Speedo Down: The Record, #3 2g6d4n

Speedo Down

The Record, Book 3 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., #128, Daytona Beach Shores, FL 32118

Created with Vellum

This book is dedicated to Gina Rae Ford. Ooh, an Irish bar!

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 Gina Rae Ford for sharing a big fat year of firsts. Life is tastier because y’all are the seasoning. Every author has a safety net of friends and family. I’d like to thank Julie Sutherland, Elizabeth O’Leary, Patricia Silas, Trace Mathews, Bryan and Tom Biery, and Mike Williams for lending inspiration and providing commiseration, or wine, or both. And, of course, big love to my children. You make your Mom proud. To my newsletter subscribers, and readers everywhere who bought, read, left reviews, or ed me to share their enthusiasm for my stories… Thank you. Enjoy Speedo Down. Y’all are why I write.

Contents

Speedo Down

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

The End

About the Author

Catch the Beginning!

Other Books by Winnie Winkle

Speedo Down

The Record, Book 3

Chapter One

Sadie stared at me, unblinking.

“A baby. The baby of a god. Patra, what in the Universe am I supposed to do in this situation?”

To be honest, I’d expected this. I know that mojo, and Sadie’s, well, she’s not your average human. Once Poseidon saw her stick her neck out for me, and for the birth of the Triune, I knew he’d find her irresistible.

“When are you due?”

“Five months.”

“Let me assure you the baby will arrive on either the new or full moon. You can bank that info.”

I picked up my wine, Sadie’s iced tea making far more sense than when I arrived, and continued. “And we are both raising demigods, so we’ll help each other. If we don’t have each other’s back by now, we’re doing our lifelong friendship wrong.”

Sadie laughed, the pinched look between her brows smoothing into something between resignation and excitement. “When the docs told me at twenty-five I could never have a child, I chose the eclectic path and committed to living a life centered on my gifts, focused on helping people. Now, ten years later, a baby! Incredible and a little weird.”

“Well, he’s definitely that,” I snorted. “Poseidon is a runaway lust train with zero boundaries.”

Sadie’s hazel eyes, framed by dark, straight hair that fell to her waist, held mine. “I don’t care if he hooks up with half the human race, Patra. He gave me a gift I thought unattainable. I’m grateful beyond belief.”

Tears prickling, I reached over and hugged her; I felt the same way about my daughter, Aegeus. The how and why of her procreation faded to meaningless long ago.

“How’s business?”

Sadie operated a psychic center and shop in her home in Cassadaga, a tiny historic town thirty minutes from Boogie Beach. Her gift was genuine, and while we’d been friends since high school, remaining in each other’s orbits was a blessing, because I lived an odd life. I ran a bar, well, two bars that lay on the line between the human and magical worlds. Boogie Beach Crab Shack adorned my business license, but The Boogie, as my humans knew the long-standing pier pub and restaurant, and The Boogey, as my magical patrons called it, occupied the same real estate simultaneously above the intersection. Last October, I upended the worlds and I’m still dealing with the fallout.

My role was Keeper, and I recorded the line, a factual of the intermingling of humans, magicals, and the gods. One of whom dropped a load of his can’t miss seeds into my oldest friend. At least she’s full of anticipation; my former upstairs neighbor was still scratching her head.

Humans just learned they aren’t the top of the food chain, and this little kernel of truth was a tough swallow. Gods and magicals, of course, were aware of the human world. But the release of the third entity, the Vapors, upended their neat manipulative system in one gigantic fight that killed me, I believe, for about a minute. Fortunately, I’m buds with Clep, the god of healing, who did me a total solid.

Efforts to pull the magical and human worlds together, create a new order, and make each race aware of each other were the focus in creating the Triune; that’s my project. Easy peasy, right? With no magic abilities and a tiny shred of Vapor that was my mark that I’m a Keeper, it’s my job to shovel, plead, and cajole an entire world into playing nice. Did I mention I just found out I’m a full-time parent to a demigod daughter aged nine?

So yeah, I don’t sleep much.

Sadie grinned. “Business is booming! Now that people are embracing magic, they think psychics give them an edge. I’m turning folks away.”

“Cool. Does it?”

“Well, it gives me one; those sessions are two-way streets. I’ve learned tons. For example, a fair percentage hate this turn of events, and a fraction of them read

dark.” Sadie hugged herself. “It’s weird they don’t understand their darkness is because of the comingling of magical and human in their ancestry.”

“Is there anything I should know?”

“I’m seeing far more men than usual, a thirty percent bump, but one man had a, in hindsight I am comfortable calling it borderline evil, vibration.”

“What did he want to discover?”

“He asked me to read to reveal potential future outcomes. I told him he had confrontation ahead, but his path depended on a series of choices. He seemed satisfied, paid, and left.”

Uh oh.

“And?”

“I saw that his way forward involves you, Patra. I think he wants to kill you. His focus hung around you. That came through crystal clear. In his mind, he feels he can control the world, or at least its direction, and that you’re the key.”

Well, shit. Once again, my import’s been oversold. Another conversation to have when Poseidon rolled his Speedo clad butt into The Boogey. He’d been MIA for a couple months. Nobody knew when Big Red might make his next appearance,

since he was cleaning up a clusterfuck of his own making.

“So far, I’ve been hard to kill.” I lifted my wine and clinked against her iced herbal tea. “Here’s hoping that trend holds.”

Drago’s recliner listed, which wasn’t surprising. The entire trailer was in fullfledged defying gravity mode, but it didn’t leak, yet, and the offer to purchase, for ten puny acres in the Ocala National Forest, lay on the beater coffee table in front of the mustard yellow couch that reeked of feet and bean farts. Lots of them.

“Four hundred, twenty-five thousand dollars,” he grinned at Daisy, the mid-sized mutt of a long ago girlfriend. She stomped off and left him and the dog, hauling ass out of the forest after a memorable full moon.

“Not everybody’s cut out for forest life, girl,” he’d told the panting dog as the woman’s Taurus bumped along the dirt drive doing forty. “But that was one helluva moon. A-roooo!”

Drago picked up the contract and rubbed under Daisy’s chin; her tail thumped and sand bounced off the floor in enthusiastic counterpoint.

“Lots of steaks for me, and hell, you can eat the good kibble, plus we got a shot at a better trailer someplace. Sweet deal, considering the state of the world. Daisy girl, that’s twice, maybe three times more than this patch is worth. I’m not a stupid man. Where’d those wolf people get their money? Bet there’s a sight more than this here paper says.”

Drago grabbed a Busch beer and sucked down half, reading through the fine print and nodding, satisfied.

“And that blond chick, the Keeper, who the hell died and made her queen? She’s a bartender. Shit.” He reached into the warm twelve pack carton beside the chair and pulled the next to last can. “A road trip’s happening, girl. And once this money hits, I’m thinking we’ll grab us one of those motels my biker buddy Rooster told me about on A1A and see what’s what for ourselves.”

Daisy woofed low.

“Yup, I know. I heard’em. They’re coming for this contract. I always hear’em, that’s why we do OK in the forest.”

A quick double knock sounded on the door. Drago shifted his weight and sidestepped out of the recliner, whose mechanism for the foot part kicked off a year back.

“Yeah?”

“I’m here to pick up the paperwork, Mr. Drago.”

“Hang on.”

Daisy’s hackles were sky high, and a low growl rumbled through the trailer. Drago scritched the pen across the paper and rolled it into a tube.

“If ya eat my dog, the deal’s off.”

“Understood.”

Drago eased the door open three inches while keeping Daisy pinned with one skinny leg. A guttural snarl answered her bark; with a whine, she backed up and crawled behind the couch.

“I wrote that on the paperwork. Y’all keep off my dog and me. Hey you!” Drago gestured at the wolf on his tailgate. “Get your furry butt off my truck. This ain’t your place, yet.”

The wolf in human form, dressed in jeans, work boots, and a denim shirt, spun toward the truck, unleashing a snarl of displeasure that shook Drago, and he was used to it. The smaller wolf hunkered, then leapt over the truck’s rail and shifted, resembling a pissed off skater boi, sans board.

“Please accept my apologies for my son’s manners.” The young man crossed his arms. “You. Wait for me at the edge of the yard. What were you thinking?”

The wolf flicked his gaze to the paper as Drago ed it, noticing his steady hand before lifting his eyes to Drago’s. “Thank you, Mr. Drago. Our lawyer will be in touch to close the transaction and confirm your wire transfer in two weeks. Be prepared to vacate immediately. Overstaying would be unwise.”

“We’ll be ready.”

The only thing in the entire dump he wanted was his books. Along both sides of the single-wide, bookcases, stuffed with volumes, ran from floor to ceiling. Occult, paranormal, supernatural, mythology, and the just plain weird filled the shelves.

Drago’s fingers ran over the spines, pulling every title he thought he’d need to figure out how the hell human beings ended up as roadkill in this new, unappreciated world order. These he tucked into two suitcases. In a big tote, he stuck Daisy’s bowls, a second stack of books, his guns, and his other jeans.

“Fuck the rest of it; I’ll buy new shit. Those wolves can burn this trailer to the ground. For the other books, I’ll hit the dumpster behind Publix and grab banana boxes. We just leveled up, old girl.” He scratched under her chin, calming her back to her normal, happy self. “If I figure out this Keeper chick, might be there’s more for ol’ Drago’n Daisy. Might be way more than a bit. Time to get ours.”

Chapter Two

Awisp of chartreuse mist spiraled from the caldron floating over a fire of tangerine and orchid toned flames. Twelve faces peered at the smoke as it writhed, forming pictures, fading and reforming anew. An ancient practice of prediction, the outcomes alterable, but the witches’ expressions, grim, lent an air of concern to the firefly punctuated night.

“I knew this was too easy,” Glenna mumbled, adding crumbs of ochre tinted dust into the roiling water. The smoke’s color shifted as a new set of pictures emerged.

“Well, that outcome sucks,” Chelsea agreed, staring at the result. “Try the indigo.”

Glenna cut her eyes as the remaining witches cocked their heads to the right.

“Indigo!” Chelsea shrieked. “I need a better option.”

“Fine,” Glenna replied, “but it will spoil the pot. Last chances are just that.”

The crumbs of indigo hit the water and a panoramic smoke picture rose from the rim and revolved. A battle, and death, but also a single thin path with a sunrise lifting behind the trees.

“One shot,” Chelsea murmured. “At least we have a chance.”

“Would you,” Glenna leaned close, “care to make a wager?”

A pair of pelicans flapped through the windows of The Boogey, shifting and thudding in an uncoordinated heap. Unusual. My boys were dorks, but in flight, handsome.

“Not your best landings. Molting, gentlemen?”

“Time to shine for the hens, Patra,” Pook replied, gazing at the ratty feathers blowing across The Boogey’s floor.

“Ha-ha squawk!” Bingo laughed. “New feathers are awesome. Sleeked up, a couple of neck waggles, and it’s on, baby. Even Pook might get lucky.”

“Anchovy crisps are in stock again, but you have to sweep up your mess first,” I interjected, hoping to prevent the brawl, but they were already rolling on the floor, punching. “How many eggs can y’all fertilize?”

Bingo hopped off the wooden floor and shook himself. “I have 500 offspring on the Halifax River.”

Pook grunted. “And they’re scrawny. I may have fewer, but they are handsome as Hades.”

Death is smokin’ hot.

“Can they shift?” I asked, not caring but wanting the truce to hold.

“None have so far.” Bingo slid into his seat and pulled the bowl of crisps toward him, flipping one into his mouth.

“It can’t happen, Patra. Shifters need both partners to be magical,” Pook added.

Which made sense. If offspring shifted, discoveries of human infants on the islands would make the news. I tapped their fish ales and headed to the bathroom for the broom, setting it between them as a mute reminder that chasing feathers wasn’t my thing.

A heavy step, and I swung around, hoping for a red Speedo. Instead, Clep, the god of healing, and who was mega hot in his own right, slid onto a stool and drummed his fingers on the bar.

“The usual?”

“A glass of wine will do, Keeper. Red.”

I set it in front of him and he waved, stopping time for everyone but us. Bingo and Pook, mouths open and full of crisps, froze in mid-chew.

“Something on your mind?”

As a rule, I don’t initiate with gods, but this felt deliberate.

Clep sipped. “For four Earth days, Poseidon’s signature hasn’t ed. If the order within the sea languishes, it could become a problem for humans.”

“It’d be trouble for everybody.”

“In time. The sailors will feel the wrath first.”

I cocked my head and raised an eyebrow. “An immortal, and one of the big three is missing? Of course that affects the entire Triune. Where is Nereus?”

“The father of the sea is also undetectable.”

Clep rubbed his jaw and held my gaze. “I suggest you record our conversation and then have a chat with the book. From every angle, Poseidon had his shit together and the issues with the mer improved. Now, I’m not so sure.”

He drained his wine and stood. “I saw Gaia on the horizon’s edge. I do not believe she’s involved, but my certainty on what’s happening ends there.”

He waved, and Pook and Bingo reanimated. “Clean up your feathers. The Keeper’s purpose isn’t to sweep your plumage, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Pook blinked as I grinned. Gods never addressed goofballs like pelican shifters when drinking in The Boogey. Memorable day for the boys.

Bingo snatched the broom and bowed. “Sorry, Asclepius. Pook’s having a rough molt.”

Clep faded as Pook’s punch landed and I pinched my nose. Tonight had every appearance of an eternity punctuated with alcohol.

Where the hell was Poseidon? Immortals don’t vanish off the face of the Earth.

“I need to consult the record,” I announced, topping off their ales. “Can you manage not to break The Boogey while I’m in my office?”

Nothing bothers a pelican for long; they were deep into a mock fight with a fishing rod and the broom when I palmed the door and plunked into my chair.

For the past month, my studies revolved around the Vapors, a peaceful noncorporeal entity that rivaled Chaos in of age, meaning they were there from the beginning. Vapors created the record, and I discovered they had a language and made entries.

Keepers before me weren’t aware this knowledge lived in the book’s pages. I was pushing hard to study and understand what they recorded, making up for lost time, but it was a tough chew.

Tough, because the Vapors didn’t communicate in the same fashion as humans or magicals. Instead, they used emotions to convey entire lines of thought. Humanity had half a chance to learn this because human beings were messy, dramatic, and at their core, emotional.

Magicals, whose minds followed logic and order and bound themselves with a complex system of lore, law, and vows, were screwed. My bestie Chelsea, a High Priestess, over how many covens I wasn’t sure, attacked learning the Vapors language with a single-mindedness I ired, but she struggled. A lot.

Besting her at an intellectual task was rare and a definite perk, if I’m being honest. But it’s not meant in a bitchy way. Chels is demanding regarding mastery. Magicals value knowledge and it frustrated the crap out of her she couldn’t find the key to unlock their language.

I placed my palm on the cupboard; it swung open, and I pulled the book. Ancient, scented with sea and time, and filled with entries by centuries of Keepers, it was a chronological record of the line’s history, and a shared relationship of sorts. Flipped open to a set of blank pages, I chewed my thumb and pondered what to ask.

Has an immortal ever gone missing?

The entry rose, filling the page. From the penmanship, I’d guess late 1600s.

The line falters in the wake of yet another trial to end a witch. It pains the soul to

see innocent humans killed, fodder for a hunt that can never yield an actual witch, whom disappear when sought. I begged an intervention in the timeline from Apollo, father of Asclepius, to prevent this senseless killing and pause the desire to expose magicals, but Apollo cannot be found. It is, to my knowledge, not within the immortal realm for them to lose sight of one another. Concern fills my heart. I’m compelled to share this musing, that the absence of gods acts as a balancer for attacks against the magical world.

A repositioning for balance? Crap. That’s a biggie. I stared at the book, thinking hard.

What happened to Apollo?

The wrong question and the page remained blank. It happened. Okay, think, Patra.

Show me entries where the line grew unbalanced.

Lines of script emerged. I recognized this handwriting as that of the feisty Keeper who grew old waiting for a replacement and then tangled with Gaia and won. Badass. Eager, my eyes deciphered the spidery writing.

In my time as Keeper, I recorded the activity of the line. Today, I write in my own blood an entry that will rise only for another Keeper. My supposition holds that the world is never in balance, but moves within a safe margin. As long as it sways between those boundaries, the worlds are well. Based on my studies, I believe this movement is necessary to allow each world to reach a point where they can exist in peace with full knowledge of the other. At that juncture either

true balance occurs, or the degree of sway allowed for balance tightens. My time on Earth is short. The next Keeper arrived, and I faithfully train him, but this entry needed to be left for the Keeper, in a faraway time, to read and take action. By the gods, do your best to meet the task.

Holy shit, I had more questions than answers. And I knew who to ask.

Apollo.

It’s unfortunate when we last met he was a complete ass, but that’s kinda the job.

C’est la vie.

Chapter Three

Drago filled the hotel fridge with beer, Daisy’s bowl with water, and kicked his boots into the corner.

“Not shabby for now, old girl. Everything’s close and handy, and the expression on that banking lady’s face when I showed up, and she eyeballed that wire transfer—man, that was classic. Good to get respect for once.”

Walmart bags with tee shirts, boxers, and cargo shorts lay on the dresser, next to a pair of flip-flops and a bag of toiletries. He rubbed his fresh haircut and grinned.

“We’re living fat, Daisy. Ain’t owned all new stuff in a long damn time. Gonna grab a shower and head out for a steak.” Daisy thumped her tail, looking less itchy after her session at a groomer.

“Feels good to lose them damn bugs, don’t it, girl?”

Daisy rolled over, tongue lolling, and showed her belly. With a low laugh, Drago rubbed her tummy, drained his Bud and headed into the cleanest bathroom he’d been in for a long time.

Webber’s Steakhouse wasn’t fancy and smelled fantastic, his kind of place. He

slid onto a barstool, ordered a beer and a slab of prime rib, and looked around, draining the bottle in three swallows.

“Just visiting?” The bartender slid a new Bud his way.

“Thinking of moving here. Sold my place in the forest to them damn wolves, and beach life sounds just ‘bout right.”

“The world got weird quick.” The bartender leaned on the bar. “A year ago, I knew everybody that came in here, any strangers were tourists. Could spot them by the sunburns. Now I can’t tell if I’m serving actual people or whatever the hell the others are.”

“Yeah,” Drago nodded. “Something felt strange in the forest, but I sure as hell didn’t think it was werewolves. A road too far if you catch what I’m saying.”

Which was a lie, but Drago enjoyed rolling with whatever people trusted him to hear. He learned without giving much in return.

The bartender leaned in and lowered his voice. “Couple of women here last week, and I was sure they were witches. Almost asked them to leave, but their money is green. Too bad they didn’t drown all them bitches in Salem, right?”

Drago nodded and cut into his meat. “Good prime rib.”

“It’s what we’re known for, been doing rib here for twenty-five years.”

The bartender moved to serve a new group of bikers, and Drago sopped his steak in the fragrant au jus, sniffing. All human. As a youngin’, if the blood was off by a smidge, Drago sensed it. When the big blowout on the beach happened a couple months back, he’d felt it coming. Big. Unusual. The forest was on edge, waiting. Those mer thingys came out of the water, and the forest emptied. It was the oddest sensation. First it was full of tension, then nothing.

In hindsight, Drago believed a witch grabbed the predators that shift and put them on the beach. What he didn’t get was why. What does helping humans, who are easy prey to those wolves, bears, and big cats, matter? Drago sucked down his beer and lifted a finger for another.

“You bet,” the bartender said, and the door opened.

“Hmm,” Drago replied, turning to see who, or what, just entered.

The man sat two stools beyond Drago, glanced his way and nodded.

“Visiting from the forest?” Drago asked, hand steady on the bottle.

Amber eyes flicked his way. “I know you. You had that yellow trailer north of Ocala.”

“Yup.”

The bikers shot the newcomer a side eye and moved their beers to the far end. Drago fished his wallet out and dropped two twenties next to his cleaned plate.

“Tasty meal, I’ll be back,” he told the bartender.

“Ever consider,” the wolf murmured low, “what you might have coursing through your veins?”

“All the damn time,” Drago replied, maintaining the wolf’s gaze.

“Talk to the Keeper, see if she can sort your blood.” The wolf cocked his head. “For a blend, you have more signature than you should. Could be an informative conversation.”

“Might just do that.” Drago eased past and headed to the end of the bar, where the bikers, pale but holding their own, were drinking fast.

One thing I never counted on was volume. Every freaking person on the planet, human or magical, treated the hours in my day as theirs. Keeper on call. My life ran at an insane pace pre-Triune, accelerating in the months since humanity received their wake-up call.

“Nothing’s changed in of my responsibilities to the line,” I groused to Chelsea, allowing myself a half glass of magical wine an hour before sunrise. “I gotta run The Boogie by day and The Boogey by night. Plus Ballard and Aegeus, where I’d prefer to allocate my time.”

“At least you’ve got a second Keeper in the wings, and the Vapors did you a favor by squaring your Zeus-sized issue for good. Haven’t heard a peep from him since.” Chelsea drained her wine. “Parker’s learning fast; he’ll be training on the magical side in no time.”

“He’s ready, or will be within a week or two. Parks is way better than me, Chels.”

“Pish, he had help. Regardless, having him able to cover a couple nights frees you up for Mommy detail.” Chelsea crooked a finger and the wine bottle zoomed over and refilled her glass. “It’s a rough juggle now, but the solution is imminent.”

“True.” I glanced toward the sound of the magical door opening, wolf sensors on high alert. “So late? That’s odd.”

Chelsea rested her hands on the bar top, ready. Wolves were unpredictable.

“Keeper, a Mooncraft.” The wolf settled on a stool as I slid the drink in front of him.

He drank off a third and eyed me. “I debated most of the night whether to visit you, but you’ve kept your vow to help cordon off a good chunk of the forest for shifters, so here I am.”

Huh.

“What’s on your mind?”

He drained the Mooncraft and tapped the bar. I ed its replacement across and, hard as it was, held his gaze. Humans struggle with predatory shifters; we’re hardwired for flight. The longer I maintained eye , the more my bladder let me know how ready it was to pee my pants. If I got old, and with Keepers that’s hardly a given, I’d be the poster child for Depends.

