own. What else was he up to when she wasn’t in the apartment? Maybe she should teach him how to clean his own cage.

Her eyes landed on a white box next to the couch. The kind file folders or copy paper could be stored in. The Delian League symbol and the word “Archive” were stamped across the box’s side. Piled on the glass coffee table were manila folders and a pad of paper. Were those Destroyer files?

“Hey, order’s up.” Cal slid a plate over to her. He didn’t sit down and join her until he saw her eat a few bites. During the entire meal, her attention was divided by the desire to go through the folders and wanting to ask Cal about that night on the beach.

In the end, she did neither. She offered to wash the dishes and was flatly denied. Not satisfied with doing nothing, Nix pulled out Memphis’ design books. She strategically placed them on the glass coffee table, next to the Destroyer files. While Cal had his back turned, she opened the design books and then started sorting through the Destroyer files looking for hers. It didn’t take her long to realize that hers wasn’t there. Gods be damned.

Standing up, she casually stretched her arms and back while scanning the room. After a quick search, she saw an office next to the sitting room. Clear as day, there was another manila folder. That had to be hers. All her trusted instincts told her so. Now to get over there without Cal noticing . . .

“All cleaned up.” Cal sat on the couch next to Basil and grabbed a book. “Shall we each take one?”

She would just have to be a little more patient. Maybe Cal, after a big meal, would nod off like every male she had ever met. Her patience was rewarded about a half hour later.

After a fit of long, jaw-stretching yawns, Cal was finally asleep, chin resting against his chest. The moment she’d been waiting for. Sure, she was just as exhausted, but she might never get another chance.

She eased off the couch, careful not to jostle Cal, and headed into the office. Basil had fallen asleep as well. Good thing. She didn’t need his big mouth blowing her plans.

Karma.

What goes around comes around.

Be careful what you wish for.

All these maxims floated around in Nix’s head before she flopped open the manila folder, her name on the tab in bold, black ink. Did she really want to know what was inside?

Hell, yeah. Even if the truth was more horrible than expected, at least she would know what she had done.

The first few pages were anti-climactic—all information she already knew: birth date, birth place, war camp evaluations. Sweet Jesus! Nereus had even catalogued her disastrous relationship with Nate Adonis. She rifled past that page, skipping the details, some of which were still embarrassingly fresh.

After a few more pages, she hit pay dirt. A blue document marked “Confidential—Need to Know” rose to the top of the file. It only took her a half an hour to read the information. With trembling fingers, she placed the folder back where she found it and headed to the balcony.

Whoever had said ignorance is bliss was right.

Cal woke up to a hot breeze flowing down his stiff neck. He had only meant to close his eyes for a moment. So much for that. He stretched, popping his spine. Basil was asleep on the arm of the sofa, head tucked under his wing. Hard to believe the noisy bird was one of the most dangerous creatures in existence.

Another warm wind raced across the room. He could have sworn the balcony doors were closed before. He should shut them before Basil took off. Nix would kill him . . .

He paused. Nix was slumped in a deck chair, arms folded tight across her chest. Her face was hard, the corners of her mouth turned down in a frown.

“Hey,” he said. She remained silent as he sat on the end of the chaise lounge. “What’s doing?”

The silence stretched out for another minute or two. Nix uncrossed her arms, her eyes bright and shiny with unshed tears. “I read my file.”

Fuck. Now he wished he had read it instead of waiting. “Nix  . . . why?”

She shrugged and wiped her nose. “I had to. I hated not knowing. I feel so used all the time.”

“And what did you learn?” He kept his voice as even as he could. She must know they worked the Pannis mission together. That had to have been in the notes.

“Lots.” She sniffed. “I’m a killer, a whore, a sneak, a liar.” She turned her head away from him. When she looked back, her eyes glinted like sharp steel. “Oh, and I’m the Final Arbiter.”

Cal’s eyes popped wide. That was unexpected. Even on the Pannis mission, he hadn’t seen that side of her. But they weren’t together the whole time. In the end, she had dealt with the Satyr warlord alone while Cal had rescued the stolen females.

“Did you know?” Her voice turned to ice.

“No. I haven’t read your file.”

“I’m tired of being lied to,” she barked. “I’ve always known that the Destroyers were used for a variety of tasks. But it never had any meaning to me since I could never recall the details. It was like it was happening to someone else.”

When she didn’t mention his role, Cal realized that she still didn’t know they had been lovers. Of course, what had he expected? Their affair had been a secret between them. Nereus never knew. No one did, except Nix and Cal.

“And I don’t even know what to think of the Final Arbiter. I have read all the details of the things I’ve done. The criminals, who had to be stopped lest innocents died . . . but I have no memory of any of it. I can’t feel pride, or even shame.”

“I’m sorry.” And he was. At least he had to own and live with all his decisions, and past actions.

“Nereus owes me an explanation. Why did he choose me?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.”

Nix looked skeptical. She turned her head away.

Cal leaned in and tilted her face to look at him. “By the blood of my father, I swear I didn’t know.” And that was the Gods honest truth. Time to get with the program and find out what was in her file.

Chapter 16

Cal closed Nix’s folder and rubbed his eyes. He needed to speak with her. She had been so quiet in the guest room, maybe she had fallen asleep. She needed the rest. He’d wait. He tossed the folder on the coffee table. Basil stretched his wings, then rose up and headed toward the slider. Cal let the creature out and turned around to find Ares standing in his living room.

Ah, Gods. This was the last thing he needed right now.

“Son. I know you blame me for what happened to your mother.”

And Ares had to go there now, when he had so much other shit to deal with.

Cal didn’t say anything. He refused to even look at Ares’ face. He didn’t want to see the sadness that matched his father’s deep voice. Cal didn’t want to consider the possibility that Ares was telling the truth—that he really had loved Cal’s mother. Growing up, it had been easy to hate his father.

In the beginning, as a child, Cal only knew his father from a few brief visits a year. The man was a virtual stranger. Often, when his father did show up, he closeted himself with Cal’s mother. Cal was shooed outside to play. Later, Cal grew to resent the man for not doing anything to make their lives easier. They lived in a crude log cabin, the floor dirty, the windows either shuttered in the winter or covered in oilskin in the summer.

Cal did his best to help his mother. He hunted, tended their crops, and even helped birth his baby sister in the middle of a snowstorm. Grace had a mop of golden curls, crystal blue eyes, and a smile that melted his heart. Cal adored her. Grace was a bright light for him and his mother. Even his father caved into Grace’s every whim. When he was around.

Grace disappeared when Cal was thirteen, kidnapped by Indians. His father returned, enraged at the loss, but even he couldn’t bring her back. Cal blamed himself—he was man of the house and should have been there to protect her. He held his father responsible, too. The man was never around. Grace’s loss affected his mother deeply. Some of her sparkle, the light in her eyes, dimmed, never to return.

Cal had never really gotten over his boyhood guilt. Except he wasn’t a boy anymore. He hadn’t been for over four hundred years. Since then, he had learned that Ares had stayed away to protect Cal and his mother. The love between Ares and Cal’s mother had been forbidden. Zeus, in a final attempt to assert his dominance on his fellow Gods, had forbidden any liaisons with mortals. Zeus had been unable to procreate with mortals for close to a thousand years and had grown jealous of the others’ abilities to have children.

What a douche. Cal was glad Zeus was gone.

“Cal?” Ares touched his shoulder. Cal stiffened.

“Father, do we really have to discuss this right now?” Cal didn’t want to think about how his mother died. He just couldn’t think about it.

“Yes.” Ares studied the box of files on the coffee table, but didn’t touch them or appear interested in reading further. Which was a good thing. Cal didn’t want to have to fight Ares over Delian League business. Ares may have lost some of his potency when Zeus left, but he was still a full-blooded God and could mop the floor with Cal if he wanted to.

“Why?” Annoyance colored Cal’s voice. He didn’t care if Ares was offended.

“I think you’re right. It was my fault. All of it.”

Cal’s head whipped around, his jaw slack with disbelief. What new game was his father playing?

“I can see you don’t believe me.” Ares sat on the couch. The leather creaked and groaned under his weight. “Your mother’s been on my mind lately. A lot. I think it’s that lovely water pistol you’ve been hanging out with.”

“Nix is my assignment.” No way was Cal discussing his true feelings for Nix. He didn’t know what was behind his father’s sudden bout of conscience, but he wasn’t letting his guard down. No. Cal knew Ares too well. A slip of the tongue today, a sign of weakness, and it could be used later against him. Or Nix, the next time Ares felt like stirring the shit pot.

Ares waved away the comment. “The Nereid’s spunk reminds me so much of your mother. Sarah was feisty, too. The first time we ever met, your mother stabbed me in the thigh.”

Cal wasn’t surprised. Ares was a jerk. He probably deserved it.

“And you’re right, I did deserve it. I can see your thoughts on your face.” Ares sighed. “Sarah fascinated me. I couldn’t get her out of my mind.”

“Father, I don’t understand why you’re telling me all this.” Cal resisted the urge to check the time. He had work to do. And Gods knew what Nix would do if she woke up and found Ares in Cal’s condo.

“Right, places to go, people to see. I get it.” Ares leaned forward, his golden eyes locked onto Cal’s face. “I should have done more to protect her. I should have forced Godhood on her. Especially after Grace. She was never the same after that.”

Cal hated that he felt pity for Ares. He really did. Except, Cal’s mother had had a stubborn streak a mile long. It wouldn’t have surprised him to learn that she refused Ares’ help either. He also remembered how much he had loved his sister Grace. How much it had hurt when she was taken. His mother had truly suffered.

Sadness tinged Ares’ voice. “Every once in a while I trade favors with Hades. Do you know what I pick?”

Cal could guess. A tight lump closed his throat. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear Ares say it out loud.

“I visit Grace and Sarah.” Ares stood and went over to the window overlooking the water. “They’re okay. Happy together in the afterlife.”

Yet, Cal noted, that didn’t seem to bring Ares comfort. “Mother’s death was avenged.”

“Yes. You did me proud that day.” Ares, his back ramrod straight, didn’t turn around.

“The bastards got what they deserved.” And then some. When Cal had returned from a trip trading animal hides and fur so they could buy seed for spring planting, he found the cabin ransacked. The little furniture they owned was broken. The dirt floor smeared with blood, so much blood he used it to track his mother. He found her battered and raped body by the brook that ran a half mile away from the cabin. She was barely alive.

Cal had gathered her up and carried her home. He tended to her wounds and prayed that God would save her. As she lay dying, Sarah told Cal the truth. At first he refused to believe her. Then Ares showed up. The man magically appeared in the cabin. He was a God, but not the God Cal had been praying to.

Startled and unbelieving, Cal shot Ares in the chest. Ares healed himself and cleaned up the mess in the cabin, repairing the furniture, removing the blood. Yet Cal still refused to believe him.

“If you are a God, save her,” Cal had pleaded, desperate for his mother to live.

Ares looked pained. “She has refused my offer.”

Cal knelt down by his mother’s side. Dark purple bruises and red abrasions were the only color on her face. “Mother, please . . . I don’t understand. Why won’t you accept his help?”

“Cal, my darling son. It’s true. All of it.” There was none of the usual strength in her voice. “You have a greater destiny. Your path is with Ares.”

“No, Mother. I belong with you.” Cal fought back tears. All the anger diffused. She was dying. “Take his help. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Cal, listen to me.” She held out her hand to him. He quickly clasped it, scared by the coldness already infecting her limbs. “Be who you were meant to be. I know you are a warrior, but there is great kindness in you, too.”

Her grasp weakened. Her eyes clouded.

“Ares, help her!” Cal begged.

A strong hand landed on his shoulder. Heat coursed through Cal’s veins. Fire. Uncontrollable flame swept into his blood as if calling to him. “I cannot make her live, Cal. I will be there for you when you are ready.”

Ares had left Cal alone as his mother expelled her last breath with a gentle sigh. When she was gone, Cal howled in agony and sobbed. Then, he vowed revenge. Anger mixed with hate. An unquenchable blood lust rose from his marrow. He came into his Godhood, right then and there: the power of fire at his command, new strength in his body, and heightened senses.

Cal kissed his mother’s cold lips. He snipped a lock of her hair, pocketed her tiny silver cross, and tucked Grace’s favorite toy into a pack. Without looking back, he unleashed his fury. The fire rampaged and poured into the log cabin. It danced along the wood beams, spread along the roof, then greedily consumed everything in its path. His mother’s remains had been purified in the fire. In a few short moments, an inferno took hold, devouring the only home Cal had ever known.

That evening, he left the woods of Virginia in search of his mother’s killers. It didn’t take long to find them. There were five of them, sitting around a fire. When he heard them boasting about his mother, how she had fought them like a wildcat, he felt a flicker of pride for her. Now her attackers would die slowly and painfully.

They had no idea, at first, what had hit them. Cal tested the limitations of his power that night. He learned how easily the flame could consume anything in its path and how it could be harnessed to inflict maximum pain and suffering.

When the killing was over, Cal stood over their charred remains, depleted and weak.

Ares appeared. “You’ve done me proud, boy. It’s time for you to join with your brothers and sisters.”

Cal closed his eyes. Of course, his mother wouldn’t have been Ares’ only conquest. Funny how it had never crossed his mind. Not that it mattered. “I’m not going with you.”

