Mystic Ink (18 page)

The Fury punched into the shield, shredding it like paper. Nix used the remainder of her energy to avoid the bladed fingertips as they attempted to skewer her. Too weak, she couldn’t hold the shield any longer. It collapsed, leaving her defenseless.

Cal and Zephyr ran toward her. Even with their God powers, they wouldn’t make it in time. Blade-tipped fingers were headed straight for her neck, the ends dripping with poison. Poison, Nix was sure, that could kill even a God.

Basil screeched, landing between Nix and the Fury. The Fury stopped and assessed the bird. Determining Basil was no threat, it swung the blade at him.

“You’re going down!” Basil cackled.

Bright green light flared out. Spots danced across Nix’s eyes.

Basil was gone, replaced by a Basilisk—a sinuous cross between a snake and a chicken. Its serpentine lower body had scales, the same green as Basil’s feathers. The upper body was birdlike. His face had a small chicken beak and enormous swiveling eyes.

The Fury froze—terror written all over its face. Every creature feared the Basilisk. It could petrify anyone or anything with its gaze. Even Zeus.

“Nix, cover your eyes!” Cal shouted, an arm across his face. Zephyr assumed a similar stance. They both inched their way toward her.

“Have no fear, Basilisk Man is here!” Basil slithered over to the Fury as she furiously backed away. The former bird peeked over and winked at Nix, his gaze meeting hers.

Oh. Shit
. She braced herself for oblivion. Nothing happened.

Cal and Zephyr reached her at the same moment. She gasped, her strength fading. “Basil can control who he petrifies. Toast the Fury . . . before it gets away.”

They didn’t wait to be told twice. Cal and Zephyr ran behind Basil as the basilisk herded the Fury down a dark alley.

More spots floated in front of Nix’s eyes. She needed to rest . . . just for a minute. In the distance, she heard some whimpers, a loud squish, then silence. Gravel crunched. Two sets of heavy footsteps approached. Wings flapped overhead.

She opened her eyes.

“This is yours.” Cal placed Rocky’s soul into her palm and closed her trembling fingers with his. The gentle curve of his smile and his earnest brown eyes made her body warm. Not with desire, but with love. And gratitude. He had listened and remembered. It mattered to him that Rocky’s soul was safe. She pushed past the pain in her back and wrapped her arms around Cal’s neck, hugging him tight. Gods she loved him. Loved him. The moment was bittersweet. They still hadn’t found Cal’s soul.

She was bone tired. Her heavy eyelids drifted down. Arms lifted her up. She was floating. Cal’s comforting wood smoke scent filled her lungs.

Basil flew overhead, back in parrot form, whistling, “Stars and Stripes Forever.” The sounds of mortals as they flooded the streets assaulted her ears.

Nix peeled her eyelids back open. They were headed back to the shop against the wave of the crowd. The knife wounds throbbed as her body healed.

“I look like a murder victim,” Nix said, burying her face against Cal’s neck. “What happened to Mary and Jason?” What a shitty boss she was. Only thinking of them now.

“They’re fine. The Fury was destroyed. Basil froze it, and they hacked it apart.”

“Good. What about Devlin?”

Cal’s lips curled into a sly smile. “So, starting to like the Satyr after all?”

Nix scowled and feebly pushed Cal’s chest. “He’s not so bad.”

“Devlin will recover. He’s survived worse. He’s tough—”

Cal clammed up, like he had revealed too much. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Cal just how well he knew Devlin when Zephyr interrupted.

“We’re almost there,” Zephyr called over his shoulder. “A few more blocks.” Zephyr ran interference, attempting to shield Nix and Cal from the oncoming crowd.

How far had the Fury taken her? Just when Nix thought she would never see Mystic Ink again, the storefront appeared. A welcome sight. First thing she wanted was to heal and then take a long, hot shower.

Her relief evaporated. Officer Dinsdale came into view, like the proverbial bad penny, and intercepted them. Cal passed Nix to Zephyr and deftly steered the patrolman around, ear close to the mortal’s, as if in an intimate conversation. Basil landed on Cal’s shoulder and spread out his wings, shielding Nix’s injuries from Dinsdale’s view. Nix was relieved that Basil was silent for once. No Officer Dickface tonight.

A light fog rose around Zephyr. “This should mask us until we get inside.”

Clouds of sulfuric smoke, left over from the fireworks, hung low in the air. Nix was grateful for the hazy cover as they slipped into the shop through the side alley door. Zephyr sat her on the back counter and tended to her wounds. Most of the surface abrasions and cuts had healed, but there was a lot of caked-on blood to clean up. The internal bruises would take a few hours longer to repair themselves.

“Well, I got you off the hook again.” Cal entered the break room, depositing Basil on the counter next to Nix. “Officer Dinsdale wasn’t surprised to see the damage to your shop. Or the eighteen-wheeler accident nearby. You are becoming quite a curiosity to him.”

Not a good thing, either. For the mortal. If he poked too closely, he would become a target for a memory wipe, courtesy of Nereus.