“Tonight I dined in the human world and met a signature you need to be aware of,” he began. “I have never encountered it, but it’s well known to magicals. I spoke with my pack, and we agreed I should share the discovery.”

Interested, Chelsea leaned forward and crossed her arms on the bar.

“This is a human, a blend, but powerful and unusual. He has no fear of shifters, unlike you, Keeper.”

I shrugged. To change that was beyond my skill set.

“I suggested he come see you; I believe he will. Curiosity drives him here either way because he’s missing a crucial piece of information. I’m here with a warning, Keeper, to prepare. If preparation is even possible.”

“Why so ominous?” Chelsea interrupted. “What is the signature?”

The wolf set the empty glass on the bar and flipped a twenty next to it. His canines dropped past his upper lip, and he rose, barking a howl. The echo bounced around in The Boogey, and I inhaled in slow breaths, maintaining.

“As improbable as it seems, High Priestess, he’s part shifter. I’m uncertain how that is possible, but the signature is there, and it’s strong.”

“What type of shifter?” I kept my voice steady, but the disquiet of dread sloshed with the magical wine in my gut.

Amber eyes swung toward mine, and I willed my knees not to knock. It worked. Sort of.

“Dragon.”

Chapter Four

The door snicked behind him as I gripped the bar’s edge in shock.

“How can that be? There are no American dragons, and the ones in Europe were recorded. Only Campe, locked in Tartarus, wasn’t in the original record of the lineage, and when freed, they added Campe once he descended into Russia.” I was babbling to myself, but it didn’t matter.

Chelsea paced, thinking, hands opening and closing; in the close confines of The Boogey, the magic heightening within her blood vibrated.

“How could a dragon and a human conceive? Those eggs aren’t similar.”

“A better question.” Chelsea resumed her seat. “But the one you haven’t asked matters more.”

I stared at her and swallowed. “Can he open the door?”

“That’s my worry, Patra. If he can, and figures out what he’s capable of and how to use it, the blend becomes a serious problem for humans and magicals alike. Could he shift? Fly? Breath fire? Grow claws? Is he lawful? Is he evil? You’ve got a pile of unanswered queries and not much time.”

Crap.

“Magical families raise children steeped in law and lore. We have a code that is unbreakable,” she continued. “The blend will not. Chances are he grew up in Florida, a latchkey kid in a boxy little house with a gaming fetish and no boundaries. He’s unknown, untaught, and an unpredictable entity that could display a ton of power. Dragons didn’t get their reputation by proxy.”

“Could he be taught? Brought into the fold and given his birthright as a magical?”

“I don’t know. It’s happened in the past for witch blends who demonstrate sufficient ability, but shifters never mated outside of magic, except, now one has with success.” Chelsea slugged her wine. “Time for us moves at a different pace, Patra. Three decades to you, a third of your life, equals childhood to a magical. Witches study for the first fifty years of their lives before working within the coven, then rise based on competence and dedication to craft. Shifting races have their own cultures.”

“I should meet with Loboli. Maybe he can help me understand.”

“Keep that alliance close. You’ll want it if this dragon craps on your Triune.”

“My Triune? That’s an interesting interpretation.”

Chelsea shrugged and the sky, lightening, encouraged her to throw a few bills on the bar.

“Thanks,” I said, surprised. She’d perfected drinking on the house.

“Talk to everybody, Patra. I can’t impress enough how unusual and upsetting this revelation will be. You’ll hear the magical world howl with fury. Shifter-human mating lies outside what we consider law, and the shifter in question is the alpha. Dragons live damn near forever and are hard as Hades to kill.”

How long was Campe in Tartarus? Shit. She’s one hundred percent right. Double shit.

“Let me get this straight.” Ballard eyed me over a platter of boiled shrimp as Aegeus grabbed seconds. “Going to Russia, specifically Chernobyl, to brain pick a dragon who may or may not have a favorable impression of you, is your best course of action?”

I shoveled my shrimp shells into the big bowl next to the platter in the middle of the kitchen island and loaded a dozen more onto my plate. A tiny paw, belonging to Aegeus’ kitterling, reached into the shells and flipped one to the counter. Eyes rolling, I scooped the micro protector and her smelly prize onto the floor.

“No kitties on the counters.” I peeled a shrimp. “Campe is the one source I have that even knows me. Dragons are so dangerous they’ve been isolated for a millennium. To talk to any other one will most certainly fry my, uh, chances.”

Aegeus stopped peeling. “You could take Justice, Mommy. My kitterling can keep you safe.”

“No, she can’t,” Ballard said, raising an eyebrow. “I promised your dad that Justice stays with you.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Besides, Mommy knows plenty of people to talk to and determine the best way to handle this situation.”

“You have lots of dragon books, Mommy.”

“I do, and I’ll be cracking those after lunch. Have you read any of them?”

“Oh yes, one about lore and another on recording dragons.”

“Good, we’ll review once I’m up to speed. It’s alway useful to discuss a book with someone who’s read the same story.”

“In that case,” Ballard interrupted, “I’ll be reading right alongside you.”

I mouthed, “I love you,” and he grinned.

“Family reading day, complete with an anchovy ice cream break.”

I laughed. Aegeus, raised on a sea life diet, became a project for Ballard, and his sweet and savory anchovy ice cream sounds awful, but it’s pretty amazing.

“Yes!” Aegeus scrambled off her stool, running for the bookcases.

“Stop!”

She skidded and peeked over her shoulder at Ballard.

“Wash your hands, sweetie. No shrimp juice allowed in the library.”

“OK!”

Her bare feet smacked around the corner and into her bath as I leaned in and gave him a deliberate and un-librarian-like kiss.

“Have I mentioned how much you and this little life we’re building fill my heart?”

“Every day, Patra. You got anything scheduled for the next twenty minutes? I could fill them.” He tickled my nipple through my tee shirt and laid an intentional look that made my pelvis squish.

I grinned. “Hold that thought.”

Feet silent on the tile, I walked to the shelves and pulled three books, setting one on Aegeus’ favorite chair.

“I set a book out for you,” I called. “I’m taking a quick shower, Aegeus.”

“OK, Mommy!”

With a sexy smirk, I smoothed my palms down my body and blew Ballard a kiss before walking toward the bath. I didn’t make it before he scooped me up, wrapped his hands across my cheeks, barreled toward the shower, and locked the door.

I love every freakin’ inch of this man, and the shower’s pounding matched Ballards. Pinned and grinning at my gasps, his gorgeous green eyes held mine with deliberate intent, setting my pelvis on fire while causing the best kind of heart attack.

Clean and satisfied, I kissed him and cocked my head.

“Are you still understanding, in real time, most of what’s going on in the worlds?”

Aphrodite gave Ballard the gift of communication, giving him a major leg up in a changing world. He understood the Vapor language and a fair amount of magical thinking. His skills upgrade has been an immense help. Plus, he’s been diving into my library like a fiend, borderline Chelsea level. Ballard was a cop. Well, a former one, he’s on a leave of absence for now. But his attention to detail is amazing and not limited to the library. If happiness was sushi, I’m on my fifth roll. Fat and digging it.

“Yeah, but I know it could be temporary. Poseidon was explicit on that point. What I read, and everything in my journal, is mine. A daily learning curve.”

“The situation scares me,” I said, squaring off and challenging him. Ballard is my safe space. “I’ve read dragon lore, and Babe, they’re top of the food chain thinkers. Your basic ‘I can eat that, I will kill this’ approach. Not a fuck-ton of nuance.”

“If you had few options, which conversations would you pick?”

Ballard gets me.

“Loboli, Apollo, Campe.”

“Trust your gut.”

“Mayor.”

Loboli opened the door and waved a hand to enter. The former mayor of Daytona, he and I forged an understanding of sorts. I helped, in my role of Keeper, to carve out forested places for shifters alone. It’s not a done deal, but for now, we’re allies. I followed his magnificent ass out to the terrace and sat as he poured a glass of water for each of us, then settled across from me with a toothy grin as my skin skritched.

“Keeper, I expected to see you, but I’m interested you choose to pick my brain first.”

“Y’all gave me the tip. I’m here to learn.”

“The pack member who visited you at The Boogey was a relation.” Loboli gestured to the tray of steak tartare surrounded by delectable berries. “Please. I’d be insulted if you refused.”

Threat or promise?

“Thank you. Gorgeous food.”

I filled a small plate and listened for the moment he’d tackle the matter. But it arrived, to my surprise, without fanfare. Unusual, because Loboli gets a jolt from pushing my fear buttons.

“There’s a problem.”

“Yes, and to be straight with you, I don’t have a solution, yet. I need honesty. In return, once I know more, I vow to keep you abreast.”

“Your track record of keeping your vows, so far, is unblemished; I’m listening.”

“Mayor, how could a shifter create a blend? Nothing I’ve learned leads me to believe in the possibility, let alone the actualization.”

“And you’re correct. The nature of our magic is more than specific. It’s divine.”

“Divine?” I wasn’t familiar with this term with respect to magicals.

“A level of magical law that is sacrosanct. So old it’s considered immovable.”

“So this occurrence is unusual.”

“To your average magical, it lies beyond the realm of reality and an aberration to our law.”

Oh, crap.

“Mayor, if I’m understanding, you’re saying magicals would, what… fight this entity?”

Loboli crossed arms over a heavy, muscled chest.

“Shifters thrive in the Americas and Canada because we hold the dragons on European soil under magical law. Be aware, Keeper, that law making is a deliberate task for the magical world. Dragons crave blood and are unrepentant; they alone caused their fates.”

Similar to the Vapors? I need to dig deeper into the record. I’ve heard this tone of sanctimonious bull and know how that ended.

“Mayor, this blend should be fifty percent shifter. I realize it’s speculation, but what does that mean to you in of the power of his magic?”

Loboli leaned forward and my steak tartare flipped in my gut. Not the greatest sensation. I tried, but I felt the blood leave my face. He smiled at the effort.

“If he’s an adult male, he could manifest a shift, or a semblance of one. One or more key traits are likely. It is pure speculation, but based on my cousin’s encounter, I suspect no impetus has presented. Yet.”

“Impetus? Forgive me, but I’m not familiar with your true culture. Most material in my library has bias. Fright will do that.”

Loboli leaned back; a long finger dotted with dark hair tapped his lower lip. I let him decide, giving my tummy a strawberry to play with while he chose what to share. Whatever it was, it was going into the book. Shifters hold their lore close.

“Impetus occurs when the full moon of the twenty-first year of life begins. It is the sexual actualization of a wolf. You’ve seen young looking wolves, Keeper, but if they shift, they’ve achieved twenty-one years. From that point forward, they seek their bonded mate. Post impetus, wolves are dangerous and unpredictable. Once mated, it’s feasible to interact in the human world with greater success.”

“I’ve had un-mated wolves in The Boogey and witnessed the behavior.”

Loboli nodded. “As they age, more control occurs. Our lifespan is two hundred years, but lives of two hundred forty are possible. Every shifter breed is unique, Patra. What is normal for us is different for bears, for example.” He tapped the table. “Impetus releases a distinct life force. A wolf becomes a pair of separate entities, dwelling in a symbiont relationship. The rise of a second entity is true for shifters as a whole.”

“The dragon lore I’ve read gives their lifespan as unmeasured, but suspected in the thousands of years. Is it possible this human could die before the dragon’s equivalent of impetus occurs?”

“Is that your plan?” Loboli snorted.

“No, I’m trying to understand where this blend is within his timeline.”

“Fair enough. An educated guess is, if in his forties, he’s awakening. But I’d not be surprised if he lives far longer than the normal human lifespan, perhaps a hundred and fifty years. This problem of yours, Keeper, isn’t going away.”

My problem. Why was it that when everything’s gravy we’re in this together, but when the shit hits, I was a one woman wonder?

Chapter Five

Drago stood outside his hotel room door, holding Daisy’s leash as the firefighters finished up with the ‘all clear’.

“You’ll be paying for these damages,” the ratted out blond manager assured him.

“Not a problem.” Drago peeled eight hundreds off his fold of bills. “Are we good?”

Two fingers raised, and he made it a grand, watching them disappear into her bra.

“Mama’s twenty percent?”

The room was toast — mattress, pillows, and bedding blackened with soot and sodden with the water sprayed on them. The fire only affected the bed, and a firefighter moved toward Drago, shaking his head.

“It’s bizarre you aren’t burned,” he said, peering at Drago’s face, neck, and hair.

“Guess I woke up in time,” Drago replied.

“Smoking in bed will kill you.”

“Noted.”

But he hadn’t. Cigarettes and Dargo never mixed; how his mattress caught fire was a mystery. A fact, he believed, best kept to himself. Keep life explainable, that’s as good a motto as any.

Plus, the dream was weirder than normal, and from way back as a kid he’d experienced some damned odd dreams, ones brimming with fire, blood, and killing. But they never scared him; he woke up feeling happy, sometimes full, but always rooted in a deep sense of power.

This time, he felt primal, horny as hell, and different somehow. Like he wasn’t in his body. He put Daisy in the back of the pickup for safekeeping and hauled out his tote, suitcase, and a backpack he’d bought to hold his new clothes. Everything smelled of smoke, and Drago sucked in air, liking the acrid scent. He pulled his beer from the fridge and stuffed it beside his gear in the truck bed before lifting Dairy out and setting her in the enger seat. She licked the soot off his nose and panted with a goofy expression.

“If you could talk, old girl, you could tell me how that barbeque went down.” Drago rubbed between her ears and grinned. “We gotta find another place, more private.”

The pickup rolled out, ing a long line of mom and pop motels. Drago took

the International Speedway Bridge over the Intracoastal Waterway and drove onto Daytona Beach. Backed into a spot, he gazed at the crashing ocean, then pulled out his phone.

“Let’s see what we can find to rent, Daisy-girl. Pet friendly, and no nosy landlords.” His finger tapped a couple listings before he found one that looked promising and made the call.

“Available? Can I come by today? No, no renting history. Sold my home and need a rental while I buy another. One dog, medium-sized. First, last, and deposit is no problem. 11:30? See you there.”

“Okay, girl, I’m grabbing a few hours of sleep. You bark if anybody or thing shows.”

Daisy’s tail thumped as he slept, slumping against the window frame, a faint trail of smoke wafting along the sand.

“Clep, how would you suggest I approach getting an audience with Apollo? I’ve only met him once, and it’s not an understatement to say he was unimpressed.”

“Keeper, I might petition for you, but I’m curious. Why Dad?”

I needed to exercise caution on revealing the entry written in blood. The magical world remained unaware of that particular back door shenanigan. But the other one, discussing Salem, was public. I leaned against the bar.

“During the witch trials, a Keeper noted the extreme imbalance between the human and magical worlds, and wanted to petition Apollo to intervene.”

“Ah.” Clep tapped his glass, and I built him another twelfth tide, letting the pause stretch. The drink, with its clockwise and counterclockwise layers spinning, slid to him and I cocked an eyebrow.

“You’ve been connecting interesting dots, Keeper. You think Poseidon is missing much in the way Apollo was centuries ago.”

“Yes. I’m curious to learn why different gods vanish. Care to enlighten me?” This was risky, but Clep seemed amiable, so I pushed. If I was wrong, I’d know in a minute after his aura blast blew my butt across the bar.

“It’s balance related, but you knew that.” He sipped the second layer, and I relaxed.

I was spitballing, but what the hell. “So if the imbalance was tied to the witches, Apollo was the key? And Poseidon is the counterbalance to…”

Solutions clipping through my brain, I drifted, thinking hard. “He’s water, so maybe it’s… oh, CRAP.”

“Yes, crap.” Clep’s gorgeous dark brown eyes twinkled. “The forewarning presented, and now you have your confirmation. Level the balance, and the seas will normalize.”

“The forests too, I imagine.”

“Oh, this fight is coming to you, Keeper. Alpha to alpha.”

Alpha. Shit, I’ve got no magic, no real abilities, just a decent library, a couple of friends, and love. I’m sure any dragon blend saw that as an insurmountable task, flying to Europe post haste. I rolled my eyes.

“The thing is, Patra, only one wins. If it’s not you, the balance shifts and those changes are unalterable. You’ll die, which happens at some point regardless, but your death in this confrontation places humanity and magicals on the cusp of great suffering. While your track record for seat of your pants thinking is good, going strategic might prove useful.”

A green feeler popped out of his palm and tapped me on the forehead, and a

layer peeled from my mind. A gift? Clearer study? Whatever, I’d take it.

“Thank you, Asclepius.”

“Do your best, Keeper. To me, this challenge is your biggest fight because of the enormity of the stakes and outcome.”

Hoo boy, my last two were doozies. Crud.

“Then what?” Chelsea sat by the window, staring at the Halifax River as the sun inched toward the Intercoastal Waterway to the west. The Boogey, except for us, was empty.

“Clep gave me a gift.”

Chelsea snorted. “When are you due?”

“Not that kind of gift! Good grief. I’ve got plenty on my plate as it is. He tapped my head and opened a layer of clarity. I suspect he helped me either absorb new information or think more critically.”

“Nice! That’s a serious upgrade.”

“No idea how long I get it, but I’m cracking the books and hard.”

“Shoo. Go! I’ll run The Boogey. Read while you can and prepare. The unknown could stroll in tomorrow for all we know. Don’t waste a moment.”

I stared, then nodded. “You’re right, and thank you.” I leaned in to hug her. “See you later, Chels.”

“Oh! I almost forgot.” Chelsea reached into her waist sack and pulled out a tiny

dragon charm and set it on the bar. “These are for you. A loan. They are not suitable for Aegeus. Yet.”

She tapped the charm twice, and it grew into a stack of books, sliding into a messy pile of a dozen tomes. “These are from my personal library on dragon lore. I placed a spell on each one so the runes appear as English words. The blend won’t behave this way because he doesn’t understand his lore and law, but some behaviors and instincts must be innate.”

“Wow, I’m stunned. What an incredible trust. Thank you, my friend. I realize how closely magicals guard their knowledge.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Chelsea stacked the volumes with care, touching the spines, then ed them to me. Her eyes, meeting mine, shaded green.

“Keeper, you’ve got a fight on your hands. Get ready.”

“What time is it?” Ballard rubbed his eyelids and shivered. “Did you read this one yet?”

My gaze slid across the book in his hand. “Farming Humans for Dragons? Yeah, I did. Cheery stuff.”

“Forty a day? A DAY? Jesus, Patra.”

Justice padded past the sectional, halted in front of the door, and mewed one time. Ballard’s eyes narrowed, and he rose, walking in silence toward the entry, bending to peer through the peephole. He crooked a finger at me. I trotted over, bare feet noiseless on the tile, and stared at the hallway on the other side.

A man, smoking from both nose and mouth, stood before our door. I inhaled, holding the air in fright.

Ballard eased me aside, took another look, then whispered into my ear. “He’s out of it, but I don’t get the smoke.”

“Yes, you do,” I murmured, close, his short sideburn ticking my nose. “Check out the doorknob.”

The handle glowed red hot, then faded. Justice mewed once more and turned back to Aegeus’ bedroom. Ballard, avoiding the glowing knob, bent forward and glanced out of the peephole.

“Gone. I’m guessing he’s your boy.”

I stared at him. “He knows where we live! If he’s starting the dragon version of impetus and manifesting the capability of fire, how can I protect us? I assumed he’d come to The Boogey, Ballard, but now I’m risking you both!”

Ballard wrapped his arms around me and several hot tears soaked his shirt, a luxury of sorts. Before the showdown with Gaia, I didn’t waste time crying. What’s the point? If I was going down, red eyes and a swollen nose weren’t my best afterlife look. Now my entire heart lives in this condo, and that half-dragon fire fountain of unpredictable mayhem just let me know they’re on his menu.

We rounded the corner of the living room, stopped by ten feet of fluffy tail snaking out of Aegeus’ bedroom, switching with intent.

“You aren’t the only one protecting us, Babe. Justice appears available to prevail.”

I glanced up toward the ceiling at the enormous tilted head, a yellow eye peeking from Aegeus’ door, accompanied by a rumbling purr.

“Good kitty. I hope you’re hungry.”

Chapter Six

The weight of the mojo, unmistakable, pressed across my chest.

Gods, more than one.

I cut a side eye in Chelsea’s direction; she shrugged and touched her pinky to her forehead. A gap-toothed grin accompanied Glenna’s faint pop as she landed in the seat next to Chelsea.

“Wine?” I asked as heavy steps rounded the corner.

“For now.” Glenna eyed the arrivals. “Lord Apollo, it’s been many decades since our paths crossed.”

“Witch Glenna, I am glad you still dwell among the living. It is good to see you.”

Glenna met my gaze and grinned as I turned to the amber-eyed god. “Lord Apollo, welcome. What is your pleasure?”

“A honey mead, Keeper.”

“Twelfth tide for me,” Asclepius added.

After building the cocktail, I left it to rest and pulled a gorgeous crystal cask from below the bar. Wrapped in strands of gold, it sparkled of its own volition. Selecting a solid golden goblet, I tapped the mead and placed it before Apollo with my best smile before ing Clep his swirling buzz fest.

Always serve in the power order. It prevents punishment.

Apollo sipped, chatting low with Clep, and I moved to the witches and raised an eyebrow.

“We met in Greece and had a good time,” Glenna murmured. “Turned into a memorable month.”

My eyes flicked to Chelsea’s, a grin struggling to stay hidden. “That mojo is hard to resist. Have I met your little sister?”

“You mean father,” Chelsea tapped her wine for a refill.

The hell?

“What the… I-I didn’t know.”

All pretense of mirth drained from my face. Chelsea, a powerful, skilled magical, was the chosen High Priestess of the Coven; or several, I wasn’t privy. We shared a friendship, close as human and magical could be, with both parties determined to forge our bond. After the battles we’ve experienced, now I find out she’s a demigod? Lineage of that nature is a considerable detail to forget to mention.

Later tonight, I’ll add that tidbit into the record, but right now, I had a petition to plead. I stuck my tongue out at Chelsea, then turned back to the mojo fest. Gods are so powerful they wipe out human strength, and when they show up in multiples, the effect intensifies. I yanked up my gumption and moved closer.

