Salt Shaken: The Record, #2 6n2i3o

Salt Shaken

The Record, Book 2

Winnie Winkle

© 2021 by Winnie Winkle All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

For permission requests, :

JS Netwal, Publisher, 3408 S. Atlantic Ave., Box 128, Daytona Beach Shores, FL 32118

Created with Vellum

This book is dedicated to Robert Michael Williams. Fair winds and following seas, my heart.

Acknowledgments

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. I’d like to thank Jennie Rosenblum for excellent editing, Melody Simmons for gorgeous cover art, Narelle Todd and S.E. Smith for their generous advice about the world of writing, and Julie Sutherland for sharing a year of beginnings with me. Life is richer because you all are within the unfolding. Every author has a safety net of friends and family. I’d like to thank Elizabeth O’Leary, Patricia Silas, Trace Mathews, Vera James, Gina Ford, and Mike Williams for lending inspiration and providing the occasional butt kick to this work. And, of course, every scrap of love to my children for their indelible imprint on my soul. To each reader who bought, read, left reviews, or ed me to share their enthusiasm for my stories… Thank you. Enjoy Salt Shaken. I wrote it for you.

Contents

Salt Shaken

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

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

The End

About the Author

Catch the Beginning! Boogie Beach: The Record, Book 1

Let’s Get Social!

Other Books by Winnie Winkle

Salt Shaken

The Record, Book 2

Chapter 1

Lightning snaked along the horizon, highlighting the dancers on the yacht’s spacious deck in strobed motion. Glasses, cutlery, and plates whipped off the stern in the rising wind, a death spiral into a sea sick of plastic. Unseen below the cresting seas, mer men sharpened their blades, their faces a composite of anger and disgust.

On the starboard gunwale, a woman materialized. Exotic and curvy, her skin a coppery chocolate framed by twisting curls, she moved toward the stern. After selecting a glass of wine from the tray, she stood on the periphery, watching the drunken gyrations punctuated by an occasional stumble when the ship hit a pronounced swell.

“Who are you, Sweetheart?” A man in shorts and an expensive fishing shirt, looking surprised, eased next to her.

“Friends call me Gigi,” she replied, sipping and steadfast in the sea’s motion.

“I didn’t see you board.”

“Oh, I just arrived.” Her tone, unamused, accompanied a slight lift of an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re on my ship, so perhaps you might enlighten me?”

“Are you aware you’re leaving a wake of plastic and trash? Is defiling my sea your normal?”

“Who’d you say brought you?”

“I didn’t, but it’s irrelevant; I’m not staying.”

Gigi finished her drink, leaned over the ship’s rail, and nodded.

Along the smooth sides of the yacht, mer men placed hands, suctioning up the fiberglass composite, pulling themselves from the sea. As their tails left the brine, Gigi waved a vague hand; with a shimmer, scaled legs replaced them.

“Thank you for the wine. I’m afraid I can’t stay for the afterparty.”

To his gape-mouthed stare, she winked and faded as a mer man disemboweled him with a razor-sharp shell blade, guts cascading across the pristine white deck, followed by the thud of life leaving.

Shrieks filled the night, the splash of the departing mer an inadequate finale.

The paddleboard nosed onto the beach; broad callused feet stepped into the swirling surf, a spinning caress that tickled his ankles as he lifted the big board with ease and marched toward the bicycle tucked under the pier’s pilings.

“Smooth ride?” I eased away from the heavy timber holding up my pier and bar, The Boogie, and grinned.

“The age rocks, Keeper, but the world? Not so much.”

“Drink?”

“You know I’m not a fan of alchemy.”

“Come on, I brought a pineapple; I’ll make you a smoothie.”

“Deal.”

Guru leaned his board up next to the bike and both faded from view. If taken piece by piece, he wasn’t a traditional hottie, but Guru exuded an aura that was irresistible. Long copper colored dreads, full of sand, dirt, twigs, or other flotsam, smooth light brown skin, green eyes the color of ripe limes, and sculpted lips that warmed up the root chakra in a bolt of sexual bliss. He wore board shorts that were too tight and showed off an impressive set of glutes, a serious package, and thick, powerful legs. Stocky, but not heavy, Guru emanated masculine power. I liked him, just not that way.

As he followed up the long steps to the pier, I felt a light swat across my ass.

“Are you slowing up, Keeper?”

Was I? No way, I ran these stairs every day. I shot him a side eye and took in the smirk.

“Funny guy, you had me for a moment, Guru. Brief.”

We laughed, and I laid my palm on the ornate wooden ship’s door, visible only to those with a magical signature. It swung open, and I entered, Guru’s wide feet padding across the decking behind me.

For the uninitiated, which encomes most of humanity, learning the backstory might help. Boogie Beach, a sleepy Florida beach town, lay south of Daytona, with decent surfing and a low key vibe. My bar, The Boogie, or The Boogey as my magical patrons called it, had the distinction of being on the line between reality and extraordinary, which meant I ran a pub on the doorway to all worlds. Shifters, witches, the fae, wizards, merpeople, the Greek dudes, you name it. If it liked to drink, it showed up and I could see it, which was my entire skill set.

By that, I meant I couldn’t magic my way out of a tough spot. I had my wits and deep well of dumb luck. Last October, the order of the worlds changed, leaving me wielding an outsized amount of power for a bartender. While it’s an honor to belong to both worlds, an upended world order required adjustments from everyone. Some are slow learners.

The pineapple flipped in the air, and I snatched it, drawing my big knife. The knobby skin sliced away in long strips. With the flat blade, I pushed the top and tail to the side.

“May I?”

The leafy top and bottom of the fruit vanished into the bag he wore at his waist. Guru being Guru, he’d plant and nurture them by nightfall.

I chopped, including the core, because this was Guru and I didn’t need a lecture on waste. Fruit, ice, and the juice of three limes landed in my blender, followed by two bananas.

Guru munched the lime rinds while I mixed the smoothie, pouring it into a huge beach cup with a lid.

“What did you see that drew your concern?” I asked.

This was new, as of last October. Before, asking for information from a magical led to punishment because their world disdained the human one. Forging new relationships based on mutual respect took time. We were learning, an uneven work in progress.

I held his eyes, and he nodded.

“So weird. Unlearning, I mean.”

“Yup.”

“The sea is sicker,” he added. “I spoke with several mer people and they have concerns.”

“Last week you said it was the forest.”

“The mother is not healthy, Patra. This is not going away.”

“Since October, the world’s vibe is better, Guru.”

“Yes, but it’s a bandage. The infection is untreated.”

His eyes blazed herbaceous fire, and I stepped back one step. How insane it is to be peers with, well, to be real, with a demigod? I mean, what the actual, right? These people smite. Jeez.

“Making the human world recognize that magic is real, and that gods are multiple is problematic for many countries, Guru. I’m working on bringing them into the Triune.”

“Hmm, I don’t envy you the task. Messy love-addled dark-ages dwellers. Humans are enamored with the most specious bullshit.”

“That’s an oversimplification.”

He stared at me, swallowing while my heart managed two beats out of every three, then barked a laugh. “Perhaps. You are a credit to your race, Keeper.”

My race. Well, I’m a race of one, so it’s not as though I burst out of a crowded field. Still, it’s indicative of magicals to see me as human. After that October night on the beach, you’d think word might spread, but old habits, and they’re on both sides, died hard.

“Keeper, I used to believe the simple elimination of humans was the answer,” Guru raised an eyebrow.

“Extinction of any species creates cascading reactions on the earth, Guru. It’s a finesse issue, not a get pissed and go nuclear one.”

“You plant a seedling of hope, waiting for growth,” Guru snorted. “Time does not give two shits, Patra. It is relentless.”

I nodded, looking up as Pook and Bingo, my pelican shifter regulars, stomped through the door, pushing and shoving each other.

“Boys.” I tapped fish ales and ed them across the bar. “There are ten thousand lady pelicans on our little section of the Halifax River. I’m confident there’s enough ‘come hither’ for everyone.”

“But I saw her first,” Pook grumbled.

“I shagged her first,” Bingo grinned. “I win.”

Eyes rolling, I glanced through the wall. Thanks to a spell, it’s transparent and allowed me to see into the bar on the non-magical side. The lunch rush finished, Charlie, my best bartender, had twenty tourists and a handful of locals well on their way to lubrication. Still, I’m the Manager, so I palm through to my office and out to the human bar.

Last fall Charlie and I had a run in of sorts, he made it clear he’d like to bone his boss, but I’m holding that at bay for now. While it would take my edge off, which I could use, I’ve got a heaping plate to juggle and adding workplace romance is a pain my ass didn’t need.

Am I getting old? Shit, I hope not.

I wandered through The Boogie, chatted with a couple locals, nudged the dishwasher to get Charlie more glassware and took a mental inventory of the liquor. By the looks of it, I needed more of that obnoxious cotton candy vodka, a case each of Jameson and Ketel One, and two cases of Jack Daniels.

“Crystal Head Aurora supplies holding?”

Charlie nodded. “Haven’t seen him in a week.”

‘Him’ referred to Jonesy, a rich guy with a huge boat, a swanky condo, and bottomless cash. My kind of regular. His vodka was pricey, and he drank it like it was Titos. Another win.

“Is he traveling?”

“If so, he didn’t mention it, and that’s not his style. The man loves talking up his next big deal.”

True. Jonesy was a first order braggart. I suppose if you made a fat pile of jack and felt insecure, braggadocio is your A-game. My guess was he had package issues. Still, he’s in here like clockwork, so his absence was odd.

Phone in hand, I tapped the number.

“Boogie Beach Police Department.”

“This is Patra, Manager at The Boogie. One of my regulars has been a no-show for a week. Any chance y’all can do a wellness check?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Who is the individual?”

“Westminster Jones. He’s at The Gables and keeps a yacht at Three Eagles Marina.”

“We’ll send a car around to check.”

“Thanks. , we’re having our police appreciation event next week.”

“Posters are up everywhere, Patra. That’s the best event for us the entire year, takes the edge off Bike Week.”

Bike Week was king. Nine days of non-stop party, crazy drinking, and tons of music. It’s a dead president’s pump of epic proportions for beach businesses, and we made bank; enough to set the year. The rest of the months ranged from breakeven to decent. Bike Week brought mad cash.

I disconnected and grinned. My ulterior motives were in full swing. If seafood bribery helped, dropping a grand on a mess of shrimp and beer was a reasonable exchange. I had it bad for a cop who didn’t know I was alive. We’d see.

A couple hours later, my phone rang.

“Patra, you didn’t hear it from me,” the dispatcher confided, “but your gut was right on the wellness check. Mr. Jones was found deceased on his boat.”

“Oh, no! I’m sorry to hear this. Jonesy was an interesting man.”

I looked up at the half case of Crystal Head Aurora and sighed. I’d be dusting those funky skull shaped bottles for a while.

Jonesy, being a wheel of sorts, got the news trucks rolling. Crazy Jay, at the marina, shot me a text saying he’s buried in reporters and that it didn’t appear that Jonesy went out in any natural fashion. His words were, to wit, “the dude exploded.”

Weird. The beach and the line co-existed in full-blown neutral for months; there weren’t any simmering disagreements to portend an attack. Clueless humans aside, the magical and Vapor entities showed me an intention to cohabitate with the real world. It’d been, in my eye, a reasonable transition.

So, while a decomposing body could explode, one in an air-conditioned yacht was not a candidate for blast-factor 9000. A magical, with minimal effort, had a plethora of options to blow a human to pieces. Vapors too, I imagined, although I was still trying to understand them. Natural laws didn’t apply.

Color me alarmed. And curious. What the hell was Jonesy doing that pulled dark attention toward his bubble of opulence?

Chapter 2

We’re a couple days from the full moon, so it’s time for my supplies to arrive. I liked Waldo, the tiny wizard who brewed my alchemy and kept The Boogey in magical ales and wines. Chelsea, a witch and one of my besties, shared that Waldo lived under a gigantic tree in the middle of a gator infested swamp. Nice guarantee of privacy, if you weren’t a snack. So far, Waldo appeared impervious to gator nibbles.

The door opened; the clinking told me it was Waldo before he rounded the corner. I came around the bar and knelt, sharing a hug.

“Dearest! Radiant, as always. But, tsk, that hair. Too much sun, my love. Perhaps a serum to pull you from the brink of frizzy mayhem?”

“You know the rules, sweet friend. If you leave it, I’ll get it checked and give it a shot. No more dye jobs, though, agreed?”

Waldo ed me a potion three years ago that turned my blond mane ivy green. My fault for not realizing it was April 1st. Not a mistake I planned to make again, as I resembled a St. Paddy’s Day refugee for two weeks until he brought me the antidote.

“Oh, darling girl, I never use the same joke twice. So of course, no green hair.” His eyes twinkled.

“Not comforting, Waldo.”

“Not meant to be, my sweet. Wizards aren’t known for playing by anyone’s rules but their own.”

He placed assorted alchemy on the bartop and I checked the order in, added four ales and three cases of wine, then pushed a motley assortment of gold, human dollars, and a few euros to him. His eyebrows waggled as he totaled in his head, followed by a curt nod.

“You do mix currency well, dear. I’ve yet to see you make an error.”

“Unless in your favor,” I laughed.

“I’ll never tell,” he snickered and cinched his bag.

“A quick cocktail before you go?”

“Ooh, a tantalizing proposition. Do you craft a WellWind?”

This was a test, since WellWinds are hard as hell to concoct without exploding, but I’m talented, and lucky, so I gestured to a stool and began building the drink. A perfect WellWind held a glowing ball in the drink’s center. Taken as the last sip, it offered an explosion of pleasure to the imbiber.

My concoction swirled to the left and the light within glowed as Waldo clapped his hands in delight.

I slid it across the bar with a wink and watched him lift the drink to his lips. Waldo partook infrequently at The Boogey, so his gentle enjoyment of the drink was a perk of sorts.

The glowing bit remained, and he sucked it in. His entire body shook, and he slipped off his seat, the vials in his waist sack tinkling in a clinking finale. With a giddy hiccup, he rose and pulled a vial from his pocket. On tiptoe, his fingertips pushed it onto the bartop.

“For your hair.”

Waving a small hand, he swayed and headed toward the door.

“That WellWind was perfection, darling. See you in two weeks!”

I palmed through to my office, then entered the dining room. This was a new feature. After last October, Poseidon insisted on greater connection between the spaces, saving me untold steps. I shot Charlie an assessing glance. His bar

appeared well stocked, the afternoon contingent growing loud and loose. The Jonesy wake was underway.

“Man, I thought that guy would live forever.”

“He did too, just ask him.”

“Any idea what killed him?”

“More like who. Sounded damn unnatural to me.”

Charlie slid a fresh round to the trio on the end, a set of sub-Jonesys who had boats a peg or three below the swanky fest where Jones died, suitably titled “Keepin’ Up.”

“Jones got kids?”

“Yeah, a couple of sons and a daughter.”

“Could be they’ll dump the boat cheap.”

“Might, there’s bad juju.”

Each looked hopeful at this bit of supposition and swigged.

I slipped behind the bar. With a couple taps on the POS terminal, I checked Charlie’s till. Fat.

“I’ll swap this at 5:00. Can you close tabs?”

“Yup,” Charlie’s eyes twinkled and my mental eye roll took charge.

Do not go there, Patra.

I scanned the entryway and froze. Ballard. In my bar. A quick hair fluff and I moved, nerves jangling, on the intercept course. I’ve memorized every hard, supple curve of this man. He doesn’t know I’m alive. Today is the first time he’s darkened my door since October, but it won’t be the last if I find the way to shake him awake.

“Detective, I’m Patra, the manager. Perhaps you me? How can I help you?”

His green eyes covered me, and stilling the inner quake was an exercise in discipline. I held his gaze, letting my lips curve.

“Have we met?”

“Briefly, at an appreciation event.”

Green pools washed me clean. “I believe I’d you, Patra. What is your full name?”

“Maybe I was having an off day,” I grinned, lifting an open palm in question. “Cleopatra O’Keefe. I imagine you understand why Patra is my go to choice.”

“Egyptian Irish? That’s an unusual blend.” His chuckle recalled a sense of homecoming. “I need to speak to a few of your patrons regarding a current case.”

“If it’s about Jones, the wake is underway,” I gestured at the bar. “Try the three on the closest end first; they were buds.”

“Thanks. You made the wellness check?”

A nod. “Jones was clockwork, and it didn’t feel right.”

Again, his look was a shade longer than professional. A welcome twist spiraled through my belly, and I caught my lip in my teeth, trying to regain a semblance of poise. The green depths darkened before he turned back to business.

Mercy.

For an initial interaction, I’d call that promising. It was damned odd to be in love with a man who didn’t know I was alive, but I lived a pretty weird life, so it kinda fit.

I watched Ballard work, grip a shoulder of one of the trio, and move along to a few others. After greeting a few tables, eyeballing my kitchen, and dumping a Frida Kahlo eyebrow on my dishwasher, who pushed off, with reluctance, from the sink edge and turned to wash the freaking dishes, I returned to the main dining room and glanced through to the magical side.

Poseidon. Crap. Not what I needed right now. A big finger beckoned.

Grouchy face on full display, I entered my office, shut the door, and palmed back into The Boogey.

“Your usual?”

“Looks like somebody needs to get laid. You know you’d feel better, and my schedule is wide open.”

He’s hard to resist when he makes the effort, but I don’t need to raise a baby behind my bar and gods don’t miss. Well, except we hooked up once. I managed to remain unpregnant, but in my heart I thought I got a little assist from my

Vapor buddies.

“I’m managing just fine, and a shag is not what I need right now. In case you forgot, I’m supposed to launch a Triune. No room for…”

“Immortal schlongs?” Poseidon cut in, not helping. “Amazing protuberances. You should reconsider. Last time was memorable, for both of us, which I don’t often say. A few hours with me is an excellent offer, Patra. Besides, we’re all tired of your cranky countenance making The Boogey a bummer.”

“Well, that might be about to improve,” I said.

Poseidon grunted. “Keeper, do not reunite with Ballsy. He is lucky he’s alive. Let him complete his time unmolested.”

My eyebrow’s ‘get stuffed’ was eloquent, but unappreciated.

“The order of the worlds changed, Keeper, but , I am still a god.” He flexed his aura, and I bounced against the bar before landing flat on my ass. For him, it was a light tap.

“Oof.”

Since I deserved that, I pushed up without comment. My fingers ran over the bump in my pocket and I pulled the vial. “Waldo left this. Says it’s hair serum.”

A gold feeler erupted from Poseidon’s palm, slipped into the potion, and withdrew, curling around my wrist in a bolt of horny bliss. “Your hair is fine. So’s your ass.”

“Is it safe?” I concentrated on my breath as the feeler slid back into his palm and vanished. For now. They’re sneaky.

A nod, accompanied by an unnecessary bang as he slapped his glass on the bar. Why was he acting so cranky?

A giant golden eyebrow raised.

Please stay out of my head!

“Another,” he gestured to his empty glass and laughed. “You now tell gods what to do?”

Jeez. Well, no, I don’t. In fact, I just maintain the record and try to stay alive.

“Fair enough.” He took the fresh drink and spun to stare along the sand. “I miss the beach volleyball. Such delightful bikinis.”

“There’s a tourney next weekend. Keep the faith, Big Red.”

He scratched his balls into greater comfort within the crimson speedo, flipped a piece of gold next to his glass, and rose. “Guess I’ll do what I can to enjoy the day.”

“What? Or, whom?” I kept it neutral.

“Point taken.”

He sauntered out while my gaze sought Ballard through the transparent wall between the pubs. He answered his phone, stiffened, and headed for the exit in a trot. What the hell?

A faint pop announced an arriving witch, and I turned back as a worried Chelsea took a seat.

“Wine?”

“Stronger.” Her hand waved a complicated spell, and the bar filled with the pops of numerous witches.

A quick mix produced a cocktail that should suffice. As I pushed it to her, I gazed at the thirty-five new arrivals. Three covens? The hell?

“Bottles?”

Several nodded, so I grabbed wines from the case, uncorking and ing them to the various groups, who swigged and shared between their coven mates.

“Is there a situation?”

Chelsea’s eyes squinted. Even within our friendship, me being considered a peer instead of a mere human took adjustment on her part. Chelsea had been posterchild level arrogant, but I know how important vows, including ones of friendship, were to her. An evolution, of sorts. She blew out a sigh, downed her drink, and the witches in the room cocked their heads to the right.

“An incident occurred on a yacht.”

“Jones? Yeah, I know. Cops were in today talking to the regulars.”

“Not Jones, Patra. A different boat.”

Oh, crap.

I knew Jones’ death came from a magical, just by the bits I’d gleaned. If this was a second attack, someone with a high level skill set was AWOL.

“How many?”

“Dead? Hades knows for sure, but my guess is fifteen to twenty.”

Holy crap. Okay, Patra, think. Each type of magic kills in their own ways.

“How did they die?”

“Mer.”

What? That made zero sense. I had barely started, and I mean tiny inroads, to talk to human governments about how their world works. In fact, I’d only talked in an official capacity to the hottie in Canada. He was now interacting with a shit ton of bears, wolves, and fairies, plus a sizable number of covens, a warlock contingent, and a few Canada specific shifters that crapped goose poop everywhere. The mer presence that far north was minimal, because it’s an ice cube most of the year. So, it’s not as if the mer felt any pressure. For them, the world was unaware, so they moved and lived as accustomed. Why were they lashing out?

“Why don’t the mer discuss the issue, make a point to be heard and understood?”

Chelsea’s face squished. Okay. She’s holding back. Find the right question, Patra.

“Chelsea, who has it in for these boat owners? Or, is this against humans in general?”

“Not all of them, at least not yet.”

I crossed my arms under my breasts and stared at her. She chewed her lip and shrugged.

“The grievance is over humanity junking up the seas, Patra. If you’re building a Triune, that disrespect has to stop.”

“Fifteen or twenty lives, over plastic?”

“You don’t see the volume of life extinguished daily under the surface. Lives that matter far more to the mer than bumbling drunks in their bobbing boats.”

I watched a line of red lights tear past on Atlantic Ave. It appeared the entire Boogie Beach PD responded to the latest attack.

Perfect. So much for measured steps toward this alternative world.

Chapter 3

The witches, after an evening of intense conversations, left at dawn; the office door snicked shut as I sat, breathing in the silence and staring at the weathered desktop and the magically protected cupboard that housed the record, a book at the center of my life. Within it, I recorded the intersection of the human, magical, and Vapor worlds, and more. A lot more.

In a few slices of a shell blade, shit got real. Why the fuck did I believe me, a human with a shred of Vapor and a couple of magic friendships, well, tolerances, could unify the damn worlds? Good grief. On the shore last October, toe to toe and kicking ass, I acted as though I had a plan.

If it’s soul baring time, I sensed the showdown was the right choice. That was all I had. Nice. I flipped the world on its butt for a freaking ‘feeling’.

Jeez, Patra. Way to think through the options.

Crap. Stop it. Generations of Keepers laid and played the path. They handed me the card that won the game. I ginned, and for the immediate, it was good. Now, I’m dealing with a fuck-ton of attitude, ego, and resistance. Magicals with actual power won’t want to give it up, and humans who thought they were powerful might decide the reality that they weren’t didn’t sound appealing.

Greed, as usual, was in play. People love their money, the idea of artificial control, and for many, winning was everything. Humanity won’t be excited about sliding down the ladder from top of the food chain to being a beaver. Or an ant. We’re speaking of gods here.

I opened this box. This was the chaos I lived in, and dammit, having the attitudes grow shitty was a given. I never sat on my ass. The Canadian PM was receptive. Lots of humans understood life was more than the surface. While it’s not the ‘normal’ powerful folks sold them to keep them quiet, building a world of hamsters running the wheels and producing the goods, making the top wealthy while the bottom lived a loving life, this hierarchy was old business.

I wished there were alternative options, but the situation was zero-sum. Tipping everything on its ear was my job. I sat in my office, gobsmacked.

My problem was before the world blew apart I had Ballard, all the way, and he set me straight every damn day. Now I didn’t, and it’s not a breakup but a heartrending erasure. I loved and revolved around the sense of reset we created. Ballard had me: I had him. To save him, I lost him. And that killed me on the daily.

At my most honest, losing Ballard was why the Triune’s unification was sideways. Without him, I was at half-strength. I’m trying. I’ve got a plan, sorta, but at the core this was bullshit, and my heart remained shredded. The world’s warrior wanted to get laid, have her lover back, and for one fucking night, sleep.

Is that too much to ask?

In a new world of competing values regarding what constituted normal, probably.

A whirl of lightning bugs rose from the ferns at Gigi’s feet as Guru’s bike materialized in the dying light. A dimple flashed in a quick smile at this cherished child.

“I’ve begun, my son.”

Guru’s eyes gleamed in the gloaming.

I managed 5 hours of sleep, which was enough because I ran hard, but I fell asleep that way too. Or used to, at least. I made coffee and padded barefoot onto the balcony facing the sea. A shimmer, and Poseidon materialized.

“Nice panties, Keeper.”

I yanked my tee shirt down as his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Ever plan to wash that speedo? Nevermind. What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Checking to see if you reconsidered the sad state of your vagina. I also hoped you might have bacon. And, I want to talk.”

“My vagina is fine. But I’m down for bacon. Coffee?”

“Those beans aren’t worth a damn.”

“Suit yourself. Come inside.”

One rule I stiffened is that my home, beyond the confines of The Boogey, was private. If I didn’t invite a magical to enter, it relegated them to the balconies. Because magicals and gods materialize, the balcony makes a better landing site than my lobby, with its cameras and prerequisite nosy neighbors.

They accepted the rule. Magicials retain the ability to read the human mind, but I put a stipulation into the record requiring permission. We’ll see. That rule was less well received. When you had an advantage, giving it up was difficult.

Invited, Poseidon followed me into the kitchen, snapping a slap on my ass cheek. I gestured to the island and ducked into my bedroom for a pair of shorts. Cheeky style, unfortunately, so not much help, but at least another layer.

Bacon snapping in the pan, I poured Poseidon a quart sized glass of Indian River Select orange juice (the best OJ on the planet) and another coffee for myself, before plopping on the stool at the opposite side of the breakfast bar.

“What’s on your mind, Big Red?”

“You’re dealing with an uprising.”

“I wondered. Two boating incidents so close together didn’t sound unrelated.”

“Of course not,” Poseidon’s skeptical glare made clear he believed I’d grown stupid overnight.

“Hey now. I only learned of the second boat a couple hours ago. Don’t waggle those eyebrows at me as though I’ve turned into a single cell organism.”

“Keeper, if you aren’t paying attention, you’re no better than an amoeba that

writes. A sexy one, but useless beyond the bedding. I think you need a reset.” He gave his balls a thoughtful scratch.

Ouch. And no, I definitely don’t need a ride with Posei-traction.

I stared at him, shoulders slumping. “Arrgh, I know. Dammit, I KNOW. I think I left my cajones on the beach.”

He leaned back and eyed me, a searing blue stare. “It’s affected you that much? Ballsy?”

Four months into the loss, the tears formed and dripped, unbidden. A feeler shot out, scooped a tear, and held it before his eyes.

“I’ve seen this,” Poseidon grunted. “Unique to humans, but I’m aware of others.” Thick fingers drummed the countertop.

After mopping my face, I transferred the bacon to a plate covered with paper towels and set it on the island. In silence, we munched, warm bacon magic taking the edge off the conversation.

“Very well. If Ballsy re-enters your life, I’ll allow it, but only because you appear to share a soul connection. He may shine to you, he might move past you. These threads within the Universe are not static, Cleopatra. You cannot begin where you left off or even assume you can start anew. This is unwritten.”

My swallow clicked inside my throat. What if Ballard felt nothing? Then what?

A big blond eyebrow lifted, Poseidon drained his juice, and leaned closer. “Free will is a bitch. I, however, am an excellent antidote.”

He stood, arranged his junk with a leer, shimmered, and vanished.

With a sigh, I cleared the dishes, then peered at the balcony, covered in Vapor mist.

Huh. Okay.

I cocked my head and crooked a finger, heading toward my coffee table and the journal tucked in the secret drawer. I palmed it open and pulled the battered notebook into my hands. The journal was beat to hell after its snowplow along the beach, but the connection between it and the book in my office at The Boogey remained intact. What I wrote into one appeared within the other. I opened it to a blank page, glanced at the fog swirling in my living room, and wrote a question.

What do you want me to learn?

The script emerged, an elegant spidery etch, before fading to nothing.

There is unrest within the magical world.

Hmmm. The fade meant the writing was returning to the book hidden in The Boogey. They intended this conversation to enter the record. I fished in my mind for the correct question and set the pen on the page.

What is the root cause?

The pause before the answer was so long I thought I’d asked the wrong question, but the script began, slow, but gaining momentum.

The earth suffers. As barriers between the worlds fade, this suffering ricochets and crescendos through the magicals, bound by nature to logic and learning. Their concept of time’s age differs from the human’s, driven by an escalating sense of declining time. Inside that framework, contingencies formed, willing to wait for a true Triune to materialize, but a growing number draw away. They fear, and we believe they are correct, that teaching humans the reality of the world and its complex balance will take longer than the planet has, based on this rate of abuse. The earth survives, changed, but the balance lies in a new place. Humans refuse to adjust. This is the crux. The deaths of the humans on the boats are a warning to you, Keeper. Heed it.

The writing faded, and the mist wafted out the open French doors. Vapors were intelligent, non-corporeal, and peacekeepers. Nothing in this interaction spoke of an agenda.

They came to warn me. Ballard or no, heart shredded and soul wiped, it was time to get moving. I needed a better plan.

Chapter 4

The current Mayor of Daytona was a total dickwad, but the former Mayor, Lincoln Loboli, was a werewolf. His mayorship imploded during the unfortunate collision of a Bike Week with a full moon. What I needed was an ally, so my Beetle curved up the drive of the palatial beach home and parked. Easing out, I caught the glance of a security person, another unshifted wolf, and swallowed with a click. Brown eyes, gold glinting in the irises, stared back, unblinking.

Humans are hardwired to fear this magic. It took sphincter power to keep my shit together and pretend to be a normal person walking toward the front entrance. The security wolf shook his hair, a soft growl reverberating from the depths of his throat. Not helpful.

Mayor Loboli opened the door with a toothy grin. I kept my face blank and nodded. Holy crap. I’m entering the den and had the creepy-crawling skin to prove it.

“Patra, your call surprised me, but I’m intrigued. Let’s talk.”

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mayor.”

Loboli gestured to a seat on the open back patio at a table arranged with a pitcher

of water, glasses, and a snack of steak tartare, facing the rolling sea. I plopped opposite and exhaled, meeting his eyes with a frank look.

“I’ve got a situation, as I am sure you’re aware.”

“Oh, yeah, Keeper. We’re all watching.”

“With Bike Week looming, and rioting mer, I first need to discover whether the shifters are aligning with them?”

His head shook once in the negative. Whew. Okay.

“In that case, can I persuade you to help me clue in the present Mayor?”

“What do you intend to do?”

“Tell him what his true world order is, and make him understand what he’s dealing with, to start.”

“Herzog’s obtuse. He will never believe you.”

“That’s your piece. Are you willing to me, add punctuation to the meeting, and let me trade on your shock value? It’s a big ask, I know. You’ve curated your

privacy over the centuries, and I’m aware that this falls in the realm of a public display.”

Over time, wolves carved out a wealthy, isolated existence amongst humans. They must shift with the moon, an excellent night to stay the fuck out of the Ocala National Forest, but lore aside, they could shift whenever they wished. The unshifted wolf was a choice, not a requirement. If Loboli agreed to change in Herzog’s presence, that’s the perfect exclamation point on my little, ‘hey, humans share the world with magicals, and your town is next to ground zero. Right now, our truce is failing. How about helping?’ speech.

Plus, I needed the help. A co-lead on mitigating the mayhem Bike Week unleashed? I was one thousand percent down with avoiding more death.

Loboli leaned forward and raised an eyebrow as the color drained from my face. “That, dear Patra, might be fun, but I don’t see what’s in it for me other than potential unmasking and ongoing interference.”

He’s not wrong. Think.

“What is your opinion on the Triune?”

“That it’s fluid, undeveloped, and ripe to fail.”

“As human acceptance and learning about the magical world unfolds, do you stand to gain?”

“Possibly. Or they’ll attempt to corral or control. My emphasis is on attempt. The result won’t match the envisioned outcome.”

“Does having a seat at the table change your mind?”

He leaned back, and my skin settled from terror to a faint scream. While he mulled, I took a sip of water from the chilled glass, and waited.

“Terr-i-tor-y,” he said, each syllable landing between us as a manicured nail tapped the glass top. “We want protected woodland, national forests that are magical safe havens. We have our own culture, customs, and unlike your Native Americans, the ability to enforce a treaty.”

Eyes locked, the seconds ticked.

“Mayor, that idea rocks. More than you might know. Last October, this demand for forced adaptation was one of my beefs.”

“I was there. I heard you.”

“Thanks for not killing me before I got the truth out.”

“Thank Witch Glenna. I was down for a snack; she had other ideas.” A long

forefinger traced a faint line of scarring along his cheek.

Head shot. Ouch.

Loboli pulled out his cell and tapped a number.

“Herzog? An issue came to my attention and we need to talk. A merchant, Cleopatra O’Keefe, will us. Today, if possible. 2:30? Done.”

He swiped the call closed, grinning, canines dropping past his upper lip. A weak sauce smile spilled across my face and I rose, praying not to pee my damn pants.

“Impressive, Keeper. You’re not a full human, by any stretch. I’ll meet you downtown at 2:15.”

“Thank you, Mayor. Let’s move the needle and craft a better solution.”

Traffic was light, with a few early arrival Harleys blatting on A1A. The Beetle swooped over the new Silver Beach Bridge and rolled toward City Hall. I was on time and parked as a huge, matte-black Harley CVO slid into the slot next to mine. Loboli kicked the stand and swung a long, well muscled leg over the bike. An eyebrow went up as he busted me scoping the jeans.

“Keeper,” he grinned as my skin did that annoying prickle and attempt to slide off my body thing again.

“Sorry. That was unintended.”

“You would not survive it.”

He turned and strode, me double timing to keep on his heels. On the steps, several magicals nodded at him, and a few at me. Surprising, but welcomed. If Daytona Beach knew how many magical entities were part of their government, it’d blow the collective mind.

At the reception desk, the witch hanging up the phone grinned at Loboli. “Herzog’s expecting you. Let me make sure he’s alone.” Her body appeared to pause, but this was a frozen image as she popped herself into his office and back again. The figure in front of us reanimated, and she inclined her head.

“No interruptions,” Loboli said, and received a wink in reply.

Herzog rose as I closed the door. He leaned forward to shake Loboli’s hand, blenching, then reached for mine, squeezing my fingers harder than necessary. An annoying habit, used to remind you of his power.

Boy, do I have news for you, pal.

“What’s going on?” Herzog’s tone was no nonsense; he wanted this over and Loboli out of his office.

“Mayor, your city is undergoing a tremendous change and could use your help.” I was winging this, but whatever. “I suppose blunt is best. You preside over an unseen intersection of human and magical entities.”

Herzog snorted with laughter. Eyebrow raised, I waited.

“Oh, don’t laugh, Mayor. I know what killed those yacht owners and guests. If you want to stop these murders, I can help you.”

Herzog wiped his eyes. “Help me catch magic criminals?” His shoulders shook. “Why the fuck are you wasting my time, Loboli? We’re done here.”

Loboli leaned in, face sprouting a snout with serious teeth, then grinned. Herzog whitened, hands shaking.

“Watch your tone with me,” Loboli’s voice, guttural with growl, hung between

them as the odor of urine permeated the room.

I cleared my throat. “Mayor, the blending of the worlds is real and you’re fixing to have a titan worthy clash heaving across your city. The mer, a water dwelling race, attacked the boats. They are furious over the needless deaths under the surface caused by plastic and garbage. Magicals of all stripes, in every part of our world, wait to craft a harmonious solution, but you have to help humanity get on board.”

I wasn’t sure how much of this was getting past the Loboli shock. With a crash, I pounded my hand on his desk.

“Listen! We cohabitate this earth, and humans regard it as a planet sized garbage dump. Your istration started the anti-plastic policy. Implement your piece, to get this mindset of conserving, preventing pollution into the sea, and cleaning up prioritized and happening. The mer are pissed, but that’s mine to handle. Get your face in front of a bunch of cameras. Present a concrete agenda and then enforce the living crap out of the program.”

Fingers gripping my knees, I leaned back. “People will die, hell, they are dying already. One person alone can’t shift human perception. I need open minds in powerful places to help. The Canadian PM is on board.”

Herzog’s eyes widened.

“I’m asking you, since Daytona lies near the line between the worlds, to be the key player in saving everybody. Take the lead in the U.S., Herzog. You’ll be president someday.”

Okay, that’s a stretch, but I know how politicians think.

Herzog’s mouth snapped shut, but the rest of him remained frozen in shock.

Loboli, human face restored, leaned in. “This opportunity won’t come again, Mayor. If you decline, magicals will lay the ensuing dumpster fire at your feet. If we require a news story changed? A witch snaps and we have what we need. If you attack us in force, we can vanish at will. If we want money, we have it. If we decide you don’t need money or donors, that’s another snap. We are superior in all facets. Lucky for your longevity, the Keeper paved the opening for the Triune, creating a three-way path of co-existing.”

“Keeper?”

I waggled my fingers at him.

“Wait! Three? There’s something more?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to worry. They are waiting for you to wake up and act. Action matters.” Loboli filled the room with a hackle raising snarl.

“What? How?” Herzog shook in his seat.

“, you ran on a ‘clean up the beach’ initiative. Implement and enforce it, demand a moratorium on plastic on the beaches and boats, and levy hefty fines. That’s step one.” I pushed a paper across the desk that outlined his tasks. “Do these things and follow my timeline. My task involves working with the mer to accept the human efforts and stop the slicing. What happens going forward is up to you, Mayor. Take the credit, use what pans out to your advantage, but trickery won’t work. Magicals wrote that book, and you will not enjoy the results.”

“Because,” I continued, rising, “they punish. Lots of pain.”

“And blood,” Loboli scratched a single claw into the wooden desktop.

“The information you need is right here, Mayor,” I tapped the document, “and I’ll help with anything I can, but don’t ignore, sweep under the rug, or try to strong-arm our request into silence. If you plan to avoid your part of the effort, count on the retribution to be public, messy, and career ending.”

Loboli rose, leaning over the desk as he shifted, and snapped his jaws against Herzog’s ear, drawing a thin line of blood. “Pay attention.”

To the scent of crapped pants, we left.

Chapter 5

“You’re out of your element, Poseidon, although it’s always nice to see you, Asclepius. What brings you to my forest?” Gaia’s smile, beneath the bouncing curls, did not reach her eyes.

“I seek understanding, Gigi. This incitement of the mer feels strategic, but not focused. What purpose drives it?” Clep sat a sculpted butt on a fallen tree and held her gaze.

“My Earth is sick. I’m cutting out the poison.”

“We share the Earth. Why start a war that will scar and rend the creation?” Clep wagged a finger.

“You have a different agenda,” Poseidon’s tone was even, but his eyes narrowed.

“Do not start, Sea Pup, I am Primordial and you are a fuck-happy beach bum wasting my time while the world burns. If I choose to reset this planet, stay out of my way.”

“If,” Clep repeated. “You are undecided.”

“For now. I met your Keeper; she’s surprising. I doubt she can pull this off, but if she does, well, we shall see.” Gaia contracted, becoming a dragonfly and rising into the sunlight before vanishing.

Exasperation filled the clearing as Asclepius shrugged

“Clep,” Poseidon glanced at the towering god of healing, “that diatribe was 50% bullshit.”

“Gaia’s accelerated the timeline, that’s a certainty. Why, I’m unclear.”

“I will speak with the mer.” Poseidon shimmered and vanished.

From within the dense surrounding trees, Loboli padded into the clearing and sat on his haunches, eying Clep.

“Keep the forest magicals out of it, other than to aid the Keeper’s efforts. Not sure why Gaia struck out on her own, but she is powerful and a forced showdown begets questionable outcomes.”

“Agreed,” Loboli rose, setting his front paws and dropping his shoulders towards the ground. “After the full moon, we’ll talk again.” With a luxurious stretch, he shook out his coat and slipped into the trees.

I stared at the mirror in shock. My hair, long and sandy blond, was now black and curled in tight ringlets. Pulling one straight, it stretched to my waist.

Dammit, Waldo!

I looked at the vial of serum, still in a state of disbelief. How could he? Is it permanent? The police appreciation event happens in five days, my chance to create a spark with Ballard. And although cool and sexy, ebony curls are not my beach look. If I knew which tree that little wizard shit was hiding under, I’d kick gator tail and drag him forth myself.

Chelsea! Maybe she’ll help. Feet pounding in a Hades-bent scramble through the condo, I palmed the hidden space where the journal lived and pulled out a bell, ringing it three times.

Pop

“Hahahahaha!”

“Are you recovered? Can you fix it?”

“This? A wizard potion you chose to apply?” Chelsea’s eyes, blue with merriment, crinkled at the corners. “No.”

“What! Oh the gods, Chelsea, please help!”