“I hope you dissuaded him,” Zephyr warned as he tossed all the bloody waste in the bin.

“Of course I did,” Cal said, his gaze fixed on Nix. Cal torched the bloody towels into ash. Since blood could be used in rituals against a God, it was always a good idea to be cautious.

“How did you explain the broken window?” Nix asked.

“I blamed it on some drunk asshole.”

“Did he buy it?” Nix hoped so.

“Absolutely,” Cal said, picking bits of gravel out of her hair.

Nix trailed a finger over one of Basil’s emerald green tail feathers. “Thanks, birdbrain.”

Basil ruffled his plumage and responded with an eerie John Wayne imitation, “T’was nothing. Just doing my job, Ma’am.” He amused himself with a roll of adhesive tape while they all studied him.

“Now I understand why Memphis insisted that I keep this guy.” Nix hopped off the counter and washed the remainder of her blue-tinged blood in the sink. Unlike the silvery blood of Demigods and Gods, the Nereids had blood the color of the ocean.

“We can ponder the mysteries of Basil at a later time. We need to get out of here.” Cal turned to Zephyr. “Devlin and Jason should stay with you for the next few days.”

Zephyr agreed. “Mary is welcome to join them. She has a rather nasty bump on the head.”

Curious
, Nix thought.
No more male posturing
. As long as they didn’t break out into Kumbaya, she was okay with it. But still, she wondered what had changed between them.

“Mary has decided to stay with relatives who live in the area,” Cal said.

How come everyone knew more about her receptionist than she did? Nix frowned. When this was over, it was time to change that. She and Mary were having girl time.

“No need to worry, Nix. I’ll take good care of them.” Zephyr misinterpreted her frown. He squeezed her hand before moving toward the back door. He stopped and said to Cal, “Take care of her.”

“I will,” Cal reassured. When Zephyr was gone, he said, “We need to go upstairs and pack you a bag.”

“What’s this all about?” Nix put the brakes on as Cal tried to lead her up to the apartment.

“You and Basil are coming with me. It’s not safe for you here right now.” Cal marched up the stairs. “Come on, pack some stuff.”

Basil squawked in delight, “Road trip!”

“How come I don’t get any say in all this?” Nix followed behind Cal, her aching muscles protesting with every step. She caught up with him in her bedroom. He went right to her closet and retrieved her overnight bag as if he had done it a million times before. She blocked his way when he tried to open the bureau’s top drawer.

“Would you rather stay with Zephyr instead?” Cal’s low voice rumbled by her ear as his arms reached around her and opened the drawer. Anger hung in the air as he pulled out a pile of T-shirts. Cal precisely folded the garments and neatly placed them in the bag.

She needed to tread carefully. If she said yes, he would be hurt. Except, she didn’t want to be with Zephyr. “No. I just don’t like everyone else making decisions for me. It’s too much like my day job.”

Cal’s anger diffused with a slow exhale of breath. He stopped and faced her. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He resumed packing and zipped the bag. “Please, stay with me.” Not a demand this time.

Nix’s heart raced as the request sank in. She had no idea where Cal lived. Hopefully, it wasn’t in a dark storeroom like Devlin. In any case, Cal’s offer to shelter her was above and beyond the call of duty. Yes, they needed each other, but he didn’t have to risk his life to keep the bad guys off her tail. Or put up with Basil’s big mouth.

“Thank you. I accept.” And it would be an opportunity to find out what he knew about her.

“Let’s go.” Cal hoisted the bag and headed to the living room.

Nix packed a travel bag for Basil, then hauled him up to her shoulder. Before they left the apartment, she stopped at the hall closet. “I want his travel cage. This is the one Memphis bought. We can study it at your place.”

They were halfway down the stairs when Nix stopped. “Wait.” She trudged back up the steps. “Let’s take Memphis’ old design books, too.” And she had one more item to retrieve, something she didn’t dare leave behind.

Five minutes later, they were on the road to Groton, headed to Cal’s temporary residence—a luxury condo, overlooking the Long Island Sound, courtesy of the Delian League.

Basil whistled, “Wowee!” as they entered the foyer.

The place was swank. Ultra-modern, filled with sleek furniture, gleaming fixtures, and granite and marble surfaces—a far cry from the creaky wooden floorboards, painted-shut windows, and mismatched furniture in her place.

On the left of the foyer was a formal living room. Front and center, a two-sided fireplace visually separated the living room from the kitchen. Cal headed to the right of the foyer and opened a smooth white door. “This is the guest room. There’s a private bath to the left.” He deposited her bag on the bed and placed Basil’s cage on the floor by the bathroom door.

“Are you hungry?” Cal said, while she let Basil out of the cage.

“Famished.” Nix’s stomach let out a loud howl.

“Come on then. You, too, Basil,” he said, scooping the bird up and placing him on his shoulder.