Apollo treated the air between us as a wall of sorts, continuing to engage with Clep while sipping his drink. I backed up and waited. Clep drained his twelfth layer and tapped the bar. I built the cocktail, eyeing Apollo’s half full mead, and delivered it before lifting the cask.

“Top you off?”

His absentminded nod worked for me. I needed his help and him shimmering out on his tab wouldn’t get me there. Greek families were complicated. Immortality made for messy family reunions, so I was curious to observe the vibe between Clep and his dad. Asclepius should have been a demigod, but was elevated to immortal status. Kinda unusual, even for Olympians. Clep was not nearly as colossal a pain as some of the big twelve. If being fair, several of the mighty felt the same about me.

Bits of their conversation drifted within earshot as I kept busy polishing bottles

and did my best to keep my mind blank. Gods read all minds, so that selfpreservation skill helped.

“Dad, she wants to add to knowledge held in the record, to flesh out how the balance affects the worlds.”

“If she’s a decent Keeper, she’ll parse the problem. I don’t meddle in destiny.”

“None is written. There is no prophecy that a shifting race will evolve outside its law. The best path forward is to be open to increasing knowledge. It’s hers to fight, no argument there, but helping her learn is not compromising the situation.”

“Harrumph.”

“If the balance upends, it’s a final choice. The beauty, literature, music, art, and creative endeavors of every race are lost forever. I know you don’t want that outcome.”

Apollo drained his drink and waggled a finger at me for number three. Awesome. I lifted the cask, filled his goblet, and shot Clep a quick glance. A single negative shake and I got busy tucking away the mead before turning to refill Glenna and Chelsea. Two furrows between Chelsea’s red eyebrows sent my stomach in a flip.

“What? I know that look.”

Behind me, the door opened, sulfur’s scent washing into The Boogey in a wave of doom.

Holy crap. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Ballard and I, after reading enough witch-based dragon lore to scare the living crap out of us, yanked a plan in place. In between the gore and gloom, one book spoke of honor in the Thundra, what a group of dragons call themselves, and a code of behavior.

One term, venterim, was what I’m staking my life on today. In the magical world, when different races respect one another, en venterim, they stand in a truce. Only in the act of disrespect would the battle commence. This saved tons of bloodshed, and dragons, in their law, also observed the practice. Ballard found information that as the oldest shifting race, the original dragon’s lore, instinct may be a better word, was baked into the blood. It was all I had. Time to jump bare-assed into next.

“Good evening, citizen of magic. Please us. Could I get you a drink?”

Apollo’s eyes watched my face.

The man stumbled, hiccuped, and a shower of sparks shot from his nose.

“That’s new,” he muttered. “Got any beer? It’s fucking hot in here.”

“Ice cold,” I pushed one across as Chelsea wagged a finger and the glass frosted.

“I’m Patra. Welcome to The Boogey.”

A nod, followed by a red glow flushing his cheeks, and he downed the beer in a single chug.

“Another?”

“Yeah. Name’s Drago. Wanna find a chick, calls herself the Keeper. The fuck? It’s like she’s decided she’s president or something. Wonder where that came from, you know. Why her?”

Chelsea opened her mouth, but I saw Glenna’s elbow jab into her out of the corner of my eye. Alrighty then. On me.

“The Keeper didn’t choose the job.” I pushed another magically iced beer across the bar. “Keepers are chosen.”

“Who picks?”

To my relief, the mess in front of me was returning to a normal skin color. Maybe this venterim thing was working.

“The Vapors. They choose the Keeper and have since the beginning of the record.”

“How do I meet them?”

Uh oh.

“They are an ancient race. They are everywhere, but they don’t have bodies.”

“Yeah? Fucking convenient to become the boss of the world because of a damn mist. Sounds like bullshit to me.”

Drago’s skin lit from within, a faint reddish glow that deepened.

“I hear you. It’s been a crazy few months.” I sucked in air. My guest resembled a fire pit with legs. “But we’re glad you are here and welcome you with respect.”

The red mitigated a smidge.

He’s responding!

“OK, so if I want to meet the Keeper, I come here?”

Shit. If I don’t identify myself, it’s disrespectful. If I do, Flambe’ Boy might decide to fight, and Hades knows I’m not ready for a showdown.

Oh, well, so much for strategic thinking, Clep. Welcome to the seat of my pants party.

“You’ve been talking to the Keeper. That’s me, and it’s why I’m happy you’re here. We accept every race, including emerging ones, to the Triune.”

Heat warming my cheeks, I leaned closer.

“I’m not in charge of the Triune, Drago, just responsible for helping it come together with equity for every partner. Not the same thing.”

He sat for a moment as the witches rested their arms on the bar, ready.

“Seems like a missed opportunity to me, Blondie. Why not grab what’s there if you’re powerful enough to take it?”

He was radiating a continual pulse of red, and I retreated a couple of steps, holding his gaze.

“Because that dishonors centuries of Keepers. I’m not the first, but the latest in a long line.”

His nod of agreement dissolved into a frenzied shake. Fire raced from his throat, along his arms, and across his trunk, forming a blaze on top of his gonads.

That’s going to get his attention when he comes to.

Quaking, his head tipped back and a roar like nothing I’d ever witnessed shook The Boogey. Apollo looked up, sipped his mead, and glanced at Clep.

Drago shrunk inward as I hit the floorboards. A blast of fire exploded in every direction, including The Boogey’s roof; Drago blew straight through the gaping, fiery hole in the ceiling. The gods drank, impervious, and Chelsea and Glenna cast protective bubbles around themselves, making frantic casts to extinguish the inferno. As soon as a path to the front door cleared, I ran out, jumped on my emergency ladder and slid/fell onto the sand.

A cindered Drago lay on the beach, crispy and moaning.

“Do you need medical attention, Drago? Help is near.”

His eyes, hazel when he arrived at The Boogey, opened, glinting a frightening yellow.

Changed, he’s transformed. Dear gods.

“I don’t think anyone can fix me, Blondie, but I could sure use a snack.”

Clep shimmered onto the beach and knelt, taking stock. “Your impetus is upon you; it’s time to seek help from our magical world.”

“My what?”

“You’re a shifter, and impetus is the rise of your symbiont to equal status within your body.”

“Who the hell are you?” Drago’s anger shook his body, and he blasted fire at Clep’s face as I ducked, fingers snatching sand, scuttling sideways like the world’s dorkiest crab.

Clep laid a finger on Drago’s crispy chest, pushing as he screamed.

“I’m a god.” Clep’s mild tone covered the shrieks. “Don’t fuck with me.”

Chapter Seven

By the time Clep bound Drago in his green feelers and returned the three of us to the bar, the witches had the fire reduced to a few pesky hot spots, restored The Boogey’s seating and bartop, and cleaned out the soot. Well, witch-level clean. They’re fine with things a bit stanky.

“Keeper, another,” Apollo sounded less bored.

“Make it two,” Clep grunted as the feelers knit Drago’s burned and shredded skin back together.

“Four,” Chelsea called out. “And stronger.”

A quick nod and I poured Apollo’s, assembled Clep’s, and mixed two double aelgos for the witches. Aelgos were a tempered magical wine with a layer of thick fruit trudite (a heavy fruit tar that enhanced the kick of the wine) in the middle, topped with more wine. The thicker the layer, the greater the buzz. The scent of raspberries filled the air, and Glenna grinned.

“On me,” I said. “Thanks for cleaning up Drago’s mess.”

Apollo crooked a finger at me.

Yes!

“You employed venterim. Was that a choice?” Apollo’s amber eyes held mine as my gut quaked. My white knuckled grip on the bar’s rail said as much, and he dialed down the power. Slightly.

“Yes,” I gulped. “Thank you. Witch Chelsea loaned several books from her library to me, and I read through, searching for a way to reach Drago, who is oblivious to his law and lore. Venterim offered the best option.”

Apollo glanced at Chelsea. “You shared your learning? With a human?”

“The covens hold a serious stake in a successful outcome, Lord Apollo. Combining knowledge was a considered, prudent decision.”

“My son asked me to help you, Keeper. I felt disinclined to do so, but you handled this situation with tact and intelligence. What do you desire?”

Here we go.

“Lord Apollo, I seek to understand why you vanished during the witch trials, and how that deployed balance. I also wish to ask a favor.”

“Which is?”

“Get me to the dragon Campe in Russia and protect me while I question him.”

“A bold request, but I’m intrigued. I grant both.”

I nipped into The Boogie. Parker, pouring a Tito’s and tonic for a regular, jerked his head my way, and I slid behind the bar, eyeing the stock and glassware. Perfect. Parker’s arrival became the best happen to the line in a long damn time.

Gaia prophesied the care of the record would fall under the auspices of a pair of Keepers, and Parker was my number two. Until something killed, or after today, ate me. Yikes. Then he’d get the big chair while my soul lit the way to Hades’ boudoir. I’d prefer hanging on his patio, but it’s not like I had a choice.

Parker, nineteen, was in training; he focused on the human part of the business while spending his off hours working with the record. The Vapors bestowed a huge favor on him, leveling him up knowledge-wise, so his study involved deeper levels than I attempted the first months I trained. But having him up to speed this fast handed me a gift greater than any other.

Time. Time for my little family, time to research, plan, and prepare. Blocks of time I never had before and valued beyond measure now. If I didn’t have Parker, Drago would roast me. I knew it, Chelsea knew it, and I suspected the entirety of Olympus was on deck. Time gave me the chance to solve a problem with no peer. True virgin territory with a side of inferno.

“What’s up, Parks?” I murmured as he snagged the printed order ticket from the POS. I glanced at it and started tapping beers while he mixed the cocktails.

“What the hell happened over there? The lights here dimmed, and you’d swear we were in a plane with no cabin pressure, then poof! Back to normal.”

“You and I need to talk. Can you work a couple hours tonight?”

“No problemo. You look freaked, Boss. You OK?”

“I’m not dead, so yeah, everything’s golden brown.”

Haha, Patra. Ease up on the crispy jokes.

“OK, I’ll see you after 10.”

“Thanks, Parks.” I set the beers next to his drinks and scanned the restaurant. Still packed for 8 o’clock. Cha ching.

At a table near the back by the doors that opened to the far end of the fishing pier, a magical signature emanated, and I wandered that way. A group of fae sat, giggling over their salads, and beamed at me.

“Why did a signature spill into the human space?” one asked, blinking bright eyes over a big smile.

I knew better. The fae were complete badasses.

“I had a situation, but Asclepius chose to get involved.”

While true, not a permanent fix.

“We’ve heard things,” another fairy interrupted. “Not cheerful stories.”

“Not is the slightest, and maintaining balance may require action,” piped up the third.

“Well, I take action where warranted.”

“Oh yes, sweet one, you hold no fear, and any herd would be proud to accept you.”

“If that involves whisps, I’m ready,” I laughed with them.

Inside, though, I was cringing. The secret was fixing to go, as humans said, viral. Within the magical world, communication systems were complex, and Drago was going to light up every damn one. I craved planning time, but to be honest, I’d never get enough. Apollo will take me to Campe tonight, and while we’re alone, I hoped he’d answer my questions on the inner workings of balance between the worlds, but that, and my books, were it.

“Parker is tending at The Boogey later. Stop in and flirt with him if you’re still on the pier.”

“Delightful young man, We’ll come see him.”

Good. Parks knows nothing. Yet. That’ll stall them; if they peek in his mind, he’s not hiding a thing.

I waved and headed back across the dining room, strolled through the kitchen, then ducked into my office and called Ballard.

“Two of the three conversations happened, Babe. I’m heading to Russia tonight. Apollo agreed to escort and protect.”

“Everything is quiet here. I finished the last of Chelsea’s loaner books and have the shaking hands to prove it.”

“When the lore lines up too neat, Ballard, I’m skeptical. Once I talk to Campe, I’ll have a handle on, well, what I hope is the truth.”

“Be careful. Come home.”

Yes, on both counts, please.

What did one wear to interview dragons? It’s June and warm, but I rootled through my bag, then yanked up jeans, added a long sleeve tee, and a hoodie emblazoned with a hot pink Boogie Beach logo. A ball cap and ponytail finished my Russian-ready armor, and I palmed back into The Boogey, prepared for action.

“Where are Asclepius and Drago?” I asked Chelsea.

“Because of impetus, it takes hours to bind skin in flux, balancing the change from human to shifter,” Apollo answered.

Surprised, I looked up at his face. Gods tend to ignore conversations by the plebes.

“Once his impetus is complete, and the symbiont established, Clep will release him into the creation. It is not the gods’ place to interfere in the worlds’ order.”

A faint snort wafted over from the right, and I knew what Chelsea meant. Gods interfere all the damn time, when it’s to their benefit. Today was not one of those days. Crud.

“Keeper, I’ll take and return you, and offer enlightenment. But once this journey is complete, your wits are your weapons. No Olympian will respond to your petition. You cannot see beyond this moment. The worlds survive, or not.”

Hmm. That’s pretty fucking dire.

“Lord Apollo, Drago is one half-human dragon shifter. Why is he seen as a world ending threat?”

Amber eyes stared into my blue ones as I made a failed effort to stop my knees from clacking together, resembling a quaking demonic puppet.

“Because a free dragon can release another dragon, and if he finds one, the power of two can locate the Thundra. Magicals, and now humans, end up dealing with the entire race.”

Shit. If magicals are under siege, what’s stopping them from setting up humans in a horrific food for protection transaction?

“Indeed, Keeper. You have limited options and resources to succeed and little time.”

“Then we better get to Russia.”

Chapter Eight

Does protection include radiation? That’d be cool.

Chernobyl’s early dawn wrapped around us in majesty. Pure wilderness, the kind that moves you from your mooring, reminded this little human that at our core, we’re one of Earth’s life forms. The primal overwhelms; no wonder it was a thing humanity fought to tame and conquer. Shivering in the smell of it, intense greenery, earthy soils, decomp, and vegetation. The overwhelming sense of not being near the ocean gripped my throat.

Am I part of the balance? Holy crap.

Steps thudded, and cracking branches punctuated with the sound of scattering stones filled the small glade where Apollo dropped us. I zipped my hoodie, grimacing.

At least with the neon pink, Campe’s got a clean shot. Glad I had the foresight to empty my bladder. No gushers for him.

The stomping stilled, and Campe exhaled, lighting the clearing.

“Apollo?” Campe’s puzzlement tinged his voice.

The god nodded and gestured to me. “The Keeper requests an audience with you, Campe.”

Fire blasted in a wave that parted around the two of us. I unzipped, wishing my nerves of jello would get their shit together.

“You tricked me, Keeper.” It was not the friendliest of roars.

“I apologize for the deception, Campe. My goal was to help the Mother. Gaia could not enter Tartarus, but I could. My intention was to free you for her. If my actions conveyed disrespect, I regret the miscommunication.”

Sorry, Clep, but I’m winging it.

I knelt, hands held out open palmed between us.

Campe snorted, heavy tail thrashing. I remained in place, letting him process the information presented with what he already knew. Ten minutes later, stone cutting off circulation in my right leg, a huge puff of fireless smoke enveloped me.

“I see this as true, Keeper.”

I rose, trying to hide the limp, and nodded.

“Why are you here? You took a risk.”

“Yes, but you hold information valuable to the safety and continuance of the creation, Campe. I knew you’d want to be consulted.”

Okay, consult is a stretch, but venterim was the plan and consultation sounded respectful.

“I’ll speak with you, but not with the god present.”

“He’s my pro…” I cut it off, realizing that little kernel of disrespect would screw the whole deal.

“I cannot travel across the Earth, Campe. Apollo brought me so I could make the journey here and home again.”

“I’ll return you. I’ve not taken a long flight for thousands of years.”

This sucks; if he leaves Chernobyl, he’d be seen as a rogue dragon. That dab of information would explode the magical world in a frenzy.

I closed my eyes and breathed, letting my mind go still. When I opened them, Campe sat on his haunches, head cocked to one side.

“Well?”

On occasion, I was an idiot; for the most part, though, I was a decent gambler.

“Lord Apollo, will you excuse us?”

He shimmered, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and I swallowed, turning to face the dragon.

Chelsea and Glenna stood, arms akimbo, and stared at the remaining bit of dragon fire.

“Why isn’t this extinguishing?” Chelsea muttered, casting her fifth dousing spell.

“Because this magic is older than witches, daughter.” Glenna cast a small box around the flames, holding them from spreading. They burned with inexhaustible fuel, a cheery lantern on the edge of The Boogey’s bar top.

Apollo materialized. “A honey mead, Witch.”

Glenna moved, lifting the cask and filling his goblet. “What happened to the Keeper?”

“She chose, to my surprise, to continue her audience with the dragon without protection.”

Chelsea’s glare shaded green. “And you felt ditching her with Campe completed your bargain?”

“Careful,” Apollo’s eyes glowed gold. “Know your place, child.”

“My place? Patra is my best friend. I have seen great, time bending shifts during her turn as Keeper. We lay on the cusp of true enlightenment and expansive knowledge building. What is your goal here, Dad?”

Green and gold locked, power radiating. Glenna shrugged and picked up her drink. “Are you two finished?”

“For now.” Apollo drained his mead. “Tell the Keeper I will come see her when she returns. I keep my agreements.”

“Gin.” Poseidon threw his cards on the abalone topped table, raised his arms and stretched, muscles rippling.

“Only because you cheat,” Nereus picked a scampering crab from his flowing white beard and flicked it across the table at the god, who caught the tiny life between his thumb and massive forefinger.

Poseidon pushed against the clear wall of water, and the bubble obliged, moving with them.

“Still impenetrable.” He took the tiny crab, placed it on his palm and watched it scuttle through the bubble’s smooth interior and drop to the sandy bottom before waving its claws in defiance and burrowing. “But only to us.”

“Your Keeper is wise for a human. Perhaps she’ll figure out the rebalancing.”

“Are we wagering?”

“Breaks the boredom.” Nereus’ beard shook as dozens of crabs waved their claws in excitement. “Cover the tabs at The Boogey for a century?”

“The way you drink? Harsh.”

“And you don’t? I’ve seen you and Dionysis pull some serious binges, and I’ve only been around for a couple of moons.”

“True. Di gets it done.” Poseidon stuck out his hand, and Nereus gripped it. “Agreed. I say the Keeper figures it out, and you say the Great Restructure is upon us.”

“You know, regardless of who wins, Di will tag along and drink for free.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“By Zeus, I would, and laugh every damn moon.” Nereus picked up the cards. “Again?”

Campe lay on his belly, head near the scorched earth as I paced in front of him, thinking hard.

“You are the first? The divine of the Thundra?”

“I am. Lore and law originated with me.”

“How could they imprison you? You’re a literal Zeus over the dragons.”

“Zeus is a bit of a dick, Keeper. But I’ve heard your story, so I’m not relaying fresh news, am I?”

“Why are the dragons so vicious? Those descriptions are also true.”

“Yes, a few angered dragons went rogue, but often the stories were exaggerated. Victors frame history. They always have.”

“How much of your lore is innate? I mean, embedded and divine?”

Campe snorted, but with care. A few more bits of grass singed, but not near my feet.

“Keeper, we are the first race. Dragon shifters were lords over every creature for hundreds of millions of years. How well do you know your ancient history?”

“Some. You’re saying dragons predate dinosaurs?”

“In a sense. Over time, we helped move evolution forward. Chaos pulled threads to get the water situation squared up at the end of the Triassic period. And dragons created demi-gods, too.”

Dragon/dino date night sounded way more reasonable than dragon/human hookups.

“Does that still happen? I mean, obviously not with dinosaurs, but I believed shifters required magical partners to procreate.”

“Most must. We are not most, not even close.”

Crud.

“How solid is the sense of lore embedded within nonmagical offspring? Do they understand your codes and laws without interacting with another dragon?”

Campe raised his enormous head and stared at me for a long beat.

“It’s not innate. Some come close to full-dragon ability, and the other species involved influenced others. Humans, while delightful partners, were problematic. Many caught fire and died.”

“Spontaneous combustion!”

“I believe that’s what humans call it to explain the phenomenon, but it’s impetus gone amok.”

“So there’s been other human dragon demis?”

“Ahh, Keeper. Finally, an interesting question. Who is this other?”

Crap. Think, Patra. You can’t disrespect him, and you just blew it.

Campe’s snout smoked.

“A man arrived at The Boogey and caught fire. I’m trying to understand why.”

“Did he live?”

“Asclepius intervened.”

Campe threw his head up and roared with laughter. “Apollo must have loved that.”

What?

“Campe, why is that?”

“Apollo knows through firsthand experience that the balance is greater than the gods. The bullshit of confining the Thundra is over, except for the aftermath.”

Crud. In the interest of longevity, payback is a situation that I, and most of the human world, at least the ones interested in not being snacks, should avoid.

“Campe, I want to protect the creation. All of it. Preserve the humans, magicals, and immortals, but bring them into the next Renaissance. That includes dragons, but not as lords or underlings. A unique species with every right to thrive and develop.”

“Keeper, significant rancor and old injuries exist. I promise nothing, but I will consider your mission. Take me to your dragon demi. Let me see his state of mind.”

I swallowed and nodded, unsure if I just sowed the seed to end humanity. Respect cuts both ways, though. Maybe in venterim, humans have a safety net. Of course, the first redneck shooting at a dragon busts our opportunity to

survive.

Americans own 120 guns for every 100 people. We are so screwed.

Chapter Nine

Tucked behind Campe’s wing t, I stared at the witches, multiple covens, in shock. Old school, broom flying, and shrieking while casting at his body, which was impervious to the spells. Mine? Not so much. I supposed I’d be dead before the landing, but still.

“Stop, I am the Keeper, and I know what I’m doing! Cease your attacks!”

“Dragons must remain in place. Human stupidity threatens us all,” one cackled back. She had to be at least 400 years old, the oldest witch I’d ever seen up close. Flew that broom like a freaking Ferrari, though.

A mist resembling a thick bank of low-lying clouds eased up from the ground and surrounded Campe.

Vapors!

“The Vapors this peaceful action, witches. Allow us to .”

Campe’s great wings flapped, but the mist did not move as the sounds of their shrieking faded. His enormous head turned toward me and I got what I supposed ed for a dragon grin. Way too many teeth. Yikes. I wasn’t pulling from a sizable bank of knowledge on dragon humor, but the lack of smoke was

promising. No crispy witches today.