“You must. How else will you learn what you need to know to survive in the world? As my son, you must learn to control the fire so it doesn’t consume you. You will want to make war and cause death. You will need to learn to manage those desires. Channel them appropriately.”

Cal almost laughed in Ares’ face. “Fuck you.” He hated the tall, beautiful man standing before him, refusing to believe that Ares couldn’t save his mother.

Cal declined to join with his father that day. But Ares was stubborn and hammered away at Cal’s resolve. Eventually, the compromise was war camp—a neutral place for Cal to learn what he needed to for survival’s sake. In time, curiosity ate away at Cal. He wanted to know about his extended family, after being without kin for so long. For a brief time, he joined Ares and received a brutal lesson in how he didn’t want to live his father’s life.

Cal shook off the memories of the past. In many ways, his mother’s death was as raw now as the day it had happened. “I blamed you for a long time.”

“I know. I blame myself. I should have kept better watch over her.” Ares left the window and stood in front of Cal. “I truly did love her.”

“Why did she want to die?” Cal voiced the insecurity that had plagued him for so long. That somehow it was his fault. That his mother thought he was a monster.

“Stop that, Cal.” Ares gripped Cal’s shoulders hard. “Your mother loved you more than anything.”

“But not enough to stay with me.” Cal fought to unleash Ares’ hands. He hated feeling like a helpless child. “Damn you for digging this up!”

Fire erupted from Cal’s fists and landed benignly, unable to harm his father.

“No. That wasn’t it, Cal. She was already dying. She had cancer. And she was weary of her life. I know she seemed eternally young to you, but she was almost eighty years old when she died.”

The revelation was a kick in the balls. “I don’t understand.” Whenever Cal remembered his mother, she was young and vibrant.

“An illusion created for you. She wanted to stay alive as long as she could for you. She understood that time would pass differently for you than for mortals. That is why you always lived so far from others. The isolation was by design. She didn’t want you to worry about her age.”

“I never knew.” And he had never considered the passage of time. Nor ever questioned why his mother never went more than a mile from the cabin. “The house was protected.”

“Yes. And as long as your mother stayed within that border of protection, she aged more slowly.”

Another realization struck Cal. “Grace. She wasn’t kidnapped, was she?”

“No. We realized that she would start to appear older than you, so we made up the story—”

Cal slammed his fist into Ares’ face. “You bastard! All this time, I blamed myself for her kidnapping. Why didn’t you tell me the truth the day Mother died?”

Ares nursed his jaw. “You had enough to deal with. And you haven’t exactly wanted to speak with me much over that last couple hundred years.”

“Tell me she lived a happy life.” Cal hoped she had. Grace deserved that much.

“Yes. I made sure of it. She met a good man, had children, knew her grandchildren. Lived well.” Ares grew quiet.

Cal’s thoughts turned back to that dark day. Coldness chilled his bones. “How did those men get to my mother?”

Storm clouds crossed Ares face. Anger creased his forehead. “I have many enemies, Cal. Someone betrayed me. In all this time, I have not been able to learn who it was. But when I do, they will pay.” Ares pinned him with a dark gaze. “And you can join me.”

Cal ignored the invitation, his mind trapped at his mother’s final moments. “How could you stand to see her suffer in the end?” It wasn’t a fair question, but Cal didn’t care.

“Sometimes we have to let the things we love go. I loved her and respected the hell out of her. Too much to force her to stay alive for me or for you.” Ares pulled Cal into a strong hug. “She understood so much more about life than we immortals ever will.”

The shock of Ares’ embrace stunned Cal. The only touch he had ever received from Ares had been from the end of his fists as he taught his children to be warriors. Still wary of Ares’ intentions, yet torn, Cal savored the moment and thought about Nix.

What would his mother have said about her? Let her go? Or fight to the end for the one you loved?

Nix sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room, the Destroyer’s Mantle unfurled across her lap while her head swirled with information and images. If only she could purge them. But you couldn’t un-ring a bell. What was done, was done.

Most of the revelations weren’t a surprise. Not really. If she were being honest with herself. On some level, she knew the Destroyer’s job. There was a difference between hearing about something and actually knowing it firsthand. Except, she didn’t have true knowledge, did she?

Are you going to let me help you now?

Nix gripped the Mantle. It was back. The voice. She had almost forgotten about it.

“Go away.” Oh Gods, she was crazy. She couldn’t deny it anymore. Voices in her head, talking to herself . . .

You’re not crazy. I’m really here. Look down.

“What the hell. Might as well go all the way.” Nix lifted the cape off her lap and examined the floor. Nothing. Of course.

Not the floor, your lap.

Nix raised the Mantle, eyeing it. No way. Could it be  . . . alive? She flung the cape to the floor.

You bet, sister. No need to toss me around.

“I don’t understand. What are you?” Nix scooped the cloth up with her forefinger and thumb and placed it on the bed. “And why didn’t I know about you before?”

We’re prohibited from interfering.

“So why are you starting now?” Nix was exhausted. Sleep had eluded her. She yawned hard, her jaw clicking. “And who is we?”

If you merge minds with me, I can show you.

Nix stopped mid-yawn. From their earliest days of training, there was one guideline above all others—Do not open your mind to the Mantle’s power. The power, they were told, would consume the mind of the wearer. In fact, part of Nereus’ justification for the mind wipe was to limit their exposure to the cloak’s power.

“Why should I trust you not to take over my mind?”

I want to be free. A wave of sadness rode into her head. She could understand that sentiment. Maybe she was overtired or just fed up with all the lies, but she didn’t care. Cal’s life was in the balance.

“Okay, let’s do this.” Nix donned the Mantle and opened her mind completely to its power and—

Held on for dear life. Vivid images flooded her senses. The bitter smell of smoke, burning acid or plastic. A thousand tiny stings pricked her skin and made it burn. Vertigo twisted her mind. Her stomach rose to her throat, then dropped suddenly. A high-pitched alarm whined in the background.

Then impact. Darkness. Pain. Capture.

Realization slammed into Nix. The cloak wasn’t a sentient object, it was a separate being. “How did you get this way?”

Images of stars filled her mind’s eye. Another galaxy.

“Aliens?”

Yes. Long ago, we were explorers. Observers. We came to this place merely to watch the life. Our ship crashed and we were captured and brought to a great and terrible being. He harnessed thunder and lightning. He enslaved us, made us weapons.

For the first time, ever, Nix was fully aware of how the Mantle operated. It formed to her skin, a full body suit of indestructible armor. While in Destroyer mode, the wearer followed the mission and used the suit to accomplish the task. With her mind opened and free, she realized the truth.

“The Mantle. It’s made out of your skin.”

Sorrow, anger, desperation, all competed for airtime in her skull. Yes, Zeus did not bargain in good faith. He promised to set us free to return home, if we shared our knowledge. We were ignorant of the rules of the game and didn’t see the pitfall until too late. Our skin was taken for its strength; our minds for their control and vast knowledge. Souls were bound to the skin, the rest of our bodies discarded.

Damn Zeus. How cruel. Nix had a ringside seat to the creature’s memories. The violation, the trauma of being skinned and trapped.

It has not been all bad. We work with the Destroyers to help others.

“If you call murder and destruction helpful.” Bitterness threatened to choke her.

The alien added, his voice optimistic, when we are not on duty, Nereus lets us mingle in a mainframe.

Okay, that didn’t help make the situation any less horrifying. The only time they were free was to witness death or mayhem and then in their downtime, they got to hang out in a server somewhere. “My father knows you are in the cloaks?” More lies from him. Not a surprise. “Is there any way to reverse this?”

Not for me. But there are others of our kinds trapped in stasis. It would be nice to be allowed to interact with our hosts. It gets boring being folded up.

“I bet.” Nix’s breath caught hold. “Do you have my memories?” If she could get them back, maybe she could find out what she was doing the night Cal’s soul was taken. What mission was she on? Was it good, or something sinister? “Did I take Cal’s soul?”

No, you did not. But your memories—

Nix cried out as their minds were torn apart. Bright light momentarily blinded her, then was blocked by Cal’s hulking form.

“What the fuck? Are you trying to destroy your mind?”

Busted.

Chapter 17

“Are you going to tell Nereus?” Nix stared down at her feet.

Cal didn’t know if he should hug her or shake her. He should turn her in, but he wouldn’t. “Of course not. But I want an explanation. Merging your mind with the Mantle. What were you thinking?”

Nix stood, her head tilted up toward his face. “I was trying to save you.”

Cal dropped the Mantle on the floor and pulled Nix tight against his chest. Words escaped him. “That was too great a risk. We’re partners in this, remember?”

“Yes. And I will do whatever I have to,” Nix said, tone defiant. “Besides, no harm was done.”

“You were lucky. Next time, let’s talk first.” Cal felt Nix tense in his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you think of me now, after reading my file?” Nix burrowed deeper against his chest, as if afraid to face him. “How can you stand to be so close to such a cold-blooded monster?”

“Stop that. Nothing has changed. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” The words came out short, clipped. Too angry. He took a deep breath and softened his tone. “You’re a warrior. A soldier. A defender of the innocent. I am proud to stand by your side.”

She pulled back, holding him at arm’s length, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “But Cal, my gut tells me I had something to do with your soul. I may not have taken it, but I could be an accessory.”

Cal cupped her chin, tilting her head to face him. “I don’t care.” His soul was hers to take and keep. Gods grant him the strength to tell her the truth. “Nix, did you notice we had a mission together?”

“Yes. Pannis.” Breaking away, she picked up the Mantle and smoothed it across the bed. “That’s the mission where I ended up with a jar of Satyr gonads in my uncle’s fridge.”

Christ, that wasn’t all she took away from that mission. “Did you read the other details?”

Nix closed the distance between them. “About my sister? Yes. Although the file never said which one it was, I think I know.”

Cal wanted to pull his hair out by the roots. He was acting like an idiot. Reading the file wouldn’t have magically granted her memories back. He squared his shoulders. It was now or never. Time to come clean and just tell her the truth. But not so close to a bed. Gods, that was tempting all by itself.

“Come on, I need to tell you something.” Taking Nix by the hand, he led her into the kitchen. She leaned against the granite island, waiting, her pale skin like spilled cream against the black backdrop.

After a moment of pacing, he faced her. “Pannis wasn’t the only one who lost something to you.”

Nix blanched and clutched her stomach. “Oh God. I didn’t castrate you, too, did I?” What little color she had in her face drained away.

Cal shuddered, his balls shriveling at the thought. He smoothed his hands down Nix’s arms. “No. I’m all good.” His cock hardened and jerked in his pants as if ready to prove the point.

“What did you lose?” she whispered.

“My heart. To you.”

Nix’s mouth formed a small O. He didn’t wait for her to respond. He kissed her. Her lips, a perfect rosebud, pale pink and petal soft, were exactly as he remembered. Sweet, warm, all his. The only problem—the heat seemed to be all one-sided. Reluctantly, he stopped.

Fingers to her lips, Nix stared at him thoughtfully, as if seeing him for the first time. “It’s you.” She choked back tears. “You’re the reason why I wake up crying.”

Well didn’t that make him feel like a complete shit? “I’m sorry. I never meant for us to be apart, but Nereus wiped your mind before I could say anything and—”

“You knew. All this time.” She backed away, frowning, betrayal written all over her face. “Why didn’t you find me and tell me the truth?”

“Nix, by the time I found you again,”—Cal struggled, his emotions out of control—“You had moved on.”

“To Nate fucking Adonis!” She threw her hands up, then tightened them into fists by her side.

“You seemed happy. I didn’t want to interfere. Besides, all I had was my word. Would you have believed me?”

Nix stalked into the family room, stopping at the coffee table covered in scattered folders. “What shocks me the most is how we kept this a secret from my all-knowing father.”

“Contrary to popular belief, your father is not omniscient.” Cal joined Nix beside the couch. “We were very discreet.”

A range of emotions played across Nix’s face. Her body was rigid with anger, while her face had softened, frown lines less pronounced. “I don’t know what to say or do right now.” She looked longingly at the water outside his windows.

“It’s too dangerous for you to leave. The water is the first place the Furies will look for you.” Cal backed away, finally settling against the kitchen island. “I can leave if you want, for a few hours.”

Nix shot him a dark look. She didn’t appear to like that option. “No. Don’t go.”

Wariness filled Cal. The emotional roller coaster ride was taking its toll. If something didn’t change soon, he would snap. Nix approached him like a skittish fawn, tentative. Her hands by her sides. She stopped in front of him.

What she thought about him mattered. It always had. Nix raised her hand to touch his face. He braced himself, the hard granite digging into the edge of his ass. She hesitated.

He gripped her wrist. “Go ahead. Touch me. Hit me. Whatever makes you feel better.” Anything. As long as she didn’t shut him out. He closed his eyes as her fingers trailed lightly across his jaw. He didn’t move a muscle when she leaned into him, tiptoed, and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

Tentatively, she deepened the kiss, her arms wrapped around his waist. Her body molded into his. Her lips crushed against his, greedy, hungry, passionate. The effect on him was instant. His body hardened, ready to take her.

Cal pulled back and asked, “Nix. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“This means more to me than to you.” Gods, he wished Nix could remember their love, but he would take what he could get.

Nix’s beautiful blue gaze fixed onto him. “Cal, I’m sorry I can’t remember before. But I know you now. You are the male I want. You matter to me.”