“Impossible. It requires an antidote supplied by the wizard who concocted it. While I suspect Waldo intends to bring it in two weeks when he returns, you’re stuck until then.”

“I can’t wait that long! Ballard will be at the appreciation event and I need my hair!”

Chelsea eyed me, gears turning. “I’ve got an idea.” As her hand closed on my curls, she snapped.

I dropped to my knees in the muck and ralphed, ing the knobby eyes rising out the water ten feet from my hands.

I’m swamped with vertigo in a swamp with a swamp-monster! Holy crap.

“Why didn’t you let me grab my anti-vertigo potion,” I heaved, palms making sucking noises as I struggled to de-squelch from the goo. “You know humans can’t handle magical movement in space or time. And that gator is not leaving!”

“Pish,” Chelsea replied, selecting a stone and throwing it at a tree with a cracking sound. A section of the bark shimmered, and a tiny doorway appeared.

Chelsea made a complicated hand wave, and the door grew larger. No, wait, that

wasn’t it. We shrunk. The gator moved with a fast flick of his tail. Chelsea grabbed me by the hair, yanked me toward the opening, and we entered as the beast’s belly slid up the bank, covering my hand prints.

“Darlings! I never get visitors, how lovely to look at you both.” Waldo’s eyes took in my unexpected hairdo and his tiny body shook with laughter. “Ah, it’s becoming clearer. Wine?”

“I’d love a glass,” Chelsea responded. “Half glass for the Keeper, or I’ll have to carry her home.”

Magical wine was not human friendly, with effects akin to slugging a fat glass of moonshine. Chelsea got no argument from me. I had a bar to run tonight, plus managing the human side.

“Half is perfect, Waldo. Thank you.” The receding vertigo left my voice sounding closer to normal. Small favors.

“How goes forest life?”

Chelsea’s tone was amiable, but I shot her a side-eye.

“Oh, it’s quiet here, although I’ve seen Gaia twice. Unusual,” Waldo answered, sipping. “She doesn’t remain in one place long. She mentioned she’s planning to hang around for a while.”

“Oh?” Chelsea sipped as my eyes darted from face to face, getting an inkling.

“Guru might know,” I ventured, and Chelsea returned the side-eye favor.

“Could be an interesting conversation. Waldo, we can’t stay. Is there an antidote for her predicament?”

It was possible he’d not prepared the antidote, in which case I was screwed. But Waldo giggled and reached into his waist sack.

“Here, dear. Three drops, anywhere on your hair, will do it.”

I gripped the vial and tucked it into my shorts pocket with care.

“Thank you, Waldo.”

Chelsea rose, heading to the door, as Waldo leaned in toward me, his voice low.

“Don’t toss that serum away, dearest. It may come in handy. Just a hunch.”

His earnest expression surprised me, and I nodded. “Okay, Waldo, I’ll hang onto it.”

“It’s progressive, you see. Every three drops initiates. If you don’t need it, you’re fine, and if you do, I hope it serves you well.”

Wait, what?

His tiny hand patted my arm as Chelsea reached for me and snapped.

On hands and knees, rocking, I flopped onto my side on the balcony floor and stared at her.

“Start wearing a waist sack like a magical,” she shrugged. “I can’t be your potion cabinet.” Answering her wiggling finger tips, a vial shot from my bathroom and smacked against her outstretched palm. “Here, drink that and stop barfing. I’ll see you later.”

Another snap, and I lay whirling on the balcony, alone.

Swig swallowed, I ended the nausea and staggered to the bathroom, tipped three drops of the antidote onto my head and regarded the transformation to sandy blond waves, falling to the middle of my back.

Better.

The serum and antidote vials in hand, I grabbed my sharpie, labeled them, and tucked them in the hidden drawer. A nudge poked my mind, so I pulled the journal and my pen, then plunked onto the couch. Before writing the entry, I had questions.

The Record, filled with the writings of earlier Keepers, was a symbiont of sorts. I could talk to it, and entries rose onto the blank pages to answer queries. Mind parsing, I formed the first one.

What is Gaia’s relationship to the mer people?

Script erupted across the page. Based on the handwriting, a Keeper in the 1900s made the entry.

Gaia is ancient, mother of Zeus, but her power lies far beyond the timeline of now. Her domain is the entire Earth, and she has no peer on Olympus. She is mother over all creatures, whether land or sea, and the entirety answers her call.

Call? Literal, or a cell bond, or? I chewed the tip of the pen and let my thoughts roam. What purpose does it serve Gaia to have a connection with the entire creation?

Is that interconnectedness a weapon?

Script filled the page below my question.

Gaia can reset Earth in order to preserve it. This occurred once in the past. In the great reset, a new order presented; she lay the old one to rest.

Reset? Shit, is this a reference to the dinosaurs? Titans? Cronus? Time to study.

After dipping and blotting the pen, I wrote an entry.

The murder, by the mer, of humans on two vessels makes little sense. The Triune isn’t impacting the mer. Their existence is unknown to humans. I believe something or someone pushes them. The impetus appears to be human’s disregard for the planet, and that is the direction I’m following to craft a solution that works for all parties.

I blew on the page until it dried and watched the writing fade as it returned to the book in my office. After laying my palm on the journal’s drawer to close it, I wandered along my bookcases, pulling two volumes, the first on current Greek mythology and another on primordial deities.

Settled into the balcony’s comfy chaise, I cracked the primordial one and read, taking notes.

Why Gaia, why now?

Okay, so Chaos came first, because why not, and he hung around somewhere embodying the great void, mass, and darkness. A real partier. He formed (these details were always fuzzy) the universe and Gaia. She went to town, creating the

stars and the Earth. With Chaos, she birthed the god of the sky, Uranus, then built Earth’s topography. So, mountains, seas, and everything in between, that’s her. Got it.

Of course, families being what they are, this headed to hell, and fast. A lot of stuffing and swallowing of offspring ensued, both by Uranus and later, Gaia’s son Cronus. While intending to upset the power applecart, the upshot was the fall of Cronus, the Titans, and the eventual tossing over of Uranus, henceforth the star of nine-year-old humor for several millennia.

That’s badass when you think about it. Don’t mess with the mother.

Typical power-hungry misbehaving. I suppose Zeus came by his jerk attitude honorably. Zeus’s Cronus smack down ended the age of the Titans. Welcome to current history.

I skimmed the next bit, sat up straight, and screamed. Gaia was the source of the Vapors. Their creation produced divine inspiration, and Gaia became the mother of oracles.

Ho-lee shit. She’s everything, Vapor, magical, mythical, and humanity’s mother.

We should be allies. So why wasn’t she helping me? What was I missing?

Chapter 6

Guru, I knew, was the demigod child of Gaia and a human. Lineage aside, I needed to talk to him, so I stood on the pier, patient, watching the beach and sea. After fifteen minutes, Guru’s outline grew along the periphery, riding his fat tire bike at the surf’s edge, hands in prayer position.

Good.

As he rode past their groups, beachgoers looked up as if awakened. Several picked up trash, others ran, shouting with joy, into the waves. His effect appeared to radiate what they already possessed, but observing it gave me an idea. Could magicals foster, without control, the attitude changes needed to engage humans in the Triune? Another session with the book might shed light.

Guru’s brilliant lime eyes rose to meet mine, but he did not stop, gliding under the pier and rolling out the other side. Fine. I wanted this conversation, so I’d initiate. Which, to be honest, didn’t irritate in the slightest. Reticence has never been my long suit, so chasing Guru to get my questions answered was a groove.

Chelsea slid up against the railing.

“Guru is not making himself available.”

She snorted. “I imagine not.”

That earned a side-eye.

“Well, I’m undeterred. Are you,” I pulled my anti-vertigo potion from my pocket, “willing to assist?”

Chelsea barked a laugh. “Could be fun. Do you even have a plan?”

“Pish, I’m an excellent winger.”

“No argument here. How you survive is a continual source of surprise. I’ve lost several bets.”

Fingers closed around my wrist, I swigged, and she snapped. We landed 10 yards ahead of Guru, and he shot me a look of displeasure. The bike eased to a stop, broad feet planting into the sand, grounding with the beach.

“Keeper, if I wanted to talk with you, the opportunity presented.”

“These awkward two-way streets of Triune equality, Guru, amirite?”

His eyes flashed an angry green, but I dug for courage.

Stay the course, Patra. He’s no Zeus.

“Guru, when you ride the line of the surf, you impact the humans. Is that reaction based on what lies within them, or is it a manipulation?”

I had his attention. “That’s a credible question, Keeper. The response is the humans. Inside the interaction, my choice is if I wish to call it forth.”

“Is it scalable?”

Another irritated verdant flash.

“No, please, I’m not being disrespectful. What I’m curious about is whether your aura can move large numbers of humans who are in a crowd.”

Guru looked puzzled. “Don’t know, never tried. For me, it’s the flow.”

“The Mayor of Daytona is ordering a massive reduction of plastic, plus a beach cleanup in a few days. Within enormous groups, could you engage them, calling the good out to move the effort in the right direction?”

He rocked back on his bike seat and closed his eyes. Above, pelicans circled to the left in vast sweeps of wing, spiraling around his position. Guru’s lids snapped open, irises gleaming.

“Perhaps.”

“I desire to communicate with Gaia. Would she entertain that?”

“Unknown. , I do not answer for the Mother.”

“When you see her, could you please petition for me?”

A curt nod and his wide foot smashed on the pedal. Guru rolled past, hands templed above his heart space, humans moving in an earth dance before him.

A thank you drink landed in front of Chelsea and I turned toward heavy steps coming from the door. Poseidon squelched across the rough wooden floorboards and sat his wet, speedo-clad butt on his favorite stool. His face was all straight lines.

“The usual?”

An absentminded nod, and he twisted, peering out the wide, square windows to the sea. Eyebrow raised, Chelsea picked up her glass and moved to the ading seat, before leaning her head toward his massive visage.

“Is something wrong?”

Poseidon grunted and downed his drink in one ungodly gulp.

“Keeper, another.”

I was already pouring. Poseidon and I have history, and being morose is not his gig. Today, he’s depression dialed to twelve. Gods don’t feel depressed. It’s not their thing. Smiting now, they get significant pleasure out of that trick. Zeus 101.

The second drink disappeared.

Crap, he’ll be shitfaced and ready to bang any available woman by sundown, that’s less than an hour away. Except for Chelsea, I’m the only one here.

I needed patrons to amuse and slow his roll. I caught Chelsea’s eye and mouthed, ‘fae’. She winked, a sly grin tipping the corners of her mouth.

Mega drunk gods are problematic. They have zero boundaries and hella mojo. They end up in all the pants, and it’s not good for business. Shifters or mer on a date night do not want the objects of their affection boinking Big Red in the bathroom stalls. When he does that, er, them, it means those males won’t return, and I’m not here to run a dried out pub with three career drunks. So, part of the job is managing whatever gods darken my door so we can party in a semblance of harmony. It works most of the time.

Chelsea patted Poseidon’s arm and snapped. Here’s hoping she could persuade the fae to come out and party. I needed a jovial atmosphere, and they were the best.

Thick fingers drummed the bar, and I pushed drink number three his way.

“You’re concerned. Could I be a sounding board?”

Blue eyes met mine and his head tipped, puzzled.

“I’ve engaged with the mer. They vow to shift allegiance for no discernable reason.”

Huh. I bet the shift is toward Gaia. Okay, Patra, think.

“Maybe the violence appeals to them?”

Another grunt. “They aren’t under attack.”

“No, but wielding the offense has its perks.”

“Doesn’t matter; they live in my sea.”

Deep breath. I’m stepping off terra firma.

“Gaia made the seas. I imagine she thinks she has precedence.”

“Gaia is,” he caught himself. “Nevermind, Keeper.”

“I’ve requested . If you can help me get a read on her, Poseidon, I’d be grateful.”

“What? Why?”

“Because she should be my natural ally, and she isn’t. I need to understand her reasons.”

He leaned back and stared, then shook his hair off his shoulders. The millions of statues of him never caught the power. Huge, chiseled face, flowing mane, amazing body, piercing blue eyes… and possessing a god mojo that shredded bikinis on . I was impervious, for the most part, but staying unmoved and unbedded was uphill work.

“Cleopatra, you continue to surprise me. Beauty and intellect.”

This was an actual compliment. Rare. Appreciated. And, I hoped, earned.

“Gaia decided she is on the path to a reset. Her faith in your Triune manifesting lasting results over time is low.” His eyes narrowed. “Close to zero. You have a minimal chance to change her mind.”

“Then I better get moving.”

The door swung open and Chelsea strode in, followed by six fairies, three musky bear shifters, and two wizards I didn’t know.

“Welcome to The Boogey. What’s your pleasure?”

I mixed Whisps for the fairies, tapped ales for the bears, and poured two perfect WellWinds for the wizards, receiving a nod of approval from one.

“Waldo mentioned you’d mastered this drink.” He pushed dollars over the bar, I lifted an eyebrow, and he shoved over a few more.

“Thanks. Enjoy.”

Poseidon raised a finger for number four. One fairy bounced on his lap and another danced on the bar before him. They’d be flitting from my hanging lamps in no time. Fairies emitted pure joy. They lit a room with happiness, fed off of their own vibe, grew and glowed in an incredible circling whip of bliss. Even if nothing came of the evening, the fae changed the vibration. Poseidon’s pensiveness drained away, his laugh booming, flirtatious jocularity restored.

As I lifted the drink to deliver it, my foot sunk into soft, mossy ground. The glass slid from vanishing fingers, crashing onto the wooden decking of The Boogey.

My eyes raised to meet a pair of frank brown ones as the twilight sounds of the woods howled and chittered. Stagnant water and jasmine scents filled my lungs.

I’m in the forest at dusk. With wolves. Perfect.

“Hello, Keeper.”

“Hello.”

Her dimple flashed. “You wanted to speak with me. As a rule, I don’t entertain audiences.”

I blinked. This was Gaia?

“Whoa, I you.... We met in the mountains when Asclepius fixed my leg.”

“Very good. Yes, I know you, and I’m watching. Not impressed, but observant.”

A mist roiled up from the ground and swirled around me. Vapors! Are they here to help?

“I want to fix your earth, Mother, and I entreat you to help me.” I looked at the protective Vapor mist. “Perhaps, we entreat you.”

Gaia cocked her head, ebony curls dancing, as the mist whirled in intricate patterns.

Holy crap, that’s a language. How did I not know this? Could I learn it?

Another flash of dimple.

Damn, she’s reading my mind.

“Very well, Keeper. I won’t thwart your attempt, but you have limited time to prove yourself capable of enacting change. I will protect my creation. However, my oracle mist asks that your efforts be unfettered. An unusual request.”

Behind the swirls, I stared at her. What did that mean?

“Oh, I will not change your humanity, but I’ve decided to allow you to tap the Vapor that dwells within your body. To discover how is your problem.”

My feet, standing in the puddle of Poseidon’s dropped drink and the shards of glassware, ed the wet sensation sloshing through my flip-flops at the same time his finger tapped the bar.

“Keeper, another.”

Chapter 7

The silence of an empty building, my sunrise reward, filled the office. Last night ended with a decent till, business wise, plus the bonus of Poseidon’s malaise managed. I should head home, sleep, and refuel, but I knew I needed time with the book.

A faint tap paused my palm before I touched the cupboard door. Huh. I rose and headed for the human door.

Ballard.

Yikes, I look like crap.

“Detective, I’m not open until nine.”

“I know, but hoped you might be here. Sargent Johnson can’t be the liaison for the appreciation event, and I offered to cover. I’d appreciate it if you’d bring me up to speed.”

Oh hell, yes. Whatever force of the Universe did this, thank you.

“Please come in, Detective.” I led the way to my office, adding a modicum of ass swing, and gestured to the wooden folding chair behind the door. “I’m not fancy.”

Green eyes twinkled. “Fancy is not why cops choose their profession, Patra.”

After unlocking the desk drawer, I pulled a file folder and plopped into my seat, metal hinges squeaking in salted air protest.

“How familiar are you with our appreciation event?”

“Can you run the timeline for me?”

“Sure,” I glanced sideways at him and gave my best smile. The corners of his mouth, the ones I loved to kiss, tipped upward. Warmth crept up my neck.

Ack. Focus, Patra.

“The event is next Wednesday. I’m making the fish order on Tuesday morning, so I need attendance numbers by Monday night. Johnson had sheets out for each shift. A rough total is plenty. If more show it’s fine, so don’t turn anyone away.”

“Got it.” Ballard’s eyes had not left my face, and I returned the gaze.

“The event itself runs from 4 to 8 pm, straddling two of your shifts, so coming pre or post shift is OK. We’ll have a buffet set up, and the bar is open for your attendees. The north side of the restaurant seating will be for your group.”

“That’s very generous.”

“We take care of each other, Detective.”

The silence stretched as I dove into his green pools, covered in lost bliss. Ballard eased back, comfortable in the moment.

“Patra, are you seeing anyone?”

My throat clicked. I tried again. “No, I’m not.”

“That’s surprising.”

“Well, I stay busy with this place. Besides, I seek chemistry and connection.”

The snap between us zinged, filling the office as my toes tingled.

Ballard leaned forward, rising and pulling me to my feet, closing the space between our bodies as his lips brushed mine in a kiss so soft, if I hadn’t been combusting, I’d have mistaken it for a caress of wind.

“ me for dinner?”

“Alright,” I managed.

“Here’s my private cell number,” he slipped a card between the neckline of my tee shirt and my skin. “Call me when you’re ready.”

Ready? Lord. Let me sweep off this desk and jump you… right.this.second.

He eased back, filling the warmth between us with air, tipped my face up to his and dropped another whisper kiss on my lips.

“Soon.”

“Soon.”

I headed toward the front door, smiling as I locked it behind him, and watched his fine ass walk the entire length of the pier. I was wet and happy, blood singing the opera. Poseidon’s warning aside, Ballard felt me, felt our connection. For

now, that was enough.

You might think I’d be lost in wondering and not able to focus, but you’d be wrong. Knowing Ballard was circling pulled the anxiety from my heart for the first time in freaking months. The Keeper lifestyle did one thing for me, I harbored zero expectations for outcomes. With magicals, it’s impossible to predict who shows up, blowing everything out of the water, and wasting time trying to control situations was, well, stupid. I’m taking the happiness from reconnecting and using the energy for tackling my other problem, the saving humanity one.

Ballard’s car pulled away, and I padded back to my desk, pulling the book and cracking it open. I knew what my first question was.

Do the Vapors have a language?

The page wavered, and an entry coalesced. This was Ezekial Kane’s writing, the first Keeper!

While holding the Vapor host within, we spoke, using the Record to understand and learn. I discovered the Vapors are capable of speaking to every entity. I set upon myself the task of understanding.

Whoa. Okay, but how? I can’t swirl smoke.

How can a human learn it?

The book remained blank, which happens. Often, the best question isn’t the first one that comes to mind.

Is there a written record of the Vapor language?

The entry rose to the top, a diagram of directional swirls and their meanings. I scanned the pages, determined to understand. Unlike human languages, it’s not a series of letters or symbols, nor is it whole word configurations. This was, emotions? But how does that work? In the forest, the mists roiled in dozens of these shapes, stacked upon one another.

I grabbed a pen. Huh. So I want to ask for help. How do I do that?

The book stayed on the same entry. I looked at the complicated listing of emotions and blew out a sigh. Think, Patra.

In an effort at spitballing, I copied the swirl for frustration. If I need help, I’m frustrated, right? Okay, what else? Hmmm. And a little scared? I added the whirl symbol for uneasy. Now what? How about hopeful to receive ? I placed that one above the other two. Three symbols, three emotions, and nada. I’m missing something. Ballard drifted across my mind. ‘I seek chemistry and connection’. Connection.

Yes!

At the bottom of the grouping, I connected frustration to unease, and then unease to hope.

This shape resembles what I saw with Gaia. I’m onto something.

The entry faded and a clean page rose, script etching a question.

What help do you seek?

Holy crap! I did it; they understood me.

“The world,” I whispered. “Help me save the world.”

A sleepless night, but between seeing and re-igniting with Ballard and the coup of figuring out the Vapors’ language, it was worth it. Hot, fragrant BLT in hand, I paced the length of my balcony to the sound of the crashing waves, mind churning as a plan formed.

It just might work. If I got the help I needed and a shit-ton of luck. And Gaia didn’t cut me off before I stuck the landing, or Loboli decided a reset suited him better.

Yikes.

It’s not like I haven’t flung poo in the face of the gods, acting like an angry monkey cousin with a death wish. I survived the last showdown. Might as well grab another handful.

My torso contracted. Hard. Could I do this? Before, I had nothing to lose. But now, the chance to be together with Ballard tipped the heart scales.

The pain in my chest seared, so acute my knees buckled and I sat/fell across the chaise, a piece of tomato plopping onto the balcony’s concrete floor.

Was this a heart attack? To be honest, I assumed I’d go in a far more spectacular fashion. I glared at the bacon, delicious crispy edges hanging out with their mayonnaise partner in artery clogging crime.

Shut up, Patra. Healthy people in their thirties do not have coronaries. This is a panic attack, based on the fear of losing Ballard. You have a benchmark for pain. To face that now, it’s with intimate knowledge of how those knives of grief will slice your soul.

I couldn’t bear another loss. That’s the crux of it. And it sucked, because I was the Keeper. Nobody on the entire planet can do this job except me. I didn’t want to save the fucking world; I wanted love, a kid, and permission to revel in a tiny, boring, human life. Which, if I’m being honest, was the one thing I’d never have.

I stared out at the ocean, watching the crosshatch waves form in the surf, creating doorways for water magicals to cross to the human side during new or full moons.

That’s a ton of entries.

I grabbed my binoculars. The surface of the sea roiled, but I concentrated, staring into the water below the froth. The crosshatches were teeming with mer. Why so close? What are they up to now? They couldn’t enter… yet. In two days the full moon rose, and then the party started, crazy time for twelve hours. Considering their recent track record, I doubted their visit would go well.

Crud.

No need to crap on the cushion for me to see the shit. I had to talk to them before the moon unleashed them. This fledgling plan might work; with marauding mer making a mess, odds declined.

Maybe Poseidon could do me a solid and take me below without drowning my non-magical ass? It’d be nice if he kept the mer from slicing me up for chum, too. They’re, well, not my easiest magicals, and they love those lethal shell blades.

Big Red as both taxi and security? And if so, expecting… what in return? He was always ready to throw me a god bone, which I didn’t need; it complicated everything.

C’est la vie. All I could do is ask.

Chapter 8

“So you want to go below and chat with the mer?” Chelsea snorted. “Have you been dipping into the magical wine?”

My eyebrows set in a line. Behind her, Pook and Bingo knocked heads in a game of flipping anchovy crisps in the air and catching them in their mouths. Well, trying. The floor was littered with fishy detritus.

“Don’t turn those blue eyes to grey and pissy,” Chelsea made a vague hand gesture and a red bandana dropped over my head, covering my face. I raked it off and glowered.

“Chelsea, the mer intend to side with Gaia, and I bet they don’t know she’s giving me time to try. What if they use the full moon to murder a bunch of humans? That’s a problem. If unusual, gory news stories roll out right before Bike Week, Mayor Herzog won’t do his part. Each piece hinges on the next.”

Chelsea crossed her arms on the bartop and leaned toward me, eyes shading green. “Patra, I’m counting the number of magicals who believe you can stop this reset on one hand, and that’s only because they like you. Logic says this will not work.”

“Good thing I’m not relying on logic, but on the heart.”

Another snort, and Chelsea drained her glass, shoving it to me for a refill. “I’m rooting for you, but I’ve got to be honest, Poseidon should be here later and I can’t wait to watch that conversation.”

Ugh.

The door opened, and I turned, wolf signature sensors screaming, trying to fix my face. Loboli. In The Boogey. As far as I knew, for the first time.

“Mayor, what’s your pleasure?”

“Mooncraft is fine, Patra, and a chat if you aren’t busy.” His brown eyes took in Pook and Bingo’s jerky gaped-mouth crisp catching, accompanied by Chelsea’s eye roll, then dropped a toothy smile that clenched my gut.

“Perfect timing, it’s always slow this early in the evening.”

After ing the Mooncraft to him, I poured two fingers of bourbon courage for myself, and gestured to stools by the big wood framed windows. Glassless, of course. In the main bar I had plastic curtains I dropped if the weather grew inclement, but a spell covered the ones for The Boogey. The rain stayed outside, so the seating there was always pleasant.

“I’m curious whether you have a handle on your task?” Loboli settled on the stool, propping a muscled leg up on the stool’s rungs. Damn.

I sipped, stalling. What did he mean by that? Despite the whole wolf creep factor, Loboli integrated himself into the human world. Well, until he imploded, but still. The former Mayor was one of the few magicals who saw the entire picture.

“There are several moving parts,” I met his gaze, ignoring my screaming blood and earning a small grin from him. “Allies would help.”

“I’m here on behalf of the wolves and bears in Florida. After watching you, we’re invested and interested in your success. The price is the northern half of the forest.”

“A few humans own property up there.”

“We’ll be generous when buying them out.”

“Most is federal land. My agreement may be meaningless.”

“As long as you vow to work toward that end, we will not align with Gaia.” He leaned closer while my stomach headed to Miami. “Besides, we could use a persuasive ally as well, and the most powerful human on earth, at least the one with true sight, is you.”

The bourbon warmed my throat. “Really?”

“Keeper, you alone knew the shifters felt stuck, that we needed to be unfettered to grow.”

That bit of honesty hung between us. Why was I no longer in full-blown flight mode? Does aligning face-to-face mitigate the fear? Something to ask the book. Either way, I was recording this conversation.

“Agreed. I vow to fight for protected forest space for the shifters.”

“Then we will aid in your task.” He tapped his glass to mine. I squinted, making sure no Mooncraft sloshed over his rim. I’d be asleep for three days.

Loboli drained his beer, threw his head back and howled.

“Damn, that felt good. Patra, I wish you success.”

“Much appreciated, Mayor, and please thank the wolves, bears, and any other forest shifters who choose to . I’m grateful for the alliance.”

Another fang-filled flash of approval and he rose, marching his gorgeous jeanclad butt out of The Boogey. I turned to see Chelsea had availed herself of the view. Her eyes cut to mine, blue once more and twinkling.

I eased back behind the bar, mixed a fresh drink for her, and poured ales for the boys, which they chugged. Anchovy crisps were salty.

“You’ve made a mess.”

Pook looked at the floor, surprised. “That was Bingo. I caught mine.”

Bingo shrugged. “I catch the hot hens.”

Pook slugged him. They knocked each other around, rolling in the crumbs, as I grabbed the broom and dustpan. Bingo hopped to his feet, punched Pook a final tap on the shoulder, and swept up most of the mess.

“Thanks, Bingo.”

“We won’t take Gaia’s side either, Patra. Well, she hasn’t asked, but we’re with you.”

“Y’all are sweet. I may need eyes in the skies.”

I tapped two more fresh ales. “Pook, you’ve got a crisp in your hair.”

Pook shook his shaggy mop over the bar and popped the crisp into his maw.

“You two are disgusting,” Chelsea laughed.

The door swung open again, and by the weight of the footsteps, I started mixing Poseidon’s favorite. He settled onto his preferred stool, Clep sliding into the one next to him. I ed Poseidon his drink. Pensive again. Crap.

My gaze slid to Asclepius. “Twelfth tide?” Clep could handle his alchemy; a twelfth tide was not a drink for amateurs.

Dark eyes gleaming, he nodded. Clep, the god of healing, was a gorgeous mountain with velvet skin the color of dark chocolate, and for reasons unknown, he liked me. I completed the cocktail’s twelve layers, each alternating with a clockwise or counterclockwise spin, and pushed it across, lost in memory. The October night on the beach, the winds swirled in an identical pattern. Funny how these little interconnections appear.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say funny,” Clep laughed. “More akin to a signal or signpost.”

“As in seeing the complete picture?”

Sculpted full lips curved and a green feeler popped out of his palm, wrapping around my wrist, a glowing sensation that warmed my nethers.

“In ways. In other messages, you miss opportunities.”

For what, birthing a demigod and struggling as a single mom for the rest of my bound to be short lifetime? No thanks.

The vine shaped tentacle unwrapped, and Clep laughed, raising his drink. Poseidon grunted, staring out at the sea. It’s super weird knowing most of the bar listened in on that entire mental conversation. But that’s gods. Sheesh.

Lowering my voice, I leaned toward Poseidon. “Could we chat?”

“I’m aware of what you wish to attempt, Keeper. It is pointless.”

“Please give me a chance to save humans from unnecessary violence. Allowing needless death by magic is not in my blood.”

“I know full well what is in your blood, Cleopatra. Better than you do.”

Stubborn eyes bored into his, and he shrugged. We faded and landed on the sand below the pier.

“Speak your piece, Keeper.”

“Gaia agreed to let me try, and to hold off on the reset. With Loboli’s help, I persuaded the human Mayor to follow a course of action, and Loboli told me today the forest shifters will not Gaia. Momentum is with me, Poseidon. I doubt Gaia shared that with the mer.” I dropped to my knees, penitent. “Please, I’m entreating you, let me get in front of this.”

“What makes you think they care?”

“I need to learn what drove the murders, straight from the source. I want to listen to the mer’s leaders and tell them what I’m doing. If inaction is why they’re pissed, they deserve to hear, from me, what’s being done.”

“Done?”

“Fine. Tried.”

To my surprise, he burst out laughing, gripping my shoulder with a mojo blast as he pulled me to my feet. “Keeper, I’ll escort you and protect you. But, don’t hold your breath.”

Wait, literally?

He turned, walking into the sea, his big mitt gripping the back of my neck and drawing me into the breakers. A gold thread shot from his palm and folded around my wrist. I stared, transfixed, as my skin faded to crystal, then water, as we both collapsed into the ocean, one with the boundless synergy covering most

of the planet.

I’m fluid yet corporeal. This ranks near the top of the weirdest things I’ve experienced, which is saying a hell of a lot.

Around me, mer swam in graceful power. I offered no body to attack, and several stared with a mixture of expressions. Disdain, curiosity, and ambivalence predominated. A few swiped their blades in our direction as we flowed amongst them. Within a circular grouping of rocks, we swirled in a slow, undulating pivot as mer congregated.

My arm burned, and I glanced where my forearm should be as gold letters etched.

Begin.

But how? Can I talk? Nothing ventured, right?

“Mer, I greet you. I am the Keeper.”

Nods surrounded. Wow, super cool.

“I come with a message, and a desire to learn.”

Several mer edged closer. My guess is that these are the leaders, but what the hell do I know?

“I wish to understand the struggle that led to the human deaths.” I kept my tone neutral.

Glances exchanged and one mer, a gigantic male, spoke.

“I am Qiton. The seas are sick with the human’s garbage. Our creatures die, an unending and unnecessary loss. The mer believe humans refuse to care what happens within the parts of the Earth they don’t occupy.”

“Qiton, your point is valid. Many do not. Others show great concern and devote their life’s energies to bettering the seas.”

Glances exchanged again. “We have seen the efforts to study our home, and contraptions designed to pull plastic from the sea. But what dirt creatures cannot comprehend is the refuse added to our oceans dwarfs any efforts to clean. Humans are a plague.”

“We agree that the time for change is now, Qiton. Our differences are in the methods. Gaia spoke with me,” heads rose, listening, “and she will delay a planet reset to allow an attempt to coalesce the Triune. I came today to ask for your specific concerns and to plead for your help.”

The silence stretched.

“I did not know Gaia talked to you,” Qiton’s words dragged forth. “What help do you believe you deserve?”

Ouch.

Words etched on my water arm.

Be careful.

“I deserve nothing, that is not my role. As Keeper, I record the worlds, and accept my task to unify them.”

Qiton cocked his head. “What do you seek from the mer?”

“The day after the full, I’ve scheduled a huge cleanup effort, by humans, along the shores by The Boogey. I’m asking you, alongside Poseidon, to help push the plastic toward the shore. The sheer volume of the trash helps me teach humanity and forces them to see.”

Backs to me, a discussion raged. Gold words tingled the water around my flowing body.

That will cost you.

His watery smirk left little to the imagination. Crap.

Qiton spun from the group to face me. “What more do you expect, Keeper?”

Jeez, so confrontational.

“No expectations, but a request.”

“Which is?”

“If the mer planned additional lessons for the full, I ask that you refrain.”

Qiton’s eyes narrowed, and he turned back to the mer. The ionate conversation, punctuated with waving shell blades and thrashing tails, took awhile. I waited, floating, offering a brief prayer of sorts. Beside me, the water bubbled. Poseidon snorting, I supposed.

Consensus reached, Qiton, with a powerful flick of his tail, darted next to me. The smooth planes of his face floated inches from my watery visage.

“You are not what we expected, Keeper. We agree to not kill any humans at the full, and we will help Poseidon with your cleanup efforts. But our allegiance to Gaia won’t change.”

“I respect that, and you. Thank you for listening, and for ing the opportunity to alter outcomes.”

Incrementally softened expressions flowed across the mer’s faces. Perhaps they weren’t united in the aggression toward humans? If so, the door of alternative options cracked open. A decent outcome, I’d take it.

Still revolving, I bowed to the assemblage, and Poseidon pulled us up and away from the stone circle. Two mer swam alongside. Escorts? Or something else? It appeared they spoke to Poseidon, but it was hard to tell. We entered the breakers, and they spun, immense tails leaving trails of bubbles.

Bodies solidifying with a slurpy swish, we rose from the surf and moved to the shore. As my feet hit the beach, I pancaked, face planted in the sand by the overwhelming pull of gravity.

What in Hades?

“The human body isn’t designed to dwell in the water. In order to protect you from the sea’s pressure, I changed you.”

Gold threads wrapped around my head, chest, arms, and legs, and the sense of lightness returned. Hands grinding into the wet, packed sand, I pushed up, got my feet under me and stood, blowing an inelegant display of snot, grit, and spit from my nose and mouth.

“Wow.”

“You can pour me a drink while I decide the price of your little adventure.”

A lusty feeler smacked me on the ass, igniting everything. Perfect.

Chapter 9

The edges of Ballard’s business card burned against my fingertips. I craved him with zero space between us. Bad.

Not that I’m getting any help from my nutso life. The full moon was tonight, and Herzog’s beach cleanup tomorrow morning. To his credit, he played the politics like a true pro. Radio and TV coverage blared everywhere with clips of his announcement, and his social media was on point and trending. In The Boogie, patrons sounded excited, conversations swirled about the big party. To cap it, our police event happened the day after and Bike Week started Friday, although I’d see bikers arriving throughout the week.

My hot, crazy blood wanted options, but that was a nope. Insanity ruled the schedule right now, and if I wasn’t visible, it’d get weird, and fast.

From my balcony, the faint blatt-blatt of a string of Harleys pulled my attention toward The Boogie. Bikers are their own breed. A group of six rode through my lot and onto my pier, stopping next to the door and parking single file along the railing. Fair enough. The pier was wide enough to accommodate this, but when they came out drunk, and tried turning their bikes around, it put my plastered, sun-baked tourist patrons at risk.

Staff meeting. The Harleys are here.

A faint pop announced a witch, and as I turned, Chelsea snatched the card out of my hand and grinned.

“When did this happen?”

“He stopped by yesterday morning, under the guise of being the new police liaison for the appreciation event.”

“That’s kinda thin. And quick. So? Snap happening?”

“Tons. He asked for a dinner, and I’ll call him after the cleanup.”

Chelsea ed the card back and pointed to her belly. “Did you eat?”

“Not yet. Grilled cheese?” I gestured toward the French doors, an invitation to enter.

“Perfect.”

Ten minutes later we were butter lipped and munching.

“Not sure how you make these, but I’m in love.”

“Dijon mustard. It enhances the sharp cheddar.”

“To die for. Got a pickle?”

A quick rummage in the fridge produced a jar of spicy pickles and I snagged two forks from the drawer. Poised over the spice of dill, vinegar, and hot peppers, we took turns stabbing.

“How’d it go with the mer? Poseidon seemed impressed, unusual for him.”

“For the initial conversation, it wasn’t terrible. They agreed to help push plastic up onto the shore.”

“Hmm. Kinda convenient. The Mayor calls for a clean up and wham! Instant trash heap?”

A tap sounded from the balcony and I crooked a finger at Poseidon, who entered, sniffing. I grinned.

“Grilled cheese?”

He nodded, pulling the stool beside Chelsea.

“The plastic will be there because later today, oddly enough, we’ll have a hellacious sea squall.”

She nodded, stabbing another pickle as I flipped Poseidon’s sandwiches and pulled a plate from the cupboard. The kitchen filled with the scent of toasty deliciousness. I ed him a fork, and he crunched while the second side cooked.

The plate landed, and he grinned. “A suitable offering, Keeper.”

“When is the big wind?”

“Closer to sunset. The humans have to see the trash, feel the shock.”

“What’s important is they pick the crap up and own the mess. The mer need to observe both the effort and that I wasn’t yanking their, er, tails.”

A meaty hand smacked the granite, and he leered. “Give and take, Keeper?”

“On all sides, Big Red.”

“Advice you should take for yourself, Cleopatra. My repertoire is extensive.”

My eye roll went unappreciated.

Beach Patrol trucks, lights flashing, moved along the sand.

“Due to lightning and storm conditions, the beach is now closed. Vehicles must exit the beach at this time.”

The horizon blackened with menace, jagged bolts driving into the ocean as people struggled to fold their wind whipped canopies and umbrellas, dragging chairs, bags, and coolers to their cars and forming a creeping line to the exits.

BOOM!

The thunder shook The Boogie, and I watched headlights veering into my parking lot.

Riding a storm out on the pier is a heady rush, so I don’t blame them. But it’s lots of eyewitnesses to the impending plastic cavalcade.

As I glanced through the wall into The Boogey, Poseidon rolled his eyes and vanished.

Fine. Second guessing a god never works, so you do you, Speedo King.

I popped behind the bar, running orders until Charlie got on top of the rush, then

eyed the tempest. The whole pier was heaving; this storm was a corker.

BZZZZZT!

The bolt landed on the empty beach and burned into the ground in sustained anger as my entire bar erupted in howls. Beachy people love this stuff, and that was an impressive strike.

Zeus came to this party? I’m on his shit list! To be fair, that was no friendly salvo. Even so, I’d expect him to sit this situation out.

Another glance toward The Boogey, and I froze.

HOLY CRAP.

Burning blue eyes flicked my way, and a big finger beckoned. I swallowed a lump the size of Jax in a dust dry throat, nodded at the god of thunder, and started moving.

“You got this?” I rasped at Charlie, who grinned, tapping a pair of Beach Hippie IPAs, and I eased past clots of buzzed bikers, trotted to my office, and palmed through to The Boogey.

“What’s your pleasure?”

It took everything I had not to piss myself. Zeus emanated serious god mojo, and this was at a distance of twelve feet.

“A Cygnus. You may me with whatever annoying dribble you mortals drink.”

“Thank you.”

A cocktail with Zeus? Truce? Or the grace before the execution?

A corner of his mouth lifted. There are no secrets with gods.

Even Billy, my mentor, couldn’t build a Cygnus, but I could. Maybe my shred of Vapor liked to party more than his. The drink is a bewildering combination of magically enhanced gasses, bits of natural elements, and seawater. I layered the gas by weight, separating each layer with nine grains of sand, then nine crumbs of soil, then the hardest, nine tiny shreds of clay. The clay’s weight must be perfect; it was the piece that blew apart on Billy every time, but I always knew which specks to pick. Today was no different. To finish, a spritz of sea water. The drink grew black, roiled, then shaded to clear liquid. Within it, nine tiny planets revolved. Clep told me the orbs have an incredible honeyed taste when sipped, but only a god can drink a Cygnus. A mere magical would be dead before the second swallow. I doubt a human could breathe the fumes. But me, I’m special. Yay.

I placed it in front of Zeus, and poured three fingers, one more than my normal,

for myself. He nodded and moved to the windows, the storm in full swing across the beach. He pointed to the stool next to him, a command performance.

I slugged bourbon courage and sat in silence, every nerve on fire.

How the hell did I survive being this close to him last October?

“I’ve wondered that myself, and it’s the curiosity that keeps you alive, Keeper. You earned my wrath several times.”

Several. Perfect.

“I had no choice but to follow the book.”

He grunted and jabbed his finger at varied points along the beach, directing bolts of incredible intensity against the sand. Faint whoops floated from the human side of the bar, and the lights flickered but held.

“It doesn’t serve me to have witnesses to this,” he said. “The light show keeps their feeble minds distracted.”

I clawed my mind to silence, and he cut eyes at me before unleashing another round of furious bolts into the sand.

In the crashing waves, Poseidon formed, rising and falling with the seas, as literal tons of garbage washed onto the entire visible stretch of beach. Squinting, I saw faint outlines of the mer, ing plastic to him as he shoved inordinate amounts of trash back toward its original owners.

“Jeez, it’s so much,” I muttered.

“A mere fraction,” Zeus replied. “Another, Keeper.”

I retreated to make the drink; the electricity emanating from him made me nauseous, and I breathed, tapping every trick I knew to keep my sense of self in place. After a minute, I assembled the Cygnus and delivered it to the window seat, then withdrew to top off my bourbon. Despite the heavy pour, it wasn’t ing

Great. I need this edge off, and soon. He’s swamping me.