“Did you call the Vapors?” Campe asked.

“No, they chose to rise.”

A groovy side effect of them hanging around was warmth. I perched, watching the endless ocean beneath us, followed by what I believed was Anchorage, then onward, across incredible swaths of America.

“Are you tired?” I called, uncertain how many hours we’d been aloft. My time zone skills were rusty, but I thought Florida was a seventeen hour difference from Chernobyl.

“Just getting started, Keeper. Dragons fly for days. Our impenetrable skin holds our water within, allowing us to move throughout the creation.”

More entries for the record. At this rate, I’d need an hour to add the mounds of information gleaned in the last twenty-four hours, and I hadn’t talked to Apollo yet. Here’s hoping he’d honor that agreement. Dragons and mayhem aside, restoring the balance was the primary goal. I nail that piece, and the rest won’t matter. As much. Maybe.

To the rhythmic flapping, I slept because when I looked down again, ocean salt filling my nose, I saw crashing surf and strips of beach. The waxing moon was up, and the roads along the Atlantic empty. One o’clock? Two? Parker would be

ready to bounce, of that I was certain.

Wings scooped air as Campe swung his huge clawed hind feet forward and ran out of the sky, jogging and slowing on the sand. He crouched, dipped a shoulder and lifted a wing, allowing me to slide off, wincing on the landing.

What did I do to my knee? Crap.

I turned and stopped dead. Campe was gone; in his place was a freaking Adonis. Like the most beautiful male I’d ever met, and in my line of work, amazing ones happen all the time. He was also naked. And impressive.

“Keeper, shall we?”

“Um, well, you can’t really stroll around in the human world with your equipment swinging.”

“Are you serious?” He gave himself a jiggle. “How obtuse.”

“Please don’t take offense, but you have a substantial vocabulary, Campe. I wasn’t sure how communicating would work, but you made connecting easy.”

“I’ve had an inordinate amount of time to read, Keeper. The void had an excellent library.”

“Tartarus is deep,” I said, straining to keep my face in check. Failing, I grinned at Campe.

“Both redundant and funny, Keeper. You surprised me as well.”

“Still, I need to find a towel.”

I scanned the posts marking the beach parking line in the moonlight, noticing a lumpy one, and jogged to snag the sandy beach towel hanging over the wooden 4x4 pole.

“Here, wrap this around your waist until I find something more suitable.”

Campe tucked in the towel’s end and nodded. “Very well, Keeper. The good stuff is hidden. For now. Take me to the demi.”

Hoo boy.

At The Boogey’s wooden door, I signaled to my betoweled guest. “Place your palm on the door, and see if it its you. I don’t know if they banned dragons wholesale or not.”

Campe raised an eyebrow and touched the carved door. It swung open.

“It itted the demi, named Drago,” I said, stepping in The Boogey.

“That’s interesting.”

“Agreed. In a world based on law and logic, it’s a surprising misstep.”

“Miscalculations with dragons never happen. Are the Vapors involved?”

Hmm. Possible.

With a shrug, I limped around the corner to a coven of twelve witches, arms raised.

Shit.

“There is no threat, Chelsea.”

“You moved a dragon! And it appears you left your mind in Russia. Are you insane?”

“No, I’m not. He’s here to assess Drago, and help me understand what I’m

dealing with so I can fix the balance. ?”

“When you connect two dragons, you release the Thundra! Step aside, Keeper. We won’t ask twice.”

“No.”

I stepped in front of Campe. Behind the bar, Parker’s eyes widened.

“Boss, they’re serious. I’ve been listening to them for hours.”

“So am I. Looking for another Salem, ladies? You’re on the way to getting one.”

“We lost no witches in Salem.”

“Humans aren’t the species driving the disrespect this time.”

Silence greeted this bit of wisdom, and Chelsea and Glenna exchanged a glance.

“I don’t trust this.” Chelsea’s eyes, a deepening green, grew menacing, and she splayed her fingers.

“Well, I trust knowledge,” Glenna said, lowering her arms. “And I want to hear the history from his perspective.”

They locked gazes, and I glanced at Campe, who appeared unconcerned. When you’re hard to kill, I imagine the petty stuff slides off.

While Glenna and Chelsea argued in their heads, I gestured to a stool next to the box of flames.

“A souvenir from Drago, I’d guess. He exploded into impetus here at The Boogey.”

“May I?”

“Sure.”

He lifted the glowing ball as the scent of sulfur filled The Boogey and turned it in circles between his thumb and forefinger.

I slipped around the bar, tapping Parker on the shoulder. “Clock out.”

“No way, I want to stay and learn.”

“Nope. If this goes sideways, we can’t take out both Keepers.”

My face meant business, and as the silence stretched, I could see the gears turning in Parker’s head.

“Are you writing in the record tonight?” he murmured, low.

I lifted my lips to his ear. “Damn skippy.”

“Fair enough. I’ll work with the book until dawn and hope you show. Stay alive. ”

“That’s the goal.”

Parker slipped out and palmed the door to the office. As it snicked shut, I eyed Chelsea. Still white hot. Unsurprising. My gaze slid to Campe, holding the little ball of flames a few inches from his eyes.

I moved closer. “Drink?”

“A glass of ice, Keeper.”

A stein filled with cubes plunked next to him, and he popped one in his mouth.

“I know the sire,” Campe said. “Imprisoned at Crib Goch in Wales. He must seduce the hikers.”

Chelsea’s efforts to keep her curiosity quiet failed. She lowered her arms; the remaining ten witches followed suit.

“So dragons can mate beyond their species with success?”

Campe popped another cube and continued studying the flames as I sketched out the salient points of our conversation. The witches listened, intent on finding holes in the new information.

Glenna tapped the bar’s top, and I started pouring aelgos. Promising.

“Your race, being the original magicals to shift, makes sense, but Chaos helped? He’s told us he never interferes.”

“Chaos geared his aid toward improving the opportunity for expanding life within the creation, not an intentional benefit to dragons,” Campe answered. “If he wanted to interfere, punting that asteroid would have been useful. We had a good gig going.”

Chelsea rubbed the bridge of her nose. “The lore on the viciousness of your race is vast. Why should magicals believe you won’t resume the attacks?”

“Who wrote it?” I was on thin ice here. Lore was closely guarded.

“Centuries of witches recorded and curated our knowledge,” Glenna replied, shaking her head at me. Behind her, several coven mates glowered.

“The subjugators write the history, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that magical law is sometimes corrupted to merge power.”

A piece of spell tape slapped across my mouth, and I glared at the scary haired witch who cast it as Chelsea laughed.

“We follow this conversation to the end, then decide, Dracena,” Chelsea said. “No silencing the Keeper.”

A grumpy harrumph answered her. With an irritated yank of her hand, Dracena released the tape; it dropped to the bar with half my lips’ skin stuck to it. I tasted blood.

The Boogey’s door opened, and Apollo, followed by Clep, selected seats at the bar.

“The usual?”

Apollo nodded, and Clep smiled in agreement. I set them up, assessing the shifts in the dynamic.

“What happened to your mouth?” Clep asked, cocking his head.

I pointed to the tape. Clep’s eyes narrowed, and he grunted. A green feeler eased from his palm and tapped my upper and lower lip; the tingles of discomfort vanished. A second tentacle erupted from his other palm, shot along the bar, and whacked Dracena hard on her ass.

“Behave yourself,” Clep said, and lifted his drink.

I reorganized my expression, seeing no point in pissing Dracena off further. I’d be bitchy too, if I had wire coat hangers after a three-day bender for hair. Apollo leaned in toward Campe, engaging in a private conversation. Based on Chelsea’s face, efforts at snooping went nowhere.

Campe rose, adjusted the towel, and nodded. “The demi survived his impetus. Clep released him back to the world. I remain until he’s located. An interesting evening, Keeper. You took a chance tonight and have my respect. En Venterim.”

“En Venterim,” I replied. “Do you have a place to stay?”

“I have my choice of rooftops.”

Campe flashed an intentional smile, far less toothy, and my pelvis liquified. Damn.

The door sealed behind him. Apollo waved a hand, pausing time and freezing the witches in the moment. Clep’s eyes twinkled.

“Better. You had questions, Keeper? Ask them now.”

Chapter Ten

Hand cramping like a champ, I reread the fresh entry in the record, blowing on the ink to encourage it to dry. I’m not a hundred percent, but I thought this was the longest I’d ever made. The day’s events, excluding the various showdowns, foretold one of the biggest shifts in the record’s history.

My thumb and forefinger massaged the aching thumb crotch of my writing hand as I ran the day through my mind. Calm, factual, and I hoped, thorough. I’d read enough entries that left me with more questions than answers. Today’s goal was to not add to that pile.

A surprising crack in known shifter lore occurred today, as I verified that not only can dragons mate beyond their species with success, but that the offspring will exhibit partial to near-full power. This occurs during a process called impetus, where the symbiont arises and takes its place as an equal partner in the living host.

No shifter races, all of whom experience impetus, duplicated mating outside their species — but the dragons, the original shifting race, claim they’ve been capable of creating a demi offspring since the time of the dinosaurs. I confirmed both the existence of a dragon demi with a human, named Drago, and the lore confirmation from the Elder of the Thundra, Campe.

This creates a breach in magic lore that’s poised to upend the order. Dragon history of slaughter and attempted annihilation of other shifting and magical species cannot be discounted. Campe posits those stories were exaggerated as a

for imprisoning the dragon’s race. As I write this, I cannot say with certainty which history I believe to be the truth. With conflicting truths, often, it’s neither.

Tonight I spoke to Apollo, who agreed to divulge the reason he disappeared during the Salem witch trials. Then, the human world pursued a course of extinction of witches that pulled the balance of left and right brain thinking apart, shredding the relationship between logic/order and creativity/pushing the boundaries of thought. Because the annihilation was intentional, the creation faced a tipping point. Apollo, as the god of arts, music, and creative endeavors, found himself walled off from the universe because witches, the embodiment of logic and law, were under siege.

His efforts to free himself were futile. Nothing he attempted enabled him to release the trap. It was only as the humans laid aside their commitment to rid the Earth of a sovereign species that cracks appeared within Apollo’s confinement.

It is my belief that the dragon demi, who holds no sense of self, lore, or law beyond what is gained through embedded instinct, is a threat to the balance. One so great that Poseidon and Nereus, acting as the water’s counterpoint to fire’s menace, are now encased in a similar prison.

As Keepers, we vow to bring the demi dragon to a place of reason and protection, creating the path that restores Nereus and Poseidon to their roles in the creation. We cannot guarantee the magicals won’t choose war. An upheaval of this magnitude threatens the Triune, and within it, the fabric of the continuance of our lives on Earth.

At least my tingling hand took my mind off my knee.

“Ready?” Parker poked his head through the door between the office and The Boogey.

When the gods left, Parker and I swapped places, and he poured while I wrote. Now the sun was less than an hour from rising. I gestured, and he sat, then creaked forward on the teak chair, eyes on the record.

“It’s not dry yet. I’m going to handle last calls and tabs. Don’t start reading until the ink sets. Blotches are problematic. God knows who will need this information in a century.”

“Crap. Is the news that great?” Parker slid into my desk chair and held the pages apart.

“Nightmare level-9000,” I assured him, and limped into the bar.

Poseidon glared at the tiny crab on his massive shoulder, waving its claws at Nereus. The Father of the Sea slid the card he’d begun to pull back into his hand, drew a different one and discarded.

“I cheat?” Poseidon roared. “You’ve got an entire army telling you my cards. What the Hades did you do during your forced vacation in Tartarus? It’s obvious you didn’t boost your Gin Rummy skills.”

“You’re overreacting.” Nereus clutched his beard under a shocked expression as a rain of crabs landed in his lap.

“It’d be a far more effective protestation if seventeen of your little crime partners didn’t fall out of your face, Nereus. Concede this game. I demand it.”

“Ooh, demand? How quaint. In this arena, we’re equals. The sole concession you’ll get from me is that you’re a whale sized asshole.”

“At least I’m not a crab infested carcass whose time came and went, and nobody gave a shit.”

“Without my help, your liaison with the mer would be in the toilet. Keto set everything up and you, true to form, screwed the octopus. No thanks from you, Speedo Bum, for yanking that truce back into place. Which, to be accurate, is also typical.”

The card table flew into Nereus’ gut from Poseidon’s kick, followed by a hard punch to the nose. Nereus hit the sand floor with a thud, and Poseidon belly flopped on top of him just as Nereus twisted away, swinging and landing a sideways roundhouse blow to the side of Poseidon’s head with a satisfying crunch.

Grunts punctuated the thuds; crabs scuttled to the water wall, pushed through and burrowed, tiny claws the last part to recede, clicking in irritation. Poseidon regained a knee, grabbed Nereus by an arm and a handful of crabby hair and hurled him toward the bubble’s edge.

“Stop! Stop, you idiot! Look at this!”

Poseidon stared at Nereus, his chest, face, and thighs glistening from hitting the wall.

“Well, Zeus be damned. Cleopatra figured something out. That was dry to the touch before.”

“Would you care,” Nereus leaned in, yellow teeth glinting, “to double the wager?”

Drago stood on the front porch of his single bedroom cottage, number sixteen in a group of thirty stilt cottages at the far end of the enormous Stars RV Park.

The Place Where Wishes Come True.

After checking out the clientele, Drago doubted it. On the door’s opposite side, Daisy whined. Drago’s stomach growled.

“Daisy girl, I gotta give you away. I can’t be sure with the fire in my belly that I won’t hurt you.”

Daisy’s whine ended in a bark. Drago nodded. “I can feed you, girl, but I can’t sleep. The dreams are gettin’ crazy. Like I dreamed I exploded, and a giant black god healed me. Not THE god. I’m a Baptist. The whole thing is just plain unnatural.”

Drago opened the door, and Daisy jumped with happiness. He stroked her head, distrusting the roar that was ratcheting up in his belly. He grabbed the big bag of kibble and poured a gigantic bowl, then filled Daisy’s water bowl plus a big pot he found in the kitchenette.

“It’s the best I can do, Daisy girl. Something in my gut is weird. I’ll try to be back in a couple days to get you someplace safe.”

Drago locked the cabin and staggered toward the clearing’s edge, muttering.

“Was damn sure I talked to that Keeper woman too, but I exploded, so it must’ve been the same dream. I ain’t myself.”

A rusted gate gave way to his shove, and he started walking, until the trees got thicker. Then he sat, leaned up against a tree, and let sleep take him. The dreams weren’t far behind, lurking in the dark corners of his mind.

“Patra?” Parker stuck his head into The Boogey. The sun, clear of the distant horizon, blazed slanted golden rectangles across the floor.

The bar was empty except for us, and two Keepers remained on the line. Win.

“Hey Parks. Got another sunrise.” I grinned and poured a two-finger bourbon for myself. I figured the transpired events qualified me for a three, but my gut said to stay alert. So, no threes for me.

“We’ve got company,” he replied, and I spun, expecting Drago. Instead, Vapor mist danced in the sunlight, twisting into symbols.

“Oh, wow.” I pointed to one clot of Vapors. “Read them, Parks. I have the others.”

Two groups, writing in tandem, listed out a series of emblems that expressed emotion. The emotional groupings represented a language. Messages from the heart, in a way.

Together we watched in silence. I jotted into my little pocket notebook, but I didn’t need to. Whatever Clep put into that forehead tap let me translate in real time.

Fear, death, betrayal.

Love, help, acceptance.

Pain, uncertainty, denial.

Rage, depression, loss.

Kindness, redemption, peace.

“Hoo boy,” I whispered as the mist drifted out the open windows of The Boogey. “They gave me a path; what’d you get, Parks?”

Parker is a big guy, packing decent muscle, and he’s fit. Good assets for a demanding job. Well, except for the whole blood drained from his face thing.

“You OK?”

“I got a warning, Patra. Check this.” He pulled his little notebook where he’d copied the symbols and linked them.

“One path is survival, Patra. The other is death. Of humans, most magicals, and even the gods, although I don’t understand how that’s possible. It’s not that Drago could kill on that scale, but once the planet tips too far, it’s permanent.”

I handed him my notes. “The key to repairing this imbalance is focusing on Drago. Respect is a tactic he responds to, but while focused on him we’re dealing with magicals in full-blown meltdown mode. Figure out how to handle Mr. Hot Pants and we might, if we’re lucky, get ahead of the tip.”

“Cool, I’ll reach into my non-magical human bag, cast a pile of ‘calm the fuck down’ spells and we’ll be fine.”

“Sarcasm is not your best look, Parks.”

Chapter Eleven

Other than the hitching noise of barfing in the background, the porch exuded peace. Sadie staggered out and dropped onto the overstuffed chair.

“Would you prefer the swing?”

A greenish tinge colored her face. “Oh, I’m staying right here. Swinging sounds like hell.”

“I’m afraid this is a business rather than pleasure visit.”

“That’s OK. I planned to call you. It’s shading weird around here.”

“Could I get you a glass of water?” Since I had zero recollection of my pregnancy, watching the literal ins and outs of Sadie’s morning sickness was a queasy bullet dodged.

“No, no. I can’t keep food or liquid down until at least two in the afternoon. I’ve given up trying.” Sadie waved a hand, and I plunked back onto the swing.

“What’s happening in your readings?”

Sadie settled into the cushions and relaxed, color returning to her face. “It’s super odd. As a norm, I don’t ask for the birth dates of the people I read, because I can tell their sun and moon signs, for the most part, by the energy they exude. So, pure supposition, but here’s the crux of it. Clients I believe are fire signs, every one of them, is in a frenzy. Energies are maxed; they arrive, vibrationally, unhinged. It’s damn weird, Patra. And their readings have urgency, as though an invisible deadline drives the other events in their lives.”

“In general, I see unfoldings.” Sadie’s hands mimed opening a book in her lap. “If an individual makes certain choices, and the person they should cross paths with does too, that connection intersects. The choices are clear to me, but whether they pan out remains a function of free will. These fire signs have strings of broken connections. It sounds wild, but it’s as if the Universe as a whole made a shift. Is that even possible?”

Crud.

“Before I answer that, what else is happening?”

“Earth signs are emoting extreme fear. When I read the object they hand me, a coating of terror lies in every psychic image that emanates. By the end of the reading, I’m overwhelmed.”

“Not helpful with morning sickness.”

Sadie nodded. “Well, that’s the job. The pain and dread are real, and I feel sorry

for them. None understand the root of their anxiousness, and many are making free will decisions — not because it’s the calling path, but because their spirits are in fight-or-flight mode with no clue why.”

“And the water signs?”

“Wild. Normally they’re my bread and butter. As intuitive and open as most are, they tune in to their psychic energy and are regular clientele.” Sadie rubbed her eyes and shrugged.

“What’s going on with them?”

“Patra, I wish I knew. I haven’t read one in six days. They’ve dropped out of sight.”

“Six? Are you positive?”

“As sure as an afternoon summer shower in Florida.”

I slid off the swing and paced the porch. The threat to the balance was deeper, delineating lines, and driving through humanity, too. It’s not just Poseidon who’s MIA. Crap.

“Sadie, six days ago, Poseidon vanished, and I suspect he’s the counterweight to the onset of an imbalance of fire.”

“Forest fires?”

“Girl, I wish. that reading you mentioned with the man who was looking for me?”

“Yes. I see him in dreams, and I’m worried.”

“I met him. He’s the key to figuring out how to pull the balance back to a steady, rolling flow and halt this violent pitch. To get him sorted is paramount.”

“But he’s one man. How can he cause such global disruption?”

“Because he’s a dragon shifter, and my gut says he’s ending the separation of shifter power. He is an alpha threat in the magical world. If he comes back here, Sadie, hide. I suspect he feels the pull of your water baby; he found mine.”

I bent and hugged her for a long minute. “If you need to run, go. Chelsea could protect you if asked.”

“No, Patra. My dreams involve me standing next to you, a wall of fire, and a single path. The man stands on the line, waiting. If I don’t stay, the way forward fades and he burns. Of that, I’m sure.”

I smoothed her hair. “And we thought high school sucked.”

Sadie had no choice in bringing her demi along for the showdown, but I could hide mine. Huddled under the umbrella canopy at a poolside table, watching Aegeus and Justice swim, Chelsea, Ballard and I yanked strategy around like puppies with a rope.

“If I take her into the coven, her instruction is a ten-year training, at least. Our lore will not allow me to break that, Patra. I’m sorry.”

“That’s out. I can’t bear to lose her, and Poseidon gets a say in when she undertakes those lessons.”

“Provided he returns.”

“Hey now, I’m making headway, Chelsea.”

“We’ll see. What I know is a week ago we were missing a god, but hadn’t enabled a Thundra.”

“I could take her to Mom’s in Asheville,” Ballard said. “How comfortable she’ll be or can handle being landlocked is another guess.”

“She didn’t do well at Disney, and we rode water rides the entire day. The meltdown in the car on the way home, while informative, did little for the upholstery.”

“To be fair, we didn’t know she could liquify on land, Babe.”

“Well, now we, and my car’s interior, are privy to her latest talent. The car still smells fishy.”

“It’s a convertible,” Chelsea interrupted. “Drop the top. Besides, how positive are you she could be hidden?”

“Low certainty. To be blunt, Drago can sense her, and I believe he sensed Sadie’s unborn. Out of a hundred psychics in Cassadaga, he strolls in on her?”

“Convenient.” Ballad’s eyes narrowed.

“Agreed. Is it a stretch to guess he could locate every child of Poseidon? We’ve got to get in front of Drago, now.” I traced a heart on the tabletop and Ballard dropped a smile that melted my own.

“There are protections built into your home and I can strengthen them. Place a witch inside full time is another weapon. Glenna might stand guard. Or,” Chelsea grinned, “Dracena may be available.”

I shoved a tangerine slice into my mouth and chewed.

Ballard looked up. “Who’s Dracena?”

“A witch of considerable talent.”

“We’ll appreciate anyone who will help protect Aegeus,” Ballard peeled another segment off the fruit, missing the mirth on Chelsea’s face.

He rose and squatted by the pool, watching Aegeus swim underwater.

“Dracena?” I hissed. “You’re my friend, , and Ballard likes my lips intact.”