Her arms snaked around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair. When her lips captured his, his control snapped. To equalize their heights, Cal lifted Nix, without breaking the kiss, onto the granite island.

She moaned, the same sweet sound he remembered. When she split her legs wider for him, he wedged his torso between them, snug inside her warmth. She ran her hands under the back of his T-shirt, the sharp tips of her nails raking his back. Her tongue tangled with his, sweet and salty like taffy, melting in his mouth. A warning went off in the back of his mind. He should slow down. For her this was all physical. Did he want to reopen already sore wounds?

That concern flew out the window when Nix reached down the front of his jeans and stroked the tip of his erection. With a single motion, his hands were over the mounds of her breasts, unencumbered by a bra. The only thing separating him from her was her T-shirt. She arched her spine. Her nipples tightened into tight, little beads, beckoning his mouth.

He broke the kiss and trailed his tongue down the hollow of her throat. Nix heaved her shirt over her head. She was gorgeous. Perfect breasts, flawless skin, the pink hue of seashell. All as he remembered, only more beautiful.

“Nix . . .” he croaked out as he breathed in the fragrance of her skin. Like fresh air, sunshine, the salt of the surf. “I thought I would never be able to touch you again.”

She remained silent, her hooded eyes capturing his. With slow deliberation, Nix leaned back onto the island, her hand held out. “Make love to me, Cal. Help me remember.”

Cal walked to the end of the island, grabbed Nix’s ankles and pulled her forward, his arms supporting her legs. “Oh, I’m going to love you. Every inch. Starting right here . . .”

Nix’s heart hammered against her chest as Cal unzipped her jeans. They were off in a matter of moments. His mouth—

Oh God! So hot against her core, already throbbing with need. And yes, she needed him. As soon as she stopped fighting their mutual attraction, her mind and body were in sync with what she’d suspected all along. He was important to her because she had loved him.

Cal sucked and licked, adding pressure then, taking it away. Driving her crazy. She raised her hips, greedy for more. She had to have him inside her before—

She exploded. Her orgasm came hard and fast. Spots danced before her eyes, while her blood sizzled. When her sight returned, Cal’s eyes flashed from her sex to her face. He looked like a hungry tiger.

“I’m not through with you yet,” he said, his voice low and throaty. Placing his hand on the island, he channeled his power into the granite, warming it up. The two-sided fireplace flared to life. Cal grasped her hips and positioned her until she was at the lip of the island.

She reached forward and tugged at his T-shirt, which he promptly pulled overhead and tossed to the floor. Her eyes feasted on chiseled muscles that begged to be touched and licked. Especially, the tight ridges of his stomach and the trail of hair that led to where his jeans . . . She frowned. The pants had to go. When she leaned forward to touch him, he laid her back down.

“Not yet, love. If you touch me now, I won’t last.” The fire’s light caught the angles of his face, softening his features. His eyes echoed the warm hues of the flames. With slow deliberation, he ran his palms down her stomach in slow circles. He nipped the skin on the inside of her thighs, then blew his warm breath on her inner folds. She shivered with anticipation, feeling herself dampen.

His fingers plunged inside her. She cried out his name, lost in the exquisite sensation. Another orgasm raced ahead, taking over, until her whole world was pleasure. Her back arched up and off the table as her hips rode the rhythm of his strokes. The release—electric, explosive, so sweet—drove the breath from her lungs. Suddenly, she was floating in Cal’s arms, drifting on the warm cloud of his body, moving off the countertop. The motion stopped. A cool softness touched her back. She opened her eyes to Cal’s warm smile as he lay alongside her on his bed. Somewhere along the line, all his clothes had disappeared.

“I love you, Nix.” He kissed her, his lips tender, his pace slower. She gave herself over to him, trusting his love.

Nix rolled onto Cal’s body, straddling his hips. She kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his chin, and his throat. When he went to touch her hot wetness, she moved back and grasped his erection. His eyes rolled back as she worked his shaft. His palms traveled to her knees and gently stroked her skin.

“Cal.” While he watched, she raised his penis, slid him under her and sat straight down, taking him all in. She rocked her hips, not waiting for her body to adjust to his size. The friction was a sweet combination of pleasure and pain.

As she gave herself over to the sensation, she threw her head back, blissful. This moment was real. It couldn’t be erased or taken away. She was going to be free . . . She cried out, coming again. And again, until they were both spent.

She collapsed on Cal’s broad chest. The scent of wood smoke filled her nose, the slick feel of his sweat damp against her face. Joy filled her heart as Cal embraced her, snuggling her against his body.

She vowed to fight to the bitter end to keep him safe. Even if it meant defying her father, and her duty.

“Rise and shine!”

Nix cracked an eye open. “Basil, go away.” This was not how she wanted to be woken up. By a big mouthed bird. She burrowed deeper into Cal’s side, pulling the covers around her chin.

“Out of bed, sleepy heads!” The parrot flapped his wings from his perch on the headboard, took flight, and landed at the foot of the bed.

Cal groaned, his arms tightening around her waist. That wasn’t the only thing waking up. A warm hardness pressed along her naked backside.

Basil dug his clawed feet into the sheets, pinching Nix’s ankles. “Time’s a wasting, Mateys. Got to sail on the tide.”

Fire streaked past Basil’s port side, singeing his wing feathers. He got the hint and flew off, leaving a trail of sailor curses in his wake.

Nix sighed. The damned basilisk was right. Time was wasting away, and she knew exactly where they should head to first. Nix eased the sheets back and tried to slip out of bed. A hard arm encircled her waist and pulled her back under the warm covers.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cal rumbled into her ear. His lips nibbled the base of her neck.

“To take a shower,” Nix said, relaxing against Cal’s firm body. His hands trailed down her hips, and smoothed across her stomach. When his fingers sank lower, she split her legs open, craving his touch.

“Want company?” he breathed into her skin.

“Love some.”

After a long, hot shower and two more bouts of lovemaking, they finally started to get dressed. Nix hunted around the room for her clothes. She found her underwear by the kitchen island. When she stood up, she caught a glimpse of Cal shrugging on his jeans. On his left buttock, he had the same Umbra tattoo as Devlin. Weird, she hadn’t noticed it before. She must have been too distracted.

“Cal,” she called out to him.

“Yeah.” He zipped up his jeans and joined her in the kitchen, T-shirt in hand. “What’s up?”

Nix ran her greedy eyes over his bare chest. Even though her body was slightly sore and well used, she could have gone for another round. She licked her lips instead. “Put your shirt on, please. You’re distracting me.”

Cal chuckled. A full smile on his lips. Her comment obviously pleased him. “As you wish.”

“That’s a nice piece of ink on your ass.” She watched his reaction carefully. His face clamped down. Okay, it was going to be one of those conversations. Where she asked questions and got no answers. “I’ve noticed that Devlin has one, too.”

Cal moved so fast she didn’t see him coming. He gently gripped her shoulders, but his expression was all serious. “Nix, no joking around. Don’t repeat what you saw to anyone else. Not even Zephyr.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

“Do I want to know how you saw that tattoo on Devlin?” Cal grumbled.

“Maybe if you tell me why you would get your tattoo on your ass . . .”

Cal didn’t look amused. “Quit stalling.”

Nix kind of liked the jealousy. “Purely by accident. Needless to say, it threw me for a loop. I had no idea that Satyrs were even allowed into . . . you know.” She left the name Umbra off.

“Devlin is different. Which I have been trying to tell you, but...”

“Yeah, the whole Pannis thing.” Nix shivered in the cool morning air. She was still half-dressed, and they needed to get a move on. “Let me put on clean clothes, then we can leave.”

“Where to?” Cal whistled for Basil. After the bird swooped inside, Cal closed and locked the slider.

“My favorite place.”

When they arrived at the beach house, the first thing Nix did was run up to her room and head straight for the closet. “Thank goodness. Chloe hasn’t been in here cleaning.”

The bloody shirt and sandy sneakers were exactly where she’d left them the week and half before. She lifted the shoes, careful not to loosen the sand, and placed them on her end table. “Cal, hold out the bag.” After sifting the blue sand into the plastic zip bag, they took a closer look.

“Have you ever seen sand like this?” Cal asked, holding the bag up to the light.

“No. It’s not from any ocean or island I recognize.” Nix examined her T-shirt. The silver bloodstains had hardened, but were still vivid and flaky in spots. “I wonder whose blood this is.”

Cal flicked a chunk of blood residue onto his palm and ignited it. It went up in a puff of smoke. “It’s not mine. My blood is fireproof.” He leaned over and kissed her. “See? You didn’t hurt me.”

“That’s a relief. But, that leaves only hundreds of more possibilities.” Nix gathered up the shirt and sand. “Let’s see if anyone else recognizes this stuff.”

“Wait. Wouldn’t the Mantle protect your clothes from dirt?” Cal asked.

Shit. She hadn’t thought of that. “Yeah. About that.” She hesitated, unsure of how to explain the Mantle’s true nature. She should ask him, her, it, first. “But let’s get everyone together.”

In short order, the beach house was crowded with the usual group: Jason, Devlin, Basil, and Zephyr, all assembled in the three-season room.

“I don’t recognize the sand. It certainly has an unusual blue tinge to it,” Zephyr said. He took a closer look at the stained shirt. “The blood belongs to someone old. But I can’t tell you who exactly.”

Devlin leaned forward and sniffed the sand, then the blood. He face reddened, as if caught with his pants down. “Sorry, Satyrs have a great sense of smell.”

Nix prompted, “And?”

“Nothing. I agree with Zephyr on the blood. We’re talking an ancient God or Goddess.”

“That narrows it down,” Jason said, fingering the hoop in his lip. “The silver means it’s one of our pantheon. And if the blood belongs to an ancient, then there’s a limited pool of candidates.”

Nix grinned. Jason wasn’t as dumb as he acted. “So let’s start a list.”

“And call each of them. Ask if they’ve been recently hurt.” Devlin spread his hands out when Nix stared at him. “Hey, why not?”

“I doubt they’ll just admit to involvement in whatever is going on,” Nix said.

“Probably not. But lies are just as effective as telling the truth sometimes. We should at least ask,” he responded.

“I agree with Devlin. I’ll work on the list with him and Cal.” Zephyr stood, then went over to the hall desk and searched for paper.

“I’ll start going through the tattoo books.” Jason lugged the books back into the sunroom and dropped the pile on the wood plank coffee table with a dull thud. He moved Basil’s travel cage to a side table by the back door.

“I’ll look with Jason. We need to get to the bottom of the sacred seal.” Nix took the top book on the stack. The leather cover was well worn with age, the pages hand sewn. The drawings and notations were all in Memphis’ handwriting.

After searching two more books, Nix looked up at Cal. He was seated across the room in an armchair speaking quietly to Zephyr. The two seemed to be getting along. The male territorial behavior, the posturing bullshit, had all but disappeared.

Nix suppressed a small smile, thinking about how she and Cal had spent the evening. Her memories of their past relationship may have been erased, but she didn’t care. They belonged together and she wanted him in her life. The Delian League be damned.

Before returning to the beach house, she had tried to speak with the Mantle again, but it had remained silent. It hadn’t spoken since Cal yanked it off her head. As a gesture of kindness, she left it spread on the chair by the window, so it could see the surf outside.

Green feathers flashed by the window. Basil wanted in. Nix opened the back door, and he flew over to Cal’s chair and began muttering to himself.

Nix stood at the door, watching the calm water of the surf. The small bumps of gentle waves rolled onto the shore, beckoning her to join them. The sand gleamed in the early afternoon light. It was amazing to think that the sand had once been mighty boulders that had been worn away into smooth grains by the hands of time.

“Chilly. Chilly.” More of Basil’s inane chatter. A bell of recognition rang in her mind.

“Basil. What did you say?”

“It’s a fine time to visit Chilly.” Basil groomed his feathers, his beak burrowing deep.

Chilly . . . Chile. “Jason!” Nix turned away quickly and banged into the table holding the antique birdcage. The table wobbled, and before she could catch it, the cage crashed to the floor.

“Shit.” When she picked it up, the cage’s bottom was misshapen, knocked loose from its rim. Nix tried to push the bottom back on, but the pieces didn’t fit together anymore, no matter which way she turned them. Frustrated, she placed the cage on the coffee table.

“I think I broke the cage. Look.”

Cal examined it, turning it over. “Nah, I think this piece just snaps on . . . Hold on. What’s this?” He separated the bottom from the cage and turned it sideways. “There’s a false bottom. It’s hollow. There’s something lodged in here.” He grabbed a pen and wedged the parts open. “I’ve got it.” He held up a thin sheet of golden paper, almost translucent. Fine markings were etched on the other side.

“Whoa!” Jason joined them, leaning in. “That looks like Memphis’ handiwork.”

“A tattoo?” Cal placed it on the table so they could all see.

Zephyr held his hand over it, eyes closed. They snapped open, his face pale. “That’s not paper.”

Nix touched it. Oh Gods. “It’s skin.”

“Ewww.” Devlin recoiled. “That’s just wrong on so many levels.”

“And the design?” Nix asked, an idea formulating in her mind.

“The ink is special. God’s blood?” Jason tapped it with the tip of his finger. “Man, the power coming off this thing is incredible. The fusion of the skin and ink makes it almost indestructible. It won’t age or wear out with time.”