The storm continued to rage; the beach lost under a mound of refuse. Poseidon looked up at The Boogey, nodded, and fell back into the sea, formless. A few tails churned the surface as the mer retreated, and with a nod, Zeus downed his drink.

“Don’t fuck this up, Keeper. Or do. I’m down for the reckoning.” He shimmered and vanished in a haze of ozone.

I ran for the Ladies Room and barfed like a teenager at her first house party.

Chapter 10

The news van, skirting mounds of plastic, drove along the sand. A cameraman crouched on the roof, trying to capture the scene of miles of trash covering the World’s Most Famous Beach. My pocket vibrated; it was Herzog,

“Mayor.”

“That was divine timing. I’m headed your way and plan to run a press conference from your pier, then a second one from Main Street.”

Not exactly an ask, you pompous douche, but fine.

“We can assist. The Boogie has power and an excellent view of the beach situation.”

“See you in ten.”

I slipped back into the human side and grabbed Charlie’s attention.

“Daytona’s Mayor is headed here to do a presser for his clean up tomorrow. Talk it up, get people excited. A big party! Let’s pick up junk and catch a buzz. Good times.”

“On it,” Charlie winked, then raised an eyebrow that caught my innards. I arranged my face into a ‘no’ and eased back toward the front door. A second broadcasting van pulled in and started setting up their equipment as Herzog whipped in behind, jerking into park. As he bounded out of the car, I bumped up my pace to a trot to intercept.

“Mayor.”

“How the fuck did you do it? Never mind. This is fantastic! National news level stuff.”

With two fingers, I slid a paper from my shorts pocket and ed it to him. “These are your talking points; make sure you touch on every one. You can add in your political crap, but you’d better present these, or you’ll wish you had. That message isn’t from me, Mayor. When you consider the might involved in changing your shoreline in a single storm, I’d stick to the script.”

His eyes ran through the list, mouth opening and closing over one point, but he nodded and spun on his heel, jogging toward the Channel Six crew.

Boogie patrons wandered outside, gaping at the crap on the beach, and giving Herzog the audience he craved as they circled the interview. Many pointed at the mountains of plastic, discussing the cleanup, and Herzog, known for solid political instincts, picked up and ran with their reactions.

“Most of you knew about tomorrow’s exciting Daytona Beach Clean Up event. We’d like to extend the offer to our sister communities along the length of our shared shoreline, to help, in the fun, and dispose of what this storm, in an appearance of divine intercession, gave us to clear and remove.”

To the sound of clapping, a drunken tourist hollered, “And God said, pick up the trash!”

“Pick up the trash!” A couple more called back.

“Pick up the trash!” Herzog yelled, pumping his fist.

I thought Herzog might gloss over the spiritual element. His choice to lead with it impressed me.

The presser rolled, with Herzog’s plea to other Mayors and councils to supply dumpsters, water refill stations, and free beach access for pickup trucks, plus a waiver of fees for entering the recycling terminal.

“Bring refillable bottles to eliminate more garbage. I don’t know what magic conjured a storm the precise day we scheduled a clean up, but what a golden opportunity for us to come together and our citizens and economy.”

I fixed an eye on him. His lips tightened, but he stuck the landing.

“The sheer volume of waste washed up on our famous shores shows me that we, as a community, must be better. I call on the county to help our coastal cities craft legislation to ban plastic from our beach bars, restaurants, marinas, and our beaches.”

Loud cries interrupted a smattering of grumbling. “No more plastic! No more plastic!”

I glanced through the crowd; several witches, the leaders of these calls, twinkled back. A couple spells rained, and the entire crowd, boisterous, started yelling with them.

“No more plastic!”

“No more plastic!”

“No more plastic!”

Herzog, gobsmacked, ed in as the cameras panned.

My interview, as a bar owner discussing the proposed ban, went well. I showed off the paper straws I had on hand, and plugged my supplier, a local business.

“If every beach related enterprise goes this route, demand rises and prices fall. This makes good business sense and protects our oceans, the core of our livelihoods here on Boogie Beach. I’d love to see boat friendly product lines, and for everyone to keep ing small businesses.”

I made the six o’clock news, my patrons whooping when the broadcast aired. Charlie shot me an unnecessary grin.

“The camera likes you, Boss.”

Great.

“Keeper, go home.” Poseidon’s voice boomed through The Boogey, rocking and jam-packed because of the full moon. Earlier, hundreds of mer waded ashore, ing packs of shifters, a couple covens from Orlando, and what appeared to be the entirety of the fae population from the Ocala National Forest, many who were swinging from my hanging lanterns and giggling.

“But, it’s the full,” I stammered. “This place is a madhouse.”

Bushy blond eyebrows leveled, and the temperature dropped ten degrees. “Perhaps you misunderstood me?”

Shit. Way to go, idiot. Like you have spare time to recover from a smiting.

“Chelsea, will you cover?”

A shrug, and I slipped out the door, grateful I wasn’t a public lesson. Chelsea ran The Boogey for the rest of the full, with the resultant free alchemy and unpaid tabs. On the upside, sleep is a commodity I lacked, so I jumped in my Beetle and zipped home, ate a peanut butter and blueberry sandwich, and ed out. The thought of calling Ballard crossed my mind. Well, more of a stampede, but a sense of reticence held my fingers from tapping the ed number.

It’s a beginning. How many of those do we get? I should savor this. The connection is brand new for him and stretching out each lusty encounter builds the heat.

Resigned, I tucked the card back into my dresser.

I rose with the sun, poured coffee and padded to the balcony. Two sips in, a pop announced Chelsea’s arrival.

“Hey,” I greeted her, liking the green bikini. “Love the suit.”

“No Ballard? I’m impressed, but I owe Glenna gold.”

“The hell? What kind of friend always bets against me?”

“What? I bet on the logical outcome. Besides, it’s not as though I usually lose.”

I stuck my tongue out at her and lifted my cup. Black eyes, followed by an entire frog, emerged from the coffee and leapt from the mug, squelching onto my cheek before springing to the chaise. It eyed me, annoyed.

“What the hell? Dammit, Chelsea!”

To her cackles, I marched into the kitchen, dumped the frog slimed java down the drain and poured fresh into a clean cup, eyeing the liquid for tadpoles.

“You need thicker skin,” I announced.

“And you need manners.”

“Why are you here?” I made a point of not inviting her to me. Petty, yet satisfying.

“To clean up your mess, Keeper. My coven will work the beach, cast a few motivational spells, maybe snag a few hotties. We’re making a day of it.”

“Cool!” Relenting, I crooked a finger. “The swimsuit makes sense, now. Come on in, I’ll change. I’m supposed to meet Herzog at 8 o’clock.”

I grabbed my favorite, a striped cheeky bikini with strategically angled stripes, along with a semi modest coverup for the meeting with Herzog, and headed for the bathroom.

“There are croissants from Publix in the box on the counter,” I called back and threw on some 24 hour lipstick, waterproof mascara and liner, and pinned my hair up in a messy beach bun.

Not bad. Good enough for television.

“Cute,” Chelsea approved. “If Ballard sees that bikini, you’re going to win the lover lottery.”

“Goals.”

“Ready?”

I yanked my cover up over my head, added a petite crossover bag to hold my vertigo potion, eased on my sunglasses, and nodded. Chelsea grabbed my hand and snapped. We landed in The Boogey; I swallowed a slug of potion and grinned.

I’m getting better at this.

Heavy steps announced Poseidon, blue eyes scanning the beach as he settled his junk in the red speedo. “You have your work cut out for you, Keeper. Asclepius saw Gaia in the forest and learned she’ll allow Guru to assist you. This is your show, now. We’re watching.” With a measured look, he shimmered and vanished.

“Hmm,” Chelsea murmured. “An interesting tidbit.”

“A showdown? Guess I get one shot with Gaia.”

“That’s my read. We’re here to help, Patra, but I’m not sure which result Gaia wants.”

“Well, I know a way to find out. Come with me.” I headed for my office, Chelsea trailing behind and grabbing the teak folding chair.

I palmed the cupboard and opened the book.

“In the record, there are entries for Keepers alone. Show me the language of the Vapors.”

Chelsea bolted upright, leaning in to stare at the swirls. “Holy Hades. How did you figure this out?”

“I’m pretty certain that Gaia made the Vapors, too. Based on that premise, I worked with the record to find out how they communicated with her.”

Blue eyes stared a hole in me, unblinking. “Damn, Patra. I’m impressed.”

“Frog guilt?”

“Nah. That was freaking hysterical.”

“Not to the frog.”

I picked up my pen and drew the swirls for curious, mother’s abiding love, and

success, then connected the loops. The page faded, then script emerged.

The Mother prefers the reset, but the survival of any species is primary. Humanity’s future destiny will be honored if they adapt.

“Huh, OK. I’m a one-shot wonder. With no second chance, I gotta do more than wing by the seat of my pants. Will you help me?”

The page remained blank. Pen in hand, I stared at the reemerging set of language symbols. Translating emotions to concrete questions isn’t simple. I blew out a sigh.

Unease, since I seek help, comfort, because I need friends, uncertainty, since I’m unsure asking is appropriate, fear, because failing is death to billions, and yearning, for better outcomes.

With a mental prayer, I linked the five symbols. Chelsea gripped my hand as the blank page rose and script etched a response.

We hoped you’d ask.

Chapter 11

Guru’s footsteps stopped outside the office door as I secured the book.

“Thanks for coming, Guru.”

“Thank the Mother. This permission was a surprise to me.”

“It’s critical to build a sense of community and harmony. Could you bike the shore and raise positive vibrations?”

He leaned against the jamb. “I can and will, but it won’t be enough.”

“Oh, you’ll have help,” I smiled at his narrowed eyes and rose. “Time to meet with the Mayor. The plan is to begin each town’s section on the southern end and work north towards the beach access points, fill the dumpsters placed there, and then keep moving north to the next one.”

Faint pops filled The Boogey, and bikini-clad witches milled in the empty bar.

“We’ll be on the sand, Patra,” Chelsea ed me a necklace with a small Gaelic friendship charm. “If you need me, tap this three times.”

Startled, I took the gift and clipped it around my neck. “Wow, I’m floored, but thank you, my friend.”

Guru grunted. Maybe this minor exchange of friendship between races was its own lesson. I slipped past him and headed toward the lot and the news team. Showtime.

Herzog, clad in a tropical shirt emblazoned with the city’s logo, board shorts, and a pair of Chino flip flops raised a hand, gesturing to him.

“Mayor, good morning.”

“Patra, turnout on our end looks phenomenal. Are you getting enough people?” His skepticism leaked through.

“No worries, we’re fielding what you need, Mayor.”

Guru, followed by a parade of waving witches in a variety of bikinis, trooped down the steps to the sand, ing thirty humans. Charlie, manning a table by the stairs, filled insulated containers embellished with The Boogie’s logo with ice water, and ed cups, gloves, and heavy black contractor’s bags to waiting hands. A half mile north, toward Daytona Beach, four of my servers manned a second station, ensuring the hydration sensation kept people on task.

“After the cleanup, bring your cup to The Boogie for a free cocktail,” Charlie told a group of college-age women with a flirty grin.

Atta boy, Charlie.

Guru pulled his bike from under the pier and headed south to catch the beginning of the line of humans.

He’s dialed to ten. Whatever Gaia said to him worked.

Skin crackling with the aftermath of spells as the witches pushed, I hit the beach, grabbed a bag and began. Humans hustled, calling out, laughing, and loading bags. Guru cruised by, hands in prayer position, and I paused, watching efforts redouble and conversations between the groups rise.

“This is disgusting,” a twenty-something in a bikini that involved four square inches of fabric said to the witch working beside her.

“The tip of the iceberg,” the witch replied. “Vast islands of floating plastic cover miles of ocean and it wreaks havoc on the sea’s creatures.”

“I love sea turtles,” the woman nodded. “So I gave up straws last year after seeing a picture of a turtle with one stuck in its nostril.”

“Many die,” a second witch added. “They become so tangled they can’t come up for air.”

“People suck,” a man ed them, bending to shovel a clot of fishing line, sixpack holders, a shredded pool float and a mishmash of plastic ware and cups into his bulging bag. “I’m headed to dump this garbage and get another bag. Can I help any of you ladies?”

The young woman ed hers to him with a smile and he took off at a trot towards the dumpsters, stopping to pick up replacement bags. The second witch faded, popping farther north, and I headed toward an enormous pile, grabbing at what appeared to be a Little Tykes wagon. A tanned hand gripped the handle, and I glanced up, surprised.

Ballard. Whoa.

“Detective.” How I managed to speak impressed me. His eyes burned green lust into mine.

“That’s quite a bikini, Patra. Do you ever wear it to dinner?”

“There’s a first for everything, Ballard.”

A faint memory rolled across his face. I hoped it was a good one. A long finger lifted my chin, and time stopped. His phone chirped, and he released me, awash in a sea of a thousand goosebumps.

“On my way.” Green eyes measured, thoughtful.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the Appreciation Event, Detective. After that, we’ll try a dinner.”

“I was only half joking about the bikini, Patra.”

A man on fire pumps up the feminine vibe; I cocked my head and gave him a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bag in hand, I moved past him, letting the bikini do the talking, bent and grabbed an oversized plastic bucket and shoved it in with the other trash. A glance over my shoulder shook him loose enough to head toward whatever he needed to respond to, but I knew I’d burned into his core. I doubted we’d finish dinner whenever that came to .

The sun was overhead and getting hot. I knelt, drawing the symbols onto the sand, and over the sea, along the affected beach, mists rose, cooling the air as the Vapors drifted ashore. The effect was electric and immediate. Humans snatched up the plastic and garbage, and a few began singing. Guru rolled past, stopped and looked back at me, lime eyes luminous.

Bag in my left hand and the wagon in my right, I moved toward the dumpsters. When I reached him, I paused.

“You did this? You can call them?” Guru’s face was interesting, shades of impressed with a side of skepticism.

“Yes, I’m not fluent in the language, but mastering it is a priority.”

“I did not understand this, Keeper.”

“Everybody’s learning, Guru, which is why building the Triune is so important. We have to try. Stronger together.”

A grunt greeted that bit of sparkling wisdom, and he pushed off, adding his effect to the peace filled aura of the Vapors and the witches’ spells. A pop and Chelsea landed beside me.

“Patra, Boogie Beach’s trash is 80% collected. Daytona is over half. It’s a far bigger stretch of sand, but they turned out hundreds of humans. At this pace, they’ll finish in one day. The cleanup is a commendable effort.”

“Did you lose another pile of gold?”

“Oh, I bet on you. You’re the most stubborn human I know.”

“Thanks?”

Her laugh lingered after the pop, and I dragged the broken wagon and my bag to the dumpster, collected a fresh one, and headed back to bring the project home.

After fighting with a cumbersome tangle of ridiculous garbage, a couple of guys stopped me, each tackling it from opposing sides, and lugged the nightmarish mess to toss in the dumpster at the access point.

“Thanks,” I called.

“No worries, babe.”

A swirl of fog surrounded me. I etched the symbol for grateful, and the mist spun clockwise. As I pointed toward Daytona, the Vapors contracted, then flowed north to cool temps and raise spirits.

The sense of peace they leave is tangible. Their being here is game changing.

“It is.”

Holy crap.

“Gaia, Mother, thank you for letting me try.”

“Oh, it is the order of my nature. I find you surprising, Child. When you consider the pace of creation, and the time span it takes each species to develop, be aware you’re moving the needle beyond the realm of normal speed. Remain cautious. Push too fast, and it’ll turn on you. The ending won’t be to your liking.”

“Billions of lives hang in the balance, Mother. I have to try.”

“Of course you do. I built you that way.”

In a blink, she’d vanished.

Crap, I had a dozen more questions. My life is one long game of blindfolded poker.

At three o’clock, I jogged toward The Boogie, hoping to brush off a layer of sand before both bars packed out with the cleanup crews. Boogie Beach looked perfect and I let myself feel accomplished, at least for a minute. Given my insane pace, it wouldn’t be long before I face planted on a proverbial jellyfish. Gaia’s onishment chittered in the back of my mind.

Warning or a threat?

As I reached the pier, Guru stepped from behind a piling. The faint sense of unease intensified.

“You created a blip, Keeper. Today, the world looks connected. This will not hold.”

“Won’t? Are you implying sabotage?”

Lime eyes darkened, and he leaned toward me. The hairs on my arms raised.

“I serve the Mother. If deceit meets your efforts, you have greater enemies than me.”

Who? The mer? Others? Who benefits from chaos between the races?

“At some point luck isn’t enough, Keeper. I wish you well.”

What the hell does that mean? Time for a study session.

Chapter 12

Fingers bumping along the spines, I perused the bookshelves. An entire wall, spanning the full length of the condo, housed my library. Many originated from Billy, the Keeper before me, who inherited them from the line of Keepers before us, but I’ve made curation a goal. Under my care, the library contents doubled, an intellectual counterpunch to the reality that the entire world landed on its head. The fact a few billion humans were clueless about the shift was irrelevant.

An age scented tome in a crumbling leather binding slid from the stacks, and I sat on the sofa near where I store the journal, put my feet up and read, turning ancient pages with care and jotting notes as I deciphered the history.

OK, so Gaia conspired with her son Cronus to remove his father Uranus from power in a graphic Lorena Bobbitt manner, ick, and Cronus took control. You’d think a partner who chose a castration plan might be one to monitor, but Cronus was a bit thick. He refused to release his mother’s other children from prison, so Gaia foretold his fall from power at the hands of his own son. Deja vu much?

Cronus decided that swallowing his offspring was the solution, because of course that’s a normal response. Jeez. His wife, Rhea, had had enough of his shit and hid Zeus, her youngest, letting the old tyrant eat a rock instead. You go, girl.

With Gaia’s help, Zeus made Cronus barf up Zeus’ siblings and then Zeus stuffed Cronus and his uncles into Tartarus, aka deep, deep shit jail. Zeus

assumed the mantle of supreme ruler, which, given his ego, fit, but Poseidon and Hades held genuine power, too.

Gaia raged at Zeus and the Olympians for imprisoning most of her children and the Titans in Tartarus. While it’s true that some women are high maintenance, this had the earmarks of a grudge.

Hmm. Looking at this situation as Gaia would, she believes she is top god. I mean, she caused the consumption of her entire competition. Yikes. She alone holds the power to upend the order. Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon are kinda the original triune. They split the powers. All the other gods, in of omnipotence, are bit players, each ing a piece of how it fits together. So is this old, bad blood? Or something else?

Palm activating the hidden drawer, I pulled the journal.

Show me entries on Gaia.

An entry floated up, featuring old-fashioned writing crabbing across the page. Was this Keeper elderly? Unusual in our profession, since Keeper longevity is your basic non-starter.

Gaia came to me, asking to end the line and the record to her. No Keeper has arrived to replace me, and Gaia believes this portends the cessation of the Keeper’s role. As the Mother, she claimed ending it is the simplest way to maintain order, but when she grasped the book to take it from me, it burned her. When I picked up the book from where she dropped it, the record rested easily in my hand. I place this entry as a caution. I do not believe Gaia’s stated intention.

Whatever the power is that lies within the book, it also holds no trust.

“Whoa! None of this matches up, because I thought Gaia created the Vapors, and the record is one of their means of communication.” I bent forward and asked the book, “What is Gaia’s relationship to the Vapors?”

Gaia is the mother of the world. The Vapors advise her.

Hmm. Advisors? Not her in control, but peers?

“Did Gaia create the Vapors?”

The page remained blank.

“OK, so how did Gaia and the Vapors meet?”

The blank page filled with neat penmanship from the 1930s.

In the beginning, the universe lay formless and vast. Chaos allowed Gaia to interact with the densities, and she created worlds. I cannot say with certainty, but based on my study I posit the Vapors were not Gaia’s created oracles, but the original Universe, older than Chaos or Gaia. Perhaps, and this is supposition, they created her.

If eyes could bug, mine were blue ribbon level.

Holy shit. So here’s another story wrapped around a shady narrative. Humans aren’t the only ones with garbage issues.

Poseidon’s warning from the visit with the mer floated to the surface of my thoughts.

Be careful.

I dressed with care, wearing a sundress that made my curves pop, and spending extra time on my hair and makeup. Not too gaudy, because beach life is about natural glow, but I pumped up my eyes and lips to pull it together. If I drove Ballard nuts, I’d call that success.

My fish order arrived at 10 o’clock, and the kitchen was bumping as they iced everything and prepped for the afternoon’s event. Staff set two of my long tables near the north wall to hold the food, and Charlie stocked, arms a blur.

“No disposable glasses, right?” he asked.

“Nope. Use the reusable stuff, or glass. We’re getting eyeballed from here on out.”

“Keep on top of the dishwasher, Patra. He puts me in the weeds with his half hour smoke breaks.”

“I know.”

I had a plan for that, if Chelsea agreed to help.

By three o’clock, we were ready, seating the late lunchers, bikers in from a morning ride, and tourists on the south side only, and I stepped into my office and palmed through to The Boogey. Chelsea and a couple coven mates were sharing a bottle of magical wine. I chopped fresh fruit and pushed the plate and

three forks across the bar.

“Thanks!” Chelsea grinned, then drew her eyebrows together. “Wait. What do you want?”

“Me? I can’t be the bringer of the proverbial good deed?”

Her eyes narrowed, and I shrugged. “I’m having to forgo using single-use plastic cups and walk the walk. And it’s the event today. Any interest in motivating my dishwasher to step up his game?”

A snort and an eye roll. As helpful as it was vague. I guess I’d find out.

At 3:30 the first of my cops rolled in, filling plates with steamed shrimp, baconcheese grits, hush puppies, fried fish, and sweet potato fries. Charlie tapped beers and pitchers, and I snuck into the kitchen to check on my dishwasher. Caught up for now. Cool.

“You’re going to be slammed tonight. Everyone is counting on you. If you need help, ask. We can’t use disposable stuff anymore.”

He nodded, stoned as hell, but appeared motivated. It’d have to do.

I eased back to the dining room, eyeing my tables and trying very hard not to look for Ballard.

Let him do this, Patra. He’s already on the hook.

The hair on my neck raised, and I made a slow turn, looking up into a greeneyed memory.

“Detective.”

“Ms. O’Keefe,” one corner of his mouth tipped upward.

“Welcome, our place is yours. Enjoy.”

His smile left me in a flipping puddle, and I watched his smooth ass walk over to greet a few of the cops.

Breathe. OK, time to work this room.

I walked through the tables greeting bikers and tourists, inquiring about their happiness, before moving into the roped off seating. Chatting with each table, I managed some PR, added a few fresh faces to my mental file, and learned who’d retired, moved, or earned a promotion. Ballard’s group was next.

“Welcome to The Boogie, and thanks for everything you do.”

“Thank you for putting this together, we appreciate it,” replied a cop named Dover, whom I’d met once before at an earlier event.

“Officer Dover, right? Weren’t you preparing to get married?”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m surprised you ed. We’re doing great.”

“Wonderful. Saw you had a rough call last week. Was that the boat in the papers?”

“Yeah. That was a tough scene.”

“I can only imagine.” Which wasn’t true, because I’ve seen those shell blades up close and damn near didn’t survive the encounter.

I glanced at Ballard, who was doing a crap job of appearing neutral.

Good.

“May I get you folks another round?” Nods all around, and I signaled Charlie, who shrugged, looking harried. Uh oh.

“Any objections to using the same glasses?”

“No problem.”

I grabbed the beer pitcher, ed it to Charlie, and hauled ass to the dishwashing sinks. My dishwasher was nowhere.

Shit! Shit, shit, shit. Chelsea might be messing with me, but this was a train wreck. I pulled a line cook off, got him going, then ran to the bar and sanitized glasses. Charlie poked me in the ribs and nodded at the drink station.

“The fourth pitcher is your order, if you can run it.”

The line cook hustled in with a couple fresh trays of glassware and Charlie relaxed.

“Stay on the dishes, Max, and catch Charlie up at both stations. Thanks for floating.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I ran the beer to Ballard’s table with a smile. “Sorry, I can’t chat longer. My dishwasher is MIA. Enjoy yourselves.”

Ballard reached over and nipped a drop of sweat off my cheek. “Better pace yourself.”

A phrase from the past, when we lay tangled in lust and careening, where he wanted more and to stay in the moment simultaneously. My eyes caught his, and I felt, rather than saw, the click.

The memories are coming back, but I don’t understand how. I need to talk to Clep.

Chapter 13

The Boogie’s last guests straggled outside, and the cashier locked the main doors as I called, “Staff meeting!”

The wait, kitchen, and bar employees pulled out barstools, and I tapped a beer for each, talking as I delivered.

“Good job on the event tonight, they left y’all a monster tip.”

I set pre-counted piles of cash on the bar and pushed them to my people. As was my norm for events, tips split across the front and back of the house because of the extra work for everyone.

“OK, we know the bikers arrived, and we’ll be hopping by Friday. Front of the house, be mindful of bikes turning around on the pier. Don’t let them park two wide, because of kids. Let’s avoid a repeat of that little monster that burned his leg on a tailpipe. Monitor the bathrooms and check for any paraphernalia, dropped drugs, or anything not kid friendly. Just keep them clean.”

Nods from everyone.

“Charlie, we’ll be running the usual specials on doubles and shots with beers, plus a discount on beer buckets at lunch with the purchase of a meal, which will cut back on glassware needs. The pricing will be on your POS by morning. It’s gonna get busy, and I want everybody on top of those drink reorders. , these folks didn’t come here to knit. Sell them every ounce of booze you can.”

I tapped a last beer for myself and sipped. “Same bonus structure as before, so bust your asses.”

Big grins flashed.

“I need a new dishwasher. Send me your people.”

Gloria, an amazing server, spoke. “My nephew is new to town, he’s green, but…”

“Gloria, if he’s anything like you, send him in tomorrow morning. I’ll train anybody who wants to work and will stick. I know it’s tough to switch from disposable cups to eco friendly ones, but we can make this happen. Charlie, if you get weedy, I’ve got four cases of plastic reusable beer glasses in the storage room. Pull a case inside for your backup needs, and you can use your judgment if you need another.”

“Thanks, Boss.”

“Deep clean tonight, please. We won’t have another opportunity for two weeks,

and the inspectors haven’t come through in a while. We’re due.”

That earned a couple eye rolls, but they nodded. “I’ll be in my office catching up paperwork. Thanks for your dedication. Let’s make a pile of damn money.”

Payroll finished, I watched the last of my staff lock and check the door, and trudge down the pier.

Every one of them works hard, and I’m super lucky to have them.

With a sigh, I let myself into The Boogey. Quiet, maybe ten magicals, normal after a full. Chelsea gave me a stinky little grin.

“He’s fired. Hope you’re happy.”

“Oh, he is, at least, since he ‘found’,” she made air quotes, “a bale of weed in the surf. He’s industrious and motivated, bagging it up for sale.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s found his calling.” With a sarcastic glance, I refilled her wine.

“Sorry, that was shitty of me.”

I poured a bourbon for myself, and we clinked. “Used to it. I knew it might fall either way.” I waggled my fingers back and forth between us. “We’ve met, you know.”

“Tell me about Zeus.”

“Not much to say, Chels. I’m still here. Not as pissed as I expected.”

“The big three aren’t happy with Gaia, so Zeus needs you… for now. Don’t consider this a permanent burying of the hatchet, Patra.”

I snorted. “Yeah, no worries there. He made that point.”

Heavy footsteps crossed the decking, and a chill entered the bar, dropping thirty degrees in an instant.

Holy crap.

“Keeper, I decided I needed to meet you for myself. Do you pour a Death’s Door?”

Hades wasn’t what I expected. I can see how, to a point, Persephone agreed to spend time with him. An ageless rocker vibe with long black hair, glimmers of purple shimmering in its depths, Hades had skin the color of a dude whose workday started at 9 pm, and deep set violet eyes that missed nothing. A black tee shirt strained across his chest and faded grey jeans molded to long legs. Death has a sexy butt, in case you wondered. Other than the chill, I liked him.

“Yes, I do, although it’s been a while since anyone asked me to craft one.”

Pulling keys from my pocket, I selected a delicate, ornate red key, slid it into the cabinet sunk between the banks of taps along my back wall, and laid my palm above the keyhole. With a click, the door swung open, and I pulled two black glass bottles from the depths. Shaped to resemble fierce rearing horses, stoppered with a two-faced glass head of the rider, they resembled your basic four horsemen of the apocalypse. Very cool, if death in a bottle was your thing. The patrons, muted because of our new guest, gathered around the bar to watch. I pulled an ancient, embossed leather box from the cupboard and prepared to build the cocktail.

The case opened with a creak and I lifted, then slid on a pair of black gloves. They molded and flowed, covering me from the neck to the knees in a magical apron. I returned to the cabinet and raised a special black skull-shaped glass, which I set between the two bottles. From the opened chest I removed three small boxes, placed precisely and opened, laying the tops above the bottoms. The last item was a long spoon with a writhing handle; the venomous snake’s hissing head turned to me, then Hades, before falling still.

Gloved fingers landed on the first bottle, and I twisted the stopper. The face opened its eyes. As it closed them, I poured three drops and tapped the empty top of the first box with the bowl of the spoon, then scooped up a single black crystal from its contents and placed it in the skull. I repeated the steps with the second face and box, then the third face on the second bottle, followed by the third box. I then twisted the stopper to the final visage. It grinned.

“So thirsty.”

I nodded, and selected the knife from the leather box and pricked my lip, a drop of blood welling in front of the tiny face, then pressed my mouth against the stopper. As I pulled away, in a single fluid motion, I unstoppered and poured, filling the skull. Smoke roiled from the glass, and the magicals backed up, eyes watering.

A shower of sparks, and the drink finished evolving. An incredible fragrance of honey and spice filled The Boogey. Hades took the proffered cup, flashing a grin.

“You are as they said, Keeper. A suitable sacrifice.”

I nodded, returning the items to the box in the precise order, turning the stoppers to their original positions, then pulling the fingers of the gloves, which restored to size. With care, I returned the entire setup to the cupboard, sans the skull glass, shut it with my palm, and removed the key.

It helps that the drink is self refilling; make it once and done.

“May I ask a question?” This was risky, but hell, he came to my bar. I thought it was worth a shot.

Death appeared amused. Great. Here goes nothing.

“I’ve seen you, Poseidon, and Zeus in the space of two earth days. What do you want from me?”

“From us? To a minion? Are you serious?”

Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a pointed question is a god’s way of reminding you to back the fuck up so you can stay alive. My heart, never calm around god mojo, clattered in my chest. Despite that, something, something didn’t jive. Peace crept through my blood.

Huh. So it’s like that? More help? OK, Patra, do the job. No point in hiding now.

“Dead serious. Pun intended.”

The expected punishment never materialized; instead Hades threw back his head and howled in laughter. “No wonder Poseidon adores you, and Zeus hates your guts. Ever consider checking out the dark side?”

A black feeler, resembling a shiny ivy vine, lifted from his palm, and I held his gaze.

“No sexy times. I’m off limits to everybody. Perhaps you haven’t been following along, but I’ve got shit to do.”

A chuckle etched across my skin, but the feeler returned and vanished. He tapped the bartop three times, and the bar emptied. We were alone.

“Well, bold Keeper, I have one small task you might help us with, if you were so inclined,” he leaned toward me and my knees knocked. Death packs a punch.

“And that would be?”

“Gaia is a colossal pain in my ass. Primordial this, puny god that, she’s never happy, blah, blah, blah, always changing the rules, and those prophecies? It takes a millennium to work around that bullshit.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing you can’t handle, Keeper. We just want you and your little gas ball buddies to catch her and ship her irritating carcass to Tartarus. Gaia’s got fam there, so laissez les bon temps rouler.”

Let the good times roll? Holy shit. The only thing rolling in this scenario is my head.

“So you want me to ask the Vapors to do Zeus a solid? Zeus. Good grief.” I worked hard on my tone and failed.

Hades chuckled. Another trio of taps and we were no longer alone. Chelsea blinked and glared, disliking the idea of being out of the loop.

“Trust me,” his lips pulled back in a gut quaking smile. “It’ll be fun.”

Chapter 14

Bikes parked the entire length of the pier and filled my closest lot. The blatting was so loud I couldn’t think, and Charlie was a blur. Every seat was full, my standing room made a mosh pit look spacious, and money was flying.

“Charlie, I’m sliding in to help. I’ll work the left side and the outer ring for you. Keep rockin’ it.”

His nod, not breaking concentration, was enough. Years ago, working The Boogie with Billy, I cut my chops at this bar, and it felt good to slip those shoes back on for an afternoon. Flirt, pour, POS, repeat. Cha-ching.

We got a breather about 3:30, and Charlie restocked while I sanitized glasses and swapped the tills. Early, but cash over filling the drawers is an excellent problem.

Gloria, hair whisping out of her crown of braids, waggled a finger. “Randy says we’ll be out of shrimp by tonight.”

“Thanks, Gloria. Charlie!” He glanced my way. “I gotta order fresh. Back in five.”

In a trot, I skidded into my office, where the blatt of Harleys was a couple decibels less, and tapped my phone.

“Hey Hottie, it’s Patra.”

Lester was sixty, looked ninety, and was a shrimping legend. Getting shrimp from the market during Bike Week was iffy because of high demand. I learned long ago to have a direct relationship with a shrimper as a backup plan.

“Honey, I hope you aren’t calling me to up your order.”

“By fifty percent. Can you help a broke-ass pier owner out?”

“Darlin’ you’re as broke as I am.”

“And I work almost as hard.”

A deep chuckle filled my ear. “How many days?”

“I’m loaded with bikes. Will you bump me up for the next 6 days?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“You are the best. Thank you, Lester. Once the bikers go home and I can hear myself think, bring your wife and have an evening on me.”

“We’ll do that.”

I stuck my head into The Boogey, and Chelsea shot me a thumbs-up sign. A couple of covens and a pair of bears sipped wine around the bar. While unusual to get that many during an afternoon, watching the human bikers through the magic wall had entertaining moments. It’s their version of reality TV.

I headed back to Charlie at a trot, eyeing my groups and grabbing reorders. The rest of the day flew in a blink. I changed my shirt, dropping the sweaty one into the laundry bag under my desk, dusted talc under my boobs, and weighed in for the evening’s rush. For the first day, we killed. If it kept up, we’d have the best Bike Week in years.

I should know better than to rattle the gods with optimism.

The Boogie closes at nine, and I had the last tabs settled and boots thudding along the pier to the final bikes before ten. For them, the party was just getting started. Well, for me too. As the crew cleaned up, I chatted with Gloria’s nephew, Parker, who did an amazing job for his first day, then dragged ass to my office and palmed through to The Boogey for my night shift.

Guru sat on a barstool, a glass of water in front of him, fingertips templed, eyes closed. Along the far side, Chelsea glowered. Not good.

“You’re out late,” I slid my tired butt behind the bar and washed my hands in the sink. “What’s your pleasure?”

“Information.” His lids flipped open, and I’d seen friendlier stares from pissed wolves.

“If I can,” I said. “I appreciated your help with the cleanup.”

“I detect a god signature here. Who talked to you?”

“I haven’t been in The Boogey all day, Guru. It’s Bike Week, so Chelsea has the afternoon shift. I can’t breathe over there.”

He grunted. “She said no gods were here. Who’s lying?”

Chelsea’s eyes flamed green; she flicked a finger, and Guru’s water erupted in fire. “Careful, Guru. You are not my superior. Is testing the power of your impudence against a High Priestess on your bucket list?”

I always wondered if she was the boss. Now I know.

Guru’s head turned, holding Chelsea’s glare. He blinked first, which saved him from starring in a cup of coffee on my balcony in the near future.

“It is not,” he said, rising and turning his gaze to me. “Keeper, if you speak with a god, I expect you to inform me at once.”

My skin, as sweaty as it was, tingled with electricity to the point of pain, and I quaked, gripping the bar edge to stay upright.

What the hell?

Vapor language traced across my arms, forming a glowing line of emotive symbols. As the patterns connected, they illuminated before disappearing, rearranging, and relighting with a new message.

Guru’s skin tone faded from warm brown to pasty tan as he read, swallowed with an audible click, spun on his heel, and marched out of The Boogey.

I shuddered as the world went dark, then dropped to the decking with a thud,

Chelsea’s frantic “Patra!” the last sound my tired ears heard.

I woke in a hammock of air, skin itchy and on fire, desperate to focus.

“Where am I? What happened?”

The Boogey stopped swimming; from my vantage point, suspended waist high off the ground, I blinked in confusion as Chelsea, her mom, Glenna, and Poseidon peered at me.

“This is fucking weird. Please set me on my feet.”

Poseidon placed a finger on the space between my eyebrows, then withdrew it with a puzzled expression.

“Nothing,” he muttered, before fading away.

“How do you feel,” Glenna asked, poking me.

“My skin is hot and scratchy.”

A clinking from her waist sack accompanied her muttering. “No, not you, yes!”

She tipped the vial into my mouth and my skin smoothed out.

“Much better. Thank you, Glenna.”

She glanced at Chelsea, shrugged, and snapped. Chelsea waved her hand and my body floated from horizontal to vertical and drifted until my feet hit the floor.

“Did you see them? Can you them?” My eyes held hers, intentional.

“Yeah.”

“Follow me!” I spun, heading to my office at a trot with Chelsea on my heels; her spell cracked against The Boogey’s door, sealing it from magical entry.

“Girl, you’re in some deep shit now,” Chelsea muttered, grabbing the teak folding chair and scrooching closer to my desk.

“You have no fucking idea.”

That earned me a side eye, but since Hades hid the conversation, there’s no way I can tell her. I lay my palm on the hidden cupboard and pulled out the book.

“Show me the language of the Vapors.”

The record’s pages filled with swirls, and Chelsea studied each page. “This one,” her finger hovered, knowing not to touch. “Then this tornado symbol and here is the third.”

“Was that it?”

“What? Hell no. I saw three distinct messages. OK, for the second set, hmm, I think this,” her eyes traveled over the symbols, “or maybe this one. They’re similar. Here, this was the second piece, then this banana shaped figure, and that squished box one.”

“And the third message?”

“Two curly cues, here, and here, but not connected. One was intact and the other lined through the middle.”

“As in crossed out?”

“Exactly.”

“I feeling that line cross through the symbol. Hurt like hell. Deep. Meant. OK, give me a minute.”

Huh, we’ve got mother’s abiding love, anger, and disappointment. This is a message for Gaia! Jeez. Message number two begins with either love or sorrow, since Chelsea wasn’t sure, followed by deception, uncertainty, and grief? Crap. Okay, and the last is peace with death lined out below it. Holy shit.

“Chelsea, the Vapors communicated, through Guru, to Gaia. They aren’t happy with her. The second message either says they the reset or condemn it, and the final one is peace at all costs.”

“That’s a big spread. One is willful annihilation, and the other is a rebuke. Can you ask them?”

“I can try.” I tapped my skin. “Did you say love or sorrow?”

The book remained blank. I picked up the pen and wrote the second message each way, then drew a line to separate them. The page did not respond, and the swirls faded to nothing.

“I guess I’m not supposed to know, Chelsea, since I was the medium, not the intended recipient. At some point, we’ll find out.”

“Or die,” she groused. “What an inefficient way to communicate. You flailed so much I couldn’t see.”

“Well, yeah. Pain will do that. Don’t worry, you did the best you could.” I palmed the book away. “I’m ready for a fat drink. Besides, in the beginning, who

needed books, pens, or a language? Who were the Vapors going to talk to… about anything?”

“They said what?”

“The message was obvious, Mother.”

“And the god’s signature?”

“If one was there, they refused to divulge it. The Keeper had been with humans the entire day. I could smell it on her, and divining the High Priestess is beyond my abilities. Forgive me, Mother, I cannot read her.”

Gaia’s eyes gleamed. “This is mine to resolve. Even without the Oracles’ help, I see the path. Do not worry, my son. The reset unfolds within the timing.”

Chapter 15

With Chelsea’s help, I’d taken a night shift off from The Boogey for a late dinner with Ballard. A sky blue sundress covered eye-popping lingerie, and for once my hair behaved. He was due in ten minutes, and the tap on the balcony door was as unwelcome as drunk spring breakers in The Boogie’s bathrooms.

Poseidon. Perfect.

I stepped out, leaving the doors open so I could hear the doorbell, and cocked my head.

“Patra, you are beautiful.” The sea breeze lifted the god’s long blond mane, a majestic visage in a ratty speedo.

What?

“Are you softening me up for a favor?”

“Hades covered that. Do you have a plan?”

“I haven’t decided I’m doing it,” I replied. “Do you believe the Vapors are going to like this one bit?”

“There’s more in play than you understand, but don’t underestimate their ability to navigate the long game, Patra. The Vapors aren’t invested in pettiness.”

“Well, no, I suppose not.”

“Besides,” Poseidon’s long finger lifted my chin as my pelvis liquified. He cocked his head, then tapped me on the forehead, sending a bzzzt through my brain, “despite your determination to the contrary, mulling a god’s request is a no-no. Figure it out. Wheels are in motion.”

The bell buzzed as he shimmered, fading to nothing, and I raced to press the button to let Ballard through to the elevators, disquiet turning in my gut.