“All I can do is inquire who is interested in taking the risk, Patra. Witches aren’t a solid defense against a dragon. They’re impervious to spells. Potions can work, but most dragons stopped ingesting anything of unknown origin centuries ago. When the battle grows too fierce, we fade. To stay and slay takes another level of magic. Even other shifters hide, although they’ll fight longer.”

“Fair enough,” I sighed. Knowing Chelsea, Dracena would move in tonight.

Ugh.

“Listen, I know you’d prefer Glenna, but resolving Aegeus distracted you from a significant piece of the puzzle.”

“Which is?”

Chelsea gazed at Aegeus and shrugged. She won’t tolerate intellectual laziness, and me asking instead of attempting to solve was a total non-starter for her.

Think, Patra. Campe gave you a fat stack of history and backstory. You know more about dragons and current dragon behavior than anyone alive. Well, more than anyone who isn’t a god, and Apollo left no doubt he’ll provide no additional information. Clep too, I guessed. Although he might show; he does his own thing. Why did the gods step back? Was it because of their unique relationship with the balance and their roles as immortals? An excellent question to parse with the record.

If they sequestered dragons during the rise of the Big 12, beyond a few rogue sightings....

Shit, I’m an idiot.

I stared at Chelsea. “There are other demis.”

Chelsea patted me on the head like I was six. “Very good.”

I yanked my head away and tapped the table. “If I were a top secret shifter, where would I hide?”

“That’s the best you can do?” Chelsea snorted. “They’ve hidden undetected for thousands of years! Any magical who believed this was possible would pursue with vengeance. It’s why the wolves revealed Drago to you; they want to know.”

Crap.

My mind wandered back to Drago’s explosion through my roof, hellfire raining. Impetus. The rising symbiont. Loboli’s voice rolled through my brain.

From that year forward, they seek their bonded mate.

“Holy Hades. It’s not where to hide. It’s who to fuck! If they find a human, the magic dilutes, finding a demi enhances. The logical action is for demis to search for each other.”

“Locate more demis, and you’ll find the merge, a junior Thundra.”

Junior or not, fire is fire. Double crap.

Chapter Twelve

No fewer than six wolves stood guard outside Loboli’s oceanfront mansion, and if looks could murder, I’d be steak tartare for twenty. I parked my Beetle and forced myself to walk, with minimal limp, to the front entrance, but my nerves shrieked and I had every confidence I fooled no one.

Loboli’s face, when he opened the door, was the confirmation I needed. Cleopatra O’Keefe was on the wolf shit list, line number one.

“Keeper.” Loboli gestured not to the patio where we conversed before, but to an ornate dining room, the heavy table and chairs filled with shifters of every stripe. Bears, big cats, and even Bingo, who gave me a tiny smile. This wasn’t a meeting; it was a grilling. I requested the meeting to update Loboli, but it appeared he broadened the audience. Good thing I called for the conversation. If he’d sought me, I’d be in, if possible, a worse predicament.

“Thank you,” I rasped, voice betraying the innate terror. Hard wired to flee these signatures, instead I was leading the conversation. And, I hoped, not peeing my pants in the process. The chair’s brocade looked and felt expensive.

A cat that I knew only tangentially growled. “Are you friend or foe? You brought our greatest enemy here, but only after you set us up in one place in the forest. Is shifter annihilation your end game?”

A bear spoke next. He’d drank in The Boogey many times and was sweet on a

fairy. I liked him; too bad his face resembled my worst nightmare.

“Did you have any strategy when you upended our world, Keeper? How d’you expect your grand plan to work?”

En venterim, Patra. You can do this.

“Thank you for coming to talk with me. I share your valid concerns. I promised Loboli I’d apprise him of this situation and I keep my vows.”

Nada. Not even a nod from Bingo. Tough crowd.

“We are in a great imbalance. This took place before. The record clarified that Poseidon’s and Nereus’ vanishing was against their will. Apollo shared both the reason this occurred before and why it’s happening now.”

Loboli leaned forward, and I squeezed my thighs with my palms to keep my legs still.

“Poseidon and Nereus vanished? How can that be?”

“Because immortals are tied to the balance of the creation and we’re tipping. I have more to share.”

This was a low-level no-no, but I pulled the battered journal from the small of my back and laid it on the table. “Like you, this booklet functions as a symbiont of sorts for the record. Entries are fluid between the two.”

I had their attention. My willingness to share the record, in a tough interview, was a tremendous show of respect. I opened the journal; the pages were blank. Now they leaned in and my hands shook. Damned grateful I didn’t need to write. Splotch city, baby.

“Show me the entry on recording the dragons.”

The words rose onto the page. The writing was old-fashioned, from the early 1400s. There were lines ing the human and magical worlds in several places across the earth. Every entry from those lines were recorded in the same book. This Keeper was in Britannia, based on the language.

I cleared my throat and read. Bingo, seated next to me, leaned over to study the words.

“Thee efforts to control the dragons failed once more. Terror within the tales of these creatures rises and colours the decision making. I chose to speak to the Welsh leader, Kornu, and listened to his plea to heare the full story. Kornu spake with significant force, insisting dragons want only to live, mate, and thrive. He posits dragons cannot be vanquished. To live amoungst them in peace is better than quaking in terror that they might break their banishment. I told him I would mark the conversation into the record, but that the deaths, by fires within, cannot continue. He forsook speaking further, shaking his head at my folly.”

I closed the journal and tucked it into the back of my waist.

Bingo looked at the group. “She read the words as written.”

Nods bobbed around the table. Cool. I survived round one.

“Based on your full knowledge of lore, what does that entry mean to you?”

“A ploy to deceive, and a poor gambit,” the cat answered with a drawn out hiss. “The Keeper can’t help them.”

“Kornu just wanted to mate and produce more dragons,” offered a bear.

“The world needs no more dragons,” Loboli said, fingers drumming the table top.

“Anyone else glean anything?” My eyes ran along the group, holding each gaze. I think my vapor was helping, because the terror felt mitigated to a level below flipping the car on the interstate. Or it’s possible I’d run out of adrenaline.

Sorry, adrenal glands; I’m a handful.

“When the wolf alerted me to the dragon signature in the blend, I started

studying. The witches lent me books from their library and I read them.”

Loboli raised an eyebrow. “Witches shared knowledge? That’s interesting.”

“You shared lore too,” I replied. “And so did the dragon, Campe. Here is where we stand. Dragons, as original shifters, have always been able to mate outside their race. Knowing that, do you understand which part of that entry jumped out at me?”

Bingo’s eyes widened. “Fiery deaths from within? So, not deaths from throat fire?”

“Yes. Spontaneous combustion. Impetus. The pieces fit together and I realized, even sequestered and unable to leave their forest prisons, the dragons adapted.”

“There are more.” Loboli’s flat tone filled the room. “You’re saying there’s always been more.”

“Yeah. And I’m leaning toward the idea they’re seeking one another, to build stronger offspring.”

“It’s what I’d do,” the cat concurred. “Rebuild the line.”

“Campe is operating under en venterim. As long as a race returns respect to him, he remains an ally. The blend you met survived his impetus and is somewhere

nearby. He evidenced fire, but not a full shift or flight. Whether that changes with time, I can’t say.”

“Keeper, we’ll discuss this turn of events. We appreciate your shared knowledge.” Loboli rose. My opportunity just had its curtain call.

“Will you advise me of your outcome?”

“No promises. If we agree that doing so is in our best interests, you’ll hear from me. The safety of our lineage is paramount.”

“Loboli, my task is to restore the balance, reduce the uptick of fire, and return water to equal weight. I am allied with shifters to preserve their lines. But be aware, when Campe left his prison and flew across the globe, the Vapors shielded his body. The peace mentioned in the entry I showed you is another factor.”

“We’ll keep that in mind. Please show yourself to the door.”

Poseidon chortled. “These walls are now dripping. She’s rolling.”

Nereus poked at the wall, his finger making a slight indent. “That woman will cost me a pile of gold if she keeps going. Not,” he added, “that I want to spend eternity with a smug bastard who can’t lose with any degree of grace.”

A fish swam through the water wall and dropped onto the sand, flopping in surprised protest.

“Permeable both ways? A new opportunity, perhaps.” Poseidon lifted the fish and pushed it through to safety. “Maybe a mer will swim in, make himself useful.”

“I’ll bet you a throne in Olympus the mer won’t help you,” Nereus laughed. “For one of the big three, your lack of a clue is comedic. How you manage not to implode the seas every moon is astonishing.”

Poseidon rubbed his forehead. “I’ll concede the point, Nereus. I have been inconsistent.”

“Holy Hades. Are you serious? Inconsistent my ancient crabby ass. Boinking your way across the beach for decades on end is avoidance. You don’t want to manage the mer, and now you act surprised because they don’t want you to either?”

“The bridge is not broken.”

“Hanging by a tiny thread the size of your dick, Big Red.” Nereus snapped the waistband of Poseidon’s Speedo.

Thick fingers reached in and pulled a protesting crab from his suit, flicking it through the wall of water. “The only god here who thinks you’re amusing is you.”

Drago sat in the fire, flames licking the scrub and trees between him and the campground as the sirens drew closer. After slapping sparks, he pushed up from the ground in a single, fluid motion, feet leaving the sooty soil before landing with a light crunch.

As the fire’s edge crept toward the cottages, people streamed out, clutching their belongings and shouting, while a few cried. Drago avoided all of them and sidled to his cabin, where Daisy barked in panic.

“I’m here, Daisy girl. We're gonna take a ride, get you a safe new home.”

Drago pushed the flimsy door open with a two-finger tap; it slammed into the wall with a crack as he strode in, grabbed his tote, banana boxes, suitcase of books, Daisy’s leash, and his backpack, lifting everything as though it weighed nothing. Daisy at his heels, he walked from the human world for the last time.

The truck threatened to overheat, so Drago opened the window and exhaled out into the rushing wind. The engine light slipped out of the red and he headed beachside, crossing the big Dunlawton Bridge. After a quick turn into The Boogie’s parking lot, he slid out of the pickup, listening to the motor tick.

“I gotta figure out this heat, Daisy. Hard to move around without wheels.”

Her tail thumped against the seat as he yanked open the door.

“We did OK, girl, but I ain’t sure I can care for you. Time to pick yerself new people.”

Drago stopped in front of The Boogie’s doors, puzzled there were two, then touched the ornate wooden one. It swung wide, and with Daisy by his side, he stepped into the cool darkness.

Chapter Thirteen

The sulfur gave him away. Problem was, I was alone, and without a witch to drop the Keeper’s safety hatch, a goner. The joyful bark was unexpected. Dragons have dogs? Goofy grinning ones?

If I’m dying in a hot, literal minute, might as well snuggle a pooch. I bent and rubbed the goofball between the ears.

“Who’s the happy pup? Aren’t you the sweetest thing?”

“She’s mine, but I gotta travel, and I can’t keep her. Figured people would be partying, and I’d find her a new owner.”

What in holy Hades? Does he not me? Or The Boogey? He owns and loves a doggo? I can use this.

“I have a daughter, and I’m sure she’d love to care for your dog. What’s her name?”

“This here is Daisy. My Daisy girl.”

“If you want me to keep her safe, she’ll be part of the family.”

“Ma’am, that’d be helpful.” Drago’s skin was glowing.

“Sir, are you alright?”

“Not for a while. But I had to get Daisy situated.”

A heavy step hit The Boogey’s floorboards and Campe came around the corner, fast. I put a finger to my lips, hoping he’d let me lead.

“Care for a beer?”

Drago swayed, glow intensifying.

I reached across the bar, and he dropped a sooty leash on my palm.

“She likes good kibble, and my leftover steak.”

“I’ll make sure she gets plenty of both. She’s a sweet girl. Thank you for trusting me to take care of her. She’ll be happy.”

Campe watched, silent, as I clipped the leash on Daisy and enticed her with a bit of cheese. With a sniff and a wag, it disappeared; my actual goal, of keeping her safe behind the bar in case Drago launched Boogey Blast 2.0, achieved.

“Two beers,” Campe said, gesturing to the stools by the window. The sun, almost set, covered the sky in a billowing crimson streaked with tangerine and lavender. Drago stumbled to seats and sat, chugging half the beer in a single swallow.

Campe’s eyes glittered, and he took a swig as he observed Drago’s struggle for control.

“Heat’s hard to manage at first. It doesn’t hurt you, but everything around you burns.”

Drago drained his beer with a second long pull, and I slid a fresh one onto the window sill along with two steins of ice cubes.

Campe popped a cube and gestured to the other stein. “Try these.”

Drago pushed one into his mouth and sucked on his beer. “Better. That’s a decent trick. I hear you about the burning. It's why I wanted to find a place for my dog.”

“Wise idea,” Campe replied, selecting another cube. “When you hurt someone you love, it’s a tough burden.”

“When.”

“Until you possess control, when is more certain than if.”

“How d’you know so much about me?”

“Because I know your father, your real one.”

“Mama said she never knew, so how the hell could you?”

Campe held out his palm and spit a perfect fireball, running the sphere of flames in between his fingers like a magician. “I know. What’s more, I can show you how to control the inferno that’s torching campgrounds and hotel rooms. Interested?”

Drago tried to keep a blank face, eyes glued to the ball of fire. “Nope. I don’t get what you’re talking about.”

“You do, and that is the last lie you’ll tell me.” Campe’s head shifted, teeth dropping through an elongating snout, scales lapping from nostrils to the back of his skull. Drago jumped, stumbled over his falling stool and crashed to the floor amid Daisy’s frantic barking.

“Shh, shh, he’s OK. Good girl.” I knelt, wincing from the knee, peeking at Campe’s restored head and Drago’s slow rise to his feet. The second beer

vanished.

“I’m a dragon. You are the child of one. And you have a lot to learn.” Campe flipped a gold piece across the room, landing on the bar.

In an aside to me, he added, “Paxizu.”

“Ready?”

Drago, stunned, nodded. Campe climbed through the window, gripped Drago around the chest as he initiated his shift and lept, dragging the demi over the sill and up into the darkening night as Daisy howled.

“Poor baby. How can you understand any of this? I think Drago’s OK. He sure loved you until he couldn’t. You’re a good girl.”

A wet nose pushed against my neck, and I patted our new dog.

“I hope Justice won’t eat you.”

Ballard eyed the visitors on the balcony, then crooked a finger. Chelsea entered, followed by a second witch with the oddest hair Ballard had ever seen outside of Hollywood. It’s not as if the beach is full of conformers, but he considered her spiky do to be next level.

“Dracena, this is Ballard.”

“Hello, Witch Dracena. Welcome.”

“She plans to stay and add protection for Aegeus.”

“I’m grateful,” Ballard said, and Dracena’s resting bitchface melted into a sweet smile and her hair softened into ringlets.

“Our coven looks forward to training Aegeus when the time comes. Imagine, a demigod with a shred of Vapor. What an opportunity for learning! But for now, protection is essential.”

“Aegeus, come here, honey, and bring Justice.”

Bare feet slapped along the hallway; Aegeus hugged Chelsea and eyed Dracena.

“You’re new. Are you in Witch Chelsea’s coven?”

“I am. Is this your kitterling?”

“Yes! This is Justice. He stays with me always and is an excellent swimmer.”

“I look forward to seeing you both swim in the morning. I’m staying here for a spell while the Keeper digs herself out of the mess she made.”

“Dracena?” Chelsea’s eyebrows knit.

Chelsea and Dracena eyed one another for a long moment, and Dracena smiled. “And of course I expect your Mom will do just that. She’s resourceful.”

“We’re planning on pizza tonight. What toppings do you prefer?” Ballard asked.

“I haven’t eaten a pizza in years, but I liked the little round disks.”

“Pepperoni it is. Shrimp and anchovy for you, kiddo?”

“Yes, please! Justice loves shrimps and anchovies,” Aegeus confided. “I think they taste like mer.”

Dracena snorted, then burst into laughter. “You are delightful, child. What are you reading?”

“Dragons. We’re studying hard, every day.”

Chelsea glanced at Ballard, who tapped his head.

“I’m curating my own journal.”

“You’re going to need it.” Chelsea bent and bopped Aegeus on the nose. “Be alert. If you smell sulfur, get behind Justice or Dracena and stay put. Understood?”

“OK, but the dragon man isn’t coming.”

“Why is that, child?” Dracena cocked her head.

“Because he’s not here anymore. I felt him leave when I was swimming earlier. He was near, but after sundown, he went away.”

Chelsea stared as Ballard mouthed ‘water’ and rumpled Aegeus’ hair.

“Interesting.” Chelsea sounded surprised.

“She’s known from the beginning,” Ballard’s poker face cemented as he held her gaze. “She is a piece of the water balance.”

Aegeus wandered to grab a drink from the fridge door, and Ballard followed the witches to the balcony.

Chelsea pulled a small sea turtle charm and ed it to Ballard. “For Aegeus. Two taps.” She raised an eyebrow. “The magical world is banking everything on this idea of Patra’s that the balance shifted. It’s a stretch.”

Ballard pocketed the summoning charm with a skeptical expression. “Her last two stands for the Triune? No different, and she’s two for two. Right on both counts. Why the doubt now, Chels?”

“Because if she’s wrong, witches and shifters lose everything,” Dracea answered. “Humans can’t comprehend the volume of knowledge and learning that ceases if dragons regain freedom. At day’s end, the Keeper is still a human.”

Paxizu. Paxizu. It’s not Latin, it isn’t a language of any form I can determine. What in Hades could it mean?

I stared at the book, frustrated. So far, no answers to the question of how to unlock the Paxizu entry. If there was one. So much of the dragon’s existence was shoved aside. And to be honest, that bugged me. The pattern felt way too familiar, and I’m stuck with shadows and bull.

Grrr.

Shoving the book into the cupboard and palming it closed, I grabbed Daisy’s leash.

“Let’s take a quick stroll, puppers. I need to clear my head.”

We wandered along the pier and into the parking lot, Daisy tugging and pulling me toward a pickup truck that’d seen average days a decade ago. Better was a considerable stretch. Daisy whined.

“Was this Drago’s?”

She jumped and put her front paws onto the tailgate. In the moon’s light, a tote, a suitcase, a bunch of banana boxes, and a backpack huddled against the front of the truck bed. Leash in hand, I climbed into the pickup and popped the lid off the tote. Books. A ton of them. The suitcase and boxes were an anchor, too. I

understood the value of a library, and this half dragon carried his books to the end.

“Let’s grab the hand truck, Daisykins. We’ve got books to investigate.”

Two trips and twenty minutes later, we huddled in the office while I dug into the tote. A lot of it was schlock, but he’d acquired several books of note, a couple that I held in my library. With a sigh, I shoved them back inside, snapped the lid, and palmed back into The Boogey. Time to send Parks home. Daisy settled in on the floor near the taps, and I assessed. A few fae who, I’d bet my cheeky shorts, were here for an info swap, and Pook and Bingo. That was it. No other forest folk, not a single witch. Even Dionysis was MIA.

I’d spent the afternoon with a full-fledged dragon and a walking flare gun, but looking around my bar, fright gripped my heart for the first time.

They weren’t going to try. Dammit. I freaking thought they’d get it, but nope. I’m solo. The fae reconnaissance was no fluke. Any info I let slip would be used to thwart my efforts, hedging short-term safety for them over long-term balance for the creation. This war started without me.

En venterim, rest in peace.

Chapter Fourteen

“W here are we?” Drago peered around the enormous cavern, filled with water in the basin. Sunlight gleamed on the surface ripples, slanting through several small openings at the top.

“A cenote in Mexico,” Campe replied.

“Nice enough place, but Mexico? Why fly that far from Florida? I ain’t got a port. Not a fan of spending time in a Mexican jail.”

Campe snorted. “I’ll train you here; the instability coursing through your veins is a problem on several levels. If you figure out how to connect with the symbiont and shift, allowing wings to develop, you’ll fly around the entire world in a single flight. The cenote offers a superior location to determine your capabilities. Now, jump.”

Drago shrugged and jumped. “Cool. I’m walking on the moon.”

He bounded along the perimeter of the basin with exaggerated leaps, covering ten feet at a time, and circled back to Campe.

“That’s new.”

“Promising,” Campe replied. “Try running across the water.”

“Hell no, I can’t swim. I ain’t doing that.”

Campe swung an arm wide, caught Drago by the bicep, and flung him toward the basin. “Run!”

Drago ran, feet skimming the surface, flapping his arms in terror before bouncing against the rocky wall of the cenote on the other side and landing on his ass with a hard bounce.

Campe shifted and flew across, dropping onto the path next to Drago. “As your Master, I’ll train and solidify your symbiont immersion. You’ll attempt every task requested, learn the lore, and live by that lore until death. Your opinion is irrelevant. Understood?”

“Yes,” Drago muttered.

Campe lifted the scaly equivalent of an eyebrow.

“Yes, Master Campe.”

“How nice, you’re a quick study, Aegeus. Are you ready for lunch?” Dracena closed the book with a smile.

“Mmm, yummy. Leftover pizza is fine.”

“Dracena,” Ballard swung by the kitchen. “I’m heading out to run errands. Patra wakes between eleven and noon, and I should be back before she leaves for The Boogie. Can I pick anything up for you?”

“Me? Oh, my, that’s very sweet, but I can usually cast for most needs.” Dracena rose, tugging a ringlet, then ran a hand along Ballard’s forearm, squeezed it, and smiled.

“Um, great. That makes sense. Kiddo, I’ll see you in a few and we’ll swim after lessons when it’s cooler.”

“OK, Ballard!”

“Let’s get your pizza warmed up, Aegeus,” Dracena said, as the front door closed behind Ballard. With a wave, the pieces on the plate shimmered with warmth. “Try this.”

“Pu-fect,” Aegeus proclaimed around a mouthful.

Dracena waved a finger, and a hot tea appeared on the island countertop.

“So tell me about Ballard, honey. He seems very attached to you.”

“Oh, I love Ballard. He takes care of me and Mommy, and he loves Justice, too.”

“How nice! What a great guy.”

“The best!”

“Bet it’s strange living with Mommy after so many years of being ignored.”

Aegeus reached for more pizza. “I could always feel her love, and Daddy only hid me to protect me.”