Nix focused on the design, reaching out to the power of the ink and skin. So familiar. “Zeus. He did this.”

Zephyr spoke low and somber. “We are in deep shit. This is a key to a Titan’s cell. It keeps the one whose name is inscribed imprisoned.” He stood up and paced the length of the room, stopping to look out at the water. “Each key is different. This one just happens to be etched on Zeus’ skin.”

“Whose prison is it, Zeph?” Nix asked. Devlin’s and Cal’s deep frowns increased her anxiety.

“Typhon.”

Stunned silence. No one said a word for a full minute.

Zephyr broke the silence first. “If Typhon was set free, chaos would reign supreme on Earth. With Zeus and the other all-powerful deities gone, there is no one left strong enough to stop him, let alone recapture and inter him again. If he escapes, he could set the others free. Provided he found the keys to their prisons as well.”

“Who the fuck is crazy enough to let that monster out?” Cal swore again and tucked the skin back into the bottom of Basil’s cage. “No one speaks a word of this outside this room. Understand?”

Creepy crawlies raced across the back of Nix’s neck. The blue sand. “Devlin, hand me that bag of sand.”

She felt its weight in her palm. The blue grains glided from one end of the bag to the other as she flipped it back and forth. The answer, so close . . . “I’ve got it. I know where I’ve seen this sand before.”

The phone rang. Everyone checked their cell phones. Nix retrieved her phone, glancing at the call display. “Hello, Mother. I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Your father isn’t missing. He’s been kidnapped. I found a note today. His captors were thoughtful enough to leave a phone number to call.” Doris’ sarcasm didn’t escape Nix. Her mother’s voice shook with anger. Doris may have seemed self-absorbed at times, but anyone who messed with her family had better watch out.

Nix jotted down the number, her knuckles white against the pen. “Mom, we’ll take it from here. If they contact you again, call me or Cal.”

She hung up and dialed before anyone else could speak. The line picked up on the first ring. “Portia, what have you done?”

Chapter 18

“My own sister. I knew Portia was a slut and a lying bitch. I would have never imagined she was a traitor, too.”

Cal remained silent. Better to let Nix vent.

“How could I have been so blind? So stupid. She shows up with the Mantle and some fake story about a last mission for Nereus.”

Cal understood her feelings. Betrayal. He had been there, done that. Trusted a sibling, hoping the blood connection was stronger than ambition. Most of the times it was. But not always.

“She’s going to pay for tricking me into kidnapping Nereus. Whoever masterminded the plot is smarter than the average Nymph.”

“Yes. It’s highly unlikely Portia did this on her own,” Cal agreed.

“She wants to trade our father for Typhon’s seal. That bitch.”

“Nix. Stop. You’re wearing a hole in the floor.” Zephyr tried to intercept her. Big mistake. She rebuffed his attempts to calm her down. Cal could have told him there was no taming the wild sea when it wanted to rage.

“Wait. I don’t understand. How could they use a Mantle? I thought Nereus had sole control over them?” Jason’s question got Nix’s attention. She finally stopped pacing.

“He does,” Nix cocked her head to one side as if listening to someone else speak. “Of course, if he didn’t have a chance to reprogram my last cloak, it would have still been active. She must have stolen it. And . . .” She trailed off again, distracted.

“Is there someone else who could have reprogrammed it?” What had Nix been doing with the Mantle when he’d caught her beneath it? She hadn’t been in Destroyer mode. If she had been, the Mantle would have become body armor, covering her from head to toe in a platinum sheen. Her face and other features would have disappeared and become generic. Instead, she’d been under it, as though she had a blanket over her head.

“I don’t know.” Nix abruptly turned on her heel and ran upstairs.

Jason shrugged and looked over at Cal and Zephyr. “Is it me, or is she getting stranger?”

“Never mind that. We need to talk.” Zephyr joined them in a huddle. He kept his voice low. “I think we all know that they will kill Nereus. If Typhon is behind this, then Portia probably has a God Killer.” A cursed weapon, designed to administer final death to an immortal.

“We need to come up with a back-up plan,” Jason said. “Nix will go ballistic if they harm the old man. No matter how much she complains about him.”

Cal fixed his gaze on Jason. “I know exactly what we can do.”

By the time Nix returned, the men had agreed to Cal’s plan. Each of them had a part to play. And none of them would divulge it to Nix. Cal knew she wouldn’t appreciate the deception, but the stakes were too high to waste time arguing.

Jason intercepted her on his way to the front door as she came back down the stairs. “Nix, I’m heading back to the shop. Devlin and I have some supplies to gather. We’ll be back as fast as we can.” Jason and Devlin left before Nix could ask any questions.

Cal watched her closely as she walked toward the sunroom with a blanket in her hand. She didn’t seem concerned that Jason and Devlin had left. So far so good.

“Cal, there’s something I need to show you and Zeph.” Nix held up the blanket and spoke to it. “Go ahead, you can trust them both. I do. With my life.”

Zephyr exchanged a worried glance with Cal.

Cal had no idea either. Why was Nix talking to a blanket?

The fabric shimmered, then transformed into a familiar silver cloth—the Destroyer’s Mantle.

“You’re addressing the Mantle?” Zephyr asked, his tone clearly concerned for Nix’s mental health.

Hello. It’s nice to be able to make contact with you. My name is Xchulban. But I prefer Ban.

The voice wound into Cal’s mind like a slim thread. Its touch was light as a feather, then the sensation retreated as quickly as it had appeared. Cal turned to Zephyr, whose mouth hung open. “Did the Mantle just talk to you?”

“I heard it, too. Nix, care to explain?” Zephyr seated himself on the couch.

Cal listened for the next few minutes while Nix outlined her discovery. How the Mantle was actually the skin of aliens unfortunate enough to be captured by Zeus and exploited by Nereus. “Sweet Aphrodite. What a bastard. No wonder Destroyers are nearly unbeatable.”

“And why Nereus keeps the technology so close to the vest.” Zephyr tipped his head to Nix. “By keeping it in the family, so to speak.”

“Once we get my father back, he’s got a lot to answer for.” Nix tightened her jaw and swallowed hard.

Cal agreed. The old man had earned a serious tongue-lashing. “Can the Mantle—”

Ban. Please call me by my name.

“Apologies. Ban, can you tell us where Nereus is?”

Yes. I left you clues. The sand in Nix’s shoes and the blood on her clothes.

“That was you?” Nix said. “We were wondering why I was dirty.”

I was testing the limits of my control. Whoever took me wasn’t Nereus. They didn’t follow the same protocols and safeguards were missed. That is why I have been able to speak with you.

“It’s Chilly!” Basil shouted. The bird had been so quiet Cal had forgotten he was there.

“He’s cold,” Cal said to Nix.

“No. He means Chile, as in South America.” Nix retrieved a laptop from her bag. “Ban, can you give me any more clues?”

Sadly, no. While I can independently control myself right now, the thief did remember to activate the erasure program.

“Well, that sucks. Chile is pretty damn big,” Cal said. Basil shifted from his perch and landed on Cal’s shoulder, claws digging into his skin. Cal tried not to think about Basil’s true form.

Nix didn’t seem to put off by the revelation. “We’re not sunk yet.” She pulled out her cell phone. “I’m calling Portia’s shop. There was a picture there—hello, yes...”

While Nix spoke with the clerk, Cal looked at the Mantle again and suppressed a shudder. Gods, how weird was that. Sentient skin. If he didn’t make it out of this alive, he wanted his body to be cremated and his ashes scattered into the sea, or onto the wind.

Nix closed the phone. “Bingo. The Atacama Desert.” She opened her laptop and started tapping keys. “Says here, it’s the driest place on Earth. A perfect place to subdue Nereus’ ability to harness water.” Nix spun the computer around to face Cal. “You have clearance into the League’s mainframe. Can you access the satellite?”

Cal took over typing. The satellite wasn’t common knowledge, but Nix wasn’t the average Nymph either. She probably didn’t know that the satellite was a hybrid of mortal and God technology. The interface ran through the Oracles of Delphi. One of their duties, in the modern world, was to monitor mortal and God activities.

“I tapped into the feed.” He entered the GPS coordinate for the Atacama and zoomed in, bringing ground level closer and closer. The landscape was fairly unspectacular, nothing but sand and hills.

They have masked their presence. Your technology can’t perceive them. If you take me there, I can locate their signal and bring you to the exact location.

Cal closed the laptop. “Road trip?”

Zephyr stood up. “Nix, Cal and I need to prepare. We’ll return with supplies.” When Nix arched an eyebrow, he added, “We’re going to need to bring a lot of water. We can’t have you passing out or unable to use your powers now, can we? Do you have any ideas on how we can get to Chile quickly?”

Cal had to hand it to the guy. He was smooth. Everything Zephyr said was true. What he didn’t say was they had another, more pressing matter to attend to before they went.

One that Nix couldn’t find out about, until it was too late for her to stop them.

Impatience ate away at Nix. Doing nothing was not in her makeup. She paced back and forth while she waited for Cal and Zephyr to return. After an hour of fruitless treadmilling inside the house, she stomped outside, kicking hot sand ahead of her. The beach was occupied by neighboring families catching rays, eating snacks, totally oblivious to the larger cosmic forces conspiring to end their existence.

Nix stopped at the shore’s edge. She burrowed her bare feet into the cool, wet surface and watched the ocean’s water tug in and out, dragging the sand from under her heels. The water, the source of all a Nereid’s strength, calmed her. She breathed in the salted air and slowed her mind. There was a way to rescue Nereus and prevent Typhon’s release. She spun through a list of possible solutions, sorting them one at a time.

First problem—find a fast, stealthy mode of transportation to South America. Human conveyances were out of the question—too slow and too risky to innocent passengers. Portia had been very specific about setting up a drop point at Mystic Center. She expected Nix to do as she was told, like a good little drone, and deliver Typhon’s seal into Portia’s hands in exchange for Nereus.

Throughout all their years together, Portia had never bothered to get to know Nix. A fact Nix planned to exploit to the fullest advantage. The other Gods weren’t allowed to provide direct assistance, but if the request were innocuous enough, that wouldn’t be helping. Right?

Nix ran back into the house and dialed her cell. “Charon. Hey, did I catch you at a bad time? Remember last year, when I won the office raffle? I would like to collect on my prize now.”

There was a long beat of silence. Nix wanted to curse the Fates and their stupid rules, but then Charon answered. “What time shall I deliver it?”

“How about in five minutes? At the beach house.”

“Fine.” Then Charon was gone.

Whew. One problem solved. Nix pocketed the phone and headed toward the stairs to change clothes. She had just entered the sunroom when heavy footsteps pounded up the wooden front steps. The screen door screeched on its hinges, then banged back in place. When Cal and Zephyr joined her, their faces both wore neutral expressions. Their casual nonchalance set off all kinds of alarm bells in Nix’s head.

Cal spoke first. “Nix, do you trust me?”

Nix searched his face. A faint trace of antiseptic tickled her nostrils. Was he hurt? Cal gently squeezed her shoulders, prompting her to respond. “Yes. You know I do.”

“Then curb your questions for little while longer.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I promise to explain, later.”

Nix leaned upward, kissing his soft, full mouth. “Okay.”

Zephyr cleared his throat. “Nix, you have a visitor.”

Nix peered behind him to see Charon walking up the concrete steps from the beach. In the distance, a longboat hovered over the surf, casting a shadow over the unsuspecting mortal swimmers below.

“Our ride is here.” Nix shouldered on her backpack, trying not to groan at the weight. Spelled to contain gallons of water, it was much heavier than it looked.

Nix caught up to Charon as he crossed the small grassy backyard. She plastered a big grin on her face. “I can’t wait to go fishing. I never thought I would accept this prize.” She clammed up. To speak of her actual plans in front of Charon would count as knowledge, and he would take his boat and go back to the Underworld.

“Try not to sink it,” Charon rasped. “Make sure your trip doesn’t last longer than twenty-four hours from the time you board the ship. Once your time is up, it will return to me, with or without you.” Charon handed a bronze dial to Nix. “This is the key. So the boat will follow your commands.”

“Charon, don’t you need this boat to ferry souls?” Cal asked as he shifted his pack on his shoulders. He was fully armed: knives strapped to each thigh, two pistols tucked into holsters, and a bow with quiver attached to the pack.

Charon looked Cal up and down, no doubt curious about the arsenal. Thankfully he didn’t ask questions or voice any concerns.

“Nah. This is one of my private pleasure boats. Good fishing.” He turned on his heels, walked two steps, then vanished.

“Am I the only one repulsed by the idea of what Charon probably does for pleasure?” Zephyr said with a shudder.

“Nope,” Cal said. “Let’s not go there.”

They walked down to the beach and stopped at the water line. “How the hell are we supposed to get on board?” Nix shaded her eyes from the sun. A couple of ideas floated through her head—maybe a water bridge? A cool mist touched her calves. Fog rolled in around her ankles, coalescing into a spongy pillow.

“No worries.” Zephyr raised his arms, pulling them all up off the ground. They sailed on a cloud up to the deck and landed with a small bump.

“Show off,” Nix grumbled, her stomach doing flip flops.

Zephyr winked and dropped his backpack onto the deck. “Cal, would you do the honors? You are the most qualified sailor among us.”