After an eternity, his familiar tap sounded. Feeling out of body, I answered, staring into a green-eyed homecoming.

“Hi.”

“You are stunning.”

With curving lips, I stepped backward. “Welcome.”

The door closed with a soft click, and a warm hand grasped my jaw. Ballard’s kiss rocketed through my limbs, blasting through the floor and electrifying, I was certain, my neighbors in the three floors below my curled toes. He released me, first with his lips, then a fingertip at a time from my jawbone. I blinked, stupid with happiness, and his eyes twinkled.

“We have reservations,” a statement that held the faintest of questions.

“I’ll get my bag.” Praying I didn’t stumble over my lust, I made it into the kitchen and picked up my purse from the island.

“Nice place, it’s welcoming. I’m guessing you’re a reader?” Shrewd eyes ran along the wall of books.

“Whenever I can. Lifelong learner.”

“Not a typical bar owner.”

“No, I’d say I’m not typical at all.”

“No argument here. Shall we?”

I nodded, liking his familiar hand on my waist as we headed for the elevators.

He turned into The Cellar, ing keys to the valet, and I touched his arm. “This is one of my absolute favorite places in Daytona.”

“The menu never disappoints, and I couldn’t see us beginning anywhere else.”

Beginning. I liked the sound of that.

Seated in a quiet nook, the server opened a lovely pinot noir and we clinked, eyes connected. After a sip, I glanced over Ballard’s shoulder and froze.

Clep! What the hell?

With a lazy smile, he lifted his own glass in a private toast.

After a mental snort, I leaned toward Ballard. “How long have you been a cop?”

This felt weird, since I’m asking things I already know. Ballard’s answers filled the first and second courses, sharing stories covering his job, upbringing, and places he’d lived, and I did the same, telling him how I started and worked my way up at The Boogie, inherited enough money to purchase it just before Billy’s death, and my love of the beach and beach life. My love for the life was true, but I didn’t buy The Boogie. It shifted to me, though magic, when he died, the normal transition of Keepers and the record. At some point, the next Keeper would show up, I’d train them, and then, as Keepers do, die young. It’s a big life, but not one noted for longevity. The Boogey would shift, but my condo,

mountain retreat, and various investments were mine to bequeath. For a bartender, I sat on a hella fat pile of jack.

The food arrived and was incredible. Gorgeous chops scented with garlic and rosemary, exquisite, savory vegetables, and a new wine. By the time a perfect, fragrant slice of key lime pie and two forks appeared, his fingers lay entwined with mine and my skin tingled with his fire.

How can I not blaze with this man? At what point do I it I can’t risk losing him, again?

Clep’s face swam into focus. He held up one elegant finger and the entire restaurant froze. Only he and I moved inside this place in time.

“That is your question, Keeper. You may not survive this, but if you do, he,” Clep jerked his head toward Ballard, “presents a perfect way to weaken or destroy you. Poseidon sees yours as a connected human soul, and I concur. What you must decide is the value of each life at stake.”

“Asclepius, he’s ing. I felt memories dropping into place. Is there a point when he’ll everything?”

Clep leaned into his seat and sipped his wine. “Perhaps. If the connection is original.”

“Original?”

“A few special human souls repeat, Patra. If they do, and rediscover their original soul mate, they’ll this love when in the next, have glimpses of the lives before, and sometimes the memories restore to the first loving. There are few originals left, I’ve seen a mere handful in my entire omnipotence. But if you and Ballard share an initiating love, you hold a power as old as the primordials, for original love flourished from Eros. That alone makes you a worthy opponent in the task you seek to complete.”

I seek to complete? Hardly.

Clep grinned. “Hades might have oversold your enthusiasm. But Keeper is your role; if you attach original love to your undertaking of suppressing Gaia, it may pave the way to success.” He leaned forward, serious. “Note that I did not say survival.”

Crap.

The clatter of dining ensued once more, and my eyes sought Ballard’s. Between forkfuls of pie bliss, I decided.

Screw the outcomes, I’m loving him. If Gaia kills us, we are meant. If we succeed, we are. In whatever manner the battle happens, our hearts remain entwined.

To Ballard’s raised eyebrow, I smiled. “How do you feel about sunrises on the beach?”

He signaled for the check, a long finger tracing the top of mine. “I prefer them naked.”

“Me too.”

The elevator slid to the ninth floor as Ballard’s hands ran in slow aching counterpoint along my spine, eyes never leaving mine. The key clicked in the clock, and I turned to face him, knowing he’d close the space between us. I was not wrong.

“Wine?”

“You.”

His palms circled my neck, then dropped and unzipped my dress, releasing it to puddle around our shoes. Strong fingers ran over each rib, then grasped my biceps, pushing me onto my heels, absorbing the lingerie. He pulled me back to flat footed, eyes gleaming.

“Spin.”

I backed toward the living room, then spun away from him, walking towards the balcony. A hand gripped my ass, pulled me halfway around, then Ballard lifted me up, a palm cupping each cheek, to straddle his waist. Perched, I kissed him, soft, then with more intention. One hand slid up my back, burrowing in my hair, and he took the kiss over, demand peppered with gentleness, a sinewy dance of yin and yang, male and female, forever and immediate. Our dance. The kiss of all our times.

Ballard dropped me onto the balcony chaise, lowered the chair back to the horizontal position, and stripped. Rock hard, he kicked the clothes away and

crawled across my body, biting nipples through lace, hands full of ass, and curious fingers exploring every nerve, brushing clitoris, tapping my wetness, and circling my anus. I shuddered, and he growled, yanking off the thong while pushing my legs up in the air. Splayed in conquest, I watched him stare in lusty discovery.

“Damn, Patra. Your body is perfection.”

I ran hands over his pecs, then along his sides and swatted his ass, hard. He repaid the favor by stripping off my bra and devouring my nipples; a low chuckle punctuated my gasps. I quaked as he moved lower, kissing my ribs and abdomen before landing on my clit.

“Oh god, Ballard!”

In a moaning symphony, he rocked me, hitting me just right to send me off the edge… three, four, five times. A magical mouth, demanding fingers, and a grip on my hips that kept me in his moment, open to his exploration and taking. After the fifth time, I pulled my noodle legs to the side, mind gone, hips quaking. Ballard rolled me onto my back.

“Put me inside of you.”

This was not a request. With a stroking motion, I placed him into my wetness, letting his strength and raw need rise. He rammed, possessed, and I yielded, wanting every bit. Fingertips pressing along his spine, I gripped his ass, then started spanking in time with his thrusts. A moan told me he was close, and I clung, swollen in pleasured pain, as he shuddered, mouth on mine, my lower lip

caught in his teeth, swamped in his release.

In the predawn, we woke on the chaise and sipped coffee naked, according to plan.

Chapter 16

Ballard returned to cop world after an inspired session in the shower, and I grabbed another two hours of sleep. Bikes rumbled along the pier, packing The Boogie with the breakfast and first round seekers. With my crazy schedule, working the morning shift was impossible. Ralph, my head cook, managed the back of the house, and Gloria handled the front. Over the years, we developed a system that worked. Without my crew, trying to maintain both sides of the line was a recipe for implosion. Although I asked a lot, it’s why I paid them well, and I’m not an ass. I needed them, and they delivered every damn time.

In the afternoons, I slipped back and forth to cater to The Boogey’s patrons; their party didn’t start swinging until ten and always finished before sunrise. Sleepwise, I got five hours a night, well, morning, and I was grateful to get it.

But it’s ten o’clock, and I had shit to do. Coffee in hand, I palmed the journal from its hiding place, sipping while I studied the Vapors’ language. On a blank sheet of paper I wrote out practice messages, without connecting the symbols, then checked my efforts against the originals. Still a sub-par effort. With a sigh, I stuffed the record away and pulled my phone. Lester had my shrimp. Excellent. I texted Ralph and headed for the shower. Forty minutes later, my feet hit the pier.

Round two.

Ian was my morning bar guy, and he’s slamming out Bloody Mary’s like a

champ. I checked the till, impressed. The place was three deep; the party in full swing, and Ian was full-on Irish with bawdy jokes, ramping up the vibe. There’s four old drunk chicks dancing and having a blast, and through the magic wall I saw Chelsea, Glenna, and a pair of bears grinning.

I slipped in next to Ian, eyeing the inventory, before heading to the kitchen. Parker, Gloria’s nephew, was on top of it, grabbing two clean trays of glasses for Ian with a cheery grin and sidestepping me before toting them behind the bar and setting up the glassware. Ian shot me a thumbs up before turning to pour tequila chasers.

Awesome. Chelsea did me a solid by floating a bale of pot past my last dishwasher.

I palmed through to The Boogey, and Chelsea straightened, slapping the bartop.

“Spill! I want the sexy details.”

The bears perked up, and Glenna winked.

“All I plan to say is we didn’t miss a beat.”

“Ah,” Glenna’s head poked around Chelsea’s arm. “That’s interesting.”

“Clep thought so too,” I said. “He showed up at The Cellar and we had a chat.”

“Intersections, Keeper. You keep having them.”

“Might boost my survival odds long enough to teach another Keeper.”

“Maybe. Although I enjoyed training Billy. That man was smokin’.”

“Good gods, Glenna.” I laughed and turned to head toward the office. Witches live for hundreds of years, and they age at a slower pace. I had every confidence they rocked a fine time.

Before I reached the magic door, it swung open.

“Um, Patra?” Parker stared around The Boogey, transfixed, then let his widening eyes settle on the bears. One offered a toothy grin and released a putrid fart, while the other waved a couple of coquettish claws.

Oh, shit.

“Parker, did you touch my office wall?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Is it a secret ageway? What is this place?”

“Return to the office, Parker. Now. Wait until I return. Do not move and don’t speak to anyone.”

He nodded and backed up, eyes wide.

What is he, seventeen? How much time do I have? Crap, it’s Bike Week, I’m supposed to take on a primordial, and in the infinite wisdom of the universe I get to train a new Keeper? Dammit. Why didn’t I wait one more day to be with Ballard? If I knew the next Keeper was here, I’d have left him alone and safe.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” I turned and shrugged in irritation at the witches.

Glenna’s eyes followed me as I stepped through the door, letting it snick behind me.

“The pressure toward change builds,” Glenna said.

“Holy Hades. Why now? We need her to lead the Triune, Mama.”

“I know, Chelsea. But according to magical law, we must not interfere.”

“Did you see that kid? He’s a baby! He can’t do what needs to be done. Don’t you quote the law to me! , it was law that the Vapors were to be destroyed on sight, and we know how that turned out. Besides, Patra is my deepest friend, bound by a vow I honor. Interfering has moments, too.”

Glenna blew out a sigh. “We dwell in a time of transition. Old to new, closed to open. Let’s watch what unfolds.”

She waved a vague hand, and the expressions on the bear’s faces drooped.

“The fewer witnesses, the better.”

I settled behind my desk, gestured to the folding chair, and assessed the kid. Strong, young, but intelligent. Spooked, but I felt it. Vapors. They picked him.

A hedge of bets? Do they think I’m outmatched? Well, it is Gaia. I’d hedge them too.

“Show me where you touched the wall.”

He rose and pointed, holding his fingers a couple inches from the surface.

“Fair enough.” I waved at the teak chair, and he plopped, stunned and a little skeptical.

“Parker, there’s no way to sugarcoat the truth. This pier lies on the intersection of magical and normal worlds. I man the gate. My title is Keeper, and I interface with humans, magicals, and immortals.”

His eyes bugged. I reached out with my index finger and pushed up his gaping jaw.

“Oh, they’re as real as either of us. As Keeper, I’m tasked with uniting the three groups into a Triune, living in full knowledge of one another within a single world. It’s an insane job.”

“I’ve heard some major bullshit, but you just leveled up.”

“Fraid not. What did you just see? Hmm?”

Parker pinched the bridge of his nose, and his bravado slipped a hair. “A red haired woman, and an older one, and a pair of, um, bears.”

“The red-haired witch is about a hundred years old, and her companion about two hundred.”

“No fucking way.”

“Every way, Parker, and those were bear shifters. Believe your eyes, kid.”

“Nah, I’m calling it the after effects of some laced weed and taking a .”

“Parker! Listen to me. The sole reason that the hidden door opened is because they chose you to be a Keeper. I’ll train you to be ready. When I die, you take over, as it’s been for thousands of years.”

“When?” he snorted. “You’re not that old.”

Jeez, kiddo. I’m sorry, but yeah.

“When. Keepers live an exciting life, but it’s dangerous. Most die young. In exchange, a Keeper receives tons of material wealth, insane access to knowledge, and is privy to the mechanisms in all the worlds. In our time, we’re changing how the world works. But you don’t get a choice. It sucks, Kid, but in this game, you’re chosen. You can’t change your fate.”

To his credit, he held my gaze. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. “Who choses?”

“We’ll cover that in time. You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Damn, this is crazy. OK, assuming I buy into this, and I’m not feeling it, what’s next?”

“To start, you work here. At first you’ll stay in the kitchen, but I’ll move you to train at the bar in the next few months.”

“Nope. I’m nineteen.”

Nineteen, that’s way better than I thought.

“Won’t be an issue, witches can fix anything; welcome to twenty-one.”

He laughed, but also leaned back. Better.

“While you master bar tending, you study in my office after hours, reading the record until you understand it inside and out. After every session, I’ll quiz you. Until you’re perfect, you won’t move to the magic side. How long this takes depends on you. The fact you’re here tells me my run at Keeper is waning. I have plenty of knowledge, Parker. You’ll be a better Keeper if you siphon off as much as possible.”

“What is the record?”

“That’s the first lesson. We start tonight after The Boogie closes. Meet me here,” I tapped my desk, “at ten.”

He rubbed his face. “Why the hell not? Okay, you’re the boss.”

“Tell no one, and that includes Gloria, Parker. Being Keeper is an honor, but it’s also a sacred vow to protect the line. Prepare to study and work harder than you have in your entire life.”

Thankful for the forethought, despite the lust, to let Ballard know that Bike Week kicks my ass, I told him seeing much of me while it was underway was possible but unlikely. Still, texts popped up and I read them, greedy for him even as my heart knew pushing away was prudent.

The timing sucked. No way around it. Unless it needed to happen? Clep’s words zoomed inside my head.

Power? How does original love differ from regular? OK, Patra, think. Eros is love, but he’s an origin entity, primordial, so he’s on the same playing field as Gaia. Tartarus is full of Gaia’s kids, which I’m thinking is the true reason she’s after this reset, but Eros isn’t in there. What corporeal form does he assume in the world? Hmm.

I watched Parker read the book, turning pages, often re-reading entire sections before continuing. He reminded me of myself, trying to crawl inside the writing, mind exploding, again and again, by the enormity. The longer he sat, the less defensive his posture became. Sliding into the role, and I suspected the Vapors pushed from within. Good.

Clep said only a few pairs of original loves remain. Created at the same time or anointed throughout the millennia by Eros? Does it matter? Who might know? Poseidon? He’s one of the big three and the least likely to smite me. I guess it’s worth a shot.

At four in the morning, I stopped Parker and picked up the book.

“Show me what the new Keeper studied.” Entries swam to the surface, and I quizzed without mercy.

“Who was the original Keeper?”

“Um, Zane?”

My eyebrow’s knit.

“Ezekial Zane.”

“Wrong. What is the purpose of the record?”

“To preserve the history of the real and magical worlds.”

“And?”

“Conserve, for future Keepers, the of the Triune’s inception.”

“Better.”

Thirty minutes later, Parker wasn’t batting 500 ball. To be fair, when Billy started with me, I wasn’t great either. It took six months for me to develop an affinity with the record, to feel the other Keepers, and begin boosting my mind into a keen catalog of connections, relationships, cocktail recipes, and oddities.

I sure as hell hoped I had six months. If being honest, that burst of absurd optimism was a stretch. Parker was a teenager, and he’d need everything I had, especially with the burden of the Triune looming. What world leader would listen to a kid who didn’t need to shave?

Billy hung on to protect me, and that’s the job, too.

“You’ll reread these entries, plus a new section tomorrow. Train your mind to absorb detail, Parker. If you become a walking library of everything, it’ll keep you alive longer.”

“Why can there only be one Keeper?

“Ask the book.”

A heavy block print rose, an entry from the Keeper before Billy, who only lasted a month.

The point is to record the line of intersection between the worlds, but also to record the lineage of the chosen Keepers. In this, there is a slight overlap of Keepers, to ensure there is always at least one preserving the history.

“The Keeper who wrote that made a stupid mistake and died one month into the task. As far as I know, that was the only time the line went unrecorded, and it was a hot mess. A new Keeper arises when the current one faces a task that will likely kill them.” I blew out a sigh. “Right now, I’m facing my demise, Parker, and you need to be ready. Understand?”

“Wow. Yes Ma’am, um, Patra.” Shook, he stared at me for a long beat. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t mean to find the doorway.”

“Wouldn’t have changed a thing, Parker. It’s the job.”

So damn young. Mental eye roll aside, he’s made a start. Time for sleep.

Chapter 17

It’s day three of Bike Week, Lester came through with my shrimp, and considering, I’m hitting every marker. Parker blasted through the dirty dishes; you’d have thought he was working his dream job. Charlie was a blur, and the kitchen cranked like a new Mercedes. Dining tables turned; fresh groups of bikers replaced those headed to hang out at the bar or exit to their bikes to ride off a good meal. Inside, liquor flowed, punctuated by raucous laughter, while more than a few amused bears reveled in The Boogey. Chelsea hadn’t shown, but I suggested the bears try buying bottles and self pouring, and they grew buzzed and happy. I was running hard, but the juggled plates stayed aloft.

“Excuse me, Boss.” Parker slipped glassware in without missing a beat, and Charlie gave me a look.

“He’s a keeper, Patra. I owe Gloria a drink or three dozen.”

“He sure is, Charlie.”

In more ways than one.

The Boogie wrapped at nine, and I did the books while my crew cleaned. At ten, Parker showed up, ready to read. The change in him was palpable. It reminded

me of my first days with Billy, awash with the sense of power but none of the trauma of loss. Invincible, Parker exuded readiness.

“Here,” I ed him the book. “I asked the record to show you what to learn. I’m working the magical side for a few hours. Stay here and keep reading until I get back. Under no circumstances are you to place your palm on the wall. If The Boogie is on fire, secure the book, leave, and let it burn. Understood?”

“Cool, it’s protected, right? Will do, Patra.”

His eyes, glued to the page, sought the words, eager to release reality and fall into another world. With a smile, I left him to study and palmed through to The Boogey.

“This is excellent wine,” a bear grinned and slapped the bar with a powerful thud.

“Glad you like it. Waldo concocts our wines and ales. He’s the best I’ve found.”

“To Waldo!” The group swigged, making happy growls that are cute once you get past the fact that they are bears and capable of swatting your head off without a second thought.

The door creaked, and I glanced at my guest. Guru. Huh.

“That’s two nights in a row, Guru. What’s your pleasure?”

“The Mother wishes to speak to you, Keeper. I’m your escort.”

“No one’s here to manage The Boogey, Guru, and as Keeper, the law requires I remain on the line until dawn. I don’t make the rules.”

With a grunt, he took a seat. “A smoothie, if you have fruit.”

“I do.”

A melon, a couple limes, and a banana landed in the blender of ice, and I pulsed, then added fresh mint, poured it off, and pushed it to him.

“It’s good.” If grudging had a face, it was Guru’s.

What the hell is his beef with me? We used to manage just fine. Now he’s different. Testy.

At two o’clock, the bears started stumbling, and I shot the soberest one the ‘get your shit together’ look, a bartender staple from the dawn of alcohol. He slid off his stool, assessed his buddies and blasted a roar that shook my liver. Bears aren’t known for subtlety.

“To the forest!”

They staggered toward the door; I slipped from behind the bar, placed hands on hips, and blocked the path.

“Y’all need to settle your bill.”

Brown eyes narrowed, but I held my ground. Bears could be difficult because their short-term memory was shit. A bear’s life comprised wandering from distraction to distraction; they’re the original pleasure seekers. Inconveniences, like paying bar tabs, slipped the hedonistic mind. Or so they posited. All I knew was I’m out a case of wine and they’d better find legal tender in their pockets.

My obstinate glare ed after a two-minute staring contest, and they started rummaging. Wads of bills, a few Euros, and a single gold piece hit the bar. I pushed a few dollars back, but the soberest bear shook his head.

“For you, Keeper. Good time, excellent wine. Bears never used to come out of the forest, but it’s fun here.”

“ us anytime, and bring your friends,” I replied, tucking the money away.

The drunkest bear began a growling song of females and honey, as far as I could determine, and the singing group bounced off the walls, out the entrance, then gamboled along the pier.

That went well. Guru is the only patron left. I’d love to close early and grab an extra hour of sleep tonight. If Gaia needs to see me, she can appear, and none will know. A reasonable compromise.

Guru appeared uninterested in leaving, so I cleaned the bathrooms and swept the floor to kill an hour, hoping he’d take a hint, but he sat, fingers templed, impersonating a mini mountain.

Figures. I palmed through with the till money and checked on Parker. Absorbed.

I returned to the bar, sealing him in, when Guru’s eyes opened.

“The mother insists, Keeper. We must depart.”

To my shock, I landed over his shoulder, a heavy arm pinning mine to my sides, and he fireman-carried me from The Boogey without another word. A one handed leap over the pier’s rail dropped us 20 feet onto the beach.

“Oof! Let go of me! I’m bound to stay and you know it. You’re breaking magical law.”

Silence.

Unable to get free, I squirmed while he threw his leg over the bike and pedaled, the beach fading and wavering into dense woods. Not a Florida forest, either.

Where the hell was I?

He braked, then tossed me to the ground like a chunk of wood. After an unappreciated bounce, I got my feet under me and whirled on him, ready to unload, but he was riding away, shading to nothing.

“Dammit, Guru!”

In the murk, a few fireflies glowed. I slowed my breath, calming and thinking hard. He said Gaia asked for me. Maybe she’s here. As that idea settled, the fireflies blinked in unison, then stretched into a meandering line.

A path? OK. Might as well. My interest level in discovering what kinds of shifters live here is zero.

Decision made, I stuck tight to my new blink-butted friends, stumbling over unseen roots while enjoying the occasional unexpected face slap from overhanging branches. Good times. The string of blinking lights stretched straight before me; it’s unfortunate that the ground didn’t. I stepped off into nothing, falling without end.

Chelsea glared at Parker, who scrambled to get the record into the hidden compartment to protect it before stammering, “Who are you?”

“Where is Patra?”

“She’s in the magical bar. I’m supposed to read here until she returns.”

“Shit. OK, Kid. Is the book secured?” She touched the cupboard which remained closed. “Good. Pull it back and continue reading until Patra or I return.”

“Um, who are you again?”

“I’m Chelsea, Patra’s best friend. Oh, and Kid? Do nothing risky, do you understand?”

“And you’re a witch?”

Chelsea snorted. “Of course. Don’t be an idiot.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Stay put and try not to be stupid.”

Parker shot her a side eye, then grabbed the book as Chelsea stepped into the Boogie’s restaurant and cast a spell, shutting The Boogey and rendering it impenetrable, sealing the front entrance, the one to the office, and shuttering the windows. Fingers slipping into her waist sack, she pulled out a small waveshaped charm and tapped twice.

“What?” Poseidon, obviously in the middle of someone, wavered into view, speedoless and impressive.

“Patra’s gone. The kid was oblivious, reading the record in her office. Good instincts, though. He saw me and secured the book in seconds.”

Poseidon grunted. “Not unexpected. I recommend that you, well, you know what to do.”

“I do. Give me 24 hours.”

“We don’t have it.” He waved a hand and dense silence emerged. “You have an hour. I paused time. Be wise with every minute.”

She snapped, and he faded; The Boogey lay in darkness, suspended.

“Hello, Child.”

“Mother, why am I falling?”

“Because I determined you are an impediment. I won’t end your life, but your efforts no longer serve, so I’m containing your interference. In this place, you flow in time. What resembles eternity is but a moment. All is well.”

Um, actually, no, it’s not.

“But Mother, you said I could make my stand, to bring the Triune to fruition.”

“True, and considering the size of the task, you impressed. But you are tiny and cannot see the myriad of threads left to untangle. I’m doing you a favor.”

Gods are so freaking smug.

Her eyes narrowed.

“No,” I continued, “you aren’t. Hiding me is for yourself. What are you afraid will happen? Equality? Loss of control? Visibility to the world? What?”

“Impudence doesn’t suit you.”

“Yes, it does. My best work is when I stand up to power and speak my mind. I think you miss your children, and this maneuvering and threat of a reset masks a rescue effort. Why not seek alliance with the world’s powers to create a solution to your unspoken wish?”

“The world is my child. Every piece created by me. You are mine too, Patra. I have no superior.”

“This time, Mother, you’re wrong.”

A line of fire wrapped my skin, searing as I shrieked.

“You may fall, burning, if you prefer. The difference to me is negligible. Goodbye, Child.”

Gaia faded as I fell, inflamed, agony etching my skin and mind struggling to function. Flames whipped higher as I whirled, a forever scream of sparks and internment.

A mother’s abiding love? Bullshit. Gaia attracts, causes, and dispenses control, there’s nothing loving in her acts. The entire dance is one of greed for power. Loving is greater than power. Love could not destroy the one it’s bound to protect, devoted. Ballard embodies love. I am a creator for and of love. A protector against every odd. The act of loving remains the greatest force in the

Universe.

Through cracked, blistered lips, the name slipped into the inferno.

“Eros.”

Chapter 18

At the end of the hour, Chelsea materialized in front of the wooden ship’s door that graced the entrance to the magical bar. Poseidon shimmered into view, speedo askew and pleased with himself.

“Prompt as always, dear. Were you successful?”

“The covens convened and arrived at an accord. We will not Gaia, and my coven accepted the task of training our new Keeper.” Chelsea blew out a sigh, unable to hide the grief. “I rang a bell across the world, but her signature isn’t anywhere. Is she dead?”

“When the Vapors relayed the message to Gaia, through Guru, I believe they masked her signature. I hope that means they are hiding her. I make no promises, but I’m not sure Gaia will cross them. Since their release, the Vapors’ power magnifies, and I don’t see them slowing.”

“Could you,” Chelsea swallowed, “would you ask Hades if her soul arrived?”

A bushy eyebrow lifted. “A favor, High Priestess? How rare.”

Enigmatic, he faded, and Chelsea released the spell on The Boogey. Palm against the door, she entered, slipped behind the bar, and poured a serious drink.

“To friendship,” she whispered, raising the glass. “Stay alive, Patra. We’re seeking.”

Hades leaned back on his boot heels, eyeing Poseidon. In every direction, corn stalks swayed, the scent of damp earth and recent skunks swirled around them. Neither had the advantage here; they were brothers, equal in all ways.

“The Keeper is not with me,” Hades confirmed.

“Her signature vanished and I can’t locate her. If you don’t have her, then we’re tipping into the unusual.”

“Agreed, but expected. She is human, weak, and stands against an opponent of primordial force.”

“But protected.”

“True. If she’s hidden, Gaia is moving on the reset but is reluctant to kill the Keeper. Why?” Hades’ violet eyes blazed.

“The Vapors messaged Gaia, yet she’s plowing ahead without them.”

Hades stepped closer. “No shit? Gaia’s lost the ability of prophecy? Now that’s fucking interesting. Maybe I can use this.”

“If so, you should. Another chance may not present for a few millennia.” With a

nod, Poseidon vanished.

Hades looked around the silent field, drew an intricate pattern in the air, and faded as the stalks snapped flat onto the ground, forming a crop circle.

His chuckle drifted through the corn. “That trick never gets old.”

“Okay, Kid. Here’s what we know. Patra is missing, so she can’t train you. I convened the covens, and we reached an accord that the witches will take on your task.”

“My task?”

“To teach you how to be a Keeper, idiot.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Chelsea snorted, attempting to temper grief with impatience. “Patra’s fate is unknown, but if she’s dead, you’re it, kid. Pay attention and stay alive. Until we get a decent amount of knowledge into your brain, you remain vulnerable. Considering what Patra was forging with the Triune, it might tempt some magicals.”

“Tempt in what way?”

“To kill you! Parker, try to keep up, at least a little.”

“I’m sorry, Witch Chelsea. I only know the entries Patra asked the record to show me. It’s my second night.”

“Fine. Let’s start with that. Get the book, please.”

Parker touched the cabinet door with his palm, and it swung open. He grabbed it and sat at the desk, opening to a blank page.

“Tell it I’m taking over your training and I need it to allow my commands.”

“Keeper Patra can’t be found and Witch Chelsea needs to continue my training. She wants to speak with you.”

Words appeared, writing in neat script.

The Keeper lives. We will allow only testing of the reading, the High Priestess may not use the record for any other purpose.

“Thank the gods!” Chelsea’s fist pumped; she squinted at the book. “Show the boy the record’s history.”

The page remained blank.

“Oh, are you serious? Fine. How obtuse. Go ahead, Parker, and ask for the history.”

“Show me the history of the record.”

Words wavered, the spidery script of Ezekial Kane’s entry surfacing.

“Begin and keep asking for more history until the book offers no new entries. I’ll return to quiz you, but after tonight’s troubles a fat drink is in order, and I imagine the magicals sitting in The Boogey want one too.”

Parker nodded, absorbed in deciphering the ancient penmanship.

“Do not touch that door. No one can know you showed up as the next Keeper. We don’t need a Gaia-committed mer dude slicing you up for chum.”

“Mer? As in mermaid?”

“Except huge and male with a crap attitude and high-level knife skills. Stay off the beach.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly.”

The burning no longer seared, the acute pain muted. I gazed at my arms and legs, covered in moving patterns of Vapor symbols, their appearance driving the fire from my skin.

Protection.

“Thank you,” I breathed, grateful for the intercession.

A tingle on my arm caught my attention, and a series of whorls etched on my forearms, then connected.

You are safe.

I realized I read the runes without laboring over them, reading an innate language, one that was as natural as breathing. Weird. Also, cool. Was this what Gaia meant when she said I could unlock the Vapor within me?

The patterns adjusted.

One.

One what? I’m human, with a shred of Vapor. We are one, the only Keeper. Well, except for Parker. Is it being the job?

Another shift.

Three become one.

The Triune? Are you saying this path is the right way? My arms glowed, shapes rising, connecting and fading, and I shuddered as I read.

Whoa. You want that. From me? I’m not a god or a magical. This is insane.

The runes connected. Hope, joy, exhaustion, acceptance. We set the way. No more choice.

Okay, but I can’t do much if I’m falling forever in time and space.

The ground, when I hit it, was hard. Another unappreciated bounce, but what the hell, at least I landed somewhere. I staggered to my feet, staring at the grin. Nice teeth, but not the face I hoped to see.

“Hello, Keeper,” Hades chuckled. “Welcome to my underworld.”

Well, crap.

“Gaia said she would not kill me.”

“She agreed you’d get your shot at the Triune, yet here we are.” He waved his arms in a grandiose gesture. “Fancy, isn’t it? Bet you thought it was a bunch of demons gnashing their teeth.”

“So am I dead?”

“Oh, no. But I don’t receive many visitors, so you must forgive the semantics. It’s curious that you landed here. What outcome did you request?”

Request? My mind raced, parsing the conversation with the Vapors. The asking, well, instruction, lay on their side; so divulging it wasn’t the answer. When I fell, unprotected, what did I ask?

It hit me, and I stared at him.

“What?” His eyes gleamed, conspiratorial.

“Eros. I asked for Eros.”

A laugh boomed across a hilly landscape shadowed in greys and purples. “Oh, Keeper, I find you a source of constant entertainment.”

I brushed bits of hell off my shorts and glared. “And why is that?”

“Because you called for the one being Gaia can’t get around. Clever, Keeper.”

The shiny black feeler erupted and smacked my ass before sliding away. A taste of goth sex, I guess. With a loud exhale, I set my feet and held his gaze.

“So I want love and I end up in hell? This has all the shades of a bad paranormal romance novel.”

“Death and love are inextricably connected, Patra. You cannot receive genuine love without the balance of deep grief.”

Thoughts of Ballard nibbled at the edges of my mind.

“Ah, a lesson you know. It’s the price, Keeper. We cannot separate them.”

“So how do I locate Eros?”

“Oh, he’ll find you,” Death laughed. “He’s got a finger in everybody’s pie.”

Great. Hades, the punny god of doom, expiration dates, and bedevilment.

“I don’t care for the devil moniker. Done it to death.”

With a low chuckle over his lame-ass jokes, he gripped my wrist and my crash landing site faded, replaced by a gorgeous patio overlooking a vista colored by a just-set sun. Extraordinary. I watched, but the sun didn’t fade to black, it stayed tucked under the horizon, blazing color across the sky.

“A metaphor of sorts,” Hades kicked back in a comfortable chair and propped long legs up on the matching ottoman.

Ottomans… in hell. I’ve seen everything.

“Hardly,” he snorted, gesturing to the seat next to him. “But it’s unnecessary for you to get the grand tour. When you arrive the regular way, I’ll escort you myself.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Most is just for show. I don’t spend my time torturing bereft souls. The majority are dedicated experts at self-misery, so I plop them into a scene and they take it from there. A few earn my personal attention, but you have to be a shithead to rate a Hades led intervention. Besides, we’re getting crowded.”

“What happens to the underworld if Gaia gets her reset?”

An impeccable black eyebrow lifted. “If being succinct, it’ll fuck me up, Keeper. I enjoy my gig. If she launches billions of souls at me, I’ll be in the weeds for a couple millennium. That’s part of her plan. Tie me up, upend Poseidon by creating chaos within the order of the sea, and then it’s just Gaia and Zeus. She wants those kids, who are loyal to her, out of Tartarus. And he can do it because he put them there. Without his brothers, he’s not strong enough to win. Once he releases them, she’ll be unstoppable.” Hades shrugged. “I doubt Zeus survives it, at least, in his current form.”

The pissy ego one?

“Careful, Keeper, you are still a human, even if you have powerful friends.”

Chapter 19

Parker gazed around the office, then at the record.

There’s no more history, and Chelsea didn’t return. Based on what I’ve read, I’m in no hurry to piss off a witch. But this book belongs to Keepers, and I want to continue to learn. Still can’t believe this on some levels, because it’s cray, but damn if I don’t feel it, feel the fucking words in my bones, somehow. If I’m losing it, count me in.

“But I’m not nuts, just different. The power, shit, it’s a rush. I feel my brain changing, adding compartments for all of this, and it’s wild, but it’s fitting together. Okay, record, tell me something I should know, but don’t.”

The page shifted and entries populated faster than he could absorb. The various handwritings rose and fell, many ancient, a few in heavy block printing, some in tidy penmanship, others in frantic scribbles, as if the writer’s time was short.

Crap.

“Slower, give me a chance to read the information!”

The page went blank, and a single entry, a recipe, rose to the surface: ‘Death’s Door Cocktail’.

Of all the entries within, I need to master a fucking drink? Shit, Parks, you’re in trouble.

He bent, reading, and shivered.

If I make this drink, it could kill me every step of the way. Why this cocktail? Why me? Is the book saying I’m a reject and offing me to get another trainee? Screw that, I intend to own the job and build the Triune. I’m the one they picked, and I will be a Keeper.

An hour before sunrise, Chelsea palmed through to the office.

“Sorry, Kid, but The Boogey filled with last-minute revelers. Let’s review.”

Chelsea asked tough questions, but Parker nailed every one. He waited for the recipe to rise onto the page and the resultant scolding for getting off topic, but it stayed hidden.

Whoa. So, that was just for me.

“Okay, Kid, decent effort. Tomorrow we’ll tackle magical relationships. That’s a book unto itself, but mastering how magic people interact will save you a ton of

time. By the way, I’ll always question you on everything you’ve read, current and past, so unlike high school,” she paused, glaring, “you did at least graduate, right?”

Parker nodded.

“Well, there’s that. Good. Unlike school, where you study a block of facts or history for a test and then forget most of it, I expect you to build your knowledge out, seeing connections in the information. Don’t get lazy. Keepers have to be perfect, and this job will still kill you.”

“Understood.”

He palmed to secure the book, and rose, stretching. “I’m not on until two, so I’ll grab five hours.”

“Yeah, sleep and you just severed a normal relationship,” Chelsea laughed, her good humor restoring while her face still reflected a mixed bag of emotion.

“I know you’re worried about Patra,” Parker offered, “but she has her shit together.”

An inadequate descriptive, but Chelsea nodded. “If we can retrieve her, we will.”

Parker swung open the door that led to the restaurant and heard a faint pop. He

turned back to the empty office and grinned.

That was easy.

In two steps, he palmed the book from the cupboard and grabbed the spare key ring, dangling on the peg next to the volume. Swamped in an adrenaline rush, he exhaled, sucked in air, and set his palm on the door to The Boogey. Inside, the morning air felt cool for Florida, and the silence enveloped him. The sun cracked over the horizon, lighting a reflective line to the beach.

If anyone lurks, I can’t feel them. Get going, Parks, you don’t have time to dawdle.

He placed the book on the bar, and the recipe flowed across the page.

I didn’t even have to ask!

Taking the ornate red key, he laid his palm above the keyhole, unlocked the door, following the instructions with precision, reading and enacting each specific step. When he pulled the spoon, the writhing snake paused, as if listening to the record, then stilled.

Here we go, let’s not die today.

As he turned the fourth stopper, the eyes opened.

“All the bloods.”

That’s not what it’s supposed to say!

Heart frantic, he consulted the recipe. No answers.

I know I did this in the precise order, dammit.

The page held, patient.

Fuck! Here goes nothing.

Parker lifted the little bloodstained knife, pricked his lip, held the stopper to it, and finished the pour.

As the drink roiled and smoked, he slumped onto the floor, body quaking in seizure, eyes opening and closing, pupils widening and shrinking as he bounced in a bruising rattle against the floorboards. The cocktail cleared, and Parker’s eyes opened, a timeline of thought swamping his mind, seeing in complete knowledge.

Fingers gripping the bar’s edge, he pulled himself up, gazing first at the orbs spinning within the Death’s Door, then at the book. A sentence swelled and

ebbed; with a nod, he restored the items to the case and repacked the cupboard.

To the sound of a heavy step, he clicked the red key in the lock, pocketed the ring, and closed the record, stashing it beneath the bar.

Parker stared at his guest, feet backing up against the taps in an involuntary response to the emanating power. Electric blue eyes snapped over an immense, powerful chest as he settled onto a bar stool. Electricity popping from his fingertips, he raised the skull glass, sucked in two orbs, and blasted enough mojo to clack Parker against the wall.

“A reasonable attempt, Keeper. You’ll do. In fact, I offer a proposition.”

“Are jeans a road too far, brother?” Hades eyed the speedo, shaking his head.

“As you wish. Who knew death was a prude? If you’re dead, why shouldn’t everything be a go?” Poseidon shrugged and a pair of tight board shorts covered the speedo.

“Board shorts? What happened to the super-short 70s era cutoffs? You found your way to current fashion?” I grinned. The next time we hit a restaurant, he’d be less of a spectacle. Progress.

Poseidon laid a finger on my forehead. “Still masked, yet Gaia located you. What gives?”

“Gaia sent Guru to kidnap me from The Boogey; he dropped me in a forest somewhere that wasn’t Florida. I did not know he could disappear and materialize in another place. Invisibility, yes. But I wasn’t aware any demigod possessed a transport ability, even offspring from a human/primordial union.”

“They can’t,” Hades replied, “but Guru’s board and bike might. My guess is she ratcheted up his toys.”

“Well, now I know and I’ll write it into the record if I survive. But I can’t stop him; he’s strong as, well, hell.”

Hades grinned and Poseidon shook his hair back. “Get on my ocean and we’ll

talk strength, Keeper.”

Hades launched an epic slow eye roll, then leaned toward Poseidon, looking pleased with himself. “Guess why the Keeper landed here?”

Poseidon cut a side eye.

“She asked for fucking Eros!” Hades’ laugh filled the immense stone patio.

“No shit? Damn, Patra. Well played.”

“If Eros was important, why didn’t you two spill it before now?”

“Because it won’t work unless it comes from your heart. Before we mucked around, jockeying for position and leverage, the prime rule of the gods was that the internal call for love reigned forever supreme.”

An interesting summation of the whole offspring munching, regurgitating, and imprisoning debacle.

I got lucky with that thought; they both cracked up, and between the two of them, their laughter made a breeze strong enough to move my hair. Gods. Jeez.

“So how do I find him? Or her. I’m in unfamiliar territory, here.”

“Everywhere, Child. We’ve never left you.”

My head swiveled, searching for the source, but none materialized.

“Told you,” Hades grinned, as four giant gold goblets wavered into being on the coffee table. “The silver one,” he waved a hand, and a goblet changed metals, “is human wine, Keeper. Can’t have you sleeping through the fight.”

It took both hands to raise the heavy wine glass. I cradled the bowl in my palms, wishing for wrist strength, making an awkward clink with the two gods I could see and the floating glass of the one I couldn’t.

“We rarely take a form,” Eros confided. “It’s so limiting.”

Uncertain, I nodded.

“But today is an exception.”