“Well, I can understand why. Your Mom takes risks.”

“Daddy says good Keepers do, and that moves the creation forward.”

“Too bad we’re moving into a terrible place now. But, I’m sure your Mom will realize that before it’s too late. At least, I hope so.”

“Mommy and the Vapors can handle anything!” Aegeus stopped chewing and stared at Dracena.

“Of course that’s possible, sweetie. When she has magical help, she accomplishes tasks.”

Aegeus chewed and swallowed, then pushed the plate away. “I’m finished.”

Dracena snapped, and the kitchen tidied itself, plates washing, drying, and zooming back into the cupboard as a clean, damp towel wiped up the crumbs.

“Witch Dracena, I’m going to lie down with Mommy for a while,” Aegeus announced. She marched into the bedroom, Justice on her heels, and closed the door with a quiet click behind her.

“That child is too smart by half,” Dracena stared at the ocean, waves crashing in a continual tick of watery time. “That man, though, is worth a tumble. I could have fun here.”

“High Priestess, I appreciate the opportunity to converse.”

“As do I, Loboli, we dwell in unusual circumstances.”

“Did you convene the covens?” Loboli gestured to the seating on the patio, then poured ice water for them both. “Please, help yourself. I imagine we’ll be here for a while.”

Chelsea loaded a plate with fruit and cheese and leaned back in her seat.

“Are the shifters united?”

“No, which surprised me, to be frank. No bird shifters, including the owls, ed us, and the fairies disagreed. It’s problematic to lose our flight options. I found the fae the most surprising, but they spent the evening at The Boogey with the Keeper and announced they would not align with us.”

“Nobody fucks with the fae by choice,” Chelsea said, selecting then chewing a slice of melon, letting the silence stretch. “To choose divergence from the Keeper doesn’t sit well with me, but as protector of the lore of the covens, I must guard our knowledge and protect future learning. The covens are not in total accord, but agreed to you with a significant caveat.”

“And what might that be?” Loboli leaned over and loaded steak tartare onto his plate, adding a pile of blueberries.

“Loyalty to the Keeper flourishes, and not just from my coven. The developing threads binding the world are real; witches worldwide view these changes as positive and great opportunities for learning. Many are reluctant to abandon this opportunity in its infancy and question the viability of the Triune if we your alliance. We must discuss this between our races.”

“A fair point,” Loboli conceded. “We too have seen rapid improvement with our lot, and not having to hide while controlling swaths of forest for our sole use is significant.”

“The gamble’s stakes loom for both parties. Why do you prefer to fight?”

He leaned back, fingers drumming the tabletop. The silence built out, but neither budged. Loboli barked a growl and shook his head. “I’d rather not to say.”

“Then we cannot you.” Chelsea, surprised, rose to her feet. “Disrespect lies within a hidden agenda not shared by the parties.”

“Witch Chelsea, wait.” Loboli paced the patio with animalistic grace as Chelsea stood in the doorway, watching for clues.

“We fight now because we were instrumental in their imprisonment. We choose aggression because the dragons will exact revenge and reign terror for centuries. If no member of this generation survives to rebuild our culture, the Triune is lost forever. ”

“I appreciate the honesty. Have you discussed brokering a ceasefire with the Keeper? That conversation could save many shifters. Patra’s got an obvious stake in saving the humans.”

“We do not see including the Keeper in our discussions and plans as a practical choice. These wounds go deep into our history; shifting races consider them sacred.”

“Until you have open discussion, it’s impossible to grasp your options. Based on this new information, I’m tabling our tentative acceptance. I’ll reconvene and return with our answer.”

“Your magic cannot turn the dragons from you if they choose to engage… and they will.”

“We can handle ourselves, but I question the wisdom of continuing to stir this pot. It’s been thousands of years. A refusal to broker peace, preferring war, brings the deaths of far too many onto your shoulders, Loboli. I encourage you to reopen this conversation with your magical brethren.”

“Shifters are, by nature, violent. It is our code.”

“In the time of deep voids between worlds, choosing violence provided the best protection. That Earth no longer exists, Loboli. Shifters live in the world they’re born into, not the gory, gloried one of the past. Leadership,” Chelsea tempered the criticism with a thoughtful smile, “is knowing when to lay aside old weapons

and forge new strengths. I’ve struggled with this myself.”

Loboli growled.

“I’ll come back with our update tomorrow after the reconvention. I wish you well.” Chelsea walked with slow deliberateness to the front entrance and let herself out. Behind her, a frustrated howl shook the dawn.

“Mommy?”

I cracked an eye to find Aegeus’ face against mine. A rumbly purr told me Justice lay between our knees. I smiled and kissed her little nose, laughing when Daisy licked my foot. So far, uneaten.

“Are you OK? Did you read a scary book?”

“Oh, no. It’s not that.”

I sat up, pushed back until my spine rested against the headboard, and pulled her in for a cuddle. Daisy eyed Justice and rethought jumping on the bed, spinning instead into a circle and plopping on her plushy dog cushion with an exaggerated sigh.

“Tell me what’s going on, sweet girl.”

“Dracena isn’t being truthful, Mommy. She likes Ballard, but she doesn’t like you at all. Plus, she only wants to help me and him. Her heart has hidey holes.”

Crap. Hidey holes were Aegeus’ name for subterfuge in someone’s vibration. It’s why she adored Sadie and Glenna. When humans or magicals manifested negativity, she wanted nothing to do with them. Her sense of people was uncanny. The Vapor shred within her, I supposed.

“I’ll talk to Chelsea when I see her, honey. But understand that this dragon problem is pulling friendships apart. Some seek to live in peace together, while others feel fear and choose to fight. I believe the true path requires learning how to accept one another and forgive the past. But when lore is involved, magicals worry that I’m asking them to break the law. I’m not, but it takes time to help everyone learn.”

“I can’t feel Daddy. That worries me.”

“Do you when we had that water balloon fight at the inlet last month? How some balloons were bigger than others?”

“Yes, the smaller ones were easier to throw; the heavier ones splashed better.”

“Imagine holding a big and a small balloon, one in each palm, and trying to hold them level. The longer you hold their weight, the harder it is to keep them balanced, right?”

Aegeus nodded.

“Destructive energy and behaviors do the same thing to the creation. Over time, keeping the world level grows difficult because the weights are unequal.”

“Oh! The heavier weight is the dragons, because they aren’t free.”

“Plus the energies of the magicals who took their freedom away. When you add it together, it’s a great heaviness.”

“So helping dragons fills more positive energy into the little balloon?”

“Very good. It’s complicated, and choosing to do the right things causes problems and struggles. Changes are tough for humans and magicals both. But pursuing what’s right is worth it, sweet girl. The reason you can’t sense Poseidon is that the fire weight of the dragons has tipped him away from us. I’m working hard to make it so Daddy can come see you again.”

“I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you with every bit of my heart, Aegeus.”

Chapter Fifteen

Parker glanced up at the shriek.

“Ack! Crabs, hundreds of them, all over my feet!”

Gloria, Parker’s aunt, trotted over to the table. “Ma’am, let me help you. I’m so sorry they disrupted your meal.”

A few minutes later the happy vacation vibe returned as crabs, dropped by the dust pan loads, hit the ocean, and the woman with the tickled feet held her ‘on the house’ jumbo margarita under a big grin. Gloria caught Parker’s eye, holding up four fingers.

For the fourth time today, the tiny crabs swarmed the pier. Parks wondered what their visits meant, but it was midday. Ergo no free time to consult the record. He delivered tequila shots with beer chasers to the pair of forty-something women, whose hair was waaay down at 3 o’clock, with a flirtatious grin.

“We keep this up, we’re taking you home, hottie.”

Lemons bit and their shots landed, Parker turned away, pausing when the hairs lifted on his forearms. He peered through the transparent wall into The Boogey. It was packed with patrons and every one of them was smokin’ hot. Who they

might be was a mystery. Parker glimpsed Charlie heading to clock in and trotted after him.

“Can you cover a couple minutes? I’ve got the mother of all dumps on deck.”

Charlie laughed. “Hell, Parker, it’s not busy, take fifteen.”

“Much appreciated.” Parker trotted out of the kitchen toward the bathrooms, past them, out the main door and palmed into The Boogey.

“Ladies, welcome to The Boogey. How may I help?”

Fifty pairs of eyes in every shade of blue Parker knew existed blinked above blazing smiles.

“Ooh, it’s the new Keeper!”

“We’ve heard of you.”

“How handsome. And young. Yummy.”

“I’d love to keep you under the sea with me.”

The babble rose, and Parker held up a bottle with a grin. “Wine?”

“Fish ale,” one said, fluttering her lashes.

“Oh, yes!”

“Let’s have ales!”

Parker tapped, and tapped, and tapped as the minutes ticked. As he pushed the last ale across, he lifted a finger.

“The Boogey isn’t open during the day. I gotta return to tend bar on the human side. Can I help with anything else, ladies?”

Two gold pieces landed on the bar. One woman, cerulean blue eyes blazing over her smile, nodded.

“Oh yes, Keeper. The crabs tell us the water prison holding Dad and Poseidon is failing. The work to resolve the dragon fire takes shape.”

“Sounds good, right?” Parker glanced back at Charlie, who was filling up. Happy hour commencing in three, two…

“We just, mmm,” a breathy exhale punctuated the next word, “desire, a little help.”

“If I can, I will.” She was the most exotic creature Parker had ever seen. He lounged against the bar, attempting nonchalance.

“We require you to kill Loboli.”

“Oh, yes!”

“Please do.”

“He’s become a problem.”

“The sooner the better!”

Parker blinked as all fifty of Nereus’ daughters drained their beers, walked to the windows of The Boogey, climbed over the wooden sills and dropped twenty feet to the sand. The last ones landed as Parker ran to the open window, staring at the sea of crabs moving en masse to the surf, oblivious to the shrieks of chasing kids.

“Weird, and pretty much an actual dump. Stoll in here, chat me up, and request a

murder? Sure thing, babes, Patra can add assassinating damn near impossible-tokill wolves to our job description. Un-freaking believable. They were serious, too. What the hell.”

After dropping the glassware to soak, Parker scrawled a note and set it under the taps.

Talk to me about the Nereides and their non-starter offer.

With an epic eye roll, he palmed out and headed into The Boogie to hustle out a happy hour.

“Again,” Campe’s wings, flapping over the water, made ripples.

“At least I learned how to swim,” Drago muttered, kicking to the shallows and climbing the submerged rocks back to the path.

Drago slapped his thighs and crouched, skin glowing as he eyed the holes at the top of the cenote. Toes gripping, he squatted low and leapt, flinging his arms and shoulders up, then forward, repeating the motion, as his toes rose off the rocky edge, suspended.

Twenty feet over the water, he plummeted, steam rising as he vanished below the surface.

“Close. He’s missing a trigger. His body’s gravitational dependence shifted, but the emerging wings are only stubs.” Campe landed and paced, continuing to mutter as Drago rose from the basin and stood on the path, rubbing his back against the stones, resembling a pent up, itchy bear. As the idea landed, Campe halted, turned, shot a blast of fire across the water, and then eyed Drago.

“If you can’t figure this out, you’ll never get laid again.”

“To hell with that.” Drago’s yellow eyes narrowed. “I’m ready to go for as long as it takes.”

“Ladies! How delightful,” Poseidon oozed charm at the bevy before him.

“Keep your mangy mitts off my kids, sea bum, or I’ll sick every crab in my sea on your balls and tell them to never stop pinching.”

“It’s my sea, you cantankerous curmudgeon. Why deny your daughters the sensational delight of their lives?”

“Delight? You mean the dried up seas of disappointment.”

“Never!” Poseidon boomed, poking a finger into the squishy wall. “A self descriptive of your inglorious past isn’t necessary.” He flexed to a round of watery applause. “Soon enough, sweet Nereides! Once I can push through, we’ll party like it’s 479 BC… victors, spoils, and so much wine!”

The Nereides flashed smiles, and several touched the wall. One, whose fingertip was mere inches from Poseidon’s thick forefinger, shot him a knowing look, eyes deepening and locking to his. Nereus’ irritated punch broke the moment.

“I forbid it! The last thing I need is a grandson from a fuck-happy squid pusher.”

Alarmed crabs flowed onto his shoulders, claws raised in defiance.

“Lust is lust, Old Man. You can’t stem any tides, and that includes jamming the clams.” Poseidon waggled his eyebrows and strutted. “Nereus, chatting up this bountiful sea of gorgeousness or stuck in endless games of rummy with you? Trust me, it’s not close.”

Nereus moved to the back of the bubble as one daughter leaned closer.

“Well? I’ve got a pile of gold riding.”

“We did it, Father. Now it’s up to them.”

I stared at my bare foot, shifting narrowed eyes to Dracena.

“My foot appears to be glued to the floor.”

“Aegeus was working on art projects.” Dracena waved and a bottle of nail polish remover landed on my big toe and fell onto the tile with a clunk.

“Ow!”

“I’ve heard humans can unstick super glue with acetone,” Dracena smiled at me, ringlets bouncing. “Come Aegeus, let’s study on the balcony, this breeze is wonderful.”

Aegeus came over and looked at my foot, face pinched with worry.

“I didn’t use glue here, Mommy.”

“Oh, Honey, I know. It’s OK. Go study and I’ll get my foot unstuck. I have to leave for The Boogey soon.”

Ballard walked into the kitchen and stopped, a grin sneaking across his face. “Dracena strikes again?”

“That witch hates me as much as she wants to bang you.”

Ballard sloshed acetone onto the floor, and with a gentle grip, worked the foot. He massaged the calf, knee, and inner thigh, kissing my sore, reddened knee, green eyes holding mine.

“Baby, I love you.” The glue, skin, and floor separated and I grinned.

“I’ll be up in the morning if you want to test that statement.”

“You always are,” I laughed, mopping up the last of the acetone.

Over his shoulder, Dracena glared.

Screw you, he’s mine and we’re his.

Her eyes widened. So now I knew; even though reading our minds while in our home was forbidden, she did it with impunity. Chelsea and I were having a chat. Talented or not, Dracena wasn’t welcome after today.

“I’m telling Chelsea Dracena is impossible, and we need another option for Aegeus. She may say we don’t have one.”

“Chelsea has Aegeus’ back. She’ll figure something out. I doubt she thought Dracena would pull this crap. Trying to get in my pants the entire time, attempting to turn Aegeus away from you, and impairing your mobility four times in one day? Yeah, I want her gone, Babe.”

I kissed him til my toes curled and stepped backward.

“Time to Boogie.”

Chapter Sixteen

Glenna read and laid the note back next to the ale taps, mixed a double Bat Fizz, and slipped onto her favorite stool, sipping. Parker glanced her way from the human bar, and she raised her cocktail with a cheery grin.

“The last time I tangled with the Nereides, Nereus was stuck in Tartarus. I wonder…”

A faint pop, and Chelsea landed beside her, nose wrinkling. “How you can drink that swill is beyond me.”

“Drinking this swill begat you. A little respect, please.”

“I am not interested in rehashing your boink-fest with ol’ amber eyes. His stubbornness is legendary. And annoying.”

“True,” Glenna smiled as fizz danced on the rim of her glass. “You didn’t get that from me.”

A bottle of wine, the good stuff, knocked against the cupboard door set below the rail. “Why in Hades does she keep locking up the wine?”

“Because you drink it all ‘on the house’ and I run out before Waldo delivers more,” I answered, rounding the corner, slipping behind the bar, and pulling my keys. Half a minute and a heavy pour later, Chelsea had wine, and I had her tab started.

Glenna snickered, and I eyed the Bat Fizz, saying nothing. With a grin, she gestured to the taps. Note in hand, I rubbed the spot between my eyebrows.

“Third eye pain?” Glenna enquired.

“More like third ass pain. If the Nereides visited, my guess is Nereus wants something from either me or the Vapors. They can’t free them, I asked.”

“Nope, no way that works, and Poseidon is aware.” Glenna slurped and burped tiny bat shaped whisps that flew from her mouth, wheeling around her head before splatting onto the bar.

“Nice Bat Fizz.”

“Done well, it’s a fabulous drink.”

“Zeus, help me,” Chelsea muttered. “Hey, did you pay for that?”

“Hers was on me for watching The Boogey until I arrived,” I interjected, wiping the bartop where the wispy bats committed kamikaze for their final hurrah.

Another twinkle from Glenna. I suspected she had an adventure to share, but not with Chels around. Odd. Those two were inseparable.

Chelsea made grumpy faces as Glenna burped bats and I stocked the bar for the evening. Truth be told, the fact they were even here cheered me. Maybe Loboli blew his pitch. From my vantage point, nothing appeared cemented. Yet.

If you want to know, Patra, ask.

“I assume Loboli pitched hard to the shifters in an alliance.”

Chelsea spun in her seat. A pointed silence stretched as I topped her wine with several loud glugs.

“Freebie,” I announced. “You help me often.”

A smile ticked up one corner of her mouth and she picked up her glass, turning halfway back toward me.

“He asked. His motives weren’t acceptable.”

Hands on hips, I stared at them both, brain churning. “Loboli wants this war. So do the large shifters. They fear losing their lines.”

“A valid concern, I suppose,” Glenna said. “But if fighting is all you know, you fight when you should negotiate. Preservation requires learning and adaptation. Those traits form the cornerstones of magical life.”

“To live in the past, elevating inglorious acts as accomplishments is a specious deception. To lie to another race of magicals is forbidden; it’s an act of aggression. But lying to yourself? That’s idiocy.” Chelsea drained her wine and shoved the wineglass toward me.

Hmm. I grabbed the bottle. At this pace, she’ll get loose. Could be an opportunity knocking. I poured a generous one and did not mark her tab. Glenna burped a bat and grinned.

“One more?”

A beaming smile. I set her up with another double, and the grin widened. Glenna was having fun, and it made no sense. Unless… it’s the note. She’s got a story to share. Cool.

The door banged open, and I jumped, god mojo gripping my skin as my throat dried to a thorny click. Whoever it was didn’t dial down one iota. Arms quaking in my shoulder sockets, I hung on the edge of the bar in a losing effort to remain upright.

“Shit,” Glenna said, ever helpful.

Chelsea stood and smoothed her dress, hands loose at her sides, fooling nobody.

“Lord Ares,” I squeaked as the armored breast plate atop a battle toga skirt thingy that appeared to be overlapping layers of bronze feathers stopped before me and straddled the stool with a clanking thud. A cough and a fresh try. “Welcome to The Boogey.”

Not any better. I held on, certain I’d drop like a stone if I released my hands. Ares looked around The Boogey and nodded, satisfied.

“You,” he pointed to Glenna. “Leave now.”

Glenna nodded and snapped, taking her drink with her. So much for learning her Nereides story. Crap.

“High Priestess.”

“God of War.”

They stared at me.

“Do you require the Keeper,” I scritched, hating my shaking voice. Ares was taking me out.

“She won’t last,” Chelsea interceded.

“A human weakling,” Ares tempered his mojo, and I slumped against the rail. “Don’t out, Keeper.”

“Who me? I’m good.”

Liar, but at least I wasn’t on a countdown to blasting every liquid in my body across the bar in simulcast.

“Gorgon ale, and another wine for the High Priestess.”

Rubbery thighs protesting, I got my feet moving. Ale tapped into a massive leather stein with an ornate carved and pointed lid; I used both hands to carry it to him before bringing the bottle to Chelsea and setting it next to her wine glass. Fingers scrabbling under the bar, I located my bourbon by touch and glugged a fat three-finger pour into a squat highball glass. After a long exhale, I sipped. Well, slugged. Better.

“I foresee a fight,” Ares began, his heavy voice shaking The Boogey as glassware chittered in the racks, “with each piece in play circling, seeking their positions for battle.”

He tapped the stein, and the leather moved, self embossing, a story unfolding on a cylindrical TV. Dragons flew, with the dinosaurs moving below, healthy,

whole, and unconcerned with the power zooming above them. A dragon landed and rubbed necks with a T-Rex. My fingers massaged my temples. This was getting weird.

Another tap. Now Zeus, fighting with a female dragon, drew a bolt and slayed her, blood sliding in dark rivulets down the leather stein to puddle around its base as a cloud drifted from the corpse. Ares lifted the cup and drank a deep draught and set it back into the blood.

Why would Zeus kill a dragon? What purpose did that serve? I’m missing something.

Ares tapped again. The dragons flowed along the top, while wolves, cats, and bears massed underneath. A battle raged, but an old one. The scene became one of dragons, separated, herded by magicals. The banishment.

“Pay attention, Keeper.” His heavy finger hit the rim, and the embossing shifted once more.

It’s Waldo! Holy crap.

Chelsea eyed me with a slight shake, a warning to remain silent. Yeah, no worries there.

Waldo walked up to the lifeless dragon, eyed the desecration, then nodded. He pulled his beard away from his chest with both hands, staring at the strands, then

pulled one, sliding his tiny thumb and forefinger along the strand as the blood seeped into the dragon’s body.

On my bar, the blood flowed up the stein.

Life returned, and she lifted her head. Waldo ran a hand along the length of her body, and she shook, changing, becoming male and disguised. Campe. Waldo changed the slain dragon into the male Campe I released. Holy Hades. Waldo clapped, and Campe vanished. A shimmer in the leather and Hades strode toward Waldo, hands flung wide in question.

Waldo pointed to the ground. Hades nodded, and the scene faded, returning to smooth leather.

Once again, tons of questions and no answers, but I know who to ask.

“I’m grateful, Lord Ares. Apollo said no Olympian would aid my task.”

Ares drained the rest of his ale in an easy pull. Gorgon was a powerhouse brew that set Dionysis on his ass on the regular, but Ares was no worse for wear. He set the stein back on the bar with a clank that flipped my gut sideways.

“They are mewling children,” he growled, mojo rising and terrifying. “War is necessary. But this one is the whim of cowards and fools. A worthy opponent requires a true battle heart and none who call for this slaughter possess it. I intervene for the war itself, not for you, human.”

He eyed me, glowering, dropped a piece of gold and stood, giving Chelsea a considering glance, and my eyes bugged as she flushed, but held his gaze. The tiniest smile cracked his features as he vanished.

“Ares? Are you kidding me?”