Nix agreed with that one. Cal took the bronze dial from her and walked to the stern. The ship didn’t have a steering wheel, but a long handle, presumably connected to the rudder. “Nix, bring Ban back here with me. I need him to navigate.”

The Mantle unfurled into the ocean breeze, the ends flapping lightly. Nix was almost positive Portia had no idea the Mantles were really alien slaves. She was also sure her sister would have stolen another Mantle to use for her own purposes. Nix just hadn’t figured out how Portia would control her Mantle. The cloaks were normally deprogrammed after every mission to ensure they couldn’t be used by non-authorized personnel.

The boat lurched under her feet and rose upward. She stumbled her way to a pile of wooden crates and sat down, as far away from the ship’s railing as she could get. Nereids didn’t like heights, and she was no exception. When Zephyr commented on her white knuckles, she flipped him off.

Zephyr sat down next to her. “Jason and Devlin are positioned in Mystic Center. They’ll alert me when Portia arrives.”

Nix appreciated her friend’s attempt to distract her. How the hell high was this ship going to rise? At the rate they were ascending, they would be in outer space. “That’s good,” she choked out as the boat suddenly stopped.

“Hang on!” Cal shouted.

Without warning, the craft launched forward in a zero to twenty-five thousand miles per hour start that would have given a NASA astronaut wood. Nix latched onto Zephyr with a death grip and squeezed her eyes shut. Surprisingly, they were protected from the effects of moving so quickly through space and time. There was barely a breeze to ruffle her hair.

“First time ever traveling like this?” Zephyr’s tone sounded exhilarated. Of course, he probably loved it.

Nix cracked her eyes open and squeaked, “Yes.” The sky zipped by so fast it was a blur. Nix unclenched her hands from Zephyr’s arm. “I always go by sea or land. I don’t like heights.”

“We should be there in a few minutes. Do you have a plan of attack in mind?”

“Yes. Ban said my father would be minimally guarded. So my plan is to avoid detection. Between the three of us, we should be able to overcome any traps or spells.” Nix sounded more confident than she actually felt. While Portia wasn’t a genius, her accomplices had more than two brain cells to rub together. And there was the underlying feeling that this was all too easy.

“Full stop coming up!” Cal warned.

Nix gripped the box’s edge, prepared to fly forward. But instead, the ship continued to defy the laws of physics and stopped smoothly. A bleak, barren landscape surrounded them. For miles, nothing but grayish blue sand and endless mounds of gravel and scrub brush.

“Are you okay?” Cal joined them. Ban in one hand, brass dial in the other.

“I’m fine. Let’s go.” Nix walked to the side rail. How would they disembark? The side railing vanished. She jumped backward as a wooden staircase appeared. It unfurled one step at a time until the last step touched the ground. “Why didn’t you do that before?” Nix grumbled at the hull. “And don’t you dare leave without us.”

The stairway vibrated as if insulted. A well-timed fireball from Cal settled the staircase down.

Nix took a long look around once they reached the desert floor. “How lovely. Remind me not to consider this place for my next vacation,” she groused. She could practically feel the dry air sucking the moisture out of her skin. Good thing she had extra water. She hoped she had enough. They had no idea how long it would take to reach Nereus or what condition he would be in after a week and half in the desert.

“Which way, Ban?” Cal said, holding the cape out, then rotating 360 degrees.

Far in the distance, mountains rose above the horizon. Not as high as the Andes or Everest but high enough. Nix hoped they didn’t have her father up there. No way would the water last.

East. A few miles at most.

“Onward ho, then,” Zephyr called as he walked ahead.

“What are we, on the Oregon Trail?” Cal said, looping Ban around his shoulders.

“No need to be so testy, Fireboy.”

“Don’t be such a Pollyanna,” Cal shot back.

What’s a Pollyanna? Ban asked.

Nix rubbed her temples. This was going to be a long few miles.

Chapter 19

Nix decided that trudging through desert sand was a lot more tedious than walking along the beach. The landscape was littered with boulders and sharp rocks. Every once in a while they would hit a patch of sharp bristly grass. The place wasn’t totally devoid of life. Especially the slithering or multi-legged variety. Snakes, lizards, and scorpions—oh my.

The dry air didn’t help. Cal and Zephyr experimented with cocooning Nix in a bubble of heated air. So far it had succeeded in making her hot, thirsty, and cranky. It took her mind off her father for a little while. Would he be injured? Butterflies roiled around in her stomach, and her jaw ached from gritting her teeth. She may have been angry with him, but he was still her dad. Portia would pay for her treason with her immortal existence. There was no way Nereus or the Delian League would allow her to live after her betrayal.

If Nix were like Chloe or Tabby, she might have felt sorry for Portia, but she didn’t. Portia had always been a conniving bitch.

“We’re not alone,” Zephyr pronounced, scattering Nix’s thoughts.

Dust clouds billowed, rolling along the horizon, heading straight for them. The cloud moved with unnatural speed, closing the distance in a span of minutes. A dark mass was approaching. Nix swore she could hear hooves galloping.

“Are those Centaurs?” Nix asked as she shielded her eyes from the sun and dust. Normally, Centaurs were more interested in studying books and acting superior than in fighting. These guys must have been part of the Centaur Anarchy Front, a radical group dedicated to breaking what they called the Delian League’s stranglehold on the God World. Nereus had been battling them for the last century and a half. Her stomach sank. Gods help her father if they were allowed access to him.

“Afraid so.” Cal unhooked the bow and strung it. “Zephyr, assist me?”

Arrows zinged through the sky, flying so high Nix lost sight of them. No way to tell if any of them hit, but she was betting on yes. Zephyr, using the power of wind, would have ensured they didn’t miss.

“Get down!” Cal shouted over loud whistling. “They’re returning fire.”

Nix grabbed the Mantle and unfurled it over the three of them like an umbrella. Arrows bounced harmlessly into the sand. “Thanks, Ban.”

The ground thundered under their feet. The vibration rattled Nix’s teeth. “What are there, a million of them?”

Cal poked his head out from under the Mantle, then ducked back inside. “Nope. There’s a Cyclops with them.”

“Eddie?” Nix asked, happy to have another go-around with the crafty bastard.

“Possibly. We’ll find out in a minute.”

“What’s the strategy here?” Zephyr pulled the Mantle off the group. The Centaurs were close enough now. There were at least ten, all in man-horse form, and they all looked ready to rumble. Armed with heavy chains, hammers, and axes, the group was garbed in bandanas and leather, similar to the Cyclops leading the pack.

“Kick ass.” Nix pulled a knife out of her pack and palmed a ball of water. “We need to get in and get out, before Portia is tipped off.”

“Works for me.” Cal flamed up, and orange fire danced in his hands and eyes.

A swirling dust devil grew behind Zephyr, picking up rocks, scrub, and sand. As it grew into a mighty vortex, the Centaurs came to a dead halt. The Cyclops urged them forward, taunting them for cowardice.

“I wish he wouldn’t do that,” Nix said. Unfortunately, Eddie knew how to get the pack fired up—question their manhood, insult their pride, and call them pussies.

The horde charged, only to slam into the vortex. The whirlwind sucked half the group skyward, blasting them toward space. Nix lost sight of them for a moment. When they reappeared, it was far off in the distance, probably a mile or two away.

“Way to go, Zeph!” Nix ducked. A heavy chain sailed over her head. A Centaur’s dark shadow eclipsed the sun. He reached down. Hairy brawny arms tried to capture her.

“Bring me the Nymph!” Eddie shouted. “We have unfinished business.”

“Why don’t you drag your fat ass over here and get me yourself?” Nix taunted, narrowly escaping another attempted abduction. The Centaur’s hooves danced close to her. One kick to the head and she would be out cold. Darting between the nearest set of horse legs, Nix hefted the knife and made a swift cut, slicing through the hamstring. Howling, the Centaur crashed to the ground. “Suck it up. You’ll live.” And heal.

Nix darted away, ducking behind the moaning Centaur, staying out of arm and hoof reach. She came around the fallen Centaur in time to see a thick chain wrap around Cal’s neck. Cal was yanked off his feet. The Centaur holding the chain had a large mallet poised to strike as soon as he dragged Cal close enough.

Nix reacted. Water balls the size and weight of marbles aimed straight for the beast’s eyes. On impact, the Centaur’s eyes were blasted inward into his brain. The Centaur howled and clutched his face, dropping the chain and hammer.

Nix raced to Cal’s side. Another Centaur beat her to him. It grabbed the chain and pulled Cal away. They didn’t make it far. Shrieks erupted as Cal super-heated the metal. The stink of burnt flesh filled air. The skin on the Centaur’s hands was gone, burned away.

Zephyr sparred with Eddie and the remaining Centaur. Although to Nix it looked more like Zephyr was toying with them. High up in the air, Zephyr faded in and out: fog to evade, solid to attack.

Nix unraveled the chain from Cal’s neck. Purple bruises and raw abrasions marred his skin. When she tried to tend to them, he stopped her.

“Later,” he wheezed through his battered windpipe. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

Two of the windblown Centaurs were bearing down on them at high speed. Arrows whistled overhead, ready to strike. Ban rose up out of the sand, blocking the projectiles.

When this was over, she had to find a way to make Ban’s life better. Nix sent a stream of water to the ground, creating a sinkhole. A Centaur stumbled over it. Ass over forelegs, it crashed with a bounce, then stilled.

Cal cried out. A knife was embedded into his shoulder. Hot, angry flames immolated the Centaur responsible. There was nothing left but a charred pile of ash.

“Cal, stop moving.” Nix studied the wound. If she yanked out the blade, she could make the injury worse, and they didn’t have time in a battle situation to wait for it to heal.

Allow me. Ban curled around Cal’s ankle, climbed up his waist, and settled over the injured shoulder. With a shivering motion, the blade fell to the ground, and Ban remained wrapped around Cal like a makeshift toga.

The ground shook. A rolling wave of Earth bowled into them. The air slammed out of Nix’s lungs as she hit the ground. Eddie was falling. His bulk tumbled forward; a giant Sequoia ready to crush them flat. If she assumed water form, she could escape, but not Cal. She wouldn’t leave Cal to die.

Cal shielded Nix, his large body over hers. Eddie’s shadow blotted out the sun. Nix threw every ounce of liquid under them, creating a rapid stream. Their bodies caught the tide and shot out of the way, barely missing Eddie’s fall.

“What the hell is Zephyr doing?” Cal shot to his feet and searched the area.

A dark shadow rose behind him. Terror twisted Nix’s gut. “Cal! Behind you!” Nix shouted.

Too late. An axe blade sailed straight at Cal’s neck.

“No!”

At the last moment, the blade whipped away, caught in the wind. Zephyr rose over the desert sand, a furious tornado. Eddie’s hand shot up in the air, clasping dead space, failing to make contact with Zephyr.

“Nix, Cal, go find Nereus. I’ll handle him.” Zephyr’s form melted into mist. Cal dragged Nix away as Zephyr’s wind form entered the Cyclops’ nose and mouth. Strangled cries, then choking gasps filled the air. Eddie wasn’t long for this world.

“Ban, which way now?” Cal kept a firm hold on Nix and ran them forward.

“How much farther?” The whole rescue was taking too long.

We are nearly there. Just over this ridge.

“Any traps?” Cal asked.

None that I can detect.

Portia was such a dumb Nymph. Nix couldn’t wait to meet her on the field of battle.

Nereus’ makeshift prison appeared on the horizon. Her father hung suspended above the sand in an orb. Disheveled and naked, he was a far cry from his normal perfection. He had reverted to his God form. Standing fifteen feet tall, his normally luminous green skin was dry and scaly. Strands of kelp and other seaweeds hung loosely from his scalp. He appeared to be in a deep sleep, eyes closed, chest falling up and down in a steady rhythm.

“I’m going to kill Portia,” Nix said. The bitch was going to die.

Cal frowned, but said nothing as they stood at the foot of the orb, examining it.

“This looks like a pretty standard containment spell,” Nix observed. “Why didn’t he just break out of it?”

Cal placed his hand on the barrier. “He’s been drugged.”

“Did Ban tell you that?” Nix tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. She didn’t like to admit it, but she missed communicating with the alien. Since he had molded onto Cal she couldn’t speak with Ban anymore.

“Yes.” Cal knelt in the sand, dug a few inches, and confirmed what she suspected. “If we don’t release him soon, he is going to dry up and turn to dust.”

“Ban must know of a way to release Nereus. Right?” Nix hoped he did because, even though the spell was ordinary, she couldn’t break it. Not her thing. At least not without the Mantle.

Clouds black as coal rolled across the sky, blotting out the light. High winds whipped Nix’s hair out of its clip. Sand scraped across her skin and stung her eyes. When the winds stopped, Zephyr appeared.

“I can do it,” Zephyr said. He held a ring filled with assorted keys. Flicking through the odd variety of shapes and sizes, he stopped on an old brass one. It really didn’t look like a key at all, more like a half circle with jagged bits sticking out at irregular intervals.

“Is that what I think it is? A Keystone?” Cal leaned over for a closer look, then pulled back. “You could get busted for having that.”

“Not if it was freely given.” The West Wind sniffed as if insulted. “Nereus gave this to me a long time ago. He told me I would know when to use it when the moment came.”