A face, unlike anything I’d ever encountered, constructed out of the air. Half male, half female, in constant motion, features rose and faded in all skin colors, eye shapes, noses and jawlines, hair shades, lengths and textures. Each visage was simple, glowing with hope and radiating love. Eros was damn near impossible to look at, but I felt incapable of glancing away from the faces of

humanity at their loving best. I shuddered, overwhelmed by our highest gift.

Eros chuckled. “Most out. You are special, Keeper, and you are one of my originals. I have known your heart from the moment you first appeared. How sweet to meet you in actual time.”

Swamped in gratitude, my body continued shaking.

Eros dwells in every cell; my entire being thrums with love, each particle of me an energy, and simultaneously that energy is love.

“Very good, Keeper. You have a fine mind,” Eros sipped, a sea of ever changing smiles beaming. “So, imbued with this new knowledge, what are your intentions? “

I wish I knew.

Chapter 20

I blinked, looking at the walls of my office, the taste of wine still in my mouth.

The weirdest fucking life ever. One minute I’m slugging vino with a couple of hunks in hell, then boom, back to a bartender.

Door locked, I picked through the spare clothes I kept for odd moments - they’re plentiful - and changed, using a bottle of water for a quick and dirty sailor bath. As I brushed my hair, bits of hellscape fell from the hairbrush and glittered on the floor.

God knows if that’s lethal.

I swept it up, wrapped it in a tissue and stuffed it in my shorts. I slipped into The Boogey and stopped short. Parker lay behind the bar, sprawled across the floor, and I moved fast, hoping he wasn’t dead.

Asleep? What Olympic-level fuckery is this?

“Hey! Wake your ass up, and you’d better have one hell of a story to tell.”

“What? Oh, fuck. Patra! You’re okay! Chelsea will be so happy.”

“Parker, why are you in here? I was specific that you needed to stay away. No guarantees on your longevity if you can’t act on a simple instruction, Kid.”

“I know, but Patra, the book… oh, shit.” He scrabbled under the bar, coming up with the book, accompanied with an enormous sigh of relief.

“You BROKE the unyielding, primary rule? Are you serious? What karmic screw up did I make to deserve you as my understudy? Give me that!”

“I’m sorry, Patra, but I followed the record.”

My head swiveled. “My office. Now.”

Parker straddled the spare chair, and I eyed him, finger to lips.

Show me the entries revealed to him.

The Death’s Door recipe displayed.

“You prepared this? This was your first magical cocktail effort? Jesus.”

“There are others?”

I snorted. “What happened next?”

“I followed instructions, made the drink, but the fourth face said the wrong thing.”

“You lived, so they intended the aberration. Ever use a dipping pen, kid?”

“A what?”

“No time to learn like the present. Pick up the pen, dip it in the ink, write until you need more ink, then repeat. It’s a slower process, which helps you to marshall your thoughts.”

He nodded.

“Describe what you witnessed, facts only, in order, and without tainting the entry with whatever your opinion was about what transpired. With a hypothesis, you can share it, but they’re few and labeled as supposition. You are keeping the record. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He dipped the pen.

“Too much ink, blot on this,” I gestured to my blotter. “Now try to compose. It’s easier to work the quill if you write in cursive. Take your time and compose the best possible entry.”

To the scritch of his pen, I walked into The Boogie. Ian shot me a look.

“I didn’t see you come in, Boss.”

“I’m a cat, Ian,” I laughed and picked up my tablet. “How’s the liquor supply?”

Welcome to Bike Week Day Four, starring Patra ‘I’m so freaking tired’ O’Keefe. How long ago since I slept? And I’m running another twenty hours. Oh well, that’s the job.

To the blatts of fifteen Harley’s creeping up my decking, I grinned at Gloria, busy shoving tables together. “Game on, team.”

At a quarter to two, I headed to my office to wake up Parker, crashed under my desk, head on my dirty clothes bag. Since I run around here like a dog who found the coke stash, Parker’s was an interesting and fragrant bedding choice.

After checking The Boogey for patrons, I snuck him through the bar and out the main ship’s door.

“Head inside and hit the dishes.”

“When do you sleep?” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“During event weeks, it’s rare, but you manage,” I patted his shoulder. “You’ll find you have a different energy level. Comes with the job.”

His grin lit up his face. “That’s tight.”

Just wait, Kid.

I ducked in The Boogey, gave it a once-over, then slid back into my office. After a therapeutic eye rub, I palmed the cupboard and read his splotchy entry.

Witch Chelsea assigned the task of reading the record’s history, but I reached the end, so I asked it to teach me what I needed to know. Entries flowed through; too

fast to read beyond the first few words. When I requested to see them at a slower pace, it raised a drink recipe, ‘Death’s Door’. I didn’t understand, but felt a powerful urge to mix it. After Witch Chelsea left, I entered the empty Boogey and created the cocktail, following each instruction. When I twisted to the fourth head, it said “All the bloods.” I knew this was wrong, but felt pushed to finish. I blacked out, but when I came to, the drink was perfect, so I put everything away and hid the book because a huge guy showed up who scared me. He drank the Death’s Door, said he was Zeus, and asked me to his side of a battle. As a reward, I’d become Keeper for life. Immortal life. I told him I wanted to consult the book and consider his proposal. His power made me sick, and I ed out again. When I woke, Keeper Patra was back, and I’m glad. I’m not ready. I have a headache, but I feel (which sounds weird, but it’s true) smarter.

As entries go, not the greatest writing, but the substance quaked my gut. Zeus. In The Boogey. Aligning with the next Keeper. I’d have to be a four-wheel-drive idiot not to understand I’m intended as collateral damage. Fuck. Our last meeting went way too easy.

“‘All the bloods’.” Hmm. “Show me what that phrase means.”

Ever helpful, the book remained blank.

Think, Patra. Bloods. Okay, the knife’s purpose is to draw a Keeper’s blood to authenticate the drink.

The answer hit me and I stared at the page, the question forming.

“Can the record train a Keeper?”

The words flowed.

Keeper’s knowledge is preserved in the bodies who receive the title, and candidate’s blood stored in one place, maintaining a library. To become all knowing, if a new Keeper asks, the record will provide.

Holy shit. Parker’s got everything in his head already. He hasn’t connected the dots, but this was the failsafe created to avoid what happened with Billy, who appeared a year after a Keeper’s unexpected death. When the magicals trained him, they sought to control the Keeper for their own purposes. A by existed, unknown to magicals. If Billy had asked the record to help him, he might have had a better ending.

The unfolding transpired as intended.

Maybe so, but it sucks and I still miss the hell out of Billy.

How I chugged through to 9 pm while retaining my sanity was debatable, but I ran the last tabs, got my ass slapped by a biker the size of Alabama but with fewer teeth, and landed in my office chair by 9:45. Parker had a small mountain of dishes to handle, so for a half hour, I had peace. Well, one punctuated by Harley rumbles, but I could deal.

The Boogie raked big money tonight, the best Bike Week night in ten years. I finished up the deposit and dropped it into my little safe, since there was no way in hell I’d go anywhere near a bank until daylight. Next I flipped open my laptop and ran the payroll. Those checks were ready to print once I connected with my printer back at the condo. Another box checked; I was rolling. I pulled out my phone and texted Lester to confirm the extra shrimp, a second text to my regular weekly truck for the frozen stuff to set a nine o’clock delivery, then typed up an order for paper and cleaning supplies. Done and done.

I traveled to hell, returned, then ran this place like the boss I am. Zeus should take a note.

A pop accompanied a squeal, and Chelsea grabbed my arm, yanking me from my chair before squeezing the living crap out of me.

“I’m glad to see you, too!”

“Oh, the gods, Patra. Your signature, it’s nowhere.”

“The Vapors did that to protect me from Gaia, but she had a Plan B. It didn’t

work.”

A knock sounded on my door; Chelsea vanished as I opened it.

“The crew just wrapped, Patra,” Charlie said. “How we doin’?”

“Killing it, Charlie. Best in ten years. Bonuses are going to rock if we stay this hot.”

“Thought so. Can I share?”

“Yup. Keep everybody motivated. We’re kicking serious ass. Hey, that I’ll be late tomorrow, I have to run payroll.”

“No worries. See you then.”

I flipped the front lock, waving to the last of my crew before turning, warming up for round two. Chelsea popped in so close I stepped on her foot.

“Shh.” A finger landed against my lips, then began writing in the air next to us.

The Boogey is full of gods. Eight of them! They want to talk to you both.

“Hey Patra,” Parker swung around the corner. “I’m ready to…”

From the bowels of The Boogey, Poseidon roared.

“Keepers. Here. Now.”

Chapter 21

“Parker, listen to me. The drink you crafted last night was a vehicle to impart the entire book into your brain. Under no circumstance should you divulge this to anyone. It is in your best interests to act like you’re a trainee.”

“Okay. It’s how I feel, so it’ll be natural.”

“, Gods and magicals can read your mind. You’ve got to develop discipline, and you need it now. Keep your mind blank. Got it?”

He nodded.

“Gods are powerful, and when in groups the sense of being overwhelmed magnifies. Do the best you can.” I had him by the bicep, trotting toward my office. “We’re out of time; keep from thinking. Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Let’s do this.”

I palmed open the door to The Boogey from my office, and the immensity damn near knocked me flat. Parker stayed on his feet, which was amazing; I doubt I’d have pulled that off on day three.

Asclepius, Poseidon, Hades, Dionysus. All known, and in their weird assed god ways, they like me. Good.

My eyes narrowed.

Aphrodite, Apollo, Ares, and Athena. They never come here. Unknowns. Ares. In my bar. Fuckity fuck-fuck-fuck.

Billy’s voice floated across my mind. “Stay clear of Ares, Cleopatra. The god of war is a friend to none.”

I walked behind the bar, pulling Parker with me. “Watch how I make everything, and touch nothing. Do you understand?”

A nod, and he stuffed his hands into his jeans and stood back near the taps.

I poured Poseidon his usual, calling the instructions over my shoulder to Parker, then pulled the little red key.

“Not today, Patra,” Hades interrupted. “A twelfth tide will do.”

Clep nodded, and I glanced along the assembled as fingers raised. Everyone but Aphrodite.

“Ma’am?”

“A Whisp, Keeper. Thank you.”

Wow, that was nice of her. Okay, here we go.

Since I was making six twelfth tides, I made the first three, coached Parker to make the fourth and fifth, then let him build the sixth on his own. One layer wobbled, but Dionysis accepted it with an aqua-eyed twinkle beneath a headful of crazy red curls. Parker’s shoulders unbunched. Another landing stuck.

This kid.

The training session interested the gods, and their pressure lightened from wishing for death to the worst hangover in the history of alcohol. I built the Whisp, ing it to Aphrodite and receiving a smile that buckled Parker’s knees. With an effort, he remained upright. I poured three fingers of Jack for myself and an ounce for Parker.

“Tiny sips, Parks. It helps with the pressure. Make it last.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“To what does The Boogey owe the pleasure of your visits?”

Poseidon wagged a finger at me. “The Gaia problem needs to take precedence over the Triune efforts.”

“Gaia is no longer in the forest,” Clep added.

“Preparing her assault,” Ares growled, solid black eyes flashing. “First strike annihilation.”

Even by gods’ standards, Ares was huge. A bronze breastplate covered a Zeus sized chest, and his legs were thick and powerful. He appeared to be every scrap of the badass his reputation d.

“What is your plan, Keeper?” Athena asked.

She never visited The Boogey; this was the first I’d seen her in person. Fine lavender irises exuded wisdom, framed by waist-length honey-blond hair. Unlike the others, she wore the traditional toga. With her question, eyes in a variety of hues stared at me. It took effort, but I managed not to swallow my tongue. The Jack burned courage in my throat.

“To marshall humanity’s love as a counterweight, a way to resurrect the world’s

balance. If we remain balanced, the reset will not work.”

This was pure guesswork, but after the Eros encounter, the supposition felt right. As the words left my lips, my skin glowed, a soft rose gold that built from a half light to a full-on aura.

Behind me, Parker muttered, “Holy shit.”

Nine pairs of eyes stared, unblinking, during a minute that dragged for an hour. Hades, followed by Clep, Poseidon, and Athena, grinned.

“Ah,” Aphrodite broke the silence, cocking her head of flowing white hair to one side as Parker sucked in air, lost in her multicolored irises flecked with gold and rimmed with long thick lashes; the original ‘girl with kaleidoscope eyes’. “That’s a clever solution.”

“Not your department, but I concur,” Athena murmured.

“You made a powerful alliance,” Ares, who possessed no inside voice, shook The Boogey.

“Correct. I have an enemy vying to disrupt the outcome, too.” My eyes bored into Poseidon’s and understanding flashed across Hades’ face.

“That is of no consequence,” Apollo stated, amber eyed and disdainful. “Wits

control your destiny. Rise to this task or relinquish the role.”

“I intend to meet this situation as I have others, with intensity and conviction.” My voice remained calm. “May I ask a single favor?”

“What is that, Keeper?” Dionysis sounded bored and ready for another drink.

“Guru,” I said.

Looks exchanged, and Dionysis shrugged. “Fine, I’ll do it, if none of you will bestir yourselves. Guru is not important.”

He rose, walked to the board on the back wall of The Boogey and wrote Guru’s name.

“Banned.”

“Thank you, Dionysis. Another?”

“Indeed, Keeper. Keep’em coming.”

For the next two hours, Parker and I poured, and the gods’ energies thrummed throughout The Boogey. Parker’s skin paled to the point of illness, so I sent him

to write his of the evening into the record, a stopgap to keep him from barfing all over the bar.

“Keeper, I wish you well,” Athena’s eyes assessed, and a brief smile crossed her lips. “You will need it.”

“Yes. No different from any other Keeper. I’ll give my life.”

“If you are worthy, you will prevail,” Ares boomed.

The two of them faded, and Apollo glared at me before vanishing.

What’s up his butt? Oh well, five to go.

I poured a second Jack and sipped, watching their drink levels and breathing slow, deliberate breaths, attempting a difficult to maintain calmness in their presence.

Clep shot a green feeler around my wrist, and my stomach quieted.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“I’m rooting for you.”

Clep faded, and Hades caught my eye, tapped his forehead with a long pale finger and disappeared.

I am using my head, Hades. Hell, I’ll use my baby toes if they’ll give me an edge.

Whatever Clep imparted into my body helped, and I set up a fresh round for Poseidon and Dionysis as Aphrodite waved and slipped away.

“I need to check on Parker,” I said, and to Poseidon’s shooing gesture, I stepped into the office and slid along the door frame to the floor, exhausted. Parker gave a faint moan, lying in a fetal position next to my desk.

“If it helps, they can control the volume of their mojo. Everyone but Ares dialed down tonight. Still, with eight of them, it’s a heavy hit.”

“I barfed in your trashcan, Patra. I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK, Parker. I puke around them too.” I patted his knee, pushed my unwilling legs under me, and staggered to the desk.

Show me his most recent entry.

I read a faithful, factual ing, then smiled at his closing sentence.

I threw up. Twice. Their presence knocks me flat. It’s a guess, but they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t want us to stop her.

“Good entry, Parker. You stuck to the facts.”

“Trying.” He groaned and shook. “How long does this last? I feel like total shit.”

“Only two gods, Dionysis and Poseidon, remain in The Boogey. Come back in with me; do yourself a favor and learn how to manage yourself around their power. They won’t stop drinking here because you have a rumbly tummy.”

He nodded, rose, and sailor-walked behind me to the bar.

“Dawn approaches, Gentlemen.”

Poseidon dug into his shorts and dropped a handful of gold on the bartop. Dionysis blinked, then did the same.

“They always stick me with the damn bill.”

“That’s because you close the bar, Di.”

“Fair enough. A tiger can’t give up meat, either.” He grinned, slapped Poseidon on the shoulder, and faded.

Parker straightened, exhaled in relief, and started wiping bottles. I stared at Poseidon.

“A moment of your time?”

He waved at Parker, who disappeared from view, and I slipped out and grabbed the record.

Show me Parker’s meeting with Zeus.

The entry flowed across the page, and I flipped the book around so Poseidon could read. A snort followed.

“Figures. Zeus detests how you bested him in public.”

“I did what I had to do, and I accept that even if I accomplish preventing Gaia’s reset, I’ve got a target on my back.” Compared to the brave tone of voice, the rest of me wallowed in fright. “Can you protect Parker and steer him from entrapment in this unholy bargain?”

“Free will is in play, Patra. You don’t get to tilt the scales. No promises.”

Crap.

“My protection is available to you, for the sweet price of a single night of wild monkey sex. Free will cuts both ways.” His blue-eyed gaze softened. “I would miss you if you got yourself killed.”

That rang true, but hollow.

“Sorry, Big Red. Both heart and ass are taken.”

Chapter 22

It occurred to me I hadn’t slept in damn near 48 hours. The dirty clothes bag beckoned, tempting me with an exhausted floor crash, but the ‘Eau de Parker’s puke parfum’ was a bridge too far. I dumped my trash can, rinsed and bleached it, then slipped out of The Boogie and headed for home and a familiar bed. As I stepped from the elevator, my phone pinged.

Interested in a morning visitor?

Ballard. Any other morning, that’d be a big fast yes, but even if I laid there like the dead, an accomplishment considering yesterday’s adventure, I didn’t have it in me. Fifteen hours of sleep sounded great, but I’d get five.

I’m too beat to make it interesting, but let me get through this week and I’d love a dawn visit.

Fingers crossed that the promise was good enough, I scrubbed the remaining bits of hell out of my hair, dragged my butt to bed, and ed out before my body dried.

At one o’clock, with a hairdo that screamed ‘slept in while wet’, I slugged coffee and staggered to my laptop to do payroll. Checks whirring through the printer,

coffee reloaded and beginning its magic, I glanced at the balcony.

Covered in mist. Shit.

“Come in,” I muttered, opening the French doors wide before heading to retrieve the journal. The Vapors filled my space, condensing into a somewhat human shape.

That’s new.

Misty fingers picked up my pen, dipped, and began writing into the record. The words disappeared with no chance of review.

Huh, I didn’t think the Vapors wrote entries, let alone ones private from me. Is this for later? Or for Parker? What’s going on here?

With a nod, the form disbanded, and the mist flowed out into the sunlight. Disgruntled, I stared at a blank page.

“I could ask, but screw it. They made a big production about hiding entries. Point taken. That entry may matter later, or they believe I’m Zeus’s roadkill and from their point of view, superfluous.”

Which bugged me more than I cared to it. October cost me, but I made that stand. Why the theatrics? I slammed the journal back into the drawer with more

oomph than necessary.

Fuck it. Time to fix my hair, pay my crew, and get through another day.

Even to me, the plan rang hollow.

The Boogie’s pier, with bikes moving along the entire length, rumbled, and the noise shook the pier with a timber deep rattle.

The sound of money. Halle-freakin-lujah. Keep’em coming. Rinse and repeat.

In the kitchen, I poured a giant coffee and Ralph, with a burst of payday cheer, ed me a fried egg sandwich with plenty of bacon, mayo and tomato. Perfect. I munched while I stuffed checks into each employee’s cubby.

My cell phone pinged. Lester. I scrubbed greasy hands and scrambled to the storage closet, grabbed a hand truck, and bumped across the weathered pier to rendezvous with my shrimps.

“Check out those bikes, we’re jamming,” I yelled over the din, and he nodded, swinging boxes of fresh shrimp from his truck. “Thanks for making these orders happen, Lester. Glad fishing’s been good!”

“Sea gods are smiling on this old shrimper, Darlin’. See you tomorrow. Get some sleep, you look beat.”

It was my turn to nod, and on impulse, I leaned in and gave him a quick hug.

How many of these are last times? I’m not ready to be finished, but it’s part of the job. Guess I never realized I might know when I’m on the way out. At a deep level, I thought it’d be quick, a surprise. Now Zeus revealed himself to Parker,

changing the dynamic, and I know better. Crap. Death is coming, long, pain filled, drawn to unreasonable lengths. A straight shot to hell is preferable. At least Hades has a sense of humor.

It took concentration to pull the heavy load along the uneven deck boards, which got me out of my head. I stowed the shrimp crates in the fresh cooler, shooting Ralph a thumbs up as I worked.

“Thanks, Patra. The quality is exceptional; we’re blowing through shrimp like crazy.”

“Gotta be why we’re seeing repeat customers. Keep cranking out the orders, Ralph. The Boogie’s making bank and so is the crew.”

“You know it. Got my eye on a new pickup. This’ll be my down payment.”

After returning the hand truck to the outside storage locker, I stood on the pier and sucked in air. Life. Death. Breath. When?

Today? Tomorrow? Fuck. I can’t do my job with my mind in this space.

“Perhaps that’s the point?” My head swiveled, seeing no one but feeling the familiar electrical current.

Eros.

Knowing they could read my thoughts and thinking that appearing to yammer to myself like a raving lunatic wasn’t a great look, I leaned against the railing.

I’m struggling with fear.

We know, Child. There is no love without it. The fear of losing love is where we grasp its value.

I need to release the power of Zeus’s intentions. I can’t control any of this, and it’s preventing me from thinking with clarity.

How did you approach your first run in with Zeus?

I chewed my lip, staring at the ocean’s rolling waves, flowing, withdrawing, returning.

I did it with friends, with people I loved and trusted.

The electricity coursed through me, raising goosebumps everywhere before subsiding in silence. Alone, the fear diminished, a path of action beckoned.

Is that the way?

No answer; but inside, I knew. Shoulders squared, I palmed the old ship’s door and marched into The Boogey, tapping the charm on the necklace Chelsea gave me three times.

“What’s happening? Are you safe?”

“Could you call Poseidon? We need to talk.”

She rummaged in her waist sack and pulled the wave charm. A giant naked god wavered into view. I tossed a bar towel over his erection and gestured to a stool.

“Cop a squat, Big Red.”

“You too,” I slid Chelsea a side eye.

I stood in front of them, hands on hips, channeling Super Keeper. Well, without a cape.

“Gaia must continue believing I’m hanging out, flaming through Nothingville, and to do that, I need your help. The Vapors masked my signature, but word will spread if I’m working here at night. Taking another free fall into hell is time consuming, plus she could decide to off me, which fucks things up for everybody.”

I looked at Chelsea. “Will you run The Boogey?”

“What about Parker?”

“He’s so green and easy to kill, putting him in while this fluctuation plays out is unwise.”

“I concur,” Poseidon said, scratching. The bar rag slipped. Chelsea waved, and the towel stopped, mid-slide.

“Alright,” Chelsea shot me an appraising look. “I’ll sling drinks. Where will you be?”

“I have to run the other side, which brings me to my second request. Poseidon, can you make me visible only to humans?”

“Always?”

A good question. My skin prickled, and a Vapor symbol rose. Hope. Chelsea’s eyes traveled along my arm.

“No. As Keeper, I must remain part of all worlds. But to avoid Gaia, hide me from gods and magicals whenever I’m working on the pier or at home.”

“Fair enough. When you step through the door, it will be as you ask.”

Huh. Not the toe to toe interaction I expected. Too easy? Am I overthinking again? Crap.

“We finished?” Poseidon shook out his hair as I nodded. He faded, inadequate towel fluttering to the floor.

“What’s the plan?” Chelsea asked, settling in for a chat.

“Still in the works,” I replied, side-stepping. “Thanks for babysitting The Boogey.”

Her face squinched; she wasn’t buying it, and I couldn’t risk saying more. I hugged her.

“You mean the world to me.” I laid a finger on her heart. “Truth.”

The bikes kept coming; The Boogie didn’t close out the last till until 9:45. Fat freaking city. To the sounds of the crew cleaning, I finished the books and walked out with them, under a waning moon, at 10:30. My Beetle turned south, and I drove the short blocks to the condo, turning the plan over in my mind. Am I crazy? Will it even work? Worth the risk? No idea, but it felt, well, solid.

Whenever I’ve stepped up and swung for the fences, this sense of solid surrounded the decision. One of these times I’ll strike out. Maybe that won’t be this time.

Along the edge of the steering wheel, my fingers crossed.

Upstairs, I showered, dressed in a tank top and booty shorts and set a bottle of red on the coffee table. No more stalling. I blew out air and tapped the message.

I’m home relaxing. Can you swing by?

On my way.

After palming to retrieve the journal, I pulled my quill and a vial of my blood, stored for the greatest secrets of the record. I dipped the tip into the red, and wrote out the plan, my reasons, and expected outcomes. The entry vanished, hidden except to another Keeper. I hoped Parker would figure out how to call it forth. It was the best I could do under the circumstances.

The security bell pinged, and I tapped the button to unlock access to the elevators, staring at my face in the foyer mirror. Huge blue eyes loomed over a set mouth, the epitome of terror and resignation.

Here goes, well, everything, There’s no turning back; we’re in the shit now. Screw it, I’m trusting love.

Chapter 23

I yanked the door open, wrecked by the choice. In two steps, Ballard had me in his arms, half a ion-possessed man, and half a drowning one. When his lips brushed mine, it was the kiss of old love, of awakened souls.

“Ballard,” I choked out, the only word I could manage.

“Patra,” his hands held my face, and we stood, transfixed, in sunken wonderment.

“Wine?” I mumbled, heart flipping in my chest, a deranged Olympian gymnast determined to escape the confines of mere ribs.

“Good idea,” his mouth opened and closed, swallowing words.

Deft hands uncorked and poured, and I watched him, trying to see under the determination.

The sense of us is there. I started this, now see it through, Patra.

“Ballard, I get a sense that there’s something you want to tell me, but you’re making yourself hide it. Why not share?”

Our gazes locked, his contemplating, then he shook his head.

That’s a no.

“Hey, we’re just beginning, but a bartender that can’t keep a secret flames out early in their career, and I’ve been tending bar a long time.”

Ballard leaned back, eyeing me. “Patra, I keep feeling I’ve known you, like before. Another life, perhaps. The sensation is a constant prickle, a shadow around a corner, but wherever I turn, there’s an empty space. Sounds nuts, but someone or thing is missing; it’s a false echo.”

“I discount nothing, Ballard. Life is not the surface shit, and that’s a hard truth.”

“But I’m a cop and I work with realities. The theory of past lives, well, it’s not how I perceive the world. The entire idea doesn’t jibe with what I see every day.”

“Who knows,” I sipped the wine, treading with care, “whether truth lies within a single space? The Universe is a big place, and souls are whispers, tiny threads of existence.”

“Patra, I interact with people, often during their worst moments. The concept of a side beyond here and now doesn’t fly. Humanity is pain and blood, cruelty tempered with occasional kindness, and on a rare day, a scrap of joy.”

“Love is the common human gift, Ballard. We are all capable, in our own ways, of experiencing it.”

Green eyes held mine for a long tick, then he shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve had dreams, senses of us that are hard to fathom.” His head shook, a half grin tugging up one corner of his mouth. “We just met. I’m not a crazed stalker.”

I breathed in the ocean, the scent of salt shaken, and stepped into next.

“This is not our first time together.” I reached behind me, grabbing the tablet on the sofa. “Look.”

I tapped an icon and pictures flooded the screen. Ballard and I, laughing, arms entwined. Another of him feeding me an oyster with a smarmy grin. One of me sleeping after sex, arms flung wide, a faint smile on my lips. Ballard, his dog, and me at the dog park in Ponce Inlet. It was this photo that stopped him.

“How did you do this? How do you know my dog?”

“Because we had history, Ballard. And those aren’t everything. We’ve been together across time because you and I share an original love.”

I sat back, waiting for the fallout, for him to storm out the door, to believe me crazy, or worse, stalking him.

Instead, the cop took charge.

“What is the name of this dog?”

“Brutus. You have a chubby tortoiseshell cat named Caesar, too.”

“Where was this taken?”

“In your bed, at your Port Orange apartment. You named the stuffed sea turtle Jolly Ollie.”

His eyes cut to mine and back to the tablet. “And this one?”

“We’re on the pier outside The Boogie, laughing at a pair of pelicans who acted drunk.”

It was Pook and Bingo, and they were wasted. But it’s not important.

He held the tablet, scrolling through the pictures, then laid it on the table, chugged his wine, and poured another for both of us.

“You expect me to believe this.”

It was not a question.

“No, my darling, forever love, I expect you to .”

The electricity rocketed through my cells, and I gripped his hands. Ballard jerked, pupils going wide for half a minute before reducing to normal, staring into mine as he lifted me onto his lap, face buried in my breasts, hot tears flowing from remembrance to now.

“How did I lose you? What happened to us? None of this makes sense.”

Here we go.

“Humans aren’t the only entities on Earth, Ballard. How many times have you chased criminals who vanished? How often has evidence gone missing? Or records? the convenient pile of plastic that landed on the beach last week, or the way Mayor Loboli deconstructed in office? Or those weird yacht deaths you’re investigating right now? In your work, how many unusual occurrences are shrugged off and let go, unexplained?”

“What are you saying?” Ballard didn’t loosen his grip on me, but his cop face was on tight.

“That humans share Earth with more than animals, gators, and bugs. This planet is home to magicals who resemble us, but they’re different. People like Loboli, or my friend at The Boogie with the long red hair. And thousands of others. We are not alone, Ballard, but they aren’t coming from the stars, they’ve always been here.”

“I’m not sure I can accept that, Patra.”

“Babe, I’m asking for an open mind. There’s plenty to learn, and I need you to hear me out.”

A reddish eyebrow lifted.

“Be as skeptical as you want, my love. But don’t walk out until the whole play is complete.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Patra, and I can deliver on the skepticism, no problem.”

Fair enough, I’ll take it.

Two bottles of wine and forty books off my shelves later, I knit the history, watching the lights go on as the pieces clicked together. At 2:30 in the morning, he threw his hands in the air, flopping back into the sofa cushions.

“Patra, how the hell did you figure this out? Why are you certain you’re right?”

Hoo boy. Time to break the biggest fucking rule of them all.

“I know, because I am the Keeper. I write the history, picking it up from where the previous Keeper stopped, recording the worlds. My other job is uniting them, and so far, I’m getting pushback.”

“Setting aside how insane that sounds, I bet you would be. Who’d forgo being the boss?”

“I freed the Vapors, and within that, restored peace into power’s balance.”

“The who? Do you have more wine?”

“It’s easier to show you.”

I palmed the secret drawer, pulling out the journal as it slid into view.

“I’m breaking a vow to share this with a human, Ballard, because I believe that unfolding events require I do so. If I’m wrong, they’ll punish me with death, and this journal’s page will stay blank. Otherwise, we both have an important part to play.”

“Why take the risk? Why, out of everyone, me?”

“Because the sole force able to defend us from Gaia is love.”

I opened the journal.

“Show me the age about freeing the Vapors from Zeus.”

Under his breath, Ballard muttered, “Holy shit.”

The entry rose to the surface, and I turned the book to him. “Read it.”

He read, swallowed, read it a second time, and punched the sofa, hard.

“Zeus. Are you serious?”

“I embarrassed him that night, and he’s still pissed. A new seismic shift rises, and once again, I’m battling on two fronts. And I’ll need our original love as a protective shield.” I turned to the record. “Show me Gaia and the reset.”

I handed the journal to Ballard and watched him read. When he finished, he

scratched the top of his head and laughed; the sound bounding around the room, tinged with shock and a crumb of hysteria.

“You need me to help you fight Mother Nature? Plus a god that throws lightning bolts and holds a grudge? Do I have that right?”

“Yes. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Oh, fuck, Honey. Count me in. I won’t lose you again. If it takes going Greco on a couple of oversized egos, I’m down for a fight. But now, I want us to fuck to exhaustion.”

I reached over, palmed the drawer and stashed the journal. Hands out, I pulled him to his feet and wrapped my arms around his neck. Ballard scooped me up, marched into the bedroom, and flung us both onto the bed.

Forgive my sins, it’s done.

A mere human has not only seen, but touched and read the record. After halfway expecting death on the spot, I’m here and have Ballard with me. We hold no secrets. Tonight is ours, and tomorrow we take what comes, together.

Chapter 24

Ballard untangled from my sheets at 6:30, and I brewed coffee while he showered. Memories of last night tugged, softened with typical morning blurriness and tempered with a touch of surreal. Evidence, in the form of mounds of books strewn across the sofa, floor, and table, said otherwise. A tap came from the balcony, and I jumped. Hades.

Fuck. Is he here to reckon?

I opened the door and stepped out as he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I have company.”

“No one can see me but you,” he replied, squinting into the sunrise before donning rock star level shades. Death had style.

“The plan’s in motion,” I told him as the sun crept off the horizon’s edge.

“Excellent, both for having one and initiating.”

My eyebrows drew together.

“Lighten up, Keeper, this gift is for you.” Hades withdrew a vial from his front jeans pocket and twirled it between his fingers. “Don’t open it until you fear a death. The contents will save a single soul.”

I stared at him, my understanding keeping pace with the dawning sun. “Ah, I see.”

“Be smart. Bold might help, but the underworld is littered with brave fools.”

“Duly noted. Thank you.”

Hades shimmered, fading to a purple metallic mist that dispersed off the balcony in a glittery finale.

Style.

Potion tucked into my pocket, I wandered back to the kitchen and poured a coffee, ing the mug to Ballard as he lounged against the breakfast bar.

“Babe, I’m putting in for emergency leave, which won’t be an issue, then heading here to tackle any weird-ass thing you want.” He tapped his heart.

“If you need a few hours this morning, that’s fine. I don’t head to The Boogie until 2 o’clock. Just doing my part to maintain a normal schedule.”

“I’ll get my neighbor on deck to take care of Brutus and Caesar, and text you when I’m set.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you. Apparently, since forever. Originals, huh?”

“Oh, I have that on the greatest authority.”

Ballard drained his coffee, leaned in, and kissed me. “Don’t need to know your sources, Honey. Your word is good enough. By the way, who sliced up my yacht victims?”

“The mer.”

“Mer? As in mermaids?”

“Oh, they’re not fairytales, more like fury-tailed. Complete badasses, well, if they had an ass. Lethal with knives, though. Chum scum.”

A snort.

“I’ll be here all week; try the veal.”

The plan, to grab another four hours of sleep, didn’t happen. Chelsea arrived first, popping onto the balcony before knocking loud enough to wake the dead, AKA me, asleep on the sofa.

I crooked a finger and squinted at the clock. An hour. Perfect. Healthy REM ninety-minute sleep cycles and I have a ‘ships that in the night’ type of relationship, meaning I stand marooned and wave as it floats past.

She eyed the mess and put her hands on her hips. “When are you telling me what the fuck you plan to do?”

“Today’s the day, Chels. But first, coffee.”

Chelsea muttered and tapped a finger; books snapped shut and zipped into their spots on the shelves.

“Thanks,” I said, surprised, pushing a mug across the bar before slurping mine.

Magicals aren’t too hung up on manners or social mores, but rules, vows, and lores matter. A lot. I braced myself for an epic dress down.

“I met Eros.”

“Wow! Will they help?”

Ooh. Good pronoun.

“Yes, and I’ve moved forward based on their guidance.”

“Which was?”

“Love is the key component, Chelsea, so I’m using it as both weapon and shield.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How so?”

With an internal squirm, I blurted, “Eros showed Ballard who we were, and I taught him about the worlds.”

Her gaze ran along the bookcase, then snapped back to mine. “And?”

Shit. She’s so damn smart.

“I revealed the record.”

“WHAT?”

“Not what. Based on the guidance given, I had to, Chels. It came through as a truth. Still does. The record’s entries appeared for Ballard to read, the only circumstances he’d be able to see them.”

“YOU ABANDONED YOUR VOW!”

“Shhhh. I have neighbors. It wasn’t a choice made without evaluation. I understood the enormity. Respected it and expected to die if I followed misguided instincts.”

She paced the length of my apartment, hands knotted in front of her. Clenched, I knew, because she wanted to throw twenty-three spells and snatch me bald. Her red hair burned through the information while I sipped coffee in silence. In my mind, refocusing her rage by reminding her I’m here was an epic-level stupid move.

With a low screech, she whirled to face me, anguish contorting her features. “Are you sure, so damn certain you’d stake your life on it?”

“I am staking my life on it. , the Keeper’s lifetime continues on the whims of the record every day. The solution to the reset threat requires relying on knowledge and alliance, then combining them with love’s power. There is no other way.”

“Gaia created all of us and this life-sustaining orb,” I continued. “Love is separate from the physicality of creation but surrounds its entirety. Within it, we harness our greatest power and drive a balance flexed between the body and the soul. That equilibrium is as old as the primordials.”

I sipped, eyeing my audience. “Gaia’s reset destroys that balance, because one cannot survive without the other. Kill the bodies, and the souls’ weight tips the planet off the scales. Boom, no more Earth. She’s lost sight of love, so how it affects her reset doesn’t .”

I drained my coffee. “In a way, I’m wagering everyone’s life. It’d be helpful to have your .”

She stared, unblinking, eyes green with damnation. I got up, grabbed the pot, and refilled both cups. Mug steady in my hands, I met her gaze, relieved to see the green tinge to blue.

“I’m pissed as hell at you. Disgusted. You hold no honor.”

“I’m aware.”

“Gaia is wrong to force the reset, though, and I concur the imbalance destroys everything. I’ve studied this, and I’ll stand with you, but we’re not through with your methods, we’ve not even started.”

I know that, too. Sorry, hair.

After Chelsea popped out with a snap that knocked two pictures off the walls, I hit the shower, dressed, and scarfed a ham sandwich.

Pretty sad last supper. Hell, not much of an outfit for the afterlife, either.

Fortified, I packed a waist sack, magical style. Into it I tucked the journal, my blood, regular ink, a dipping pen, the vials of potion and antidote from Waldo, two of anti-puke potion, and the one from Hades. No need for a label. Black glass, topped with a purple stopper in the shape of a feather. Very low key.

From the kitchen, I grabbed two Snickers bars and a bottle of water. My sack sagged, but everything fit. I pulled the loose boho style top I’d chosen up and let it float over the bag. Better. Ready. Maybe.

A tap, and I looked to see who else was on my Grand Central Station balcony.

Everybody senses it; the shift is upon us.

I beckoned to Poseidon, and he stepped in, stopping just inside the door.

“Keeper,” he said, tone somber. “The mer no longer swim within my seas.”

My arm lit up, and the gold letters etched: ‘Be careful’.

“While I’ll do what I can to help you, it may not be much,” he added.

“If Zeus plans to ambush me and you send a message, I’d appreciate it.”

“Only if the unfolding wasn’t foreseen,” he replied, staring at the ocean. “I cannot change what’s written.”

Huh. Written? Or prophesied? Does that mean Gaia? Isn’t she on the outs with her misty oracle buddies?

“Guess that’s my role,” I reached out and patted his arm. “Thanks for being, well perhaps not a friend, but whatever we share, you make it interesting.”

“I’ve never had a friend. Friendships aren’t in the god job description.”

“Huh. That sucks,” I tipped him a wink. “Guess you have one now.”

With a glimmer of a grin, he vanished.

The last visitor arrived via elevator. Loboli.

“Mayor, let’s sit on the balcony. You’re intense indoors.”

His grin scritched across my skin, and I led the way, choosing a chair that put a table between us while doing my best to suck in a chestful of fresh ocean air in silence.

“The shifters sensed the change, and I’m here for your update.”

Kinda bossy, aren’t we?

I raised an eyebrow, then tapped the table as I outlined the points. “Since we last spoke, I’ve aligned with Eros, and have the of several Olympians, and the covens. They stand with your shifters. Key to success is bringing humans, and the love they evidence, into the mix. This may be where you’ll be the most effective.”

“So, no actual plan then?”

“It could never work that way, Loboli. Gaia reads every mind. Only in the flux of constant change do I have any chance of success.”

He leaned back and leveled a stare. Not the friendliest one I’d been on the receiving end of, but it wasn’t the absolute worst. Small blessings.

A hairy hand smacked the table. “Agreed, Keeper. We’ll stand by for and instructions. Send a witch when you need us.”

He rose, smiling at my sweaty brow. “You’re a tough one. I’ll let myself out.”

To the sound of the door snicking closed, I slid from my chair and puddled onto the floor, serenaded by the clink of vials.

I’m toast and haven’t even started yet. Good grief.

My phone’s alarm pinged. 1:45. Time to Boogie.

Chapter 25

The fish stench damn near knocked me flat, and I wasn’t through the front door. The thing about fish is, if you can smell it, fresh ain’t happening. Ergo, eat somewhere else; your intestinal tract will thank you.

What the hell! Did the fresh-catch cooler fail? Crap.

The Boogie reeked like a fish market with no power, but the entire place was packed, crazy jammed, with bikers. Also weird.

“Ralph!” I careened into the kitchen and skidded to a halt in front of the fresh cooler, humming like a champ.

“It’s not us, Boss. Something in the pilings? Nobodys sure, but that’s what the wait and bar staff are telling people. Charlie’s encouraging them to drink until they stop noticing. He’s slamming.” Ralph’s laugh echoed in the small room as I slipped to the bar.

“Pour heavy,” I muttered to Charlie.

“Already there,” he grinned. “But damn, we stink.”

It sure as hell did. I forced myself to shift from high-octane to observation. Other than a putrid (borderline on exploding) whale stuck in the timber below, there wasn’t a logical explanation for the odor.

Think, Patra. See the threads.

Since I specialize in the illogical, I let my eyes wander through to The Boogey. Empty, the norm for early afternoon. I eased out to the pier, eyeballing the bikes.