As she followed Cal back through the living room and into the kitchen, she marveled at the richness of the place. The kitchen was a wonderland of stainless steel, shiny black granite, and richly grained wood cabinets. The oven was big enough to cook a whole cow. Past the kitchen was another smaller living room with a large, flat panel TV. Beyond that was a stunning view of the ocean.

She had forgotten that most of her kind enjoyed a luxurious standard of living—only high end and only the best. A lifestyle she could partake in at any time with a single phone call to her parents. Cal seemed indifferent to the place. But then again, it wasn’t his.

“Do you have a place of your own?” Nix blurted out. She instantly regretted it as Cal’s face tightened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

His face softened. “We’re beyond that now, Nix.” He didn’t elaborate further. Instead, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs, cheese, vegetables, and butter. “How about omelets? The sun will be up in a few hours anyway.”

“Sure. We can be ahead of the game.” Nix pulled out a barstool and sat at the vast kitchen island and watched him cook. Each movement was precise and economical. The eggs were tapped and cracked in one swift motion. Not a single drop of egg was dripped on the counter. The eggs were then beaten with a steady rhythm to a perfect, frothy yellow. He measured the butter in even squares, then melted them in a singular swirling motion in the frying pan. And at the right moment, he filled the omelet with cheese and neatly chopped vegetables before flipping it perfectly.

“I’m guessing you’ve done this before?” Nix couldn’t take her eyes off him. She was hungry for more than food. The fluid movements of his body were like a dance. The muscles in his forearms bunched and flexed as he moved the pan over the heat.

“I’ve done this a few times.” Again, the dark look. Or more accurately, sadness. More than anything, Nix wanted to walk up to him and wrap her arms around his waist and . . .

Comfort him? Her arms tingled with the sensation of their last embrace. A memory surfaced—the night at the beach house—he had asked her to choose him. At the time she didn’t understand where the sentiment had come from. She believed that they hadn’t really known each other, but now . . .

The television clicked on, sound clips punctuated the air, changing as the channels rapidly flipped.

Nix tore her gaze away from Cal. Basil was settled on the back of the leather sofa in the sitting room, TV remote next to his foot. He tapped the buttons with the tip of his claw.

That little shit. All this time, she’d been blaming Jason, but it looked like Basil was perfectly capable of learning bad habits on his own. What else was he up to when she wasn’t in the apartment? Maybe she should teach him how to clean his own cage.

Her eyes landed on a white box next to the couch. The kind file folders or copy paper could be stored in. The Delian League symbol and the word “Archive” were stamped across the box’s side. Piled on the glass coffee table were manila folders and a pad of paper. Were those Destroyer files?

“Hey, order’s up.” Cal slid a plate over to her. He didn’t sit down and join her until he saw her eat a few bites. During the entire meal, her attention was divided by the desire to go through the folders and wanting to ask Cal about that night on the beach.

In the end, she did neither. She offered to wash the dishes and was flatly denied. Not satisfied with doing nothing, Nix pulled out Memphis’ design books. She strategically placed them on the glass coffee table, next to the Destroyer files. While Cal had his back turned, she opened the design books and then started sorting through the Destroyer files looking for hers. It didn’t take her long to realize that hers wasn’t there. Gods be damned.

Standing up, she casually stretched her arms and back while scanning the room. After a quick search, she saw an office next to the sitting room. Clear as day, there was another manila folder. That had to be hers. All her trusted instincts told her so. Now to get over there without Cal noticing . . .

“All cleaned up.” Cal sat on the couch next to Basil and grabbed a book. “Shall we each take one?”

She would just have to be a little more patient. Maybe Cal, after a big meal, would nod off like every male she had ever met. Her patience was rewarded about a half hour later.

After a fit of long, jaw-stretching yawns, Cal was finally asleep, chin resting against his chest. The moment she’d been waiting for. Sure, she was just as exhausted, but she might never get another chance.

She eased off the couch, careful not to jostle Cal, and headed into the office. Basil had fallen asleep as well. Good thing. She didn’t need his big mouth blowing her plans.

Karma.

What goes around comes around.

Be careful what you wish for.

All these maxims floated around in Nix’s head before she flopped open the manila folder, her name on the tab in bold, black ink. Did she really want to know what was inside?

Hell, yeah. Even if the truth was more horrible than expected, at least she would know what she had done.

The first few pages were anti-climactic—all information she already knew: birth date, birth place, war camp evaluations. Sweet Jesus! Nereus had even catalogued her disastrous relationship with Nate Adonis. She rifled past that page, skipping the details, some of which were still embarrassingly fresh.

After a few more pages, she hit pay dirt. A blue document marked “Confidential—Need to Know” rose to the top of the file. It only took her a half an hour to read the information. With trembling fingers, she placed the folder back where she found it and headed to the balcony.

Whoever had said
ignorance is bliss
was right.

Cal woke up to a hot breeze flowing down his stiff neck. He had only meant to close his eyes for a moment. So much for that. He stretched, popping his spine. Basil was asleep on the arm of the sofa, head tucked under his wing. Hard to believe the noisy bird was one of the most dangerous creatures in existence.