“Come on! Get on with it!” Nix barked. Tiny pinpricks danced up her arms. The dry air made her skin itch. “Time is not on our side.”

Zephyr touched the barrier with the Keystone. Circles rippled away from the key like a pebble in a pond. When the ripples intersected, the entire barrier collapsed. Nereus crumpled to the ground with a soft thud.

“Father!” Nix pried his mouth open, parting his cracked lips. She poured her final water down his throat. He didn’t move. He didn’t cough the water up. Dread knotted her stomach. “Wake up.” When he still didn’t respond, she turned to Cal. “Ask Ban if he can help.”

Cal closed his eyes, then nodded. The Mantle unwound from Cal’s shoulder and dropped to the sand. Like a snake, the Mantle slithered, undulating until it reached Nereus.

Zephyr muttered under his breath, “Am I the only one creeped out here?”

Nix ignored him and snatched Ban off the ground and cloaked him over her father’s head. “Are we too late?”

No. He will recover.

After an interminable moment, Nereus took a deep breath. Then another. His chest rose and fell to a steady beat. He cracked his eyes open and Nix released the breath she’d been holding. Thank the Gods, he was okay.

“Get back . . .” Nereus croaked. His voice was dry as the sand. He shimmered. His God-state disappeared as he reverted back to his mortal guise.

“Don’t talk, Father.” Nix helped Nereus sit up. When she held her hand out for a water bottle, Cal slapped one into her hand.

“Go back . . .” Nereus flayed his arms. They fell useless by his sides.

“We need to leave.” Nix tucked her shoulder under Nereus’ armpit, while Cal helped pull Nereus upright. Nix stopped. Damn. That niggle of doubt wormed its way up front. “This is way too easy.”

A faint ring came from her backpack. Nix shifted Nereus. Zephyr stepped in and took her father’s weight so she could dig out her phone.

“Hello?” she said, answering it.

White light exploded, blinding Nix for a moment. When the spots faded, Nix saw Portia, garbed in a Destroyer’s Mantle from the neck down. She held Jason under one arm and Devlin under the other. She unceremoniously dumped them face down into the sand.

“Nix. I thought you were the smart sister.” Portia laughed. “I win. You lose.”

The seal dangled from Portia’s silver clad fingertips. Nix wanted to scream. Again, her sister had one-upped her. Only this time the stakes for losing were life ending.

Fuck.

Chapter 20

Cal shoved Nereus into Zephyr’s arms. Flames surged into his palms. He had to give Nix credit. She hadn’t ripped Portia’s head off. Yet.

Nereus hacked up sand and spit a gob onto the ground. “Nix can’t fight Portia without a Mantle.”

“No shit,” Zephyr said, grunting under Nereus’ weight. “How about you help her out?”

Cal already knew the answer and responded bitterly, “Nereus won’t help. It’s against the rules. Remember?” He was so tired of the bullshit. No way in hell was he going to stand by and watch the woman he loved torn into pieces. “You sit this out too, Zephyr. You’ve already intervened enough.”

Zephyr frowned. “At least let me try and get Jason and Devlin. They’re unconscious.”

“Whatever, dude. It’s your call,” Cal said, watching Portia and Nix trade verbal blows. The sacred skin was still firmly in Portia’s grasp.

Cal moved closer. Almost there—

“Back off, Calder!” Portia brandished the seal. “This is between me and Nix. It’s about time she accepted that there’s nothing that she has that I cannot possess.” Portia kicked Jason in the abdomen hard enough that Cal felt it. Jason groaned but stayed down.

Cal winced when Portia socked Devlin in the nuts. “What do you want, Portia? You already have the sacred seal. Shouldn’t you be destroying it? I wouldn’t keep Typhon waiting if I were you.”

The ground rocked under Cal’s feet. Tendrils of power snaked across the ground. The sensation as it slid across his skin was sickening. As if all the evil, all the hatred, and all the menace in the world was concentrated in one spot.

Portia closed her eyes and moaned, ecstasy on her face. “Feel his power. It’s better than any male can offer.” Her eyes reopened, irises black as night. When she spoke, her voice was infected with Typhon’s presence. “Join me, sister. Leave that one behind. He has no soul. There is no future for you.”

Nix’s back straightened. To Cal’s horror, she reached for Portia, her voice dreamy. “Yes, Portia. I feel Typhon. He’s wonderful.” Nix closed the distance, her hand outstretched.

“Nix! No!” Cal rushed forward. He slammed into a solid barrier and bounced back. Another orb formed, trapping Nix inside with Portia. “Zephyr! Use the Keystone!”

“He can’t. It’s already been spent,” Nereus said, standing on his own. “The die has been cast. The fight is Nix’s alone.”

“You said it yourself. She can’t possibly defeat Portia without a Mantle.” Cal pounded on the barrier. Flames failed to breach it. He didn’t have the power to shatter the spell.

Nix and Portia were entwined in a hug. Portia stroked Nix’s hair and turned their bodies so Cal could see her hands.

As Portia turned, she arched Nix’s head, baring Nix’s throat. Portia tenderly kissed the hollow of Nix’s neck. Portia’s left hand came around. A gold knife glinted. The blade of a God Killer.

The dagger flashed, headed straight for Nix’s outstretched throat.

“No!” Cal screamed.

Nix could hear Cal’s scream, but she stayed perfectly still. Her sister had to believe that she had bested her. It was the only way to get close enough to take the seal.

Can I move now? Ban pleaded. He wasn’t too thrilled with Nix’s plan either.

Not yet. In order to hold Nix, Portia had tucked the seal into her Mantle. Normally, the only one who could retrieve an item from a Destroyer’s Mantle was the wearer of the armor. Portia had no idea that Ban could breach her defenses. Or that the alien could override Portia’s control of the suit.

“It was so easy to take Cal’s soul. He let me get close to him. He wanted me. I could tell,” Portia whispered into Nix’s hair, while tilting Nix’s head back. “When this is over, Typhon has promised to let me have him as a pet. Don’t you feel the great master’s power?”

Oh, yes. Nix could feel it all the way, deep into her bones. The magic was wild, untamed. It spoke to her of what she desired most—freedom. So seductive, so easy to give in and give up. But easy had never been Nix’s way. For her entire existence, the easy way had been offered. By her parents—all the money and comfort she could want. By the Delian League—guilt free killing, no remorse necessary. No pain need be felt. And now Typhon’s offer—freedom at the cost of humanity’s liberty.

No thanks.

When Nix felt the muscles in Portia’s right arm arch back, she alerted Ban. Get ready. Cal started yelling and battering the shield.

She’s got a knife. A bad one!

Portia’s arm headed toward her throat—

Now!

And struck. Hard. Against the Destroyer’s Mantle. The look of shock on Portia’s face was priceless.

“Witch!” Portia shrieked before her Mantle covered her face, changing her voice to the unisex tone of all Destroyers.

“Like I haven’t heard that one before.” Nix punched Portia in the face. Granted, it didn’t inflict any real damage, but it felt so good seeing Portia’s head bounce back. Nix’s fist flew again. Another thud. Portia landed on her ass.

“You’ve never been able to beat me, Nix.” Portia popped upright and waved her hand. The bubble’s spell broke. In a flash, Portia moved backward.

Nix closed the distance. “You’ve never fought me. Sneaking around thieving behind my back doesn’t count.” Nix lunged, aiming for Portia’s legs. She hit the ground instead.

“Winning is winning. Something you never did figure out.” Portia flashed away, a silver blur. She headed for Jason.

Nix intercepted her and stood over Jason’s body. Portia laughed instead.

“Nix, I’m going to beat you right now.” The God Killer was in Portia’s right hand. The seal in her left. The dagger plunged into the seal. The ink glowed red hot, then disappeared.

The sky darkened instantly. The ground splintered. Deep fault lines raced away in every direction. Winds whipped and howled, all while Portia laughed. She dropped her face piece. The maniacal glint in her eyes was unnerving.

“I win. I win.” Portia danced with glee. Nix raced forward and smashed Portia’s nose, bursting blood all over her white skin. Portia didn’t care. “He’s coming. None of you can stop it.”

Nix’s heart sank. She’d failed. Typhon was free.

Nix looked around. Cal and Zephyr both stood stoically. Nereus’ lips were upturned in a sly smile. Hardly the reaction Nix would have expected. The battle for humanity was lost.

Something wasn’t quite right.

The wind still wailed and the ground rumbled, but the vibe was  . . . angry.

Typhon was still trapped. Portia continued to dance in circles, arms held up high, wailing to her master.

“Hey, Portia! Where’s your boss? Shouldn’t he be here by now?” Nix asked, voice neutral.

“What do you mean?” Realization hit her sister like a rock. Portia’s mouth formed an O, before dissolving into an angry pout. “It didn’t work. You tricked me.”

“Did I?” Nix glanced over at Cal and Zephyr again. She had no idea why the seal had failed to release Typhon. The seal was destroyed. Unless the seal was a fake?

Portia tackled her mid-waist, driving them into the sand, then pinned her by the shoulders with her knees. A steady stream of blows rained onto Nix’s head, but thankfully the slick skin of the Destroyer’s Mantle protected her.

Why is she bothering with such a futile attack? She cannot hurt you in the Mantle. Ban sounded almost bored.

She hates me. Always has. Nix arched her back and twisted her legs around. Portia was knocked sideways onto the desert. For the record, the feeling is mutual. Nix lurched upright and faced Portia.

“How did you do it, Nix? That seal was real!” Portia’s unisex voice still managed to sound shrill. Portia manifested a staff. A jagged crystal studded the top. The black matte metal was unfamiliar. Dark as night, it didn’t even cast a reflection.

Uh oh. Not good. Ban took control of the Mantle and backed Nix up.

What is that? Nix could sense its dark energy. The one thing that can hurt me. Crystal death. Strong enough to pierce my skin. Fear tinged Ban’s voice. It’s from my world. Someone has fashioned a weapon out of it.

That’s just great. Nix furiously tried to think of a way out of the situation. Portia hefted the staff, ready to throw it like a spear. On the way backward, they passed the men. Nereus looked angry as he argued with Cal and Zephyr. Both were tensed for action, ready to intervene, but were stayed by Nereus’ hand.

Portia dropped her Mantle’s faceplate again. A death’s head smile was plastered on her face. “Last chance to tell me how you tricked me. This staff will pierce a Destroyer’s Mantle. It’s like a heat seeking missile. Once I throw it, it will chase you down until you’re dead. I bet Father never mentioned it. Did you, Daddy?”

“Portia. It’s not too late for you to stop. If you kill your sister, I will have to destroy you.” Nereus stated the fact, plain and simple. He held out his palm. “Give me the staff.”

“Screw you!” Portia drew back and aimed at Nix.

“Wait!” Cal stepped forward, arms raised. “Nix doesn’t know. I’m the one who tricked you.”

Cal had to protect Nix. Besides, she really didn’t know why the seal didn’t work. He did. Nix was pissed. He could tell, even with the Destroyer’s garb, by the tilt of her head and the fists on her hips.

Portia lowered the staff and strutted toward him. Zephyr and Nereus flanked him, each moving into a defensive crouch as Portia neared.

Their posture seemed to amuse her. She laughed gaily, like they were out having a picnic together. Still a Nymph, through and through; levity at the wrong moment.

“Portia. Let me help you,” Nereus pleaded. “I can take these memories away from you. You can go back to your old life.”

Portia shook her head, eyes misty. “No, Father. That doesn’t work for me anymore.”

“We can try again.”

“No!” Her face flushed with anger. “You aren’t locking me up ever again.” Portia fixed her gaze onto Cal, then smirked. “Such a hero you are. Just like your partner, Talus.”

Cal wanted her to stop talking. The memory of that awful day flooded his mind. “It was you. You killed him.”

“I sure did. I would have eaten his heart, too, but that would have meant I’d have to drop the armor, and I didn’t want you to know my identity.” Portia planted the staff deep into the sand. The armor melted off her hands and chest. She displayed a vial filled with silver liquid. “See this? It’s my keepsake. Talus’ blood, squeezed from his heart. I like to remind myself of that day.”

Cal’s entire body heated. Steam rose off his clothing as he fought to control his emotions. He knew Nix wanted a piece of Portia, but he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t tear her limb from limb on the spot. She had caused so much grief. To him. To Nix. “We’re not here to talk about Talus.” He couldn’t kill her. Not yet. He needed to know if she had his soul either hidden away or on another string around her neck.

Portia reformed her armor, again leaving her face visible. She placed her hand back on the staff. “Tell me where the real seal is.”

“Okay. But I want to know where my soul is,” Cal said.

“I don’t have it.” Portia pouted. “It disappeared as soon as I knifed you in the heart.”

“Cal! Don’t tell her anything!” Nix shouted. “Come back and fight me, you stupid whore.”

Portia laughed. “Wait your turn, little sister. Now, Cal. Stop stalling.”

Cal dropped his backpack, shrugged off his holsters, and pulled his T-shirt up to his neck. He fished a portable black light out of his pocket and flashed it over his abdomen. An intricate tattoo glowed under the special light.

“You cheater!” Portia seethed. “You put the seal on your own body.”

“Yup.” Cal waited. It took Portia seconds to try and kill him.

If Nix could have hugged and kicked Cal in the balls at the same time she would have. Ingenious, really. That must have been Cal and Zephyr’s mysterious errand. And the reason why Cal smelled like antiseptic. He’d used the black-light ink—brilliant, ensuring it wouldn’t be visible to the naked eye.