Based on the parking, I should have fifty diners, tops. I’m at capacity, which made no sense.

Time to work the tables; let’s figure out who’s here.

I moved through the diners, chatting and assessing.

“Welcome to The Boogie. How is everything?”

“What kind of dead tuna t is this?” Raucous laughter greeted this sally.

“Well, it’s a pier, so the part above the water is what I control. The rest relies on the sea’s whims.”

“The fish sandwich tastes good and the old lady likes the shrimp.”

“Fuckin’ A,” his buddy interrupted. “She’s used to munching your little shrimp. These are jumbos!”

They laughed again, and I moved to the next table. The guys in this group were strange. Dressed in typical biker gear, but the clothes were too similar. Not insignia or colors, but the sameness was odd.

“Good afternoon, how are your meals?”

The entire table shoveled shrimp and grunted.

Most bikers get loud and have a good time. Reticence isn’t their thing. Bike talk, tall stories, ass slapping, and shots, that’s much more the norm. I continued walking through the tables, growing disturbed. My place was full of groups of silent, angry men. Not cool.

I hung at the ocean end of the dining room, not focusing on any one group, but absorbing the vibe. Something major was off, and frustration tapped on my brain.

A huge biker stood, turning his head toward the bar then to me. He looked familiar, plus his attitude emanated. The back of my mind tickled with a memory.

Qiton. Oh, shit. The mer are here, inside The Boogie, in human form!

Gaze on a slow swivel, I tapped the necklace three times, then moseyed through the room, heading for The Boogey. Chelsea raised an eyebrow.

“There’s nobody here to serve, Keeper. Maybe I should rethink that charm.”

I pointed at The Boogie through the clear wall. “Sixty percent of those bikers are mer in disguise. I’m open to suggestions before we get sliced up for chum. Qiton is the leader, toward the rear, left table.”

“That’s bold,” Chelsea muttered. “And personal.” She touched her forehead with her pinky, and Glenna popped into the seat next to her.

“Mama, we should have an early drink and watch the show.” A bottle of wine and two glasses zoomed from under the bar, uncorked, and poured.

OK, then. If you’re yanking me up for vow breaking, your timing sucks.

To her raised eyebrow, I slipped back and eyed my people. They were in danger; every human was. Time to call the cavalry. I pulled my phone and tapped Ballard’s name.

“Hey Baby.”

“Have you asked for that leave yet?”

“Headed to do that now.”

“Don’t. Grab a couple of cars and get here fast, I’ve got trouble, and you might bust your mer. They’ve taken a human form, but they can’t shift unless it’s the full or new moon. This is Gaia’s work. Hurry.”

“On my way.”

Fingers crossed that Chelsea and Glenna were doing more than drinking for free and watching the carnage, and also hopeful that Poseidon’s assist meant Qiton couldn’t see me as Keeper, I headed toward his table. A huge shell blade now rested next to his plate.

“Sir, I must ask that you take any weapons out of the restaurant. We do not allow them.” I made a quick mental calculation of how far I’d have to leap to avoid being disemboweled. The math wasn’t in my favor.

“No.”

“No?”

A grunt. I’m thinking Gaia’s transformation trick didn’t extend to a full complement of human language skills.

I stepped away, and went to another table, starting with the ones furthest from the front entry, moving from group to group, pausing at each one that spoke in complete sentences on my earlier tour.

“Hi. We have a situation here. Your tab is on me. Please get up as quietly as possible and leave now. Do not panic or speak to other diners. Police are en route.”

I got six tables moving before the shit hit. Qiton stepped in front of a woman on her way out, separating her from her companion. He turned, eyed the knife and pulled his own.

“Step away from my wife, asshole.”

Qiton’s blade flashed, and the man dropped, blood pumping in a squirting arc from his neck. Across the restaurant, mer rose, blades sliding out, primed for murder.

A bullet blew through the roof of The Boogie.

“Police! Don’t move,”

The mer, unversed in lead, didn’t give a shit, and one lept toward Ballard, who dropped him with a head shot. Humans, knowing a fair bit more about firearms, fell to the decking, crawling under the tall wooden tables. The air shuddered with panic, shrieks of terror whipped through The Boogie.

A heavy hand gripped my shoulder, and the blade felt cool against my neck.

“Go,” Qiton growled at Ballard.

“I can’t do that,” Ballard replied, calm tone masking his intensity.

“Go!” Chorused several more mer, and the officers exchanged side eyes. These bikers were weird.

“Get on the ground!” A cop tased a mer, whose water acclimated body shook, rigid from the electric shock.

Ballard eased toward Qiton in measured steps as the other cops tased the closest mer, rendering three of them helpless, shaking and foaming a salty stench as they fell. The odor was incredible, fishkill-9000. The Boogie rocked with the pounding sea, air thick with fear as mer lept toward the trapped, screaming humans.

Qiton jerked, Ballard’s taser landing just as the blade bit my neck; we both dropped in a twitching heap. Fingers gripping my throat, I felt my skin nip

together.

Chelsea.

A taser materialized in my hand, and I rolled to my feet, blasting the nearest mer. His head snapped back. I yanked the wire out and shot again, figuring this was a witch-made weapon, one I hoped had unlimited shots.

A man yelled, and I pivoted to see a mer slash a woman whose arterial blood splashed across The Boogie.

Gloria! Oh, the gods!

I nailed another mer, trying to drive them away from the cowering humans, but more blood sprayed through the room.

“Patra, get down!” Ballard’s voice roared, and I dropped as shots ripped, mer oozing blue goo, stumbling and staggering as the lead pierced their bodies.

Chelsea materialized next to me on the floor, whispering, “Gaia is here,” before vanishing.

In an instant, The Boogie was half full. Mer scrambled to the windows, the uninjured carrying the incapacitated. In a surreal scene, legs knitted together and scales layered their tails as they dove into the sea. Humans cowered under tables

and window seats as cops yelled, running toward the fleeing mer.

“You’re not going anywhere, motherfucker!”

I rolled over on the floorboards in time to watch a biker, arms the size of a running back’s legs, grab onto a heavy, thrashing tail, feet braced to yank Qiton back inside the window. The tail’s powerful slap sent him flying across the room.

Senses shook, I crawled over the sticky, blood-spattered boards to Gloria, grateful to discover that Chelsea semi-sealed her wound. She’d lost a bunch of blood, but her eyes focused and found mine. I held her hand.

“It’s not too serious, you’re going to be OK,” I said, tears welling. Her grip on her throat, bloody and clenched, did not relax. “Ambulances are on the way. I’m so sorry you were hurt. I’ll take care of everything.”

Including that primordial-sized creation sensation, Gaia. I promise you, Glo, I’ll find the balance or die trying.

More cops poured into the scene, creating order from chaos, as paramedics stabilized and transported the humans. I squeezed Gloria’s hand as they prepared to move her to an ambulance.

“I will see you soon. Thank you for being so brave.”

One human, the first attacked, did not survive. Qiton’s massive throat slash nearly severed his head. The mer Ballard shot also died, two sheets covering the body as the tail returned. Cops buttoned the scene, bug-eyed and shook.

The bone I’m picking with Gaia just super-sized. That bitch is going down. Nobody fucks with my people.

Chapter 26

Crime scene processing takes time. So does removing blood from raw timber, leaving no choice but to close The Boogie for the foreseeable future. The frustrated expressions on my team’s faces told me they saw their bonuses sliding away.

“Once the cops clear the scene, bleach and sand the stains in the dining room. It’s possible we can still pull off the final weekend,” I said.

In my heart I thought that was optimistic, but I knew if we could open, they’d want to try.

“I’m headed to the station to make a formal statement,” I continued. Untrue, but it got me out of the restaurant. Instead, I stepped out and palmed back into The Boogey, huddling with Chelsea and Glenna.

“Thank you.”

Chelsea waved off the words as a faint gong sounded.

“Patron Guru, the god Dionysis banned your presence.”

“Well, at least he knows the rest of us figured out his stunt,” Glenna laughed and glanced from the window as Guru mounted his bike and vanished.

“You said Gaia was here, Chelsea. What happened?”

“She materialized in The Boogey, watched for ten seconds, and sent the mer through the windows. She looked, for her, nonplussed. Gaia’s ego is unflappable, but you surprised her. She couldn’t see you, although I suspect she’ll go if you’re still her personal firefly.”

“How are you sure I remained hidden?”

Glenna grinned. “Because I made us invisible to all magic and the divine.” She held up a potion vial. “My recipe. Gaia thought she was here alone, so no need to hide her thoughts. She searched for you, but did not sense your signature.”

“But I can see you.”

“Because you are human, and the Vapor bits are something beyond magical or divine. I don’t know enough about them to tweak the potion. Yet.”

“Oh, I have every faith.”

“Keeper,” she chuckled, “so do I.”

“Patra, a moment?”

Ballard’s face, as he crooked his finger, said nothing, but he had to be freaking out over his crime scene. Hell, it freaked me. What the fuck was Gaia thinking? She intended to change the planet on a grand scale, yet this attack was personal. She brought the fight to me, my bar.

Or did she?

Dammit, I’m being a dumbass. She attacked at the intersection of the worlds. What if this wasn’t based on the line’s location or me as Keeper, but older, calling back to her hatred of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades? Zeus created the line between the worlds. His treatment of her, her Vapor oracles, and the subjugation of her creation, coalesce right here.

My skin lit up with a series of symbols, and I stared before pulling my sleeves down and moving toward Ballard. I could give a shit if he saw them, but for the three cops standing with him sporting burgeoning PTSD faces, animated tattoos might be a road too far.

“What the living hell was that, O’Keefe?” the cop, a beanpole named Jackson, muttered. “A fucked up publicity stunt?”

“I wish I knew, Detective, I’m as perplexed as you. And why my place? Those men were, uh, strange.”

Considering they had tails, true. I knew why, though, but as far as lies go, benign and well within a margin that I’m adept at skirting.

The medical examiner followed the gurney, overloaded and swaddled to hide the mer’s tail, and flicked his eyes to Ballard, giving a brief shrug.

“I don’t have to tell you to keep this one secure.” Ballard slid on sunglasses and shifted his weight.

“Not a peep from me, Detective. Not the weirdest thing to hit my table, but damn close.”

No shit? Huh.

I cocked my head at him and concentrated, picking up the signature. Warlock, which makes sense in the basic creepy, half-demon, hanging out with dead bodies type of way. Helpful. No leaks from that department.

The ME followed the bodies to their vans, accompanying the mer’s body while his human assistant rode with the husband’s body. Lights flashing, the vans exited, heading north.

A sigh blew from my chest, a decrepit whistle of breath. “Detective, you wanted a word?”

“Jackson, take Bonner and Markham and assign officers to speak to every witness at The Boogie, then go take victim’s statements at the hospital. I’ll interview Ms. O’Keefe, then drive to the medical examiner’s office. The key piece here is the dead perp.” Ballard rubbed his temple. “Let’s get a handle on, shit, whatever the fuck happened.”

The three nodded and marched along the pier. I slipped behind The Boogie’s fragrant dumpster, which smelled better than a Boogie full of mer, and stared at the sea, searching for cross hatches and irregularities in the waves that signaled potential reentry. Nothing odd… so far. Ballard eliminated the air between us and wrapped his arms around me.

“The chances of this progressing as a normal case are nil,” I began. “To clarify, your ME is a magical, and that mer will appear human to everyone. Witches will wipe memories. It’ll stay weird, but normal beach level eccentric, not full-blown otherworld hookah party.”

“That makes it easier for me,” Ballard’s lips moved against my ear. “But it might be an opening you can exploit?”

Perhaps.

“The witches saw Gaia return the mer to the sea. She wanted mayhem, but when you showed up and fought back, you altered the outcome. For now. My gut’s nudge insists this slice and dice party is a swipe at Zeus, and maybe Poseidon, but not at me, the Vapors, or the record. She’s going to figure out, if she hasn’t found out already, that I no longer burn as her private glow stick. Once she knows that, it’s on. Trust your intuition, Ballard, no matter how bizarre the

situation gets. Promise me?”

Fingertips gripped my jaw, turning me into his kiss. “I’ll know you and love you. Everything else, I can wing, OK?”

Tears pricked the back of my throat, and I nodded.

I hope I can too, Baby. But losing you last time damn near killed me. Love hurts.

Gaia whirled, formless in the void.

“Impossible! Who helped you?”

Vapors whorled, a tornado of thought, pressing against her in the flow.

The Keeper determined the truth and acted. We beseech you to reconsider your path. The decision you made was based not on necessity but on pain. Within its outcomes, none offer what you most desire.

“You no longer serve me? Then you’re a race with expired usefulness. I’ll consume you as I did Uranus and the rest!”

We are beyond your touch. Our single purpose is peace.

“I’ll destroy this and create anew, a creation of universal power and force, bound as one.”

That is no longer your role.

Gaia retracted and expanded in the free fall, scattering the symbols, then pulling them into her, a cosmic black hole. She fell, absorbed, satisfied.

“You’re going to what?” Chelsea’s face pinched. “Wait, no. Don’t tell me ‘what’, instead explain how in the actual hell you think you can fool anybody for longer than half a minute?”

“Since you have a stake in this party, namely surviving, I hoped you’d see the benefits of a partnership.”

“You’ve lost your damn mind! I’m a witch, not a god, and what you’re asking is ridiculous.”

“But not impossible,” Glenna interrupted, mischief twinkling in her eyes. “I bet I have a potion that could help with part of the transformation.”

“I figured out the physicality,” I said, “but I’ll need some, er, abilities.”

“Indeed,” Glenna laughed. “There are a few I could suggest.”

Chelsea stopped pacing, made a slow turn, and glanced at her mother. “While it might work, we could all die, too.”

“If Gaia goes full reset on us, we’re dying, anyway. I’m choosing to make it inconvenient,” I muttered. “Plus, she dropped her crankiness on my bar. Gloria didn’t deserve that. Neither did the man who died, nor the mer manipulated to fight. None of them did.”

“Hey, Patra.”

I whipped around. “Parker! What are you doing here?”

“Aunt Glo is stable, and I’m ready to get to work. Use me. I’m the unknown entity.”

“Which will get you killed, Kid. That’s a full-blown nope.”

“Patra, I’ll work with you, or on my own, but I’m not camping on my ass; that bitch attacked my family.”

“Wait a minute,” Glenna and Chelsea exchanged a long look, then Chelsea blasted a green-eyed glare at me. “Stop protecting him. The record’s choice to make him Keeper means he has a role. Use him! Parker isn’t standing here because of you; the Triune’s’ survival is in play.”

Use him? Get him killed?

Hades’ potion tickled the side of my mind.

How much is predetermined? What percentage is free will? Poseidon said if it’s written, he can’t sway the outcome. Written where?

Shit, I’m an idiot.

“Fine. Come’on, Kid, you’re with me. Y’all,” I gestured to the witches, “work out your piece. Meet me here in two hours. Is that enough time?”

Their snaps replied, and I trotted toward my office. “Get a move on, Parker; it’s study hour.”

Chapter 27

Parker flipped open the teak folding chair and straddled it, arms folded across the chair’s back, eyes on the opened record. I leaned toward the blank pages and said, “Let’s see what we can discover. Show me the prophecies of Gaia.” The book pushed a short list to the page. Kronos will overthrow his father as supreme being.

Kronos will be overthrown by his offspring. “Crap. I know these stories. What am I missing?” Parker snapped his fingers and tilted forward on two chair legs. “May I?” I nodded, and he stared at the book, swallowed, and asked, “Show me the unrecorded prophecies.” Unrecorded? If a Keeper puts it in the record, it’s recorded. What the hell.

Vapor script rose, pages of intricately connected symbols. Eyes racing, I deciphered the vertical messages, stumbling over parts of it, shook to my core. Winded, I translated for Parker: Tartarus, the void, is original despair and within its confines holds the secrets of peace.

Eros, originator of love, acts as the counterbalance of the void, and the key of peace.

Gaia, the creator and mother of life, creates the vessel for peace.

Chaos, the initiation, moves in a flourish of the limitless, the wellspring of peace. One from time rises and reunites the four.

At the center, peace waits. Parker cut his eyes at me. “You’re doing a shit ton more than dealing with a Triune, Boss.” One reunites four. How in the holy fuck am I supposed to pull that shenanigan together? Mind racing, my gaze returned to the book.

“Show me how to release Tartarus.” The page faded, and words rose. We cannot. The choice is yours. “Choose what? Dammit.” I jumped up and paced the small office. Sometimes the obliqueness of the book leaves me pissed. This qualified. Parker tapped my shoulder. “Pick one as the beginning point and draw the remaining three together? I’m guessing that each heals the others.” “That’s smart, Kid. Parts of a single whole? Let me think.” Which order? Chaos initiates? Is he first? Or use the vessel to build from and start with Gaia? Eros aligned with me after Gaia’s stunt to pull me from the equation, and the entry says Eros functions as the key. Start there? Or do I resolve the void before the others? “Parker, how did you guess there were unrecorded entries?” “Didn’t, I just knew. I’ve got a ton of information jumbled in me I don’t understand, but when a situation presents, options float to the top.” “That failsafe to impart the book into a new Keeper is huge. With study, you’ll be a different type of Keeper, and that may be the Vapors’ strategy.” “If you say so. It’s confusing most of the time. My brain aches like I crammed all night for a test but my body chugged two Red Bulls, and now I’m sitting at the desk, shaking. I know stuff, but I don’t, if that makes sense. What are you

planning to do next?” “I told Ballard to trust his gut. Best take the same advice.” I rose, secured the book, and laid my palm on the door. “Back to The Boogey, Parker, it’s showtime.”

Chelsea and Glenna, with bulging waist sacks, slugged the last of their wine. “Well?” Chelsea’s upbeat tone was a nice counterpoint to her skeptical eyebrows. “I have to reunite the original four. Easy peasy.” Glenna snorted. “I had several ideas, but you always surprise me, Keeper. Got a plan?” “I do. At least, half of one.” “Half-assed,” Chelsea muttered. “I heard that.” I shook out my hair and pulled it into a ponytail. “Let’s go see Waldo. I have a question for him. Do either of you have a vial of anti-vertigo for Parker?” Glenna slipped the vial into his palm, gripped Parker’s arm and snapped. “Reunite the four; recreate the beginning of time? Anything else? It’s the plot line for ‘Jurassic Park’ but with scarier monsters,” Chelsea held my eyes for a moment. “Are you resolute?” “Yeah,” I pulled a vertigo potion from my sack and reached for her hand, squeezing hard. “This exploit is my last. Take care of the kid for me, Chels. He’s the future.”

“Screw that,” Chelsea gripped my fingers. “You got us.”

Side stepping Parker’s puke pile, Chelsea waved the reduction spell, and we clambered over tree roots as she flipped a rock against the little door. Waldo opened it with a beaming smile. “Come in, my darlings! I wondered if today was the day.” Even shrunken, we sat crammed, shoulders inches apart, in Waldo’s sitting room. “Apologies, my dears. Entertaining isn’t my forte.” “Don’t give it another thought, Waldo. We’re the ones crashing your solitude.” I fished his hair serum from my bag. “Why did you make this? What prompted you to offer it to me?” “Excellent questions. I’m delighted you made the connection and came to ask,” he replied. Waldo’s tiny body leaned back in his rocking chair, white beard puddled in his lap. Above him, a mewing cat the size of a teacup peeked around the mantle clock, blinked twice, then disappeared. Parker’s mouth gaped. Glenna reached across and pushed up his jaw. “Tell me, Keeper, why are you starting here?” Waldo asked. “You know what I’m attempting?” “Oh, yes,” his chuckle filled the room. “I’ve been waiting a long time for today.”

I stared at him with narrowed eyes. Think, Patra. Truths you believed immutable turned into pretense. The Vapors write entries into the record; the lore of the Keeper’s job is bunk. What else falls beyond your preconception of normal? Is Waldo a wizard? My gaze fixated on Waldo’s beard, fine white strands that covered him from ears to waist. As I stared, a gossamer strand moved in a non-existent breeze, forming a symbol. Peace. “Holy shit!” “Ah, Keeper. Very good.” Chelsea’s eyes burned from my face to Waldo’s before returning to mine, barking, “What!” I swallowed, tasting honey, holding out shaking arms glowing with symbols. Joy. Hope. Family. Love. Connection. Change. Infinity. “Ladies, Parker, I’d like you to meet Chaos.”

For the first time during our entire friendship, Chelsea sat, flummoxed. It didn’t last long. “But your signature! You aren’t a god. You evidence as a wizard. And always have. How is that possible?” “Well, technically, I mean, it’s not technical, but in the extrapolation, my dear magical, I’m not a god, either.” “Primordials have the same signature as gods,” Chelsea argued, her tone stubborn. “None can change their signature. That is magical law.” “My dear girl, I am not a primordial. I know the stories, but one detail escapes everyone.” Glenna bent forward, listening with intent. “Ooh, I understand. How simple yet satisfactory.” Waldo’s high-pitched laugh filled the crammed sitting room. “Well, it’s not a secret, dearest. A truth, plain as anything else in the magical world.” Parker stared, eyes bugging. “You’re the first! Everything came from Chaos.” “This youngster has potential, Keeper. He’s not you, but I enjoy him.” Waldo fluffed his beard, strands folding into symbols, straightening, and new ones flowing into patterns, single white hairs forming stories, instructions, and decisions. “The boy is correct,” he continued. “I don’t as any entity other than that

which I choose. For the past few hundred years, representing mere moments to me, I dwelled, interested to see the intersections and attempts to shift the worlds to a new order. Within me, ongoing change is normal. But ions, the desire to create momentum for transformation, that’s forever a fascination to observe.” I shifted in my seat, thinking fast. “Waldo, if I release Tartarus, will that placate Gaia?” Bright eyes held mine. “No idea, Keeper. You are writing this moment. I’m content to spin in perpetuity, watching the threads come together and pull apart.” He giggled. “It’s what I do.” I slapped my thighs and stood in the cramped little room. “That’s not the way. Waldo, will you accompany us on this gamble?” “But of course, dear girl. They’re my favorite occasions.” “Where are we going?” Chelsea rose, settling her waist sack. “I’m ready, Keeper, what’s next?” Glenna checked Parker’s vertigo vial and nodded. “That refilling spell is a good one.” I cut my eyes to Parker. “Care to hazard a theory?” His face was uncertain. “I don’t get this, Patra. None of the remaining options stands out.” “Try.” He blew out a whistling breath. “If I had to speculate, I’d say Gaia. She’s the

problem, and if she knows you’re helping her, maybe she’d stop before she wreaks the world.” “Do you think she’ll abandon her anger? Her pain sears, as ancient as the ages.” “Why is destroying Earth’s life her solution in the first place? Pretty fucking extreme.” “And?” He blinked. “Irrational?” “Parker, if someone perches, ready to jump off a bridge, what would you say?.” “Appeal to them to consider others? How their act affects the ones left?” God, he’s so young. How did I pull this off at his age? “That’s a good thought. What does it mean in the larger context?” Parker’s silence stretched, and we sat, giving him space to think while Waldo’s beard strands twisted and straightened, aligned with the unending decisions of the creation. He jacked bolt upright, eyes boring into mine. “There you go, Kid. Not your average job, eh?”

“Holy shit.” “Yup. Let’s go.” “Where to, my dear?” “Shall we visit the Underworld, Waldo?” “An excellent suggestion.” The intricate rug below our feet rotated, colors swirling into a rainbow vortex as the floor gave way to nothing. In a slow twirl, Chelsea, Glenna, Parker and I spun around a chuckling Waldo. “What is this place, Waldo?” I shouted, moving in a relaxed whip as we circled his body, inhaling the scent of ozone. “We’re in a suspension of space and time, darling, and going nowhere!” “Why do we feel motion and gravity?” Glenna asked, peering with interest. “Is this a trap or a trick?” Chelsea muttered. “How long do we fall? Forever?” Parker’s bugged eyes darted between each of us. He’s freaked. I can relate. Waldo winked. “At your leisure, my dear. The duration is meaningless.”

I closed my eyelids, arms lit with symbols, and spoke the word.

Chapter 28

“Gotcha.”

To Gaia’s credit, she snatched me on the first bounce. Chelsea’s offensive spell landed on Gaia with a crackle that singed my hair.

“Death.” Gaia spoke as if the wind, a dry push that pierced Chelsea, turning her skin ashen in the time it took for Glenna’s agonized cry to erupt. The underworld’s sands puffed, a rolling requiem, as Chelsea fell, lifeless.

“She need be the only one,” Gaia’s voice filled Hades’ purple landscape. “Govern yourself accordingly.”

“Gai-a. GAI-A!”

Chelsea’s body lay motionless, red hair splayed in a gruesome counterpoint to the lavender landscape. Glenna knelt beside her in a keening rock, shoulders swaying as her hands touched every bit, seeking the spark to reanimate. Parker, his mouth a round O, stood frozen in shock.

“Gai-a. GAIA!” The voice sing-songed, more the cry of a lost child than

mocking.

“Who dares to call my name in this plane?”

At first, the bars of color resembled a sunset, but they deepened, connecting and creeping across the sands. Whirls of blended grace surrounded the six of us, a calliope, dizzying and solidifying as each one compressed and connected to the color bars on either side. My shoulders jostled against Parker’s as we bumped and shuffled into Waldo, then Gaia, until we crushed in a weird magical tombstone at Chelsea’s head. Glenna, still pouring over her beloved child, didn’t glance up as we stepped on her, loving tears streaming while she sought to find the life force, however weakened.

Gaia’s rage, flirting with deranged, shook my frame. Out of control, Parker jerked next to me. Waldo laid a tiny hand upon each of our forearms, and the sensation, still flaring, no longer consumed.

Chelsea’s eyes flipped open, blazing blue, and my heart squished, overwhelmed with emotion as my skin celebrated, symbols rising and falling like waves.

Love, Love, Love. Holy shit. Lennon and McCartney revisited. Eros saved her.

“Mama?”

Gaia sucked in whatever Hades calls the atmosphere of his personal death valley and exploded, expanding until she towered above us. Waldo didn’t reach her big

toenail, and I stared across the bones visible along the tops of her bare feet.

This can’t possibly turn out well. I’m a grape in Hades’ barrel.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Hades’ voice was smooth, but he radiated god mojo. He stood toe to toe with super-sized Gaia, slipping on sunglasses that resembled a pair of semi tractor-trailers, size-wise. I reached for Parker and gripped his hand.

“Whatever you do, breathe, Kid. Don’t puke.”

“It’s OK, Patra. I barfed everything at Waldo’s front door. ing out is on the table, though.”

Parker’s skin, tinged with green, left him alternating between resembling a fifteen-year-old at his first kegger and a career drunk at Walmart shuffling along the canned chili aisle.

Absorbed with the towering god heads above me, I never saw Guru land until his meaty paw gripped my shoulder.

“Forget something?”

Ballard.

Human bodies aren’t designed to handle any of this, so falling through time and space, landing in the underworld, and sitting in the middle of Eros’ crazy merrygo-round of crushing color are not scenarios suitable for longevity. Ballard made Parker look good.

Shit. Oh Baby, I’m so sorry.

Ballard’s unsteady grip reached behind Guru’s back and squeezed my hand until my finger bones screamed. It kept me alert in the moment, which helped.

Ignoring Guru, I edged Ballard toward me, then yanked him, hard, into the crush with the rest of us.

Maybe Eros’ mojo can help. I’m winging all of this, so who the fuck knows?

Waldo shot me a grin.

I’m either screwing this up, and that’s funny to him, or doing OK, which is also amusing, but has a better ending. Either way, we will love to the end.

I wrapped my arms around Ballard and whispered, “I love you. Stay with me. We remain forever entwined.”

“This feels excessive,” Hades boomed. “Let’s regroup with drinks.”

The group materialized on his patio, lit by the just set sun, and Parker stumbled but held his own. Ballard, not so much. His body struggled to survive in the life after death scene.

Knees buckling, he collapsed, and we crashed into a heap. My hands ran over the familiar contours, cradling his head.

“I can save you,” I whispered.

Hades pulled his shades down his nose. “Already, Keeper? We’ve a long road ahead.”

My mouth opened, and we were alone, me, Ballard, and Hades. The others resembled shadows, moving behind a screen.

“I accept I won’t see tomorrow’s sunrise, Hades. This man is my love. We are originals. I can’t imagine not making this choice.”

“You don’t get another vial, Patra. I could save this soul and take Parker right in front of you. Or Guru, Glenna, or Chelsea. Be very certain.”

Guru? What the actual fuck? Why do I care? Should I? Is this a hint or a distraction?

Chiseled lips drew back in a grin. “Not my place to tell you, Keeper. I will say I know you won’t keep the free for yourself. That was never in my calculations.”

Well, fuck. Is that another hint? Dammit, Patra, THINK.

“Mortals are forever entertaining,” Hades chuckled, as the patio, filled with magicals, brightened back into view and Ballard shook in my arms.

My eyes snapped to Gaia’s. “This death, unnecessary and cruel, is on you, and your offspring is complicit. What’s the value of pulling a human into the underworld in an unnatural way? Information you lack is that this human and I are originals, one of Eros’ first love pairings. Not only are you discounting the power of your creation, your actions disrespect the origin of love, a primordial underpinning. You and Guru defile creation by killing this human by choice, and your malice is on full display to the universe.”

I sat back and waited for the smite. At least we’d be together.

Ballard’s back arched, the beginning of the end. My eyes, glued to Gaia’s, leaked tears. This was my fault, my choice, my enacting. Once again, I’m killing my heart’s mate.

Who’s the real monster? No, that’s not a truth. Love is not destruction, love is the redemption.

Gaia waved her enormous hand, a dismissive gesture, and Ballard’s chest filled, a gasping reprieve. Color, blood enabled color, flooded his skin, the gift of oxygen flowing once more.

My mouth, filled with bitter acid, formed the words, “Thank you, Mother.”

From high above, brown eyes glanced at us, struggling to regain our feet. “I can take it away from either of you as easily.”

“Shall we assume an acceptable size and share wine?” Hades’ tone was that of a suave entertainer, no genuine emotion, the consummate host.

With a shrug, Gaia shrank, selecting a glass of red from the tray.

“Welcome, Gigi, I’m glad you and your son are here,” Hades purred. “I don’t receive many guests, although I love to entertain.”

“You’ll be at capacity once I’m finished,” Gaia reed.

“About that,” Hades countered, gesturing to a sectional. “Shall we?”

They settled, and I pulled Ballard toward the seating at the far end of the patio. I fished a Snickers from my waist sack and he munched, washing it down with a

few sips of water.

“What happened? How did you end up here?”

“It was the damnedest thing,” Ballard said, arms wrapping tight around me as he brushed a chocolate flavored kiss across my lips. “At the ME’s office, the dead mer reanimated and grabbed me. Then I a bicycle before ending up here. I was sure I was dying. Where are we?”

Guru impersonated the mer? Did he take the headshot or swap out the body later? How much power does he possess? The more I learn, the weirder this gets.

“Welcome to the underworld, Hades’ patio to be specific. I’m trying to stop Gaia by reuniting her with Chaos, Tartarus, and Eros, and releasing her children.”

“My mythology is rusty, but aren’t her kids monsters? This is your plan?”

“My plan is to take away her pain.”

“To be blunt, hobnobbing at the beach with a Cyclops isn’t a safe option for humans, Patra. It’s a buffet waiting to happen.”

Even to me this idea felt crazy, with no guarantees that Gaia, reunited, intended to keep her children with her and not marauding over the planet. Over Ballard’s

shoulder, Waldo smiled, beard strands picking up the pace.

More pieces in motion. I pushed off the sofa, bent and kissed Ballard with everything I had.

“I’m fixin’ to upend the norm.” A shrug met his steady green gaze, and I headed across the patio to Gaia and Hades.

“Hades, I want to visit Tartarus. Could you arrange it?”

A black eyebrow raised. “You. Want to the void. Now.”

“Yes, please.”

“By yourself?”

Behind him, Chelsea and Glenna shook their heads, hard.

“Oh, we should all go. That way there’s no confusion later.”

Waldo’s busy beard shot out straight, then started curling furiously again.

Hmm. I just changed something.

“Very well,” Hades reed. He flexed, and two more figures shimmered into view.

My gut whipped, and I staggered. Nobody was dialing down today.

“Poseidon, Zeus.” The tremor shaking my voice was unavoidable. They were too much.

“The Keeper wishes to visit Tartarus. With all of us as witnesses.”

Zeus cut eyes to me, and I fell to my knees, gasping.

“Is that necessary?” Hades’ dramatic eye roll earned Poseidon’s laugh.

“Very well,” muttered Zeus, dropping it a couple notches. “For now.”

I expected we’d shimmer and reappear somewhere in hell, but Hades slid on metallic purple sunglasses and pairs appeared for each of us. My fingers closed around marbled grey and blue frames. Black aviators dropped on Ballard’s nose, Chelsea donned bright green, Glenna’s were orange cat eyes, and a pair of mirrored silver wrap-around frames landed in Parker’s hand. Poseidon’s, of course, were red, and Zeus sported gold with plenty of bling. Gaia and Guru’s were a cool tortoiseshell brown with flecks of green and aqua. Waldo’s oversized

white with blue iridized lenses looked rather Elton Johnesque.

“Shall we?” Hades headed to the steps, and the group moved toward a path curving between solid twinkling walls that extended up into forever.

“Is this covering supposed to be a wallpaper of embers?” Parker’s hand reached out, feeling for heat.

“Not embers, Keeper,” Hades shrugged. “Souls. The lights are eternal.”

Chapter 29

Ballard’s arm felt good around my shoulders, and I tugged his earlobe to bend his head to my lips.

“For this attempt to succeed, I have to risk us both.”

He nodded. “I figured as much.”

“Whatever happens, Gaia cannot enter Tartarus.”

He cut his eyes to me over his glasses and pushed them back up his nose. Concealed skepticism worked for me.

The soul lit ageway expanded and a plaza of sorts wrapped around a giant hole surrounded by a railing. An eerie wind whistled, which seemed to unsettle everyone, even Hades. As we spread out into little groups, Ballard, Glenna, Chelsea, Parker, and I clotted together. Head lowered, I leaned in toward the witches.

“If you can cast here, I need help.”

“Possible, but I don’t know if spells hold in Hades’ town, let alone where you’re headed,” Chelsea murmured. “What powers do you seek?”

“A god sized voice. Huge. And the ability to grow.”

“Spells, schmells,” Glenna whispered, rummaging in her waist sack before slipping two vials into my hands. “Drink these now. Touch your throat, and you’ll amplify. If you pat your belly button, you’ll expand.”

I decided ignoring Ballard’s eyebrows was prudent. With care, I unstoppered the vials, tossed the potions into my mouth, and swallowed.

Waldo’s shades turned my way, beard busy, and within the strands I saw colors. Eros. In the mix of Chaos. Was that a good thing? Hell if I knew, but it might prove promising.

“Well, Keeper?” Hades’ voice, vague disquiet evident, cut through the musing.

“I must make amends, first.”

No idea where that came from, but I turned toward Zeus, and quaking, stumbled within ten feet, stomach on a high boil.

Don’t barf those potions, Patra.

“Mighty Zeus, I kneel and beg forgiveness. My arrogance was unforgivable, public, and an embarrassment to you. In my efforts to follow the guidance, I did not realize the implications. Please forgive me.”

His glam-fest glasses slid down his nose. “You? You’re nothing. A mortal.”

“Agreed. Still, I did not understand the fundamental discomfort you faced when I put the record’s plan in motion. I am sorry.”

“Harrumph.”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t think she slighted you,” Poseidon laughed. “Keeper, this is unexpected.”

“A surprise, even,” Hades concurred. “Brother, in this shifting world, bowing is no longer guaranteed. Why not accept the gift?”

“Besides, if she’s successful, you’re going to be famous in a non-mythical way. How the humans see you is an image created by the Keeper. I know I’m going to rock.” Poseidon shrugged. “You?”

A bushy silver eyebrow lifted above the glittery lens.

“Very well, Keeper. I acknowledge this apology for your impudence.”

“So gracious,” Hades snorted. “Grant her a request. Ask for a favor, Keeper. I would.”

Shoulders bowed and shaking from the mojo blast, I raised my head. Zeus dialed down, and I found I could sit on my shins. Penitent, I sat and waited.

“Fine. What do you want, Keeper?”

Protect Ballard in Tartarus. Keep him alive.

“Done.” Zeus made a dismissive gesture, ending the interaction, and my body lifted, floating back to Ballard and landing with a stagger as he caught me.

“Ready?” Hades gestured to Tartarus. “Jump over. Hitting the ground won’t kill you, but that’s the only guarantee you receive.”

I secreted Waldo’s potion in my left hand and gripped Ballard’s in my right. With a couple of deep breaths, we walked to the railing, climbed up and sat on it, feet dangling above the void.

“You sure about this?” Ballard eyed the abyss and gave me a squeeze.

“As much as I can be. It’s a weird job.”

Ballard leaned sideways and pressed his lips to my temple. “I love you. Forever. Whatever the outcome, nothing changes the fact of us.”

“Originals. For all time. I love you with every cell.”

Hands interlocked, we stood on the lower rail, then lept.

“Gloria! What are you doing here?”

“Charlie, I’m fine. My throat doesn’t even have a scar. It’s a miracle.”

“Un-freaking-real. I wish The Boogie wasn’t closed. Patra left a message that she's gone for a couple of days, but she’d try for the last Bike Week weekend.”

“Oh, we’re gonna open, even if we can’t use the dining room.” Gloria plunked down at the bar and eyed Charlie and Ralph. “Guess who’s at the end of the pier?”

Ralph rubbed his bald spot. “Lester?”

“You know it. Here’s what we should do.”

Gravity suspended, the sense of falling vanished, but the eyes, blinking in the darkness, were disconcerting. Especially the cyclops. But hell, nothing ventured, right?

“Hang onto me!” Ballard’s grip on my shoulders tightened, and I unstoppered Waldo’s gift.

One, two, three drops… my hair darkened and twisted.

Ballard pulled me tighter. “You need a makeover? Now?”

One, two, three drops… I watched as my body’s shape shifted, curving into hips and boobs I’d give a pile of jack to have naturally.

“Um, Babe? You were fine in your original packaging.”

One, two, three more drops… skin tone deepened, smoothing into a gorgeous deep bronze.

“Holy shit! Patra, you look just like her.”

The vial held a little more potion. Should I?

I held up the vial and squinted. Against my ear, Ballard nodded.

“Might as well go for it, Babe. We’re committed.”

I dripped the last onto my head and quaked in his grip.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. Feels weird.”

As our feet hit the ground, the sense of impending attack exploded across my skin. I gripped Ballard and patted my navel, shooting hundreds of feet into the air. I damn near dropped him, pinching his waist and stuffing him between my boobs.

“Did I hurt you?”

“I’m good. Not your sexiest lingerie choice.”

“I was going for maneuverability.”

“Remind me to find you some options.”

I touched my throat and boomed, “Bring me the dragon, Campe.”

A roar shook Tartarus, and fire filled the space. In my bra, Ballard shuddered.

“Holy crap, Patra. I thought that was a story.”

“Campe, come before me, the mother of the creation, and kneel!”

“Are we channeling Zeus, now?”

Ballard’s snark helped, and I hoped my thudding heart didn’t leave him deaf. I’d never been a giant before, but it had appeal.

The scrape of claws approached, and a huge scaled head stretched upward toward my gaze.

“Campe, I release you from your bondage and obligation to guard Tartarus. I’ve come to retrieve my children, to scatter them across a sickened planet. I must save my creation and together, we will restore Earth’s vigor and beauty.”

The dragon roared, lifting my hair. I stared back, unblinking. With a slash, he

raked a claw along my arm, then licked the blood.

“It is the mother,” Campe spoke to the void, heavy claws scraping as he circled us. “The life force does not lie.”

Shit, so that was the final change. Way to go, Waldo.

“What will become of me?” Campe asked.

“Choose your place and I’ll protect you. In exchange, you harm nothing.”

“I would like to live amongst the sun’s creatures, fly with light and warmth on my scales,” Campe mused.

The thuds of heavy feet surrounded us as the children of Gaia moved to greet her. I felt my blouse shift as a mouse-sized Ballard peered between the buttons.

“Ouranos, my first love, come protect the moving moment where the sky meets the horizon. Pontos, my second love, him in the sea’s alignment to the sky. Together we three will dwell in time’s motion, the continual renewal of life.”

“How is it you are here?” Ouranos asked. “Tartarus is absolute. None enter or leave, thanks to that brat Zeus.”

“Eros,” I replied. “Only through the expression of my love for my children was the entrance opened.”

Growls and shrieks met this pronouncement, followed by the thudding run of some big-assed feet. Six hands gripped me, enveloped into a hug with the three sobbing eyes of my cyclops kiddos.

“We love you, Mother!”

“I love each of you,” I reed, staring from eye to eye. “Equally. You’ll have an important task, one worthy of your skills.”

“See, I knew she didn’t love you more.” A squabbling din accompanied them as they moved aside, and I contemplated the sea of hands surrounding me.

“My sweet Hekatonkheires, my hundred-hands beauties. I have a special duty for your unique strengths.”