“He is principled; that’s sexy. Plus, in a ferocious way, Ares is a hottie.” She shrugged and sipped her wine.

Under the heavy stein, I’d noticed some blood remained. When Chelsea went to pee, I grabbed a vial, unstoppered it, and watched it flow in with no help from me.

Ares left this for me on purpose. He’s a scary mofo, but I’d take it. When I finished tonight, I’d spend time with the record. These questions weren’t gonna ask themselves.

Chapter Seventeen

So far, I had a word I couldn’t parse and a vial of blood. Gods knew why Ares gave me that, but it’s a clue, and I was determined. Or relentless. Annoying even, it depended who you asked.

Chelsea promised Dracena was out of my house, and if necessary, she’d protect Aegeus herself. Fair enough. More than fair, but with Aegeus, I pushed hard.

The record lay open on the desk, and I peered at the blank pages, mind flipping the pieces, and sighed. After digging into Drago’s tote, I pulled a decent mythology book and turned to Zeus, reading for understanding.

OK, Gaia stirred a pot, so like her, and convinced Zeus to rise against Cronus and tackle the other Titans to boot. It’s murky, but somebody, and my money was on Gaia, convinced Ol’ Big Bolts that sweet, sweet victory could be his if he harnessed the power of the Hecatonchires and the Cyclopes. Which, to be fair, totally benefited Gaia, since they were her kids, but I imagined having hundred handed warriors wouldn’t hurt.

But Campe, the female version, was guarding the goods. So Zeus killed her, grabbed them, and went on to win the war.

It felt like a sanitized story, the one Zeus wanted told. But Campe, as the revived male, gave me a clue. The sense of missing a key connection filled my brain. Paxizu. Paxi. Zu. Pa-Xizu.

Pax.

Shit, once again, I’m an idiot.

Plume in hand, I dipped the quill in the inkpot, blotted, and wrote:

I wish to speak with the Vapors in person.

This mist arrived, curling under the doors and through the cracks along the sides until the office resembled a blurred picture, every line soft and smudged. Then they pulled together, forming the figure I’d seen before in my living room. The teak chair I kept behind the door snapped open, and it sat, cocking its head.

“Thank you,” I said, surprised at how relaxing and natural chatting with a fog felt. I’ve had weirder experiences, but in this case, holding a shred of Vapor in my body made this resemble an interaction between student and teacher. To be honest, I liked it.

“I have questions, and I hope you’ll help me understand which records are true, and where the perceptions of the times colored a Keeper’s entries.”

The figure bowed and pointed at the page. I dipped my quill and paused, thinking hard.

Where in the history was the role of peace subverted?

The entity stretched an arm forward, tapped the book, and an entry rose in swirls of Vapor language. I leaned over the pages, translating, then looked at my visitor in shock.

“The asteroid was deliberate? Destruction of an entire ecosystem to upend the balance? Why, this early in the world, were the dragons seen as threatening?”

The entry faded, and a single word appeared on the page.

Pax.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Campe said Waldo, as Chaos, allowed the asteroid to strike, changing the Earth forever. Chaos also saved Campe. Not, as the myths proclaimed, imprisoned, but hidden in Tartarus with Hades’ blessing and kept safe from Zeus. Why?

Gaia told me, before our little underworld adventure, that she’d reset the planet once. What I don’t understand was whether it’s a ham-fisted attempt to end the dragons, or… something else?

The figure nodded, and I grinned. This noodling in my brain I could handle.

“OK, if that’s how things transpired, then the dragons were peaceful. What I’m

wondering is if Gaia believed the reset would destroy them as well?”

Pax faded from the page, and another entry, in Vapor whorls, surfaced. Which made sense. Events transpiring before the record ed to Ezekial Kane was a written history preserved by the Vapors.

I stared, translating several pages, then slumped into my seat and gazed at my guest, dumbstruck.

“You are peace, and dragons are also peace because at one point peace inhabited a body? And when the asteroid hit, you adapted? So now you exist as both corporeal and non-corporeal, and nobody, not even the gods, understands they can’t vanquish either form?”

Crap. My track record for missing the point remains unblemished. This peace had to be the reason. Maybe Gaia blew the world apart, but created one that saved, after millions of years, the chance for peace. It’s her creation, and she wanted each species to thrive, even the Vapors.

The Vapor dude (dudette?) leaned back into the teak seat, crossed its legs, and nodded.

“Holy crap! So when did Zeus imprison the Vapors? Was that after the asteroid reset when you and your dragon bodies separated? ”

My mist buddy tapped his temple with a foggy finger.

“Crap. I bet he riled up the magicals to imprison the dragons. His type of plan, to a freaking T. And he told the Olympians his fabricated version of truth. So why is Ares helping me if he believes that garbage?”

If a mist could roll its eyes, that occurred. Crud.

“Nevermind, my mouth ran before my brain. Let me think.”

Tipping is the problem, Patra.

“Ares is the fucking balance! He’s the balance to you, but I bet he suspects it involves more than a simple quid pro quo.”

A misty thumbs up greeted this bit of pondering, and I laughed.

“Plus he doesn’t want to get blocked off, and if magicals attack the dragons in war, to the point we experience a tip, his butt’s on the line. Poof, he’s gone. As for the rest of us, we’ve got no ability to right wrongs and no healthy periods of peace and prosperity. Which isn’t much of a world.”

Mist that grins is odd.

“Paxizu is peace… in all things?”

From the blank page, words, rather than symbols, rose. Made sense. In a deal as big as this one, why risk misunderstanding?

Paxizu is the state of balance upon the Earth. When reached, growth comes for every race, and evolution sparks the way forward.

“A second Renaissance. Dammit, I knew it! That’s why the Triune had to happen, and its advent drove the unleashing of each race from its shackles, whether real or self imposed. Together, we’re reaching critical mass.”

The mist rose and reached for me, wrapping me in a hug. Except they didn’t float away, they floated inside my body. Deep in my core, absorbed and manifesting peace, the stand and stage grew clear. Confront and bring Drago into the magical world. His crossroads were the manifestation of the Earth as a whole. Peace must prevail.

Or everybody burns.

Dracena looked, if squinting, penitent. Chelsea strode across the balcony in a stomping loop, eyeing Ballard on the sectional with arms crossed over his chest. Daisy, sporting flat ears and tucked tail, sat between his knees, and Aegeus, stormy eyed, perched next to him. Behind them, Justice crouched, ear tips dragging along the ceiling, eyes pinned on Dracena.

“What possessed you to upset this child? The kitterling is not an easy fight, even for the most talented,” her voice dragged across the descriptive with derision, “witch.”

Chelsea stopped and whirled, anger radiating as her red hair whipped in the wind. “I’m dumbfounded you accepted a crucial assignment considering your unserious disposition. You chased the Keeper’s original love, and were brewing in order to interfere with him and the child? Sheer foolishness, expected from a novice, not a seasoned witch. What if Poseidon determines our coven lacks the discipline required for her training? Well? Your single-handed selfishness may disrupt a long-term opportunity for learning! Your stupid choices stand against our entire purpose.”

Eyes gleaming with green, malevolent disappointment, Chelsea’s magic flowed from her core and seeped into the living room. Aegeus snuggled next to Ballard, eyes huge in her small face, watching Chelsea rage.

“Forgive me,” Dracena began, but Chelsea cut across the apology.

“Return to the sacred space and wait for me there. Do not, under any circumstances, engage with another of the coven. You are to study and write in solitude until you have a sufficient sense of this error in judgment and can

articulate, to your mates, the root of your deviant choice. Our strength is compromised, and the fault lies at your feet. Go.”

“Yes, High Priestess.” Dracena snapped and vanished.

Chelsea waved a series of motions. One at a time, ten witches amassed on the balcony. They circled and cocked heads to the left, listening as Chelsea held forth. After a long speech, the entirety stepped back, faces shocked, and one by one, heads cocked to the right.

“I wonder what that means,” Ballard said as the kitterling jumped on Aegeus’ lap.

“Look, Ballard, Justice is small again.”

“Yes, and I’m glad Justice protects you, sweetheart. She knocked Dracena onto the balcony and kept you safe.”

“Mommy said that this dragon thing is mes friendships.”

“True, but not between us.”

“Or me and Justice.”

“Did you finish your book?”

“I did.”

“I have a rare treat for you,” Ballard reached behind and slid a leather clad volume from under a throw pillow. “Mommy says this is the best book about your dad she’s found to date. I know it’s not the same as seeing him, but I thought you’d enjoy having it with you.”

Aegeus ran her fingers over the embossed figure of Poseidon on the cover, and a big tear splattered on the god’s face before she hugged it to her chest. “Thank you, Ballard. My heart feels fat and sad, both.”

“I hear anchovy ice cream is the perfect remedy for fat, sad hearts. Let’s go get two gigantic bowls to celebrate Dracena leaving and your new book.”

The walls rained, a continuous flow of water from the top of the bubble into the sand, and crabs scuttled, busy, between the sea and the gods.

“Well, shit,” Nereus said, a forced push at cheerfulness. “She’s on a roll.”

Under bushy silver blond brows, Poseidon raised narrowed eyes. “What did you order the Nereides to do?”

“Me? I saw them for the first time when you did.”

“I’m not a stickler for rules the way Apollo is,” Poseidon spun and lifted Nereus by his throat, “but I hate a liar.”

He shook the older god like a sandy flip-flop as the tiny crabs rained, a sea of crunchy bits forming piles that covered Poseidon’s feet.

“How many of these damned things do you carry?” Poseidon stared at the crab clinging to Nereus’ beard and plucked it with his free hand. “And why does this one have blue eyes? You know, I’m feeling peckish, guess I’ll have a snack.”

“NO!” Nereus shouted as Poseidon flicked the protesting crab toward his open mouth. The crab transformed into a naked Nereid, falling from the air to the sandy floor with a thud.

“A spy? Friend? Foe? What is your purpose here, Beauty?”

“I’m trying to help Father.”

“And what comfort, Old Man, did you ask for?”

“Oh, nothing. Not much. Just…” his voice trailed to silence.

Poseidon grabbed him and gave him another shake. “Say your piece, you walking crustacean resort!”

Nereus landed on his feet, glowered, and shrugged. “I wanted to hedge my bet. As immortals, we stay in the creation regardless of what the Keeper does. In the long game, it matters little.”

“Hedge? You mean fucking up everything? An imprisoned old fart yanking off to spite the world?” Poseidon glared at the Nereid as she backed toward the wall.

“Er. Well.” Nereus blinked as Poseidon made a grab for her arm.

“He wants Loboli dead,” she screeched and dove through the water wall, out of reach.

“You crusty bastard. Patra will never agree to murder and her capacity to mitigate bullshit is impressive. Resourceful and sexy as hell. I’ve lost a ton of gold. ”

“Still might work.” Nereus rubbed his throat. “Care to make it three?”

Chapter Eighteen

For the third time today, my butt was on the floor. Whatever happened to my knee wasn’t improving, and while in total Vapor hug mode, I felt peaceful about it, not being able to trust my body sucked.

“Mommy?” Aegeus’ worried face stared down at mine. I grinned.

“Just klutzy today, kiddo. Are you ready to swim?”

What in Hades? I can’t fight a dragon with a bum leg. Well, if being realistic, fighting on two good legs wasn’t a substantial upgrade. It’s an odd sensation, but the Vapor calmed my thoughts. I may end up the main course at the barbeque, but I won’t care much.

C’est la vie.

“Dammit!” Drago cartwheeled into the cenote’s basin, the victim of a single sprouted wing, as Campe circled overhead.

“It takes two,” he called to the dripping Drago.

“Fuck you, Campe. I mean, Master Campe.” Drago snorted sparks. “Nobody thinks you’re funny. Why the hell can’t I get laid if I don’t figure out this initiating shit?”

“She’d be dead before you made it in,” Campe replied. “You’re oblivious to the heat, but you contain an inferno.”

“I’m not giving up,” Drago muttered. “I got one wing. I can get two.”

“No guarantees.” Campe’s wings scooped air, and he dropped onto the path. “Your soul is dark; it’s hindering your path. Dragons are leaders, the oldest race. Darkness is weakness.”

“If I had two shits, I wouldn’t waste a single one on that BS.” Drago hawked and spat, eyes slanting to pissy yellow slits.

With a shrug, he turned and ran, racing from the track to the water. Scales lapped his emerging snout, elongating neck, body and tail, while his right wing lifted from his back. Claws shot out from both hands as the limbs twisted into forearms.

“Come on,” Campe muttered. “Expand. Find the ultimate piece.”

Arcing sideways into the death spiral, Drago roared with rage, a blast of soot, sparks, and fire lighting the cavern. Ten feet above the surface, the second wing emerged, and he plunged into the basin, the water smashing in violent waves against the cenote’s stone sides.

Drago hit the bottom and slammed his hind feet against the stone in fury, propelling in a boiling surge toward the surface. As he shot through, his wings opened, flapping with awkward slaps, a tottery attempt to gain altitude.

“Arrrgh,” screamed Drago, pain rocketing through his unsuspecting chest muscles.

“Yes!” Campe shouted. “Focus! Stay aloft and fly; study your power.”

Flitana, Queen of the fae herd, surveyed the assortment of shifters standing in the fairy ring, and sighed.

“Not optimal,” her number two, Glissande murmured. “Other than squabbles over hens, I’ve never seen a pelican fight.”

“They don’t have the right feet,” Flitana agreed. “Still, they can power dive better than any option we have.”

Glissande stepped toward the gathering. “Greetings, fellow magicals, and thanksgiving for answering the call. Our Queen shall now address you.”

Flitana fluttered her wings, rising above the group with a bright smile that eased no one.

“The large forest shifters walk a doomed path; one the fae refuses to follow. I seek alliances with each of you. The Keeper’s effort to include the dragons, sharing space on Earth as an equal — not enslaved or a lord, is the best way forward. The fae knows the proposed war is not pure. We leverage our assistance toward the path to enlightenment.”

A large owl hooted. “I, Wayho, lead the owls. The Queen speaks to our consensus. The lost stories of flight within the creation are at odds with the lore. We seek truth before bloodshed. The Keeper moved forest land under our wings. We her.”

“We pelicans do too,” Bingo added. “Although we aren’t fighters, Pook and I know the Keeper well. She works for peace and isn’t afraid to defend it for every race.”

“I have seen this,” an elegant osprey shifter added. “The Keeper is genuine, unlike many other humans.”

Flitana eyed the bald eagle standing in silence at the edge of the fairy circle. He shook his feathers and paced, his yellow feet placed in precise steps as he circled.

“We’re unimpressed with Loboli’s offer, but we don’t want to engage in this war.”

“But you’ll feast on the dead?” Flitana’s eyes narrowed.

The eagle cocked his head. “We’ll not be damned for following our nature.”

“Damned? Try shunned for landing on the wrong side of the balance. Loboli boxes his power; it lessens with every move and his irrelevancy rises. Are you seeking the same fate?”

Flitana’s teeth bared, and in sizzling zip, she closed the space between them before the eagle unfolded his wings. At the point of she twisted away, while the eagle, braced for annihilation, flopped in an awkward flight attempt.

Flitana gripped his wing t, staring at the wide-eyed group.

“The fae fight, and well. Those we trust,” she shook the eagle, “receive protection. Choose now and do not waiver. Traitors to the fae die.”

“We are with you,” a chorus of voices answered.

“Well?” Flitana cocked her head, eyes locked on the eagle.

“We the fae,” the eagle replied. “There’s food, regardless.”

It’d been a long night of bouncing off rock walls and crashing, if lucky, into the water. Drago landed on the trail around the basin’s edge often enough that his human body was purple everywhere.

“You’re trying to control with your arms instead of controlling your wings with your chest.” Campe reclined on the pathway, eating a quarter of the cow he’d stolen while Drago practiced. “Eat, you need to build muscle.”

Drago grabbed a hind leg, biting and chewing through everything: bones, hide, meat, and hoof. Ravenous didn’t come close to the sense of driving hunger that coursed in his blood. He lay back and let sleep take him, exhaustion greater than he’d ever known.

The sunlight gleamed through holes at the cenote’s domed top, and Drago woke, stretching. Campe, in human form, sat cross-legged, tending a small fire.

“Now that you can initiate a full shift, it’s time to immerse in your lore, the code that binds every dragon without exception. Until you mastered your body, you weren’t worthy to receive your birthright, but I’m proud of your determination and success. The Thundra welcomes you, demi, and will teach you who you are, and the truth of your ancestry.”

“Nope, I’m a loner. I don’t need no, what was it anyway? A Thunder?”

“Thundra. Dragons collectively connect throughout the world. As I sit here, I feel the life force of every dragon on Earth. You’ll develop a sense of the others,

and our interconnectedness is a strength.”

“I’m strong on my own.” Drago stared at his chest, twice the size it was yesterday. “Look at me. I’m buff as hell.”

“You perceive opportunities to inflict your will on the weak, but violence isn’t the Thundra’s way. We are powerful, but we are peacekeepers. Only in extreme times is aggression chosen.”

“That’s stupid. Power is meant to be used. Terrorize everybody, then use them and their fear to get a fat life on deck.”

“Those dreams are the antithesis of your lore. As you train, you’ll develop an innate sense of your true potential. We stand in a place of great upheaval, but the possibility of a seismic shift toward peace beckons.”

“Look, thanks for helping me figure out the wings, but I ain’t learning no lore. Gotta bounce, fry up some shit, and get rich. The cow was great, but it’s fly time.”

Campe rose, shifting and in flight in one fluid motion. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“The hell I’m not.” Drago ran across the water, gained air beneath his wings, banked and unleashed a fire font.

“You can’t burn me,” Campe rolled his eyes. “What you don’t know could fill a library. Do you think you can fight me? Beat me? I encourage you to try.”

Drago attacked behind a wall of fire. Campe folded his wings and dropped, hind feet grabbing Drago’s neck on the way, taking him to the bottom of the basin before releasing and resurfacing.

Drago shot up from the surface, roaring, and Campe flapped in place, laughing.

“You’ve got heart, Drago, but right now, you’re a punk with no sense, a ton of testosterone, and grandiose, unrealistic ideals. Stop being a dick.”

Drago’s feet smashed against the walls of the cenote as his wings lifted him, shooting across the space at Campe, who spiraled left at the last moment. Drago crunched into the opposite wall with a sickening thud. He tumbled to the path, landing half in the water with a groan.

“Take another shot,” Campe encouraged. “It’s good to understand how little you know.”

Drago moaned and shifted to his human form, lying on the track, still.

“I’m not falling for that, either,” Campe called. “Unlike you, I feel you as part of the Thundra, and your deceit radiates.”

Drago rolled over and sat up, lifting a middle finger to the sky.

“I’ve got a thousand years to train you, if that’s what it takes,” Campe landed, but did not shift. “But you might not. As a demi, you could live a few hundred years and never realize your full potential because you are a sum of your parentage. But, you will develop into whatever you can achieve before death.”

“I may not what? Live to be a thousand?” Drago laughed. “What the hell are you saying?”

Campe extended a curved claw toward the sulfur scented fire. “ your hand through the flames.”

Drago eyed him, leaned forward, and moved his palm across the fire. A picture rose of dragons, dinosaurs, and eggs.

“That’s how old I am. Do it again.”

A human toddler stood next to a puke green Buick Estate station wagon.

“Shit, I that car. Mom drove it for years.” Drago leaned back, thoughtful. “Alright, Master Campe, I’ll listen to your lore, but I want to keep flying. Teach me how to kill my food and get me the hell out of this cenote.”

“We’ll work on those objectives. Balance in all things.”

“So tell me, were dinosaurs a good lay?”

“The best. Orgasms for hours. Plenty of eggs and no drama. Damned asteroid.”

Chapter Nineteen

Poseidon stared at the streaming walls, chucking errant fish that swam through back into the ocean and glaring at Nereus.

“What?” Nereus broke the silence. “The epitome of sea life is taking chances. Why expect anything different? It’s not as though you haven’t sunk a ship on a whim.”

“You bilious, crab-riddled loggerhead! I never sink ships; I the seas, both below and on the surface. A full-time job, something that you, lounging around in Tartarus, can’t fathom. My monsters maraud and sailors suffer, but never, ever, does a vessel struggle because I have a crap attitude. Your disregard for the balance is telling. You, Nereus, hold no sense of greater good.”

“Piss off, you rancid urchin. The sea offers a rough life and a short one.”

“The Keeper’s life fits that description. After your bumble-handed attempt to headline her as an entrée at Loboli’s, tell me, what’s your beef with her?”

“Nothing. She’s not above using deception to get her way, and I respect that. Patra is no Athena; she’ll bend a rule or three.”

“Nobody said Cleopatra’s a god, but she is an exceptional human. This Keeper is

quick and brave.”

“Brave. Bah. Leads a puny, boring life though. Original love. Who needs it? Why bother? Take pleasures where possible then slip off to Hades, a blip in the creation.”

“Spoken like a true clown fish. Small lives are capable of big changes. Patra did that twice. You can’t say you’ve bested Zeus, you scurvy pufferfish, can you? He put you in the forever vacation in Tartarus where you sat and fiddled with crabs.”

Poseidon heaved another tuna. “Hey! Eel wanker! The reason you aren’t still stuck mewling in the void is because of the so-called puny life you’re trying to set up as wolf bait. Stop thinking you have the answers, Nereus. The worlds’ changed while you were chilling.”

“Harrumph.”

“You cheat at cards, you twist lives, and you’re fine with blowing the creation apart to salvage a bet. Don’t be a floater; get on the right side of this.”

Another unsuspecting fish landed at Poseidon’s feet. He murmured to it and pushed it back through the wall.

Nereus looked up with a frown. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing.” Poseidon shrugged, picking up a surprised grouper.

Nereus started a game of solitaire, staring at the cards as Poseidon whispered to the fish before pushing it through and saving its life.

“Find Keto.”

Dracena sat in the shady glen, pen moving in penitent whirl, writing what she knew the coven expected to read. Deep, thoughtful, extrapolated, and apologetic.

It was total bullshit.