She’s going to kill him, Ban observed.

Not if I can help it. Nix raced ahead. Can you speak to her alien?

Of course. How else do you think we all stay in touch?

In the twenty seconds it took to reach Portia, Nix had outlined her plan.

“Nice try, Nix. Hands on your head,” Portia said, aiming the staff at Nix’s chest. “I knew you would come to rescue your man. On your knees.”

“It’s time to end this, Portia.” Nix complied, placing her hands on her head, then kneeling down.

“Hey. This isn’t the deal we had, Portia,” Cal said, moving toward Portia.

“Back up. Now.” Portia touched the crystal against Nix’s suit. The armor retreated in the spot where it landed. Ban’s fear drummed into Nix’s skull.

“One push and this will go through her heart.” Portia smiled at Nix. “I never did like you. I only stole Nate to hurt you.”

“I didn’t love him.” Nix smiled back. “You two deserved each other.”

Portia’s eyes darted between Nix and Cal. “Of course. But then, how would you feel if I killed Cal? For real this time.”

Metal razors jetted out of Portia’s armor. Cal’s abdomen bloomed red as blood spurt into the sand. “Oh, I know this won’t kill him. But this will.” Portia swung the staff around, aimed straight for Cal’s heart.

“Now!” Nix shouted. Ban issued a command. Portia’s Mantle slid off her like magician yanking a tablecloth out from underneath fine china.

Portia stopped mid-thrust. “What have you done?” She surged forward, but Cal had rolled out of the way.

“Give up, Portia.” Nix scooped up her sister’s Mantle and tossed it to Nereus. “Last chance.”

“I can still kill you!” Portia drew her arm back. Her lips formed the words to command the spear.

She never finished the sentence. Portia’s Mantle rocketed out of Nereus’ hands and molded over her face. Silver tentacles rammed down Portia’s throat, strangling her speech. Sharp tendrils pierced her eyes, penetrated her ears, and wrapped around her neck. They snaked over the hand that held the staff. Without mercy or hesitation, the Mantle forced Portia to impale herself with the crystal.

Nix watched with horrified fascination. It all happened so fast. The crystal pierced Portia’s heart. Then her sister was gone. The Mantle fluttered to the ground.

I don’t understand, Ban. Nix gingerly touched the fallen Mantle with her fingertips.

She is my mate, Ban said. She would not allow Portia to destroy me.

But why now? I thought you were slaves to Nereus. Nix stood up and faced her father. His eyes were fixed far on the horizon. A single tear leaked from the corner of his right eye.

It seems he has granted our freedom, Ban replied. He snaked a portion of his silver skin around the Mantle in Nix’s hand. It’s good to see you, my love, he said tenderly.

Nix disrobed her Mantle. She felt like a third wheel. She packed the two cloaks in her backpack, allowing them a private reunion.

Cal raced up behind her and pulled her into a long, deep kiss. After, he held her at arm’s length, checking her for injuries. “Thank the Gods. You’re okay.”

“Me? What about you?” Nix yanked up his T-shirt. The metal shards were already gone.

“Nereus took care of me.” Cal tilted his head to where her father had been standing. The spot was empty. “Funny. He was just there.”

Typical. Nereus took off the first chance he got. He still had a lot of explaining to do. Nix would corner him, one way or the other.

Devlin and Jason approached them. Zephyr was in the rear.

“I don’t know how I got here, but can we leave now?” Devlin rubbed his forehead. A large goose egg had formed.

“I’m sorry, Nix. She ambushed us like we were rookies.” Jason had two black eyes and swollen lips. A ragged hole had formed where his lip ring used to be. Ouch.

“It’s not your fault.” Nix tried to console them. Soothing the male ego was not an easy task. “No one can stop a Destroyer.”

“Except you.” Cal hugged her hard against his chest. “Looks like Charon’s boat decided not to wait for us to walk back.”

The large ship hung in the sky overhead. The staircase had already lowered and was waiting.

Jason’s face brightened. “Cool. Any chance I can steer us home?”

To Nix’s dismay, Cal tossed the key to Jason. “Sure.”

Zephyr flashed Cal a sour look, but steered a reluctant Devlin up the gangplank. “Come on, Devlin. We can hit the spa when we get back. I have some girls who have been dying to meet you.”

“Uh . . . no thanks. I’ll just head back to my shop.” Devlin sat on a crate, rubbing his head.

Nix paused. Was he afraid of females? Or maybe he liked males? She didn’t have to wait to find out. Zephyr pounced on the tidbit.

“Did you just pass up female company?” Zephyr joined Devlin on the same crate. “Explain.”

Cal snuggled Nix up close next to him on a wooden box across from Devlin and Zephyr. She didn’t even cower when the ship rose up into the sky.

“Come on, Devlin. We’ve been through life and death together. We are a brotherhood now,” Cal urged on. Nix nudged his ribs. “Okay, Warriorhood.”

Devlin cleared his throat, then swallowed hard a few more times. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down like it was spastic. “Okay.” Another throat clear. “I’m a virgin.”

He spoke so quietly, Nix wasn’t sure she heard it right. Zephyr burst out laughing. Cal’s chest quivered in silent amusement.

“Did I hear you correctly?” Nix asked. “You, a Satyr, are a virgin?”

Devlin’s chin jutted out. “Yes, I am. And I’m not going to explain why to you. You have a dick in your refrigerator.”

No matter how much they prodded, Devlin kept his mouth shut the entire trip home.

Now Nix had heard of everything.

Chapter 21

Nix spent most of the following evening cleaning the shop and putting everything back in order. She had rebuffed all offers of help from the others, Cal included. They needed rest and time to heal their wounds. Nix wanted time alone to think. She needed the quiet to reflect on what had happened.

As she swept the floor, she tried to remember the last time a Nereid had died. It had been a long time. Before Nix was born. And none of her sisters had ever committed such treachery against the family or humanity. Nix knelt down and swept glass shards into a dustpan. She stood up and felt a burst of magic. The dustpan clattered to the floor. The glass scattered all over the place.

“Father!” Nix wanted to hurl the broom at his head.

He held his hands up. “Sorry, I should have announced myself first.”

“Ya think?” Nix sighed and started sweeping the mess. Again.

Magic swirled around the room. The debris disappeared, poofed out of existence. The board on the front window was replaced with shiny new glass. The shop was restored back to order.

“You didn’t need to do that, Father.” Nix didn’t bother to try and explain to Nereus that she wanted to do the work. He wouldn’t understand.

“You’re wrong, Nix. I do know the value of hard work.” Nereus held out his hand to her. “Come, sit on the couch with me.”

She stubbornly refused to move. “What? Now you read minds, too?” Was anything private from him?

“No. I can’t read your mind. I just know you. My dearest daughter.” Nereus beckoned her again. “Please, I don’t have a lot of time. I need to return to the council. They are screaming bloody murder.”

Right. Even in death, Portia could cause an uproar. Nix placed her hand in her father’s much larger palm and joined him on the couch.

“I know you want answers. So, I am here to share my knowledge with you first. Not even your mother knows this yet.”

Nix waited expectantly, surprised by the rare honor her father was bestowing on her. They both knew, for all her blustering, that Nereus didn’t have to explain anything to her. Even though he was her father, he was also her boss.

“Here’s what I’ve been able to piece together. Portia was on assignment near Chicxulub in the Yucatan peninsula. I sent her there to investigate the area after a drilling operation reported strange happenings. Divers had been disappearing. There were unusual stories of mysterious underwater voices, drill operators going mad and excessive seismic activity.”

“Portia had completed her mission and returned to base. Her results were inconclusive, so the council decided to take a wait and see attitude. Portia went through the standard Reclamation process and it appeared to be successful.”

Nix could hear the inevitable “but” in Nereus’ voice. “At first, the change in her wasn’t obvious. She was prone to fits of crying and emotional outbursts.”

No big surprise there that no one noticed right away, Nix thought. Portia had always been a vain, obnoxious, drama queen.

“When her behavior became erratic, indiscreet, and slightly violent, I decided to engage the mind wipe protocol again, even though Portia was still on duty. It helped for a while.” Nereus sighed and studied the ends of his fingertips. “She seemed recovered so I sent her on what turned out to be her final mission.”

“The one where she killed Talus in front of Cal and a room full of scared shitless mortals,” Nix spat out.

“Yes, Nix. That one. I have kicked myself a million times since. Talus was a good soldier and a kind soul.”

“So how did Typhon get to her?” Nix wondered if any of them would ever be safe again.

“Chicxulub is an impact crater, the remains of a meteor strike sixty-five million years ago. Zeus imprisoned Typhon in that crater, never anticipating that mortal technology would progress to the point of delving so deep into the sea. Portia, while investigating the area, swam too deeply and was lured by Typhon’s call.”

“Is the prison weakening then?” Nix shuddered at the thought.

“No. Not that I can tell. I’ve investigated the area. Typhon is locked in there. He’s not getting free. I’ve recommended to the council that the area be declared a dead zone. And I know I don’t have to tell you not to reveal what I have told you about the exact location of Typhon’s prison. That needs to remain a secret.”

“I understand.” And she would keep quiet. She didn’t want every crazy in the God world stalking her and her loved ones for information. Again. Once was plenty.

“Portia was in the wrong place at the wrong time, then?”

“Yes and no. She swam too close to the prison, but she also knowingly embraced evil in her heart, and that allowed Typhon the access he needed to complete his seduction of her.”

Nereus stood up. “I’m sorry you had to learn all this.”

“I’m not.” Nix blocked Nereus’ path to the door. “Have you ever considered, even once, that taking away our memories was a bad idea?” She held up her hand. “I know all the arguments. It’s so we can’t reveal secret information or compromise the identity of active agents. Oh, and my personal favorite, so we won’t have to feel bad about what we’ve done in the line of duty.”

“Those are all valid reasons. Reasons that time has borne out as being sound.” Nereus almost sounded petulant.

“I have a Satyr’s dick and balls in my fridge, Dad!” Nix noted Nereus’ shocked reaction with a little too much satisfaction. “It would have been nice to know why I did that and not have to learn about it from a file. And my sister, Chloe. She was raped and brutalized by that bastard Pannis. Does she even know what happened to her? You know, she has spent the last hundred plus years scared, and she doesn’t know why!”

“Nix, please.”

“No. I’m not done. If you had allowed us to function like everyone else, Portia wouldn’t have been vulnerable to Typhon. You also would have learned a lot sooner what Typhon was up to. And Cal . . . he wouldn’t have had his soul stolen away. I love him. How can we have a future if he can die the true death at any moment?” Nix brushed tears from her eyes. She turned away until her hands stopped trembling.

Nereus sat back down on the couch. He looked very old all of a sudden, like every millennia that he had existed bent his back and hunched his shoulders. He didn’t speak for a long time.

Nix went back to rearranging Mary’s desk supplies. Her emotions were riding so high she might need a spaceship back down. Soft laughter rumbled from her father. It built up to a roar. She wanted to smash the pencils she was holding into matchsticks.

“You always were my savviest child. You’re right. About all of it.” Nereus sprang off the couch with renewed vigor and pulled Nix into a hug that lifted her toes off the floor. The heady fragrance of ocean winds rolled off him.

“So does that mean I can have my memories back? All of them?” Nix’s heart was about to burst.

“Absolutely.”

“And I want the choice to be a Destroyer. Or not.”

“Done.”

Nix wanted to do a happy dance across the floor. Freedom. Finally it was hers. But wait. “And what about my sisters? They have to have the same options as me.” Nix held her breath.

“Yes.” Nereus added quickly, “Especially Chloe.”

“And there is something else I want.” She wasn’t letting Nereus off the hook too easily.

“Of course. You saved the world. And me, from a foolish old man’s point of view. Let me hear what it is.”

An hour later, Nereus left the shop and Nix had never felt so wonderful in her life.

By the time Zephyr turned up, the shop had reopened. Jason was back at his chair inking a customer, and Mary was back to her old, bitch self, ignoring Nix and being nice to Cal. Cal was holding Basil while the bird or basilisk babbled on about dead bodies and the secret of the lost souls.

Zephyr’s arrival meant she had another piece of unfinished business to address. The God of the West Wind knew her too well. “Out with it, Nix. I see that wrinkle in your forehead. The one you get between your eyebrows.”

“Would you and Cal mind joining me in the backroom?”

Jason whistled. “You go, boss.” The client in his chair perked up. Jason said out of the corner of his mouth, “Those two are about to get a tongue lashing.”

The mortal high-fived Jason. “Remind me to get on her bad side. I want some of that.”

Cal growled from across the room. “Watch it, buddy. That’s my girl.”

Nix clapped her hands. “Enough. Jason, take your mind out of the gutter and pay attention to your job.” She motioned at Cal and Zephyr. “Move it, you two.” And to Basil, she said, “Zip it, or I’ll find tape for your beak.”

Once in the backroom, Cal and Zephyr stood, arms crossed and mouths clamped shut. Like that was going to stop her. Nix shouted, “Take off your shirts!”

Jason whooped from the other room. Cal smiled broadly.

Zephyr started unbuttoning his crisp, expensive, designer shirt. “I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life.”