“We are ready, Mother, to do the work of thousands.”

“I have special duties for all of you,” my voice echoed throughout Tartarus. “But my Earth has grown and changed. In order for it to survive, we must respect all life. The old ways, of constant war, cannot hold. The path forward is of Eros, it is of love within the creation.”

I turned in a slow circle. “Who can accept those ? Who cannot? Boundless love is yours, regardless of your choice.”

The air compressed, and I hoped like hell I wouldn’t fall over as a disembodied voice shook every entity within Tartarus.

“I do not wish to leave here, Mother, but I despise being used as a trashcan. Let me be here, a void, as is my purpose.”

Shit, this is Tartarus itself, speaking.

Before I could open my mouth, a second voice boomed.

“I Typhoeus, son of Tartarus, wish to remain with my father. I have no purpose other than violence, and I’m tired of raging. To dwell in peace, here, is my wish.”

“Very well. Anyone else?”

A babble of voices filled Tartarus.

“I should like to see the Earth again.”

“I want to storm Olympus and kick the snot out of Zeus, but I’ll take freedom and a challenge.”

In the gloom I wasn’t certain, but I suspected the voice belonged to the Titan Kronos. He had a beef with Zeus.

“Yeah, why does Zeus go unpunished?”

Why indeed?

“The world grew fat with new life, and Zeus changed too,” I responded. “But my of leaving are not negotiable. me, be augmenters of change, and heal the creation.”

Chapter 30

“Gotta plan to get the hell out of Tartarus, Babe?”

I sent a prayer skyward, shrugged, and tapped the necklace.

Beyond the void, Chelsea looked at Waldo, whose glowing rainbow beard shot straight and curled with new options as the railing around Tartarus, in a slow earsplitting creep, spun, gaining momentum. A grating screech emanated from the whirling edge as the perimeter of the void released.

“What are you doing?” Gaia’s roar, angry and bewildered, echoed off the soul walls.

“Watching change,” Waldo replied.

“Those are my children! You cannot destroy them!”

Fury radiating, Gaia expanded, absorbing Hades, Zeus, Poseidon, Guru, Parker, Chelsea, Glenna, and Waldo before pulling the entire unmoored Tartarus up and into her gaping maw.

“I don’t know where we are, Ballard, but Tartarus just moved.”

“And we’re not dead.”

“Silver linings for everyone.”

“Even for you, Gaia, it’s beyond bitchy to pull us within you. Can’t you get it through your stubborn, primordial head that your creation grew too damn large to be handled by any single immortal?”

Hades’ tone slid from sardonic to irritated, and the whirl felt less safe. Inside my sports bra, Ballard shifted, unease rising.

Poseidon’s eyes moved from Gaia to me, then eased to a stop on Glenna’s tiny upturned face as she shot him a gap-toothed grin.

“Oh, not my work, although it’s a dandy potion,” Glenna laughed, whipping behind him and bumping off Chelsea before gliding back into the spin.

“That’s mine,” Waldo giggled. “And I ed it to the Keeper right under your salty nose.”

Silver blond eyebrows drew together. “And this amuses you?”

“Well, flipping everything on its head is my brand,” Waldo snickered. “Never gets old.”

“Mother, I restored your children and beloveds to you through the love of Eros. Together, they agreed to help us heal the world.”

“Us.” Gaia’s face left no doubt regarding just how enamored she was of this plan.

This is for you, Glo.

“Well, yeah. In case you forgot, I built a coalition and got them started in the work of healing, holding up my end of our agreement. Then you made Guru,” my thumb jerked toward his tortoise shell clad glare, “bushwhack me. I’m a long-range planner, so I moved past that setback and secured your kids for you. From where I’m spinning, it’s your turn to step up and help.”

Zeus snorted with laughter. Maybe seeing me fry somebody who wasn’t him held amusing elements.

I pressed. “I may be puny as hell, but I’m using every tool in my belt to save our damn planet. Plus finding myself stuck sidestepping you, the creator, to achieve measures of success. How about we get our collective butts in gear and tackle it together for a change?”

“I don’t have to do a thing, Keeper. I swallowed my enemies. Now, my beloveds are safe, free to remake the world to their liking. My reset expanded, thanks to you. I can have my gorgeous earth, empty and unblemished, home to me and mine. Not much of a plan, child. You aren’t as smart as you think you are, despite whatever the record told you.”

“Oh, I’m not as stupid, either, plus the Vapors helped.”

“Who cares? They are no more. I consumed them, too. Within me, I control everything.”

Zeus’s eyes narrowed, and I watched him exchange a glance with his brothers before swinging his majestic head my way.

“And just how brilliant are you, Keeper? From here, it appears you’ve run out of luck.”

Waldo’s shrill chuckle wafted across the void; Gaia’s head snapped his way.

“What have you done!” she hissed, pulling him in a color streaking cartwheel toward her.

“Me? I do nothing. But the stories are interesting.” His beard glowed, a multihued waving sea of strands.

My hands landed on my hips. “You claim you consumed the Vapors, but they weren’t taken, Mother. ing within you was always part of their strategy. Nobody plays the long game like the Vapors.”

Zeus grunted, then glared at Poseidon, shaking in silent laughter.

“Everyone you swallowed is supposed to be contained and connected in this moment of non-linear time,” I continued.

“Ridiculous. There is no plan, Keeper. Just me winning and ridding the world of ego and manipulation.”

“Don’t you mean cementing ego as the driver?” Hades glowered.

His slide to displeasure worried me. If Death decided to be unpredictable, he’d add a wrinkle. The rock star shades slid my way.

Please trust me. If not me, count on the Vapors. We’ve got this.

Chiseled lips set and his gaze shifted back to Gaia. While improving the status of my squeezed heart, the reprieve felt tenuous.

“You haven’t won, Mother, because your actions disrespect balance.”

Her mouth tightened and the colors in Waldo’s beard glowed brighter.

Yes!

“While you can initiate a reset, life itself isn’t that simple, a known truth. The body’s will to live, the forces of each soul to continue, this power outstrips yours when they against a common threat.”

“It is my creation! I am not the enemy.” Gaia’s voice grew soft.

“Destruction isn’t an act of love, but of war, and a choice. You can’t be the Mother if you choose annihilation. A decision to shift every single soul to Hades forces him to assume the responsibility for keeping them safe and maintaining balance. And we both know that’s not his job.”

Gaia’s brown eyes swept from Hades’ to my imposter ones.

“No,” she whispered. “The balance is mine alone.”

In my bra, a tiny fist pumped. “You go, Babe. Bring this home.”

“Where was this moment seen? I received no prophecy predicting a unity in time.” Receptive or not, Gaia wasn’t finished.

“The Vapors showed me, in the record, how the world heals.”

“Who wrote it?” Poseidon’s voice was noncommittal, but I sensed disbelief.

Here we go.

“They did.”

“Impossible!” Zeus’s anger rattled, and Ballard squeaked from the pressure.

“No, it’s not. They don’t answer to gods, primordials, or anybody else. They are their own entity, and if they let you believe they had a limitation, and you bought it, kinda on you.” I shrugged, hoping that particular insolence wasn’t smite worthy.

Things went to shit in rapid order, with Hades and Poseidon raging at Zeus, while Gaia attempted to pull the Vapors from within to explain themselves. While they directed their mojo at each other, I rested, waiting for an opening. Or an explosion leading to the end of everything.

Glenna floated up and gripped my right pinky, her other hand gripping Parker’s. Chelsea flowed into me and grabbed my left earlobe, peeking over her green glasses.

“I know where you’re going with this,” Parker called up toward my face as he bobbed near my waist. “I told Glenna and Chelsea what we read in the book.”

“You’re pretty damn smart,” Chelsea muttered in my ear. “I’m proud of you. If we survive today, I might not shave your head.”

“Whee,” I whispered. “Small favors. Ballard just wants my old body back.”

“And better lingerie,” wafted from the sports bra.

Chelsea squeezed my ear as Gaia, Poseidon, Zeus, and Hades swung their heads toward our little band of resistance.

“Well? What was the prophecy?” The voice was not theirs, but Tartarus.

“The Vapors knew one would reunite the four,” I began. “Before the infighting and swallowing, and general bad manners between y’all,” I leveled a stare at them over my glasses, “there was a single uniting force between the four of you, and it sure as hell wasn’t ego.”

Waldo giggled, beard emanating rainbows in multiple directions, a tiny tumbling pinwheel of joy.

“The Vapors saw the four pieces needed one another to survive, and your split into separate entities created rifts in the creation and the life to follow. Chaos initiates all things, but lacks a sense of direction, a key,” I nodded to the squealing figure. “Until connected, movement to wholeness can’t happen.”

Their eyes turned to Waldo, who waved amidst the pulsing color, a teeny pinwheel wizard in his oversized shades.

“Once the wellspring Chaos s the key, Eros, the next step is to insert balance.” I sucked in air and touched my throat. “Tartarus, come forth, Chaos and Eros. You are the counterbalance of love, the despair that makes

love’s sweetness a goal for every soul. This balance creates the secret of peace’s value to the world.”

Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades swapped a glance, and Poseidon grinned at me. Gold letters etched across my arm.

Not bad, Hottie.

Gaia shrieked as Tartarus flowed from her, a formless cloud of density that absorbed the light as it moved, easing toward Waldo. Ribbons of Eros’ love threaded the mass, and the cloud’s color shifted from matte to opaque, then shook everyone with a low chuckle.

“That tickles.”

“What is my role?” Gaia’s voice filled the whirl.

“You are the vessel. Once you sucked in all the components, you completed your return to wholeness. Look inside your heart.”

“I’m, hmm, not sure why that matters. My heart never seemed as important.”

“When we feed our hearts, the act sets each of us free. The sensation within yours is peace, Mother. You dwell in symbiosis with your world, so let’s try to keep it that way.”

Vapor symbols raced along my skin.

Connection. Birth. Joy.

“Balance,” I gestured to my forearms. “We’re finished here. Hades, could we return to the underworld to hammer out our details?”

Glenna’s “No!” cut across the space.

But it was too late. I really need to give up cockiness for Lent.

Chapter 31

“Once you diffused Gaia’s power in that space, it became neutral,” Glenna hissed. “Now you are nothing, a human in the underworld.”

“Why didn’t you consult us?” Chelsea growled.

“I thought,” I began, then touched my throat to reduce the volume. No point in broadcasting, right?

“You thought,” Chelsea’s fingers waggled in air quotes. “Pish, thinking can kill you. Logic says to access the greatest available knowledge. Do you believe we took the risk to you so you could think? Survive this and your hair is on the table again.”

“She had to,” Parker protested. “An act of faith.”

“Shut up, Kid. Leave this to us.” Chelsea’s eyes deepened to green and mean.

“No! I know I’m right.”

Chelsea snapped a spell. Parker’s protesting mouth moved, but no sounds emerged.

“Better,” Chelsea looked at Glenna. “I’m open to suggestions.”

An act of faith? Parker knows stuff he doesn’t understand. Maybe I can use this.

We stood around the shattered railing that Ballard and I leapt from… when? An hour ago? Who knew? I pulled him from my bra and touched my navel, shrinking to puny.

“Are you insane?”

If a hiss could cut, I’d be bleeding out. I glanced at Chelsea. “Nope, and you aren’t the only smart one here.”

Fists balled into the small of my spine, I leaned waaaaay back and stared at Hades, who took his time pushing that gorgeous hair over his shoulder before dropping his gaze to me. I put my hands up in a shrug, maintaining eye .

“Shall we adjourn to my patio?” Hades purred.

What is up with him? He’s acting even weirder than normal. Chelsea cocked her head my way in a warning.

She gets it too. He’s up to something.

While the gods reduced their size, engaging in a stupid ‘who’s going to be small last’ race, I waited, checking out the trashed, former resting place of Tartarus. Perhaps the underworld could use a super deep swimming pool.

Resized, Hades led the way, and I jockeyed to keep space between me, still in Gaia mode and Gaia, still in semi-pissed mode. Her ego realignment might take a while, so no point in pushing my luck.

As we moved through the path of souls, one radiated brighter than any other. My feet slowed, unbidden, and I stared at the glowing center.

“Keeper?” Hades’ tone was somber, but off. He sounded almost excited. Odd, even for him.

I looked at the soul, disquieted. A pull emanated from within and my heart jumped in my chest, even as I struggled for breath.

“Babe?” Ballard’s arm slipped around my waist and I sagged against him, legs as useless as noodles. “Are you alright?”

“I, no, this soul, it’s calling me,” I whispered.

Ballard’s other arm wrapped around my waist, and he tugged me against him.

“Hades, whose soul is this?” Ballard used his cop voice; with one long pale finger, Hades shoved his glasses up, unimpressed.

“I don’t answer to mortals. If I didn’t think the Keeper had a chance at today’s little party, you’d already be lighting the way to my bathroom.”

My head slumped against Ballard’s shoulder, and pain spiked through my chest.

“Hades, please. Who is this light? Why is it affecting her?” Ballard shifted to his good cop voice, which was amusing. Well, if I weren’t having a heart attack, it would be.

“Fine. It is her child, Aegeus.”

“WHAT!” Poseidon’s roar shook the pathway, and the soul brightened, adding a faint blue shade. “How dare you not tell me, brother?”

The punch landed, its ferocious crunch bidding sayonara to the metallic purple frames. A faint bruise purpled on Hades’ cheek and he squared off, all pretense of suave gone, hair snapping violet sparks as the black ivy-shaped tentacles exploded from his palms. Poseidon whirled, ready, gold threads spreading into nets of death on either side of him, his trident materializing in one hand.

“That’s low, even for you, Hades,” Zeus laughed. “How’d you steal her?”

“I never steal souls,” Hades roared, a black tendril whipping a welt across Zeus’s cheek.

“Um,” Glenna murmured.

Chelsea opened her mouth, then closed it with a snap, brows pinching together from the effort.

Parker shifted his weight, then spoke. Well, his lips moved. Chelsea’s spell was still intact, but I knew what he was about to say.

“That’s not what the record says,” I rasped.

Gaia threw back her head and laughed. “What a liar you are, you little prima donna of the dead. Doesn’t steal souls. That story is complete crap.”

“I did not steal her! Aegeus died at the blade of the mer. When she arrived, I treated her well, escorted her myself, and placed her soul in a position of honor,” Hades’ weapons zipped back into his palms and his shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry, brother. I know you loved this child of yours.”

“His? And Patra’s?” Ballard’s eyes shifted between us. “How does that work?”

“The usual way,” Zeus chortled. “First they get naked, then…”

“That part I understand,” Ballard cut over Zeus, whose brows leveled at the impudence. “How can a god’s child die?”

Poseidon turned, eyes heavy with grief. “She was half mortal, and that dictates her lifespan.”

Waldo peered up at Poseidon and Eros’ voice spoke. “She loved you with great depth. And you made sure her love extended to the Keeper.”

With an effort, I pulled my head up from Ballard’s chest. “I never had a child! None of this makes the slightest sense. How?”

Poseidon reached over and tapped my forehead with a long finger. Memories flooded across my mind, of being pregnant, holding my sweet daughter, leaving her as a toddler, then returning for a visit when she was nine. Each memory expanded, a warmth within my heart, and I looked into Ballard’s eyes. His gaze, steady, firmed up my legs and I stood, shaky, lips against his ear.

“I can save her, but I can only save one.”

Ballard’s finger lifted my chin. “To preserve a child’s life, whether known or stranger, is the right decision. Whatever happens, finding you and sharing a day in your weird ass life was worth it, Babe.”

I sucked in air and stuck two fingers into my waist sack, locating the ornate vial by touch and sliding it out. Eyes on the blue glowing soul, I staggered toward it and pulled the stopper.

“You are certain?” Hades’ low voice slipped into my ear and I nodded. “Place the vial in the light, Keeper, and step back.”

After tucking the potion into Aegeus, I waited, tears rolling as the soul light ignited, expanding in increasing intensity. A head formed, then a neck, shoulders and trunk, followed by thin arms and legs. The glow shimmered and faded, taking on color and features. Blond hair, my shade, eyes an impossible blue, lips curving in a smile known to my heart, and an impish wiggle. In the pale light of the unselected souls, Aegeus solidified. Her flying hug knocked me back into Ballard, and she scampered to Poseidon, leaping into his embrace.

“Well done, Keeper. I’d have won that bet.” Hades rubbed the welt, then waved his hand. Behind me, Ballard staggered, skin greying in the gleam of the lost.

“Why is he dying?” I swung on Zeus, horrified. “You promised to protect him!”

Zeus shook with laughter, silent at first then expanding from chuckles to fullblown guffaws.

“Damn, that feels good. Keeper, you’ve been a persistent, colossal pain in my immortal ass. Turns out, you’re a pain I no longer have to tolerate. Thanks for fixing several long-term issues for the Olympians, but going forward, meh.”

Lightning cracked from his fingertips. “I don’t need you. After that night on the beach, it was a mere matter of time until I handled your shitty, arrogant, overzealous sense of importance. Your happiness meant nothing, and now, even less.”

“Brother,” Poseidon interjected. “She initiated an apology, tried to right the slight.”

“Not going to do it, Sea Urchin. She asked me to offer protection in Tartarus, ? Which, by the way, was unnecessary since the potion that persuaded Campe also kept, um, what’s your name again?”

He waved a vague hand at Ballard, restoring a modicum of color to his face.

“Ballard,” he ground out, struggling to stay on his feet.

“Whatever. That draught, and some crap of Eros’ making, protected you while inside the void. She asked for the wrong favor, and after the bullshit this bar tending gnat put me through, it’s funny as hell.”

Zeus wiped his eyes, then slapped a heavily muscled thigh. “Best of luck, Keeper. Nah, I’m kidding; zero fucks today, Brat. You’re on your own.”

Chapter 32

Panic gripped my chest. Heart attack hard and no bacon to blame. Shit.

The gods are done playing, Patra. They got what they needed, and you are no longer necessary. What might appease? An eye for an eye? A soul for a soul? And why the hell not, you expected to die.

It took all my strength, but I frog walked Ballard to Hades and we fell in a messy tangle at his feet.

“Hades, I beg you, take me in his stead. The next Keeper is in place and the record instilled within him. The line, the Triune, hell, the Earth itself, will heal and become more.”

Expressionless, Hades’ face gave a slight horizontal shake.

“This plan worked,” my tone slid into stubbornness. “You won’t be swamped with souls, and can continue as you please. Ballard is a solid human, whose appearance here is out of love for me. I love him so much I’ll trade my life force for his.”

Next to me, Ballard groaned and shook his head. “No, Babe, don’t do this.”

I pushed up to sit on my shins, Ballard’s head heavy in my lap. “As originals, he had no choice. If prophesied, we’ll find each other again.”

A faint shadow crossed Hades’ expression. He knew as I did that the Vapors’ wheelhouse was also in my blood.

Well? Care to dance, Death?

Hades’ chuckle filled the space. “You are persistent, Keeper. And one of the best we’ve ever had, but granting this request opens things you neither see nor understand.”

He bent toward me, extending a finger. “Yet.”

The forehead tap unleashed images so rapidly they blurred. I struggled to understand it all, but only an idiot would miss the fact the Triune was a war zone and the humans were literal lunch. Yikes.

“Parker is not ready,” Hades’ whisper filled my ear, a message meant for me alone.

Behind him, Parker grabbed Chelsea by the shoulders, shook her and pointed to his throat.

Hoo boy, Kid. That will cost you. She’ll give you Chihuahua balls without missing a beat, then order another bottle of wine.

Chelsea snapped, and Parker bounded across the path, ending with a skidding stop before Hades. He wobbled, but avoided crashing into the god of death.

“Careful,” Hades laughed. “Touching me doesn’t end well.” He waved at the glowing souls behind him. “Did you wish to speak?”

“Please, Lord Hades, if I’m not the answer, take me instead of him. Let the Keeper have her lover. Everything we saw and accomplished today is based on love and peace, the foundation for the world of our future.”

Hades blinked, gears turning.

Wait, what? Did I miss something?

“I have a better idea, brother. Accept the souls of the Keeper and her lover, and I’ll make this one,” Zeus jerked a big thumb at Parker, “Keeper for eternity.”

“You’d bestow eternal life on a mortal? How the hell do you plan to do that?”

“Oh, he’ll die, but to a human, a witch’s lifespan is forever. I can pull that off

with my eyes closed.”

“No need to share your sex life,” Poseidon laughed. “And your half-assed plan is not the solution. The record has specific rules. You’d be breaking at least three of them.”

“Like I care. The book can bite my perfect immortal ass.”

Holy crap. He wants to control the line, even after today. Freaking megalomaniac. But how did Parker know he wasn’t ready? The mind reading trick only goes one way.

Parker’s eyes slid to mine, one lid dropping in a slow wink.

Whoa.

“Your cheek is tiresome,” Gaia waved an impatient hand at Zeus. “No hierarchy places you on top, at least none based in reality. You have a role, Zippy, but it ain’t setting up a new world order with you getting the goods. If you’d prefer, discuss it with my sweet Hekatonkheires. Their hundred hands should keep you occupied for a millennium.”

“I didn’t release your children to wage eternal war, Mother. They are ready to initiate peace!” I hugged Ballard’s head, clammy and cooling, and stared up at Gaia.

She glanced my way then closed her eyes, drawing in a long slow breath before opening her mouth. The Vapors crept out in tendrils, forming a second halo of curls around her head, a continuous stream of entities. Zeus shifted his weight, uneasy as the Vapors filled the spaces between us and flowed in an inexorable march toward him. Inches from his bearded face they stopped, a wall of writhing spirals.

“I speak a prophecy for the ages to come,” Gaia’s mouth did not move, it remained open, Vapors whisping from her core, but her voice boomed throughout the ageway, and the souls blinked in a humming response, an eternal orchestral accompaniment.

“How fascinating,” Glenna said, looking around in delight. “Even in death, a soul is sentient and reactive.”

“No messing with my realm,” Hades muttered. “I don’t need your potions mucking up my system.”

Glenna’s eyes twinkled over her cat eye glasses. “Me? I’m hurt you’d suggest such a thing.”

“Yeah? We’ve met,” Hades shot an ivy feeler and wagged it like a father correcting a toddler.

“Excuse me? Are you two finished?” Gaia’s mouth was closed and her face infuriated.

“Uh, yes?” Hades waved a hand and pulled new sunglasses from the air. “Carry on, please.”

Additional Vapors flowing from her reopened mouth, the prophecy continued.

“In the real and magical worlds, the ing must continue unmolested.” Gaia opened her eyes and glared at Zeus before squeezing them closed and continuing. “Provided the line and record remain guarded by two keepers, Zeus will reign as a sage and beloved ruler of the gods.”

Zeus stuck his tongue out at the Vapor curling before him. It bunched back and whapped him on the nose with a smack that made Aegeus clap, giggling. Poseidon grinned and laid a finger across her lips.

“If Zeus’ negligence causes the loss of a Keeper, as punishment the exalted shall fall from the sky, riding the night as an eternal shooting star, never to return to Olympus. The future is foretold.”

Ballard’s chest hitched, death imminent, and Parker stepped closer to Hades.

“Please, take me. Another Keeper will come. We always do.”

A tiny, fully formed Eros emerged from Waldo’s beard and grew with each step taken toward Hades, Ballard, and me. I held my breath, afraid to even ask, but I knew my heart was begging for redemption. The revolving faces flowed in an endless parade, and a thought tickled my mind.

The last time they formed as an entity, I felt Eros in every cell. My entire body thrummed with love, each particle of me became energy, and in the same moment, that energy was love.

I knew what to do.

“Ballard, open your eyes, and feel the love coursing in your veins,” I crooned. “This is how we live.”

Green eyes struggled to focus, but they found mine and I gripped his hands, completing the circle. Tingles blasted across my heart and core, racing through my arms and into our interlaced fingers. Color returned to his skin in tandem with the path of the energy, pinking up hands, forearms, and flowing over his chest. Lights burned from his eyes, a heatless fire felt only by us. Life flowed into his hips and legs; with a grunt, he pulled me onto his body in an embrace, vitality pulsing through every point of , two hearts healing.

Ballard’s irises shifted from translucent emerald fire to the steady, sexy as hell green I loved, and he smiled, leaning in to whisper, “Now I know what to shoot for the next time we’re naked.”

“They healed themselves,” Eros stated, moving in a shrinking walk and folding back into Waldo’s beard. “They achieved balance. The universe requires nothing else.”

“See,” Gaia laughed. “You’re bound by it too, Ziggy. Petty revenge might work

if you’re toying with a puny mortal, but not here, and not with the four reunited.”

“Cease,” Zeus roared, lightning burning a jagged line along the path toward Gaia.

The fire reached her feet and died as Vapors rose with the smoke and surrounded her.

“I,” Gaia laid emphasis on thick, “did nothing. But I seem to recollect you had a run in with our wispy peacekeepers.”

The Vapors flowed, surrounding each one of us in a fog formed armor, then more of them formed into the nebulous shape I’d seen in my living room. A long finger of mist tapped Zeus on the forehead.

In the silence, a single word reverberated. “Peace.”

Zeus rubbed his forehead, shaking his head as the Vapors milled throughout the corridor, twisting into symbols while the souls twinkled and gleamed in response.

“Incredible,” Glenna’s head swiveled, delighted.

“This ending came out way better than I expected,” Chelsea muttered, digging into her sack and ing Glenna some gold. “I should stop wagering with you.”

“Or improve your critical thinking,” Glenna laughed. “Besides, aren’t we supposed to learn from our mothers?”

“Today’s lesson was an expensive one,” Chelsea shrugged.

“Oh, my. Such a big bottom lip. Next time, I’ll buy the wine at The Boogey.”

“So on that vein, how do we get home?” Parker asked.

“Same way we came,” Waldo waved his pinky in a circle and Chelsea, Glenna, Parker, Ballard, and I lifted off the ground and spun. The Vapors and Eros came along for the ride.

I traced the symbol for ‘grateful’ in the air as we picked up momentum and the Vapors exploded in messages of joy and hope, mirroring the ones racing along my arms.

Ballard squeezed my hand. “Me too, Babe.”

Huh.

A hard bump in mid-twirl, and I turned to face a Cyclops, realizing that the whole kids and company were also headed, god knows how everyone would fit,

to Waldo’s place.

“Mama, are you taking us to our new home?”

Um, yes?

I patted his enormous head and nodded, grinning over his shoulder at Chelsea’s eye roll.

Chapter 33

A heavy weight thumped onto my right shoulder and I glanced, surprised, at the dragonfly resting there.

Gaia?

“This is less confusing for my children, but I will approve of your plans for them.”

Great, I hope I have a Plan B, just in case.

The dragonfly rippled its wings in agreement.

“You realize that ALL my children came along for this love fest, Keeper? You have jobs for everyone?”

“There’s plenty to do, Mother. Waldo!”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Are we paused in time?”

“Indeed, we are.”

“Can you move us anywhere on Earth?”

“Just say the word, my darling!”

“I want to begin at the forests of Chernobyl.”

We dipped, then hovered above the wild landscape, free of humans and teeming with wolves and other creatures.

“Campe, come to me.”

The great dragon floated to the front, eyes feasting on the heavy woods below.

“Campe, humans ruined this place, but the radiation will not affect you. Here, you are free. If you encounter a human or magical, hide and cause no harm.”

“Freedom,” Campe whispered. “A creature of the Earth once more.”

With a mighty flap, he flew, circling until lost in the great treetops.

“Huh,” muttered the dragonfly.

“Waldo, move us to the Amazon Rainforest, please.”

We whirled into the jungle to the annoyance of a group of black howler monkeys, who pelted fruit and insults at top velocity and volume.

“Kottos, Briareos, and Gyges, OW!” I glared at a grinning monkey. “Stop that! You three, come to me.” The trio of hundred hands kiddos shuffled forward.

“This section of the rainforest is pristine, but it’s surrounded by areas where humans destroyed the trees and forced the animals to leave. Your sacred duty is to reforest the emptiness without harming the humans. They’ll you in partnership eventually, but for now, do this important work and avoid being seen. This task gives air and life to the Earth. Do you accept?”

The three exchanged glances and nodded. On my shoulder, the dragonfly fluttered her transparent wings, hopefully in approval. It’s hard to tell with dragonflies.

“Waldo,” I began, as a dripping, half rotted fruit smashed into the back of my skull, to the delight of the shrieking monkeys. “Could we visit the upper atmosphere without ill effect?”

Waldo’s beard shot straight, and he grinned in delight. “We can now, Keeper.”

“Please take us to the hole in the ozone layer.”

The view, high above the Earth, sucked the wind out of my chest. Ballard, squeezing my hand, shook his head in awe.

“Un-freaking believable,” he murmured, gazing at the world in amazement.

“Brontes, Steropes, and Arges, come before me,” I called, rolling my pseudoGaia persona while fruit juice puddled in my collarbone.

“We’re here, Mama!” The cyclops tumbled in a slow heel over head cartwheel, pushing each other to reach me first.

Kinda rough around the edges, but at heart they’re a pack of mama’s boys.

I gestured above as we floated over the frozen Antarctic. “You crafted Zeus’s thunderbolt, and this part of the sky needs help. This hole didn’t exist in the time before Tartarus. If it can be repaired, your skills are our best option. Will you try?”

“Yes!”

“We’ll make this whole again.”

“We can save the sky, Mama.”

“I am proud of you all.” I patted each head and eyed Waldo as the Cyclops floated toward the breach.

“Let’s get wet.”

His giggle turned to bubbles as we splashed deep into the ocean.

“The oceans are vast and sick in places, so plenty of important work awaits. Phorkys, stand before me.”

I gestured to the curious marine life gazing around our bubble. “Your scope involves the life within the sea. Nurture it, protect it, and serve with Poseidon to make it healthy and balanced once more.”

“Keto, will you your husband and act as the liaison to the mer, whose grievances are many? The task is complex, but as the mother of monsters, I imagine you can handle a few thousand irritated mer.”

“Oh yes,” Keto laughed. “With time to spare.”

“Then use your talents for healing and health. The seas are suffering, but retribution or punishment are not options. Vitality comes through teaching and understanding.”

“Perhaps. I intend to follow the rules, Mother.”

“Excellent. Eurybia and Thaumas, I have your tasks as well. Eurybia, direct your skills to hold soils in place, control beach erosion, and monitor hurricanes and other natural weather events. As we clean the Earth’s oceans and stabilize them, the condition of the shoreline’s health is critical.”

“Thaumas, you’ll liaison with the Vapors, who migrate between sky and sea, and manage the rains. Move with them to understand the issues the Earth faces, the needs of the myriad of ecosystems and creatures, and choose the path to greatest abundance of life.”

“I’ll toss in a rainbow occasionally,” he chuckled.

“And delight your daughter, Iris, goddess of those rainbows, in the process.”

Outside our bubble, Poseidon materialized and flowed through. Aegeus beamed, tucked under one arm and perched on his hip, waving as Phorkys, Keto, Eurybia, and Thaumas slid out to explore the ocean.

“You’re in my sea and stepping on my toes.”

“Not quite, but I have set up talent to help you. Nereus, come forward.”

Poseidon eyed the Old Man of the Sea, whose white beard moved with scampering crabs and tiny fish. After a long beat, Poseidon threw his head back and roared in laughter.

“Well, this might be fun.”

“Shall we discuss how to co-manage over drinks? I’ve built up a fair thirst.” Nereus cracked a crooked grin, weather-beaten face folding into deep set crinkles around aqua eyes.

“I know just the place,” Poseidon boomed. “Keeper, are you opening The Boogey?”

Don’t blow my cover, Big Red, but yeah, that’s the plan.

I turned back and signaled to Pontos and Ouranos. “In Tartarus, I promised we three would dwell, guarding the moving space where the sea and sky meet, and orchestrate the tides and time. Are you prepared for this journey?”

“After the darkness of the void, lingering in the age, beholding the beauty of the sun’s rise and set, and tempering the change is a magnificent gift. I am ready,” Pontos replied.

“To dwell with you and the Earth’s movement sures any feast,” Ouranos boomed. “I am more than ready!”

I glanced at the dragonfly.

Well?

“Silence,” Gaia’s voice reverberated in my ear as she lifted off, landing on Poseidon’s shoulder, engaging him in a conversation. Based on his face, the lecture wasn’t a happy one. With a definitive buzz of her wings, Gaia rose and returned to me.

“Tartarus and Typhoeus wish to remain in the underworld, but as sovereign entities dwelling in peace,” I murmured.

The dragonfly raised its head in their direction. After a moment, Gaia looked at me.

“I see that as a truth, and will return them. While I didn’t think you had an actual plan, Keeper, I found the outcome instructional and beneficial to my creation.”

“A creation you built, but one that is sentient in its own way, for each creature upon it considers it theirs, Mother. Love of the Earth is why we can forces to repair her.”

“Harrumph. We’ll see; the track record to date is unimpressive. You earned your shot, Keeper, unmolested.”

The dragonfly rose and Tartarus, Typhoeus, Pontos, and Ouranos swirled into her, to ride as one to the underworld and to the edge.

Whew. One last group to go.

“Titans, you swore peace. Are you bound by that promise?”

“We are.”

“You twelve act as liaisons between the Keeper and the human world, the Olympians, the magicals, and the Vapors. Choose three to engage with each group, learn their priorities and stand ready to advocate for their health and wellbeing, or with the Olympians, their adjusting roles. Do you agree?”

Twelve heads shifted, assessing one another, then Kronos stepped forward. “To craft a better future that includes us, has appeal. We will make the effort.”

It would have to do.

As the Titans dispersed, Poseidon lifted his head, listening, then crooked a finger at me. “You’ve got a big problem. Time to go. I suggest losing the Gaia makeover.”

I looked at Waldo, but he was chatting with Parker and didn’t meet my gaze. Deliberate? Probably.

“What’s the trouble?”

“Gaia’s parting shot. Unmolested my smokin’ hot immortal ass. She’s out of the picture, but she gave the mer legs.”

“What? Oh, shit.”

Fingers trembling, I rummaged in my waist sack for the antidote and poured in over my head, feeling an ache in my blood as skin, body, and hair returned to me.

The mer can leave the water! No more waiting for the full or new moon, plus they learned how easy humans are to kill. Dammit. So much for thinking I had this wrapped. Kumba fucking ya, Patra. Who do you think you are, a Vapor enhanced second coming? Crap.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, you did well,” Poseidon waved at Nereus to us. “Chelsea isn’t the only one who lost gold. I left a pile with Hades.”

“Why do you all bet against me?” I groused, beckoning to Ballard, who blenched as he moved closer to Poseidon.

“Do you mind?” I asked, and he toned it down a notch with a lewd wink.

“Always wanting something, Cleopatra, but never the right ask.”

I turned from his suggestive leer and held Ballard’s eyes. “We have to go home. The mer, if they haven’t started, plan to attack the humans. Gaia gave them legs.”

“For a nurturer, she sucks.” Ballard cocked his head at Poseidon and shrugged.

Get used to it, Big Red. Humanity isn’t big on obsequiousness.

Poseidon grunted as Ballard shifted his gaze to me. “I’ll need a gun. Several.”

“What you want,” Chelsea interrupted, “is a witch. Maybe twelve.”

Chapter 34

I thought we’d hit the maximum capacity of Waldo’s living room when we started this adventure, but with Poseidon and Aegeus, we blew through into serious squish.

“Could you shrink, at least a bit?”

“I’m a god, so no.”

The teacup kitten mewed from the mantle and Waldo lifted her and set a ball of fluffy cuteness on my lap. “Here my dear, this kitterling is for your safekeeping.”

“Waldo, I can’t accept this, my life is chaos, er, well, you know.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine, darling.”

“Mama, I will keep her safe for you!” Aegeus’ eyes widened with delight. “What is this tiny creature? It is so soft!”

“It’s a kitty,” Ballard crouched and stroked the tiny furball between her ears. “She’ll need a name. Play with her and decide what name is best.”

Aegeus’ eyes traveled to Poseidon’s, and he nodded. “She can’t live with us in the sea, but you can keep her at Mommy’s house.”

“Ok!”

The kitterling curled up in Aegeus’ lap and flexed pink toe beans. Aegeus cooed with delight.

“Thank you, Waldo, I think.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with mirth at my eye roll.

“Are you ready to return?” Chelsea wormed toward the doorway.

“Take us to my balcony. Aegeus will be safest there. Once we have eyes on the situation and see how bad it is, we’ll determine an attack strategy.”

“Sensible plan,” Glenna said, clinking out the front door.

Parker eased his vertigo potion out of his pocket and followed. “Does this snapping thing get any easier?”

“No, but you grow more adept at getting a slug down your neck,” Glenna assured him.

The beach, a hellscape, greeted our landing feet. Poseidon tossed Aegeus and the protesting kitterling to Ballard and vanished.

“Inside!” An unnecessary scream, maybe, but I’m new to this mommy stuff.

Ballard caught her and spun, feet in motion, and hauled Aegeus, linebacker style, into the condo as Chelsea’s protective spells rained.

He’s got instincts. Crazy, but it’s sexy helpful, too.

“I need him with me!” Whatever else, I knew the power of love factored in ending this bloody bullshit.

“He can leave, she can’t. Are you new?” Chelsea stared at me, her expression confirming my idiocy was a road too far.

“Keeper, I will stay with the child to evidence normalcy to her,” Glenna said.

Magicals and their damn logic.

“Although I wouldn’t discount the kitterling.”

What? Oh, crap, Waldo. Well played.

“Try to keep up, Patra. Holy Selene, those mer are on fire.” Chelsea’s eyes flamed green fury. The High Priestess was about to unleash.

“Chelsea, can you call the walking stick?”

She nodded and crooked a finger as the wooden staff she gave me last October, carved and covered in runes and symbols, zoomed from my bedroom and smacked into my palm. The carvings undulated, and the stick emitted a low hum. Not magic powers for me, but a powerful weapon.

I gawked at the blood and still human bodies on the shore, and shuddered. Fire? The Avengers on crack, except this time for real. Yikes.

Asclepius, I have never called you, but today, I am asking.

A mountain of sexy healing materialized on my balcony.

“Might cost you, Keeper. Are you prepared?”

Shit.

I looked at the dead on the beach, sand staining bloodier each moment, and slid my gaze to Ballard.

“No,” I said, surprising myself. “I petition, without strings, because I honor my love through the ages.”

“Excellent answer,” Clep chuckled. “You continue changing, Keeper, and I like that. Nothing in life’s motion and adaptability should be wholly predictable, because that’s a death sentence.”

Um, Ok? Pretty esoteric when what I’m doing is protecting my love.

“Is it?” Clep’s eyes met mine in a frank glance. “Are you confident the purpose isn’t to make stands, draw lines, and defend?”

Well, shit. Put that way, it’s the entire point.

My glance caught Ballard’s, and he smiled, making the symbol for peace in front of his chest.

OK, but what the actual fuck. He’s human, he can’t navigate magical thought or Vapor symbols, and here he is, getting everything in real time. Color me stumped.

“You’re welcome, Keeper,” Clep laughed. “You impressed a kaleidoscope-eyed

goddess, and in the spirit of love, she intervened. Use it.”

“Aphrodite? Wow. OK, a boost for team love. Let’s show the mer they can’t bully the world.”

The stench washed across me as I hit the beach running, wide-eyed, past a dead, disemboweled human. Ahead, another man groaned in pain. Chelsea snapped a sealing spell to stop the blood loss, and we ran under The Boogie’s pier. A mer whirled, hissing, and Chelsea slashed the air, decapitating him as three covens of witches popped in, hands raised for battle.

“One witch to every mile,” Chelsea screeched, “no mercy. We must stop them.”

I reached out and touched the shoulder of one witch, and she turned her eyes, one green and one blue, to me.

“Go to the forest. Loboli waits with the shifters to fight with us!”

She nodded and vanished to the crack of Ballard’s gun, dropping a mer in a stank splat onto the sand.

“What can I do?” Parker asked, bewildered.

“Read their thoughts. Try not to die.”

“Man, if I had a hundred bucks for every time I’ve heard that this week, it’d be a fat paycheck.” He closed his eyes, went pale and opened them. “The mer want death, Patra. They believe Gaia promised them the reset and greater power.”

“Life is full of little wrinkles.”

Ballard’s gun cracked, and a human woman ran screaming from a mer blown back by the shot.

“Get off the beach! Find shelter,” Ballard roared, running toward the next mer.

Along this stretch of sand, at least 40 humans lay injured or dead. It’s a long coastline, and I knew many parts had dense populations. Chelsea’s covens of witches, spread out from Ponce Inlet to Ormond Beach, rained spells, and the human cries intersected with the howls of the mer. Loboli materialized beside me with his entire pack, forty bears, a few big cats, and to my surprise, a herd of fairies.

OK then. Whatever. Let’s flit them to death.

“Pair into groups of two so you can protect each other, and she,” I nodded to the witch, “will pop you along the coastline.”

Parker blenched, but walked into the group of shifters. “I can feel you,” he told Loboli. “If you need reinforcements, send the word.”

“No idea who the hell you are, human, but understood.” Loboli stared at the group. “Pair up and kill the mer only. No humans. Are we in accord?”

Amber eyes glinted in assent as the witch moved the pairs out.

“Keep us together,” a gleaming fairy I didn’t know, but assumed was the queen, onished. “Place my herd where the battle is the worst.”

Um, OK.

“At Her Majesty’s request,” I nodded at the witch and the fairies vanished.

“I need a radio,” Ballard yelled, shot vanishing into the forehead of an advancing mer. One materialized in his hand and he listened intently, toggled, and responded.

“Patra, I’m connected to tactical. The police effort is focused on the Daytona Pier, and there are lots of casualties.”

“Clep, are you willing?”

“I’ll take a look, Keeper.” He shimmered and vanished.

Time marched, a blur as we cleared mer from the area surrounding The Boogie. Streams of bikers poured out of the bar, cheering as I cracked a mer over the head with my staff.

What the hell? I’m closed.

From the neighboring condo balconies, more cheers rained.

“Do they even understand what they’re seeing?” I muttered to Parker. “Can I use this?”

“They sense who is good and bad, but I don’t think they see the magic,” Parker replied. “The book holds an entry from long ago. That Keeper felt they were shielded.”

“Because it wasn’t time.” Deep in my bones, I knew this was correct. “But now it is.”

My arm lit up with the familiar gold lettering.

Get into my sea. NOW. Bring Ballsy.

“I didn’t think you were ever going to get it,” Poseidon groused, yanking us into the surf, as my skin grew transparent and the gold writing faded, then etched anew.

Grow.

I tapped my navel, shooting skyward as Ballard enlarged alongside me, keeping pace with Poseidon as we filled the sky with watery bodies of a myriad of blues that pulled other colors from the light spectrum, coloring up in a threedimensional liquid spectacle. Ballard’s side eye said volumes.

The entire beach went silent; even the mer stopped, curious.

“Creatures of the earth and sea, heed my call,” Poseidon’s tone sounded normal. Not hollering or grandstanding, but his voice carried. And I suspected that across the entire planet, everyone could hear.

Condo and hotel balconies filled, and some humans wept, while others stood, gaping. Immortal power covered the coast and inland. Below us, a news crew lifted cameras, and I saw one cameraman cross himself as he filmed.

One mer lunged, snarling, and swiped at a bear.

“Enough,” Poseidon said, tone mild, and waved his hand.

Along the beach, the mer turned into enormous fish, and they fell in awkward skids on the bloody sand. The bear licked his chops, then looked at Poseidon and stepped away from the helpless mer. A cameraman eased closer, filming the flopping mer, the odd-looking bear, and the wicked shell blade. The latter he gave a wide berth.

“The fighting is over,” Poseidon’s voice flowed. “But the questions filling your

hearts and minds deserve answers. This,” a long finger pointed to me, “is your Keeper, the most powerful entity on the planet, and the liaison between the worlds. Heed her words.”

Jeez. Here we go.

“Earth, since the beginning, contained three distinct worlds.” Taking a cue from Poseidon, I spoke in a normal tone. “The human world is one of them. Humans,” I gestured to Ballard, “share the earth with magicals, and with the Vapors. We have stories, tales, and fables, throughout the ages, of the magical world. Witches, shifters, fairies, the Greek gods, mermaids, and mermen and many more are real, and they walk among you, work beside you, and cohabit this earth with you. The Vapors are bodiless, but they are the peacekeepers. Imprisoned early in the creation, the newly freed Vapors will help us craft a life of equality and acceptance.”

Based on the glazed expressions everywhere I looked, I wasn’t getting through to them.

“Can you supersize Loboli, but in his human form?” I whispered to Poseidon, hoping for privacy.

“Loboli, step forward,” Poseidon called in a quiet tone. “Shift.”

The wolf paused for the tiniest of moments, then shifted as cameras swung and captured his transition. Mer flopped in anger and the few remaining humans backed away from him.

“That… that’s the Mayor!” one shouted.

As his feet touched the sea, Loboli grew, rising to my height, although in reality he topped me by a good six inches.

Keep us equal, I suppose. Big Red, of course, is bigger than all of us.

“You’re correct,” I said. “This is former Mayor Loboli. He leads a large group of magicals who can shift their shapes and who now battle on our beaches to protect you. He interacted with humanity in the past and is a key part as we change and grow. As we move forward, we are Triune. Human, magical and Vapor,” I waved my arms, and a mist rose from the sea and the sands, swirling in symbolic welcome.

Their effect on everyone, including the mer, was immediate. Stress melted away and the sense of doom siphoned off into the peaceful mist. Fingers entwining with Ballard’s, my body, absorbing the emotional shift, glowed; a rose gold aura emanating, beginning at my head in a halo, before moving outward, surrounding Ballard, Loboli, and to my wonder, Poseidon. The breeze, clean scented and healing, advanced the aura toward the shoreline.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” wafted a voice from the beach. “Magic isn’t real.”

With a smile at Ballard, I released his hand and held both of mine up in an elaborate shrug. “Yet a human police officer and a wolf in human form stand on

the sea, in bodies made of water. Magic is a genuine piece of our planet, and we can build a new life with unlimited potential.”

I gestured toward Poseidon. “This is Poseidon. He is as real as you or I, and is immortal, akin to the myths you read in school.”

Behind us, clouds separated, and one by one, gods flowed into the line next to Poseidon as the aura blanketed them.

“This is Zeus. This is Hades.” The humans gasped as I continued. “Aphrodite, Ares, Apollo, Dionysis, and Athena. There are additional gods, but these observed the Triune’s creation, curious if reforging a united world was possible.”

Upturned faces, a sea of ‘O’ shaped mouths, blinked at us as the rose gold advanced, covering the warriors in universal aura armor, connecting witch to shifter, shifter to fairy, before blanketing the humans they protected. I sensed this shift occurred across the globe, and the impact squeezed my heart with a profound sense of joy and hope.

“At the day’s end, this happens only when you the effort. We succeed or perish as a whole. The era of deck stacking ends today.”

The aura of love advanced, changing every soul, expanding without boundaries. Eros. We are full circle once more.

Chapter 35

Seated at the human bar between Charlie and Gloria, the footage of the fairies exploding mer replayed on the TV, each shrieking fairy flying through a mer’s chest and blasting out the other side, wings covered in viscera and teeth bared.

Time to research, and take a deep, methodical dive into the fae. I wasn’t expecting the gore, let alone their glee in battle.

“Here you are again, Patra,” Charlie murmured, with zero flirtatious overtones.

I guess the idea that your hot boss was a gigantic aquatic badass was an erection killer. Which made my life simpler. I grunted and stood, moving behind the bar to pour us three more bourbons. It was after midnight, we’re closed, and Chelsea had The Boogey while I dealt with my staff.

“What happened while I was gone?” I pushed the drinks and leaned against the till.

“Lester kept showing up with shrimp,” Gloria said. “So I decided that, since I wasn’t dead, we might as well make money. So we opened just the bar and outside seating, served little buckets of steamed with the drink specials, and sold the fresh out every day. They dug how we fought off those… things… and were

ready to party. I love bikers.”

“The staff signed each bucket, we did six ounces of shrimp for the half pound price and they got to keep them as a commemorative,” Gloria continued. “Folks bought them three at a time. My sister has a shop and had cases of these tin buckets, and she donated them. The Boogie opened from noon to sundown, then we cleaned blood in the dining room. Take a peek.”

I picked up my bourbon and headed through the double doors.

“Wow!”

“Yeah. I bleached, Charlie sanded, and then we sanitized one more time. Now it’s as clean as new wood.”

“You can’t tell the fight ever happened, Boss,” Charlie added. “If you want to, we’re set to run full shifts tomorrow.”

“Alright. After everything you did, I won’t say no. How’s tips?”

“Massive,” Charlie grinned. “Gloria needs to rise from the dead every year. They loved that story.”

“I’ll ,” Gloria slugged her drink. “But I’m afraid to ask, how did that happen?”

“A witch named Chelsea saved you. She’s the High Priestess of a nearby coven, and she cast a spell to seal your wound.”

“So that stuff you said on the beach, and in the news conference afterward, that’s true?” skepticism colored Charlie’s tone.

“Fraid so.”

“Herzog wormed in and took the credit. Acted like he knew magic was real.”

“He knew Loboli was a shifter, and while the Mayor is a political slug, he’s not a stupid man.”

“I don’t get it. How come these, um, magics? Why not murder us and control the planet?”

“Because that’s not what drives magicals. They have power; what they crave is knowledge. It’s only humans who think authority is the ultimate goal. Now, humanity is learning the strength they thought was theirs is nonexistent. When they grasp that the love defining humanity is theirs to harness, a greater power awaits.”

Two pairs of eyebrows twisted. They weren’t buying it.

“Consider this. Love is an energy, the same as magic or peace. how the peaceful mist calmed the beach? A deliberate action. Then you saw how the spreading aura, the energetic manifestation of love, changed everything it touched. When your throat sealed, Glo, energy in the form of a spell had a specific outcome. Love’s energy waits for humanity to wield it as a force, and when they do, it too will have a result. A solid, tangible and positive one, similar to what you and every human on the planet felt yesterday. Love is the original power.”

The brows dropped slightly. A start.

“Hey Patra.”

“Parker! Where have you been? Was hoping you didn’t decide to haul ass for Mexico.”

“Oh, I’ve been in the woods with Loboli and company.”

I shot him a look.

“Voluntarily. Well, sorta. Loboli wanted to know how I could read their thoughts.”

“Did you have an answer?”

“I told him it’s a compartment of the record that’s only available to a Keeper if the book thinks they need it.”

“I’m sure he loved hearing that.”

“Not at first, no. They’re scary as shit, Boss. But, Loboli believes, in the overall stream of time, it’s not terrible. He said, as long as I hadn’t hidden it, they’d respect the record’s decision.”

“Very shifter like. No one gets the leverage of surprise.”

“Except them.”

“Exactly.”

“So, Patra, when Gaia landed on Poseidon as a dragonfly, that wasn’t a friendly chat.”

“Whoa, you understood them? Wow.”

“Gaia said the reason the mer are fucking done is his fault because he treated them like servants and didn’t weigh their concerns with any sense of importance, so they won’t follow him. She isn’t interfering, but she refuses to help. Poseidon seemed, for him, kinda bummed. I don’t think he realized how the situation festered. From what I’ve seen, he’s a hedonist at heart.”

“Well, yeah. He lives in a speedo, Parker.”

“I decided on a name!”

Aegeus’ blue eyes, wide with excitement, held the tiny cat toward Ballard, half asleep on the sectional.

“W-what? OK, Kiddo, what did you pick?”

“I’m going to call her Justice.”

Ballard winced. After the battle, Chelsea brought everyone to the balcony, only to find the entire expanse covered in dead mer. Peeking in at Aegeus, she’d waved at him with a huge grin. Behind her, an enormous cat, ears touching the ceiling, sat licking blue gore off its claws and fur. A few of the mer bodies were half eaten. The balcony, coated in flies, reeked.

“Honey, how did Justice get so big?”

“When Daddy goes away, the mermen guard and watch over me. A mer came into our home and I don’t what happened, but I ended up in a boat. Then a nice man with purple hair walked with me to a warm and sleepy place. When I woke up, Daddy was there, but so exciting! Mommy was too, and I never get to hang out with her, you know. I can see her, but the glass is one way.”

“I was there, too.”

“Yes! And we whirled and traveled across the human world with the little rainbow man. It’s different from the sea, but so amazing.”

“But what happened here, after Glenna stayed with you and we left?”

“Oh, it was scary! The mer howled and banged, trying to get in, but Witch Glenna promised they couldn’t. My heart felt scared, so I whispered to Justice that the mermen might hurt me, and Justice licked my nose. That tickles!” Aegeus giggled. “Then she jumped off my lap and grew super fast. Glenna laughed and said she thought the kitterling was special. Justice walked right through the glass and pounced on the mer. They kept climbing over the railing, but it didn’t matter, because Justice is fast, Ballsy. She even ate a couple for her dinner.”

Ballard knelt in front of the couch and held Aegeus’ gaze. “Whenever you are here at Mommy’s, Justice stays with you. If we go outside, Justice comes with us. Wherever you go, except to your Dad’s, I want Justice with you. We’ll get a cute little bag she can ride in for our trips.”

Aegeus clapped and Justice purred, a surprising rumble from such a tiny body.

“Names are important, that’s why I wanted you to name Justice. Ballsy is your Dad’s name for me, but I’d prefer you call me Ballard. Could you do that for me?”

“Sure, Ballard. Why?”

“Because it’s who I am, and what your mother calls me. It feels right.”

“OK. I’m hungry.”

“Let’s peek in the kitchen and find a snack.”

“Daddy!”

Aegeus dropped her pizza slice and ran, leaping into Poseidon’s arms on the balcony.

“Ballsy. May I enter?”

“Come in, have you eaten?” Ballard pushed the pizza box toward the god.

Poseidon pulled a slice and munched, setting Aegeus back on her stool before straddling the one next to her.

“I have business under the sea that requires my attention, involving a span of human time. Aegeus needs to stay with her mother until I have these issues under control. The ocean remains unsafe for my daughter.”

“I’ll safeguard her as my own,” Ballard replied, gaze steady. “And the cat will never leave her side.”

“Good,” Poseidon grunted. “Aphrodite gave you the ability of communication with the world. That is hers to bestow; it remains with you based on her whims. Take nothing for granted and never build a plan to protect my daughter that relies on an impermanent gift. Keep her out of the sea until I send the message it’s safe for her to enter.”

“Understood.”

Poseidon lifted Aegeus’ chin. “Daddy must handle the mer uprising. You stay here with Mommy and Ballsy, and I’ll return when I’m finished. While I’m gone, read Mommy’s books. She’s built an excellent library.”

“I’ve started one, Daddy. Witch Glenna picked out a stack for me. I’m learning about mammals. Justice is a mammal. That’s why she’s warm and fluffy.”

“Justice is many things,” Poseidon laughed. “In the future, Aegeus, you’ll be able to visit the covens and learn from the witches. The world is a book unto itself.” Poseidon held his child close, then rose, eyeing Ballard. “I’m counting on you to protect the lives that matter to me. If things go to shit, tell the Keepers to send the Vapors. They can find me anywhere in the universe.”

Ballard nodded, glancing down to help Aegeus pull apart another slice of pizza. When he looked up, the god was gone.

Chapter 36

No longer fish, but still possessing legs, the mer huddled in immobile groups on the sea bottom, staring at Poseidon’s infuriated face.

“Bring me the murderer of my child, betrayer of my trust.”

Bubbles and hisses swirled from the mob of mer.

“In this place,” Poseidon continued, “legs make you prey, and those who avoid the hungry, die a slow death of starvation. You allowed yourselves to be fooled, believing that a reset creates balance, a lie with consequences.”

“We want respect for the ocean that feeds us all,” a female mer stood at the foot of the god, shaking. “Humans befoul everything they touch.”

“Says who?” Poseidon eyed her. “Gaia? She’s freed her children and they are all working to restore the damages. But you,” he gestured, moving water to cover the grounded mer with silt, “chose violence and deceit. My seas swirl, sickened, but redemption beckons. Instead of helping to heal, the mer aligned behind chaotic warfare. Those are the choices of fools, a race that declines a seat at the table.”

“We are the unseen! None know of us and treat our home like a garbage dump! Why should the mer bend to careless ignorance?”

“Why? Who better to shepherd knowledge of the depths? I watched the mer help, only to resort to deviance when no eyes were upon them. Yours is a race the world should mistrust; you earned no other reaction.”

Another mer, a male, edged forward. “I guarded your home with my life, and never once did you thank me. Mistrust cuts both ways. I dwell as a free being, not under the heel of any god.”

Poseidon glared at him. “Who is the killer of my daughter? You of all mer should know. This is your last opportunity to save your race. Choose your fates.”

Qiton pushed through the group and stood in front of Poseidon. “Your daughter lived, and Gaia misled the mer. Why exact vengeance when your Keeper’s purpose is peace?”

Poseidon eyed him in silence. The mer shuffled in unease as sharks circled, held back by Phorkys, who floated amongst them, observing. Keto shimmered into view next to her husband and crooked a finger at Poseidon.

“Perhaps a mediator would help?” Keto eased into the group of mer and placed herself between Qiton and the god. “Destroying an entire race because they tried to destroy a different one isn’t the best solution.”

“I am the god of the sea, and those who dwell here will accept that or perish,” Poseidon’s hair flowed in unending swirls, a serene counterpoint to his stubborn tone.

“The realm is yours, but time matters when defusing missions of temper. Until you understand the reason to anger, vanquishing is premature.”

Poseidon wagged a finger, and the mer faded, no longer able to hear, as Keto put her hands on her hips.

“You must sit and talk with them, because being a hard ass is the wrong approach. We’ve all lost children, and you were lucky enough to see your child returned to life. Take that gratitude and use it to reach the mer, who lost many in Gaia’s manipulation and grieve for lost loves and their community. They have purpose in the balance, too.”

“Give me the one who betrayed me. As for the rest, I will listen to their pleas.”

“An eye for an eye will set this back eons. How long can a child of yours avoid the sea? Hmm? Set the example and observe whether the mer punish their own. This is a crossroads, Poseidon. You need to choose if you too are Triune.”

“This negotiation crap suits you.”

“I’ve had several millennia to think. Now I’m grateful to act.”

“OK, Kid, here’s your work bible,” I shoved the copy of The Joy of Mixology toward Parker. “Read it twice tonight. You’ll start tomorrow morning behind the human bar; we’re reopening for breakfast, so Bloody Mary’s, beers, and mimosas are mainstays. Ian agreed to train you, so stay sharp; he’s good and you can learn beyond the pours and the POS. He’ll show you how to make it fun and earn mad cash. , our task is to keep both Boogies rolling.”

“OK, Patra.” He stuffed the book in the small of his back.

“You’ll continue to study the record, but prioritize this for the next few months. Glenna will handle The Boogey.”

“Why not Chelsea? What are you planning to do?”

“Travel. Chelsea and I head to New York first. I’m supposed to address the United Nations and explain the state of the three worlds. Poseidon may have oversold my power, but I’ll give it a shot.”

Parker eyed my shorts and snickered. “Do you even own a suit?”

“Ha! Not yet, but it’s a shopping type of day. I’m buying a bigger condo, too. Plan on moving into my old one once I find something suitable. There’s magic in place to shift the ownership to you. You’re the proud owner of a fat bank .”

“Me, own a beachfront condo? Are you for real?”

“Part of the perks of being a Keeper, Kid. Just try not to die.”

“Holy shit.”

“Ballard, what does it mean when you’re an original?” Aegeus asked.

“Your mom is the expert, but I believe it means that throughout time, our energies created love together, because Eros originally paired us to love each other.”

“Does that mean I’m original too?”

“You are loved, Aegeus. Beyond that, I don’t know the answer.”

She scratched Justice under her chin, smiling at the outsized purr.

“I miss Daddy.”

Ballard shifted to face her. “I’m sure you do, and it will be harder when you haven’t seen him for weeks, but your mom wants to care for you. And I’m here to help you both be happy.”

“Does that make you happy?”

“More than anything in all the worlds.”

“Mommy says we have to move.”

“For us and Justice to be comfortable and safe, we need a bigger place, but we’ll stay on the ocean. You’ll see the sea every morning, I promise.”

“Daddy said I can’t swim or see the creatures in the oceans. They’re my friends, and it makes me sad.”

“Justice is your friend; you aren’t alone. And we can use the pool. It’s small, but it’s wet.”

“Is that the little blue pond below the balcony?”

“That’s right. No mer live in the pools, so swimming is safe.”

“OK. Are you going to stay with us always?”

Ballard tapped her nose. “This is my spot, Kiddo. I’m here for the duration.”

“Do we have an accord?” Keto met the gaze of each of the mer’s leaders.

“In exchange for a return to our natural selves and autonomy to self govern, we will push the plastic and filth from the sea to the shore for the humans, accept the leadership of Poseidon, and enter the Triune,” Qiton answered.

“And you?” Keto’s eyes traveled upwards to meet blue, somewhat cranky ones.

“I agree to these , and that the mer mete any punishments on transgressions within their own culture without interference. And I will hear their grievances with an open mind.”

“I so record this agreement,” Keto said. “Gaia, Mother of Creation, come to me.”

Gaia solidified at Keto’s side. “Why have you called me, Child?”

“The mer and Poseidon settled on a path of mutual respect. Please restore the mer to their own bodies.”

Gaia eyed Qiton, who inclined his head.

“I see,” she said, waving as the mer’s legs shifted to tails, blades flashing in warning to the circling sharks, who drifted away from the no longer free lunch.

“The Keeper leaves to speak to the entire human world. It’s time for the mer to make their statement regarding the oceanic desecration,” Poseidon said. “The humans saw you, now air your complaints.”

“Our call to action spreads throughout the seas,” Qiton answered. “And the entirety of the mer will in pushing the defilement back to its origins.”

The balcony was twice the size of mine and overlooked The Boogie.

Right next door, this is perfect.

“You’ll have sunrise and sunset views from this wrap around outdoor area,” the realtor gushed. “A set of master suites for you and guests, and a bonus office room. One of the best buildings in Boogie Beach.”

I gazed at the long blank interior wall, building bookcases in my mind.

“The unit is perfect. Write it for fifteen percent under asking, cash.”

She blinked, calculating the commission, and unleashed a beaming smile.

“Let’s close ASAP, so put a rush on the title work,” I added, smiling as Pook and Bingo soared past the new balcony.

“Are you positive you’re up for this? Yesterday, you had a woman you enjoyed getting naked with, today it’s a hell of a lot more. Aegeus is a demigod, so raising her should be interesting. Nothing normal will be the norm going forward.”

“Naked won’t be a problem, Patra.” Ballard wrapped long arms around my torso as we watched Aegeus sleep nose to nose with Justice on the pull-out bed in the front room. “I know what we are, and I found true happiness. In hell. Who does that? Life is weird, Babe, but it will never be boring. I have you and Aegeus to love and protect. That’s a righteous path.”

“I love you, Ballard. In two weeks, we move to the new condo and begin. Beyond that, no clue.”

“The same challenge faces the rest of humanity. The job isn’t running the individuals, it’s steering the ship.”

“Ready? Nice suit. The blue matches your eyes.”

Chelsea wore an emerald green gown, gold ropes criss-crossing her chest cementing the image of a medieval badass.

“You’ll make an impression, Chels.”

“My precise intention. Shall we?”

Vertigo potion in hand, I gripped hers and she snapped.

“Ma’am, I must insist you enter the normal way, though security.”

I swallowed, looked at the guard, and cocked an eyebrow. “The old systems won’t work anymore. Get used to change, my friend. It’s here to stay.”

He shrugged and escorted us into the hall to our seats at a center table equipped with two microphones. The delegates from the represented nations stared, and humans packed the upper galley. We were the main event.

“Good grief, we’re a pair of goldfish in a bowl,” Chelsea muttered.

“At least you look fabulous. And I’m not face-planted on a beach broken in a million pieces. This has greater potential to end well.”

“Maybe,” Chelsea’s gaze traveled around the room and met mine, unconvinced. “The energy in this building is crap.”

“That’s how humanity works. Light and dark, positive and negative. Humans are a balance of their own making.”

“Exhausting. So glad I’m not human. Too many contradictions, illogical to the core.”

I grinned at her pained expression and she twinkled back. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Damn skippy.”

The body called to order, and I listened to the opening remarks while watching the delegates. Most were not anywhere near on board, but the hottie from Canada’s delegate winked at me, and the US guy gave me a thumbs up and a grin. I’d met and briefed him yesterday. So out of a hundred and ninety-three, two the Triune? Great.

Chelsea had a corker of a spell ready, and as I rose to the podium, she made an obvious cast.

“Delegates of the United Nations, I greet you in your own languages.” My voice, translating in real time, filled the hall, but in the ears of the listeners, my words arrived in their native tongues. The stir amongst the translators was immediate. Delegates turned as one and stared at me.

“My co-presenter today is a magical, a High Priestess of the Covens. As a sign of goodwill, she cast a spell to translate my speech into the language of your homes. We’re here to brief you regarding recent events on the coast of Florida in the United States, the emergence of the additional worlds that humanity coaligns with, and the path of the Triune going forward.”

“Mommy looks pretty,” Aegeus sat next to Ballard, Justice snuggled between them, watching the live stream from the UN.

“Across the globe, multiple intersections of the human and magical worlds exist. Magicals cross into the human world on the new and full moons using these access points. Alternately, they can choose to live among humans and interact as part of their societies. We know the third entity as the Vapors. They are noncorporeal, and their mission is to create peace. Last October, the three parts intersected for the first time, signaling the Triune’s beginning. Within this framework, acceptance of each other forges opportunities for the world to experience exponential growth and harmony.”

A report interrupted my speech. The beaches around the globe, with the mer seen by many for the first time, were getting covered by garbage. Wide eyed, our audience stared at us as the huge screens rolled back into the ceiling.

Forty minutes later I’d knocked out a rough map of each non-human group, requested global sea keeping, designated forests for the shifters, and outlined the goals and purpose of the various entities. Then I dug into the rules governing the

whole. Some delegates acted excited, others interested in gaming this new system, and a third looked shell-shocked. Relatable. It’s still weird to me, and I’ve been living it more than half my life.

“This august body requests our return to address you in one month’s time, to allow each nation the opportunity to plan and research. I look forward to meeting with you again.”

I stepped from the microphone, took Chelsea’s hand, and she snapped. We didn’t see it, but Ballard told me later that when we vanished, the entire UN body went nuts.

After an uneventful move, I introduced Aegeus to the pool; we swam together most mornings. Justice loved swimming too, a tiny tiger at Aegeus’ side. The role of Mommy felt… nice. Each day love exploded in my heart for my delightful child and my original beloved. Not shabby by any stretch. My unreachable dream of a simple human life was a box checked. Time to set different goals.

Parker’s abilities expanded, his appetite for the job relentless, and it was a blast to relive the early days as a Keeper, when Billy and I rocked. Park’s chops are solid; he’ll be a better Keeper than me. Being his guide and watching the unfolding felt damn good. Ralph got his new truck, and while The Boogie stayed packed with humans, a few magicals visited the human side to intermingle. Another start.

Bike Week wrapped, but now it’s spring break and my bathrooms were taking a beating from inexperienced drinkers. In The Boogey, the forest folk showed up in greater numbers. A bill moved through the US House committees to piece out federal lands for shifters, and even the bumbliest bear wanted to learn more. The legislation had a way to go, but I’m pushing hard. Promises matter. After a few hitches, the Triune stood on semi-solid footing.

No sign of Big Red; I missed his flirtatious irreverence and alchemy fueled shenanigans, but the fairies made up for it. The fae were either the greatest joy on Earth or your worst nightmare, and as I kept learning, their candor in sharing their culture was eye opening. For now, I poured the whisps and hoped for the former.

At least it’s never boring.

One piece of unfinished business remained, and based on the way it’s pricking at me, today was the day. I cracked the book, settled into my squeaky chair, and tapped the pages of the record.

Show me every entry written by the Vapors.

After an elongated pause, the symbols rose. From the looks of it, I’ll be reading for weeks.

The End

About the Author

Winnie Winkle is a fabulous Central Florida broad who swills bourbon, loves dogs and cats, and practices yoga, but not with any degree of grace. ing live local music is a pretty big deal to Winnie, so if you a gravestone that onishes, 'Go see the band and hit the tip jar', it's probably hers. But, since she's not dead yet, she'll keep penning fun stuff to rock your reading chair. A 30-plus year Florida resident, Winnie splits her time between Daytona Beach Shores and the Mount Dora area. She prefers writing beach-side as much as she can because, if we’re baring our souls here, the ocean is a mighty muse and there’s only so much one can expect from coffee. Winnie writes literary fiction, often with speculative elements and humorous fantasy. Her newest humorous fantasy series, Boogie Beach, released June 21, 2021. She also writes for the series "The Worlds of Magic, New Mexico" in the paranormal romance/sci-fi romance genres. Readers on her newsletter are the first to get freebies and other perks, so visit https://wwinkle.com// and subscribe!

Catch the Beginning! Boogie Beach: The Record, Book 1

Boogie Beach: The Record, Book 1 Released June 21, 2021

© 2021 Winnie Winkle

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

The tide formed the familiar cross-hatch patterns, signaling a rip current to everyone, well, everybody but me. I knew better, but wished I wasn’t the sole human with this grand understanding. Most of the time seeing both sides had its perks, but when it didn’t… let’s go with Suckfest-9000. The swells resembled ordinary waves nearing their crest, tops churning to a white froth, so I hung out on the tall pier, holding the space over the sand, watching a full, gorgeous moonrise over a close to high tide. Perfect. Moon shifts, both the full and the new, were the busiest and often the best nights, but it’s October, so I wasn’t taking any bets. The black waves grew shoulders, then bodies, and my guests moved onto shore, covered by the shadows of the pier. Faint pops, depending on their magic, sent them into my pub, while others took wing or climbed the steps; I continued to greet the arrivals for the other side of my business. I owned and managed the Sun Dance Pier. Locals called it “The Boogie” but on the license it’s ‘Boogie Beach Crab Shack.’ At sixteen, I started waiting tables, then moved to the bar. Now, I was way past that, but I looked hot and saw the whole situation, so I’ve been the owner/manager for the last ten years. People with the sight, the true sight, were hard to find. To be fair, I could have made a good living in Cassadaga, a town an hour away that catered to psychics and healers, the edge eyes and the full seers, but I enjoyed the sea, even the darker sides, so I played this hand. The longevity wasn’t promising, the last manager didn’t make it to fifty-five, but who knew. Well, somebody in Cassadaga did, but I didn’t plan to ask. Heavy steps struck the pier, announcing Poseidon, who sported a long whiteblond mane, a speedo, and my resultant inner wince. God complex, personified. Why he wouldn’t wear board shorts was beyond me.

“Patra! Still seeking Cleo?” His roar of laughter foretold of a lengthy night of mismanaged alchemy. “Welcome back, Sea King, looking for your usual?” “Indeed I am, and a side of beauties,” his wink made me smile. “Just because we painted the town before doesn’t mean I’m on the menu tonight, but several merwomen are here. Go charm them; they’re in the mood to party.” “On it.” With a squelch he walked toward the door and it shimmered, letting him access the magic pub. I suppose the backstory would help. Boogie Beach was the lost soul of Florida’s beaches. Decent surf without the draw of Daytona, although we got their overflow, nor the intellectual panache of Cocoa and the Space Coast. Boogie, or Boogey as my magical patrons called it, had the distinction of being on, as in right the exact hell ON, the line between reality and extraordinary. I ran a pub on the doorway to everything. Shifters, witches, merpeople, the Greek contingent, you name it. If it drank, it showed up and I could see it. That’s my entire skill set. Finite. I couldn’t magic my way out of a tough spot. Wits and crossed fingers were my complete arsenal. For the most part, it’s an honor to be seen as belonging to both worlds, but magic was both light and dark. Someday, I’ll run into the wrong entity, and that’ll be it. In a nutshell, that’s why I didn’t have a kid. It’s not a risk I’d run, because darkness seized opportunities, had no boundaries, or gave any fucks, flying or otherwise. The sight was mutual; I saw them, they saw me. Ergo, running this life solo. Fewer people got hurt and I’m screwed no matter what. C’est la vie.

“Patra! Ever find Cleo?” Pook’s giggle lapsed into a snort. “Jeez, Pook, you need new material,” Bingo flapped his wings and leaned his beak forward to touch my cheek in what ed for a pelican kiss. “Are you ing us tonight?” I grinned, winking at Bingo. Pook and Bingo were pelican shifters, and often stayed past closing’s edge, therefore stuck in the real world until the next new or full moon. Beach bums at heart, they rolled in both spaces with ease, just letting things flow. “Hoo-man, we can’t miss October, Patra. It’s the frigging best!” Pook flapped and shifted into a scruffy longhair with a missing tooth. Bingo jumped from the railing, shifting into a tall skinny guy with a growing pot belly. I gave him a look. “Are there fish left in the sea? I’d guess you’re not missing many.” “This?” Long thin fingers patted his protruding gut. “Your beer. Fish is clean eating, Patra.” The pair walked along the dock and the door shimmered again. Show time. The magicals crossed throughout the night, but I was sole proprietor of the magical side of the bar. On the ordinary side, my staff kept the tourists, locals, and the lost ones fed and watered, the rest was on me. Two-thirds of the way along the pier the building stood, with two doorways. One was the cat-three rated glass hurricane double door, and the other could have originated on an ornate ship from 300 years ago. It’s grimy with the salt of

centuries and won’t open unless the palm placed against it held a magical signature. I found it by accident at sixteen. Curious, I walked through and damn near pissed my shorts. Billy, the previous manager, glared and crooked his finger. “My office.” Panicked, I nodded, backing out the way I came, sure he’d fire me, and why not, I was hallucinating. Billy gave me a long, considering look. “Can you see the door?” “The wooden one?” I squeaked. He sighed and leaned back. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I truly am.” That began the job training to end all training. Until I turned eighteen, I worked in the non-magical dining room, but spent an hour before or after each shift studying with Billy. He kept a book in his office that smelled of the bottom of the sea. My assignment was to read it and answer Billy’s queries. It took two years before I never missed a question. “You forget anything, you could perish,” he said, eyes serious and sad. “But, you will lead a life denied most, and make excellent money. Just expect to die young. Live in the moment, Cleopatra. You’ll have fewer of them.” On the day I ed his test, he plunked me into the real bar and coached me on mixing drinks, watching for theft, and running a tight, stocked pub. I was eighteen, the whole thing was illegal as hell, but the authorities never asked questions.

“Oh, I know a witch or seven,” Billy said, when I questioned the illegality. At twenty-one he shifted me to the magic side and taught me alchemy, how to make cocktails that would kill me if I drank them, and toughened up my thin skin. Magical drunk people tended toward loud and bawdy, and their idea of anything goes was not for the faint of heart. I learned, and in time, got good. For four years, Billy and I ran a secret bar, and it was orgasmic fun. The ‘October of The Vapors’ changed everything. A late season hurricane coincided with a full moon. It was the damned trifecta of dark. Humanity experienced catastrophic damage, the winds destroyed buildings and landmarks; the sea flowed across the beach to the road, and the fury loosened the Vapors into the human world. Vapors dwelled in the space between the planes and crossed under specific circumstances. They were dark. As in profound misery dark. Plus, they were hard as hell to vanquish once they showed up and started ruining everything. The pier withstood the storm, thanks to the witches, but appeared damaged enough to not call attention to that fact. Billy ran the magic pub and made money, which I spent repairing the human side, prepping to re-open. Busy days, full of contractors and vendors, got the kitchen back in action and the roof restored. “The Boogie is ready,” Billy told me that night as we reviewed the work, signed occupancy permit in hand. “You can open tomorrow.” That conversation will stay with me until I die. Being young, I assumed he meant the restaurant. Busy with the human piece I never considered the Vapors, but Billy was under siege to keep the magic bar from blowing out with darkness. He never said it, but I believe, out of love, he kept them from me. They murdered him in the baneful middle of the night, threading their blackness through his pores as his shrieks covered the beach. A witch stopped his heart in

mercy. She told me the story long after the shock faded and the resultant war pushed the damned Vapors back across the line. But that night, oblivious, I slept in my little house a few blocks away, the last innocent sleep. Want more?

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Other Books by Winnie Winkle

To Walk in the World: Twin Tales of Inception

Unpacking life’s chaos and circles isn’t always a choice.

Before breaking, she considered the edge of normal an ideal — cluttered with the screw-ups who couldn't handle life. Now she’s engaged in a bonkers conversation with her heart and mind as she and her mental miscreants scrabble through a facetious struggle to figure out life after loss.

She soon discovers leaping from ‘normal’s cliff’ is a sloppy free-fall of rebirth loaded with cosmic oddities and ludicrous miscues. Standing on her edge, she wonders whether living beyond the boundaries is worth the cost of stepping off the abyss into the unknown. She’s about to find out.

Discover what happens in this unique, insightful story about when your mind breaks and you have to learn the true meaning of living.

Visit https://wwinkle.com/to-walk-in-the-world/ for reviews and buying info.

Mes Magic: Mes Magic Book 1

There’s always a price to pay…

For Haseya, that price means a life of celibacy. A Navajo Skinwalker Witch, her gift of healing forbids her from loving a man intent on pain and destruction.

For Zayn, the price means a life of anger and loneliness. A Djinn, he is torn by the need to seek vengeance.

Zayn will do anything to protect Haseya. When hostile aliens searching for shifters arrive in Magic, New Mexico, he is willing to unleash any force to save the woman he loves and the town that needs him—but will the price of protecting those he loves drive a wedge between him and the beautiful witch he is destined to love forever?

Visit https://wwinkle.com/messing-up-magic-book-1-2/ for reviews and buying info.

Swimming for Air: Mes Magic Book 2

A lie meant to protect her could lead to her destruction...

Sylvia’s brother, Theo, reveals the unimaginable—their parents were anything but human. Her half-brother may be a dragon, but Sylvia has inherited both their parents’ magic. Her life was already complicated; now the sudden appearance of a handsome, haughty Djinn with anger management issues doubles the tension. She is both drawn to and repulsed by Rafi, which is adding to her confusion.

Rafi is shaken when he meets the sweet and sexy Sylvia. How can he—a sworn hater of humanity—be attracted to a human?! He can’t shake the power she has over him or his raging desire for her. As he struggles, determined to win Sylvia and become her forever lover, his own magical brother’s growing madness and violence threatens to overwhelm them all.

Sylvia learns there’s a spell covering her, one meant to protect her and hide her magic. She struggles to break the protecting enchantment so she can fight, alongside her brother, against the pestilence that is coming. Is Rafi on their side, or will the fidelity of brotherhood bind him to evil?

Facing a master of magic, Sylvia knows her steadfast belief in the human heart and harmony within the forces of the earth isn’t much use. As she races to find the answer to unlocking her magic, she can’t help wondering if their love— connecting Rafi’s wind and her water—can find balance and be enough to protect them and those they love from a force intent on their destruction.

Visit https://wwinkle.com/swimming-for-air-messing-up-magic-book-2/ for reviews and buying info.

Raining Magic: Mes Magic Book 3

Their spirits are free… but their town is under siege.

Tashi, a dazzling firebird-moon elf, packs a lot of magical power in her punch. Her discovery that Magic, New Mexico is in trouble sends her winging to the town with a dire warning of doom. It also sets her on a collision course with a super hot warlock.

Zac takes one look and knows he has to have Tashi. He’s spent a lifetime turning away from his dark side; now he’s ready to capture this little free-spirited hedonist living her life in wild abandon. Feisty and fearless, she belongs to no one. Zac is determined to make Tashi his, regardless of the cost.

Tashi and Zac face three different enemies, each resolved to steal away or destroy the town’s magical residents. In a battle of wits, unusual spells, and bewitching ingenuity, Tashi and Zac’s future together depends on the resilience of love in a world out of kilter. They take their stand against allies once considered friends, a cruel alien race bent on their enslavement, and a vengeful Djinn with a god complex.

In a life flipped upside down, what could go right?

Visit https://wwinkle.com/raining-magic-messing-up-magic-book-3/ for reviews and buying info.

Broke in Magic: Broke in Magic Book 1

If she killed him, it’d be worth it.

After his car breaks down in Magic, New Mexico, Jasper touches Melia’s fingertips... and she knocks him out cold. He awakens in a red, raging lust, determined to get with her. There’s one little snag, but it’s a doozy. His demon daddy plans to turn him darker than Hades. Holding the line with Jasper are his two best friends, who think running is the answer.

Melia, a gorgeous, ethereal Muse and a badass balancer of evil, is equally struck by lust’s lightning. She’ll take Jasper out, but in her heart, she’d rather be taken by this sexy, clueless warlock. If Jasper explodes from the protections his witch mother cast to hide him from his magic, Melia has no choice but to kill him. Used to working alone, she makes an unlikely alliance, desperate to keep Jasper in the light, in her life, and take him as her fated forever lover.

Will Big Daddy and his demon minions prevail, forcing Melia to shred her own heart and kill the man she believes is her one true love? Can Jasper survive his birthright fate? A raging chase across the New Mexican desert turns into a good vs evil free-for-all, forcing each to respond to the internal questions of balance, darkness, and love’s light.

Visit https://wwinkle.com/broke-in-magic-book-1/ for reviews and buying info.

Harpy Gumbo: Broke in Magic Book 2

Evil has already destroyed her heart — now it wants to ruin the world.

Trini is built for murder. A harpy who escaped a lifetime of abuse, she struggles with everything and her fight or flight instincts leave blood and tears in her wake.

Wellie is pulled in a direction he never expects — to Trini’s spirit. He searches to find her, convinced that she is the one for him. Whether he can survive her is another matter.

Deep in the center of New Orleans the intersection of real and magical worlds is hidden — a portal now under attack by dark forces. The Vapors are determined to upend the balance between light and dark. Their plot will force the portal to open, but there is one problem — Trini holds the key. The course of humanity hinges on Trini’s ability to overcome her past. Standing at the edge of another Dark Ages, Wellie is willing to die to protect Trini. The question is — is Trini willing to let go and live for him?

Visit https://wwinkle.com/harpy-gumbo-broke-in-magic-book-2/ for reviews and buying info.

Visit Winnie’s All Books page to see an updated list of published work!

https://wwinkle.com/578-2/

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