Cal shot Zephyr a look, then stared at Nix. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Nix pulled out a flashlight. “Oh yeah. You guys owe me.” She clicked off the storeroom light, plunging the room in darkness. “Take off your shirt, Cal.”

“Oh, I like that breathy, seductive tone to her voice, Cal. Is she like that in bed?” Zephyr wondered out loud.

“Gentlemen don’t tell,” Cal replied. Nix could hear the rasp of his cotton T-shirt as he whisked it off in one fluid motion. She tried to keep her mind off his luscious body. She could explore it. Later.

Nix switched on the flashlight. The black light bulb emitted an eerie purple glow. “Cal, you first.”

The purple light illuminated the design she already knew was there. She hated it. It was a death wish. If their enemies found out that he had Typhon’s seal on his body, they would be gunning for him.

When she ran her hands across his chest, Cal sucked in a strangled breath. She gave him a playful slap. “I’ve seen what I need to. Put your shirt back on.”

Before he could speak, she turned her focus to Zephyr. His skin practically glowed under the light. His chest was unmarked. He chuckled.

“Drop the pants, too.”

“If we keep this up, Nix, you’re going to owe me dinner and a movie,” Zephyr said, unbuckling his belt. He popped the top button and slid down the zipper. Thank the Gods he was wearing underwear. Nix would have thought Zephyr was the commando type, too.

“Stuff it. I just know you too well. That’s all.” She trailed the light down his equally sculpted muscles and stopped when ink glowed in the groin area underneath the thin boxer shorts. “I knew it,” she whispered. “Get dressed.”

She turned the light back on and spoke in a low voice. “Zephyr, are you sure you know what you’re doing? If anyone finds out, they will try and kill you.” It all made sense now. Zephyr was a full-blooded God. He could bear the seal and keep it active. Cal’s was merely a decoy, but that didn’t lessen the danger to him.

“I do, darling. It’s my risk to take. And no one knows except us and Jason.” Zephyr finished buttoning his shirt. “Besides, I have a lot of bad karma to burn off. I need to do this. A purely unselfish act is good for the soul.” He patted her shoulder. “Well, not purely unselfish. I would hate for anything to happen to you.”

After he departed out the side alley door, Nix gave Cal a hard stare. “I don’t know if I should kiss you or kick you. That was incredibly dangerous.”

“And devious,” Cal smiled and tilted his lips toward hers.

Nix groaned when the expected kiss didn’t land.

“First, congratulations on your achievement. I heard that not only did you get Nereus to agree to no more memory wipes, but he’s also letting you retire. And he’s going to give your sisters and the aliens the same choice.” Cal captured her gaze. “Well done. I’m so proud of you.” He took a step back. “Now, I have some news, too.” Cal’s somber tone sent her pulse up.

Was he leaving her?

“I’m leaving . . .” Cal’s words faded into silence as her mind stopped hearing the rest.

Oh Gods, she knew it. “What?” Tears filled her eyes. She turned away so he wouldn’t see her face. She would not blubber or beg him to stay.

“Nix. I’m retiring from the Delian League.” Cal grasped her shoulders and turned her around to face him.

“Retiring?” Nix’s brain finally caught up with her ears. Cal was free, too. They were both free. No more mindless killing, no more wars. Of course she had promised Nereus in times of dire need, like if the world was going to end, that she would pitch in.

“Yup. You’re looking at the proud owner of the bake shop next door.”

“No shit. Really!” Nix gave a squeal and jumped up and down. “We’ll be neighbors.” And lovers.

“I hope that’s okay with you,” Cal said.

“Wait. You want to be a baker?” Nix appraised Cal. The grim set of his jaw and the unwavering stare told her he was being serious.

“I do. I even know what I will specialize in.” Cal waved his arm across the air. “S’mores. I think ‘S’mores to Love’ is a good name. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great name. I love you—”

Heavy bangs rattled the metal back door. Nix’s heartbeat spiked, and Cal’s face paled.

“Who is it?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“Hades.”

Nix flung the door open and stepped back and let the Lord of the Underworld into the shop.

“I’ve solved your dead body problem,” Hades said, grinning. He held up a squirming black trash bag. Bumps randomly expanded the bag at irregular intervals.

“What’s in there?” Nix asked. Low growls and bleating moans rumbled from inside the plastic.

“A baby soul stealer.” Hades gave the bag a shake. “Pipe down in there. Or I’ll make you a chew toy for Cerberus.” A small squeak, then the bag stilled.

“And the dead bodies?” So Devlin wasn’t wrong. There was something lurking in the alley.

“The baby was luring the half dead with its call. Junkies, a heart attack, and a nearby car accident. “The little guy, or gal, is too young to understand to wait for them to die first.”

“Did you find the souls?” Cal broke in.

Of course, maybe the creature took his soul, too.

“After a few knocks to the head, it took me to its soul stash.” Hades held the bag up to his face. “Isn’t that right?”

A trill that sounded like yes responded. Nix wondered how Officer Dinsdale would react if he saw what was in the bag.

“What about Cal’s soul?” Nix gritted her teeth. Annoying Hades was never a good idea, but damn, she couldn’t stand waiting anymore.

“The quest is over. You completed the mission, so I guess Cal is due this.” Hades brandished his hand.

Golden light beamed down over Cal’s head, bathing him in its brilliance. Cal took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Nix could see the dark void replaced by the warm glow of his soul.

“Funny. It’s true. You don’t know how important something is until it’s missing,” Cal said. His russet eyes burned brightly as he stared at Nix.

She swallowed a few times. Her body temperature rose.

Hades looked between the two of them. “Well, my work here is done. Come on, soul baby, let’s go home.”

Nix barely registered the dull thud of the door closing. Her attention was solely focused on Cal.

He didn’t speak. He crossed the distance between them in three long strides. His lush, warm mouth devoured her lips. All rational thought was knocked out of her brain.

This is what she wanted. The comfort. The passion. The love.

He was what she wanted.

Her feet left the ground and didn’t touch down until the next morning.

Chapter 22

Zephyr knew they would come for him, to punish him for his interference. He waited patiently and passed the time sorting papers and leaving instructions for his business manager to ensure smooth operations while he was gone. Hopefully, not permanently.

The winds shifted outside the open office window. Salty air mingled with the Yankee pot roast being served in the Inn’s dining room.

Closing his eyes, he slipped into his wind form and hovered above the desk. There was no sense in running, not that he would even consider it. There was no escaping the Fates. When they summoned him, he would go.

He had no regrets. He would do it again. Nix was his friend. He had hoped that she would be more, but that was not meant to be. She belonged to Cal and Cal to her.

Someday, he would find the right female.

There was a soft knock on the door. Zephyr assumed his mortal form and called out, “Come in.”

The paneled door creaked open on its old hinges. Three fashionably coifed women shuffled into the office: Clotho, Atropos, and Lachesis. Lachesis, the last one in, closed the door.

“Hello, ladies.” Zephyr put a smile on his face. No reason not to be cordial. “Can I get you some refreshments? You’re all looking very well.” In fact, they looked positively radiant. Each carefully polished, wearing the latest haircuts and designer clothes. Like the Housewives of Ancient Greece.

“This is not a social call. As you well know.” Lachesis settled into one of the armchairs in front of his desk. She pulled a smartphone from her expensive leather handbag. “You’ve gone too far this time.”

“Yes. Assisted in an Epic Quest.” Atropos, the Fate who could cut the thread of life, had her hands tucked in her coat pockets.

“We cannot turn our backs on such a transgression.” Clotho tugged on her honey-colored hair and withdrew a single long strand. “If you were mortal, we could just snip the thread of your life and be done with it.”

“Ah, but I’m not mortal.” Zephyr breathed in a lungful of fresh air from the breeze flowing through the window.

Lachesis, the decider of destiny, stopped tapping on her phone. “No, you are most decidedly not human. And since you are now the guardian of a seal, your immortality must be preserved.” She and her sisters stilled as if in silent communication.

They all approached his desk. This was it. Judgment time. He should have felt some fear. Instead, he felt relief. And joy at being released from his monotonous existence. If he were honest for a moment, he would admit that the last century, without Flora, had been absent of color. Dull and lifeless. Like he had become.

Clotho held out the golden strand of her hair. “For your crime of interference . . .”

Atropos withdrew a pair of small gold scissors and held them open, poised over the strand. “We sentence you to a dual existence bound by day and night.”

Lachesis passed her palm over the scissors and the golden thread. “So it shall be until the time you learn your lesson, then you shall be free.” The thread was snipped.

Golden brilliance surrounded the trio. The light flared outward in an eye-blinding flash.

When Zephyr’s vision cleared, they were gone.

And he was still standing in his office. Vertigo swept over him. He swayed, then sat hard into his desk chair. When the waves of dizziness passed, he realized something was different.

It was him.

All his senses had changed. The light wasn’t as bright. Sounds were harder to hear. And the wind, his beloved companion, was absent. Fear flooded him. His heart pounded in his ears. He stumbled over to the mirror hanging by the door. His body seemed out of whack, like he couldn’t smoothly coordinate his movements. When he reached the mirror, he examined his face.

“Gods save me.” He leaned against the wall, knees weak, hands trembling. Zephyr swore he could hear the Fates laughing at him.

Epilogue

Atlantic Ocean

The boat rocked up and down on the waves. The open sea, not Cal’s favorite place, but it was where Nix was, and he had agreed to come for the ride. He had been honored, in fact, to be invited to witness a ritual Nereids seldom let outsiders see.

“You okay, Cal?” Nix wrapped her hand around his biceps. The motion didn’t seem to disturb her at all. In fact, the change from land to sea brought a warm, golden glow to her skin. The blue in her eyes had become richer, deeper, and more beautiful. If that were even possible.

“I’m fine.” He patted her hand. “You ready?”

Nix nodded, then walked to the stern. They had chartered a boat for the occasion. The mortal who had rented them the boat was reluctant at first to let the two of them use the boat overnight. But Nix had poured her Nymph charm on him and the man easily fell under her sway. Nereus had offered them use of one of his many yachts and Nix, unsurprisingly, declined. She had huffed that she “was perfectly capable of handling a vessel on her own.” Not to mention, if she couldn’t, Cal could.

At the stern, Nix reached around her neck and unclasped the locket holding Rocky’s soul. Cal could feel its vibrant energy, as if Rocky knew they had finally arrived at his birthplace. In the distance, Cal could see a long stone outcrop jutting from the ocean: the breeding ground for Rocky’s pod.

The gloaming, the time when light was replaced by dark, was fast approaching. Splashes and faint throaty howls approached at high speed. Nix stood with her eyes closed, her power rushing outward, calling Rocky’s family. A group of Harbor Seals approached the boat. Their sleek speckled coats glided in the water like angels of the sea. Flippers beat against the water in a low steady cadence.

A thousand tiny lights glittered on the dark water—a thousand souls, each unique and each once a living being—had come to welcome Rocky into the fold of eternity. Cal swallowed down the hard lump that burned in his throat. The mist of an unshed tear clouded his vision at the beauty of the moment.

Nix opened the locket and released the small orb from the pendent. Rocky’s soul glowed and lifted, hovering above her open palm like a small will-o’-wisp. The splashes in the water abruptly stopped. Low keening howls filled the air.

“Old friend. It’s time to return home,” Nix said, leaning over the railing, arm outstretched.

Cal resisted the urge to clutch the waist of her jeans as the ship pitched gently. It wasn’t like she would drown if she fell in.

The soul floated out, hanging above the water. The animals below changed the beat of their chant. Nix joined in, singing. Her heavenly voice invoked the ancient tongue of the Gods. After a moment, Cal joined in, surprised that he still remembered the words. The song was seldom sung these days, but like riding a bike, the lyrics came back quickly.

When the soul’s light touched the sea’s surface, the sky lit up and illuminated the bodies below: living seals and the ghosts of the departed. It was quite a crowd. The orb reformed and melted seamlessly into a shadow of Rocky’s mortal form. The ghost Rocky splashed beneath the waves and circled below. Nix waved to him. With a final fin flip, he swam away with the living and dead of his family.

The dark of night reasserted, leaving a clear, star-filled sky.

Cal surrounded Nix with his arms, sheltering her from the cool air. “This is how it should be.”

“Free to live.” Nix turned to face him. She put her arms around his neck and nuzzled his throat. “Free to love.” Her tender lips caressed his in a deep kiss.

He couldn’t agree more. They were together. Forever.

Read about Zephyr, God of the West Wind,
and Kalliope, a Muse on a mission,
in the second book of the series:

Mystic Storm

The Fates haven’t been kind to Zephyr, God of the West Wind. After interfering in a Hero’s Journey, they’ve cursed him. Yeah, he probably deserved it. But come on, does he really have to spend his daylight hours trapped in a woman’s body? And did they have to take away his power over the West Wind, too?

As if his life isn’t complicated enough, a Muse – a supernatural tabloid journalist – appears on his doorstep. So what if she’s irresistible, whip smart and probably the only female on the planet who doesn’t find him charming, he has dangerous secrets that he’ll do anything to protect.

Kalliope is a Muse on a mission: Find her wayward brother, Niko, and bring him home. By leaving her island sanctuary, she’s broken the “rules”, but she’ll risk banishment to save him from yet another ill-fated scheme. She’ll even accept help from Zephyr, the immortal world’s most undeniably gorgeous and notorious rake.