If the order of things unfolded properly, Dracena would stand as High Priestess with Chelsea scraping and bowing like a proper, subservient plebe. Instead, that night in the sacred space, the ribbon of smoke rose in a twisting rope, hovered over Dracena before rocketing across the circle and drilling into Chelsea’s heart. Gone was the chance for tremendous, innate magical ability, and lost was the opportunity for power and control. Now she couldn’t dally with a man without dealing with Chelsea’s crap.

A faint pop and Glenna appeared.

“Witch Dracena, the coven awaits your presence.”

Another pop and Dracena sat alone in the glen, the soft light blurring the surrounding greenery to shades of greens and greys with the occasional happy flower peeking toward the sun. Resentment radiated, and she surveyed the tranquil scene, distilling her anger into purpose, and rose.

“I’ll play her game this time, but not for much longer,” she told the trembling flowers, and snapped.

The cool night air filled Drago’s lungs as he and Campe soared in the Mexican midnight.

“Concentrate on taking stronger downbeats, then hold and soar,” Campe called. “You’ll use less overall energy and gain chest strength. Long distance flying requires balancing your stamina while using currents and winds to your advantage.”

Drago nodded. For once, a useful lesson. The yammering about the darkness, balance, and peacemaking crap was an ass ache.

“There’s a cow!” Drage scooped his wings and dove.

Campe, spiraling, cut him off and knocked him sideways.

“What the hell!” Drago glared as the frightened bovine bellowed and lights blinked on in the small farmhouse.

Campe blew out a sigh, climbing. This demi was a slow learner, but his potential was worth the colossal pain in the tail he’d become.

“Do I have your attention?”

“Why, Campe? Did I hit a nerve?”

A brutal hind claw sliced inches from Drago’s balls.

“I missed by choice. Next time I won’t.”

Agony radiating throughout his core, Drago moaned.

“Again, do I have your addle-brained attention?”

“Yes, Master Campe.”

“Dragons must eat, as does every creature of the creation. But we are superior to them, and within that role, we have laws.”

Drago gritted his teeth and nodded.

“Never take a meal from the poor. A large, profitable cattle farm lies a hundred miles from here. We fly, grab one cow, and return to the cenote. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“As a demi, it’s not important that you breed. Keep that in mind.”

“Shit,” Drago muttered as the small farms flashed below them.

Eleven witches stood in the clearing as Dracena materialized and paused, shocked. Every coven had set patterns for each member’s position, depending on the situation.

For a reckoning, the coven waits in a hexagram, with the High Priestess standing at the northern point and two witches each occupying the remaining five points. In this configuration, the offending witch stands in the center, grilled without mercy regarding her behavior. At the end, the group formed a circle, similar to a clock, with twelve witches in position. While it was possible to be demoted during this ceremony, its purpose was to air the grievance and release it.

The witches faced her in a tight, eleven person circle. The configuration of death.

“Surely I deserve the opportunity to speak my truth,” Dracena called, fright coloring her voice for the first time.

The witch to Chelsea’s left spoke. “Your choices are not an aberration, but a chosen pattern. You place yourself above the coven.”

She turned her back to Dracena and faced the center of the circle.

The next witch spoke. “In my time of one hundred thirty years, you are the only known witch placing her own interests above creating and protecting our knowledge.”

With a swoosh of skirts, she spun away, facing the circle’s center.

Witch after witch spoke before turning until two witches, Glenna and Chelsea, remained.

“Your anger at not being selected as High Priestess colors your decisions and leads you astray. This was a hurt that you should have released decades ago. The cauldron chooses and has always chosen. Your heart is black with resentment, and it fogs your mind. You harbor imbalance within and worse, enjoy it. We cannot help you,” Glenna gazed at Dracena and turned away.

“Dracena,” Chelsea began, “your ten coven mates have spoken. Henceforth, you walk the world covenless, your protections pulled, and your life your own. Any witch that witnesses you acting against magical law can strike you dead and will. We broadcasted your disrespect to every coven; none shall accept you.” The wind picked up and blew Chelsea’s hair.

Dracena shook, a sense of disbelief mixing with dread.

“It was nothing! A trifling. The kitterling overreacted.”

“You placed your hand on the penis of the Keeper’s original love, uninvited. You brewed and attempted to pull the child away, sparking her kitterling, and you interfered with the Keeper’s safety within her home, a space protected by magical law.” Chelsea snapped and pictures of the offenses rotated around Dracena. “You dare not deny it.”

“I don’t deny it!” Dracena cried out, knowing she was lost.

“Step to the center,” Chelsea ordered.

Dracena settled her shoulders and lifted her chin, marching into the circle.

“Dracena, you no longer bear the title of Witch, and we banish you to the fringes of the magical community to live the rest of your time in dishonor and chaos.”

Chelsea reed the ten; then the eleven witches raised their arms.

“Finite!”

Dracena disappeared.

A wolf stepped onto the patio, and Loboli glanced up and crooked a finger.

“A witch is at the gate. She asks to speak to you.”

“Interesting. Send her to me. Scare her, I want her off guard.”

The sentry nodded and slipped around the home, shifting and charging the single woman waiting at the bottom of the drive.

“Why do you think that’s going to frighten me? I can snap and disappear at will.”

The wolf shifted and opened the double gate. “It’s still fun.”

Dracena laughed and followed him to the back patio.

“Loboli, I have no coven and an axe to grind. I believe you and I could reach an accord.”

“No coven? What in Hades did you do?”

“Oh, I tried to bust up the Keeper’s home. In hindsight, I should have rocked it harder.”

“That took balls.” Loboli rose and filled a glass with water and gestured to the fruit tray. “Afternoon snack? It appears we have business to discuss.”

“Delighted,” Dracena sipped, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

Chapter Twenty

Irolled over on the bedroom floor as Ballard pulled me into his arms.

“What happened? Did you trip?”

“It’s my knee. I took a step, and it didn’t hold me. The foot and hip aren’t communicating.”

We looked at my knee’s red, raised skin, covered with taunt, angry blisters.

“Think it could be Dracena’s doing? It looks like a hex.”

Ballard shook his head. “No. Your knee bothered you before she arrived. You hurt it in Russia, Babe, when you knelt on that stone, negotiating with Campe. My hunch is radiation poisoning.”

I reached up and tapped the Gaelic friendship charm I wore around my neck. With a faint pop, Chelsea materialized next to us. She looked rough.

“What?”

I pointed to my knee. “We think it’s radiation poisoning from Chernobyl. I can’t walk. Can you or Glenna help me?”

Chelsea ran her hands through her hair. It wasn’t an improvement.

“No. Radiation is a primordial material, from the time of creation’s initiation. Only Clep could heal you. Well, any god, I suppose, but he’s the one who enjoys healing.”

“Apollo told me the gods won’t help me. Crap. I never thought I’d die a slow death from radiation. Whoever had that on their Olympic bingo card must be happy as hell.”

“Patra, I’ll petition Clep for you, but no promises. For now, I’m dealing with a situation.” She looked at me, worry creasing her flawless skin. “I’ll be in touch.”

With a snap, she vanished.

High above the cattle yard, the dragons circled to the lowing and shuffling as the herd settled into groups, enjoying the cooler night air.

“Never separate a calf from a mother, never take the dominant bulls. Our point is to eat, not inflict disrespect on either the human or the animal,” Campe called. “Show me who you’d choose.”

Drago checked the herd, stomach growling, and pointed a claw to a group of six clustered together.

“A reasonable choice. Watch and learn.”

Campe swooped low, doing a single to get the cattle moving, then made a sharp cut back and caught the one that separated from the group. The kill was swift and clean.

“Never choose pain and agony. Show gratitude for the life taken for sustenance. This is our lore. To be the oldest race means our wisdom and ways set precedence for the world. Even death must encom peace.”

Drago, flying behind Campe, rolled his eyes. As top dog, how he took a life didn’t matter. He could, whenever he wanted. That’s a power Drago could get behind, big time.

Circling into the cenote, the pair landed and feasted.

“Man, I love beef,” Drago said, swallowing a huge chunk of meat. “This is a good life.”

“We eat to live. Every creature does. Kill only what you consume. Never disrespect the creation, nor the efforts of each to survive.”

Drago chewed, deciding silence was his best option. The constant blah, blah, blah of lore Campe kept pushing on him was bullshit, but for now, he knew learning to use this incredible body took priority. Once he mastered it, he’d slice Campe’s balls off for fun, take off, and see how much power that Keeper and those witches had when he fried their brains. Shifters, too. What’s a wolf got he didn’t? Nothing, that’s what.

After a life of rejection as nothing more than a low life redneck from the South, he had genuine power. And they’d pay. He’d fill the air with death until these smug assholes bowed, pitiful and terrified. Because he could, and pity was a joke. Stupid fuckers.

In the cenote’s gloom, Drago grinned.

Poseidon stared at the water wall, no longer flowing.

“She’s botching it,” Nereus chortled. “Gin.”

Poseidon waved a hand in irritation. “Temporary setback.”

“The lies we tell ourselves, amirite, crabbies?” Nereus laughed as the little crabs clicked.

“Something changed,” Poseidon mused. “Without being interconnected with the world, I’m not sure whether it portends Patra missing the mark or her opponent gaining strength.”

“Maybe both.” Nereus shuffled the cards. “Either way, we’re sunk if she can’t get in front of it and tame that fire.”

“Stuck forever in time with your ancient barnacle butt? No thanks.” Poseidon poked the wall and wondered what the hell was up with his Keeper.

“Tonight, you make the kill.” Campe nodded as they circled a different ranch.

Drago eyed the cows, hungry, chose his victim and dropped, hurtling downward like a stone, smashing onto the animal, breaking its legs. As the cow bleated in terror, Drago lifted off, loving the struggling fear writhing in his claws. Campe shot below and sliced the animal’s neck, ending its life, before climbing to block Drago.

“You listen to nothing, absorb no law or lore. You’re a disgrace to the Thundra and to the creation.”

“Fuck you, Campe. Like I give a shit!” Drago dodged as Campe sliced his hind quarter, hanging onto his dinner as his brain roared in pain.

“Either learn and follow your lore, or die,” Campe warned. “You cannot hide from the Thundra.”

Drago swerved, blasting fire, and attacked. Campe feinted and slashed again, leaving an oozing wound on Drago’s neck.

“You cannot beat me in a fight,” Campe called as Drago flailed, unwilling to drop the dead cow.

With a groan, Drago wheeled and flapped toward the cenote. He felt weak and needed the meat. Tonight, he’d eat. Tomorrow, he’d kill Campe, fly to the States

and take over the world. Shit’s gonna burn.

“Get your own food!”

“How’s your knee, Mommy?”

Propped up on the sectional with the journal on my lap, I read and questioned, trying to find any morsel that might help me with my predicament. I patted the spot next to me, and Aegeus snuggled in, peering at the angry blisters.

“That looks worse than this morning, Mommy.” She touched a blister, and it deflated.

“Aegeus! What did you do?”

“I called the water.”

“Don’t do that again until I talk to Chelsea, Honey. I don’t want you to get sick, too.”

“It didn’t hurt me, but that water is bad. You need it out of you.”

I tapped the friendship charm, but no Chelsea. Crap. My fear was, as a demi, ergo half human, Aegeus was susceptible to radiation sickness. I hugged her tight.

“As soon as she can come see us, sweetie, we’ll discuss it, you included.”

“OK, Mommy. I love you.”

Campe rose, shifting, and eyed the overfed and ed out shadow that was Drago, sleeping off his gorging. Campe settled for a pig, and his pupil’s determination to eat the entire cow, leaving nothing for his teacher, set the tone. Wings moving without sound, he floated above the basin, deciding before rising to the top of the cenote and closing his eyes. For now, they were two, and Campe used the power. Blood thrumming, he sent the call.

Drago woke, iring his protruding gut, before realizing he was alone. Good news, and unexpected, but it sucked he couldn’t beat Campe to a pulp before getting the hell out of Mexico. Bowels rumbling, Drago took a mighty dump and shot up and through the cenote’s top. Free.

The sun slipped below the horizon as Drago flew in the Mexican sky. Below him, an old, boring town lit up, small boxes of light against the darkness. Drago circled, eyeing the enormous church with beggars crouched at its immense, arched doorway, the open square with courting benches. The scents of cooking filled his snout.

“Peasants. Tiny meaningless lives. Y’all are about to make the papers,” Drago laughed. Below him, a figure in black closed the mammoth, carved wooden doors to the great cathedral.

“Nice. Kinda poetic,” Drago murmured. “Even Jesus dropped a peg in this new world order.”

Flames blasting from his throat, he descended, igniting the church, the square, and the few poor souls on the street in an ever-burning hellfire.

Unbeknownst to him, Dracena popped onto an uninvolved rooftop, viewed the carnage, smirked, and snapped.

“Your sense of humor is lacking.” Loboli eyed the witch.

“I know what I saw. That demi dragon isn’t interested in aligning with dragons, he’s burning everything he comes in with, and he loves it.”

“Why align with us? What’s in it for him?”

“He’s beat up, sporting several deep words. My guess is whichever dragon found him can’t teach him a damn thing. Stubborn, we can use. While not aligned with the Thundra, he’s still a full-shifting fire-power. As a single against them, he’s toast; he needs an alliance, Loboli. Otherwise, based on lore we, well, that bitch Chelsea’s coven amassed, they’ll hunt and kill him. Dragons have a low tolerance for traitors.”

“Witches too, it appears.” Loboli stared out across the sea. “Have you ed the mer?”

“Not yet. As a water species, they may be unable or unwilling to fight. I’ve heard that humans born under water signs are either sick or hiding. A big shift beckons.”

Loboli drummed his fingers on the table as the silence stretched.

“Dracena, if you think you can persuade this dragon to align beside us, and respect that alliance, try. He’ll change our game and return us to the skies with

an actual weapon. Suck that, Flitana.”

“I tagged him with a charm. He’s so green he never solidified his skin, and I bet he doesn’t know not to drink anything offered by a magical, either. Give me a place to brew, and fill a list of potion making items, and I’ll deliver a dragon, Loboli. For my help, I want a permanent piece of the forest to build my coven. We’ll operate in venterim with you for all time, but the rest of the magical world best watch their backs.”

“Done.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“S olid.” Nereus tapped the frozen wall as Poseidon paced. “She failed.”

“A setback, crusty.” Poseidon sat and shuffled the cards. “You don’t know her depths. Cleopatra will prevail.”

“Her depths,” Nereus snorted. “You plumb so many I doubt you either.”

A fish crashed into the ice and drifted, stunned as a nearby tuna snapped it up for dinner.

“That’s as good an analogy for your Keeper as any,” Nereus chortled. “The Earth is one gigantic pattern, an eternal repeat. This tip is inevitable.”

Another fish crashed, and the tuna amassed around the bubble, gorging. Poseidon gazed at the carnage and dealt the cards.

Ares landed on the balcony with a substantial thud. I crooked a finger, and he entered, brass armor clinking. He lowered his mojo as Aegeus quaked, and I smiled in appreciation.

He paced, assessing Aegeus, and nodded in approval.

“I’ve heard of this child, and I’m curious to observe if she changes the world.”

“Lord Ares, forgive me for staying seated. I can’t walk.”

Aegeus patted my thigh and stared at Ares. “Mommy has a sickness in her knee. I can absorb the water, but she is afraid it might hurt me.”

“She’s not wrong. In time you’ll manage the waters you touch, as befits your birthright.”

Ares paced, skirt clanking, as he revealed his purpose.

“Keeper, I hold a piece of information I believe is pertinent for the battle.” He glared at my red, oozing knee. “Although given the circumstances, your weakened state is your disadvantage.”

“I’m working on wellness. I have to overcome it to fight.”

A snort. “We shall see. The dragon Campe abandoned the evolved demi and released the call to the Thundra. A cry of war that escalates your piece of the problem.”

Heavy brows drew together as his lips pulled back in a snarl. “This call pulls every dragon from their encasement, for the freedom of two releases the entirety. The Thundra flies, spurred by the demi’s attack on an innocent human population. Their rogue demi pushes the imbalance closer to the tip. You have, perhaps, days.”

Crud.

One corner of Ares’ lip lifted in an acknowledging half smile. “I’d choose a stronger word, but each navigates their own way to succeed in battle.” His eyes bored into mine, and he cocked his massive head.

“An interesting vibration. You changed, and the alliance is solid. It’s possible, Keeper, the Earth’s destiny isn’t to burn. Fairness returns to the field.”

Ares bent until his broad featured face was nose to nose with Aegeus, who held his gaze.

Atta girl.

“Do not touch the bubbles, Child. The sickness is not your destiny.”

Wide eyed, Aegeus nodded as Ares faded.

With a pop, Chelsea landed next to the sectional and plopped, the personification of frazzled.

“A historic village in Mexico, Valladolid, caught fire last night and still burns. The 300-year-old Cathedral is a shell, and the center city around the courtyard, ashed.” Fingertips rummaging, she pulled a tiny glowing cube from her waist sack. “If Campe could analyze the fire, I’d bet a stack of gold he’d say the destruction was Drago’s doing. This fire burns until no fuel remains and is otherwise inextinguishable.”

“An apt analogy to my condition. Chels, you look like shit. What’s happening?”

Twin lines appeared between her eyebrows. I let her sit in it, because pushing her to explain never freaking works and I needed information.

After a minute ed, she blew out a sigh. “I chose, and my coven agreed, to unseat Dracena. Her behavior in your home was the ultimate act, cementing years of defiance. The coven stands at eleven until a candidate presents. This weakens us, but is our way. The twelfth comes when the stars align.”

Chelsea rubbed her forehead.

“Headache?”

“A monster, but it’s because of being eleven. It won’t fade until we are twelve

once more.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry we created the accelerant.”

Chelsea shrugged. “Dracena was problematic for years, and through our laws, resolved. But, Patra, I have other news.”

Behind Aegeus’ head, I pointed at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Aegeus, could you get me a glass of water? I’m parched from my trip to Mexico.”

“Sure!”

To her retreating back, Chelsea leaned in and whispered, “Dracena allied with Loboli.”

I blinked. My last take on Loboli and company was that his struggle to form alliances reduced his influence, a weak cog in the worlds’ spinning repositioning. In hindsight, that rosy view was a hair optimistic. Mr. Mayor was still in the game.

“She appeared in Mexico just as I did; of course my protections, cast on each coven member at the moment of her banishment, prevented her from sensing me. A supposition, Patra, but I suspect the demi is rogue, and I’d stake a fat pile she’s

trying to tap into his anger to use it for her purposes. Loboli too. Dracena wields considerable talent, a significant grudge, and showed us for decades her comfort with using anyone necessary to further her agenda.”

Chelsea stared at me for a long beat, then shook her head. “Patra, I regret asking the coven to unseat her, only because I believe I played into the fire energy of the tip, making your task more complicated.”

I shrugged, feeling the great peace thrumming throughout my body. “What’s done is done. We fight to the end.”

Aegeus returned with the water, and I shared Ares’ visit.

“Called the Thundra? Dear gods, the death knell rings.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

I’ve seen Chelsea in many moods, but defeat wasn’t one of them. I dug for something positive, deciding to share my conversation and occupation by the Vapors.

Surprised, she gripped my hands. “Wow, I sense the peace. What a gesture! But in reality, you aren’t going anywhere with that leg. I petitioned Clep; he declined, but I’m determined, Patra, and got an inkling that a part of him wants to intercede. I’ll keep trying.”

“Thanks.”

Disappointment colored my voice. But gods are their own gig. If I hadn’t figured that out by now, I was wasting everybody’s time. Well, depending on who you asked, I’d already done that. Twice. Sore losers 2.0.

“Chels, where’s Parker?”

She popped and returned in an instant. “In his shower. He’s a hottie.”

“If you don’t mind, I need him.”

A naked Parker landed on my balcony and barfed. Chelsea magicked up a towel for him and flipped a puke removal spell as he stumbled in, woozy, and plopped on the sectional. We’re getting crowded.

I ed my anti-vertigo potion; Parker slugged a dose and grinned, soapy headed.

“An unusual start to the day, Boss. Is there a problem?”

“Several. The most pressing is this,” I gestured to my knee.

“Shit, that looks nasty.”

“Parks, walking, until I get an intervention, is impossible, and that means you have to handle the entire line.”

“Consider it done.”

“Don’t be flip, dammit, and please be super careful. You think you don’t sleep now? Covering both sides of the line is a complicated, exhausting job, and increases the chance you’ll make a mistake.”

He eyed me and nodded. “Not planning to die today, Patra. Conscious and careful all the damn way.”

Chelsea cast at my kitchen and boxes of muffins and croissants from Publix, orange juice, glasses and mugs, and the coffee pot zoomed across the kitchen and set up on the table in front of the sectional. Parker munched, filling the living room with the scent of blueberries while I sipped coffee, sharing everything I knew and our educated guesses.

“Let’s cut to the credits. Is the world gonna blow?”

“Yeah. Blast-factor 9000. Shit’s getting strange, Parks. Don’t count on any information you can’t and read the book for my entries. I’ll search the journal for yours. Trust the record, and stay alive.”

A buzzing flutter pulled my eyes to our balcony. Fae, several. It appeared I

needed more chairs.

I waved them in and surveyed the Queen, whom I’d met only once. “Welcome to my home. How may we help you?”

“Our Queen, Flitana, wishes to consult with you, Keeper. In private,” Glissande answered.

Parker shot me a side eye and rose, re-tucking his towel. “Let’s move to the balcony, Your Majesty.”

Flitana and Glissande exchanged a glance, and the Queen nodded.

“Point taken, Keeper Parker. We will converse here, with all parties. First, the fae, as Earth beings, stand against a manipulated disintegration of the water, fire, and earthen balance.”

Chelsea conjured comfortable chairs for the Queen and her number two; the remaining entourage flitted around the balcony doors.

“Second, the ousted witch brews in the forest, and the wolves provided a swath of land for her use. Beyond that, the owls report a conversation regarding a rogue dragon and an alliance.”

“Dammit, I knew it,” Chelsea muttered.

“What can you share?” Glints in the Queen’s eyes assured me she didn’t come here to knit.

“Campe sounded a call to enable the Thundra. They plan to eliminate the demi,” I answered.

“And your source?” A surprised Flitana leaned forward.

“Ares.”

“And your injury?”

“Significant. I need magical healing from Asclepius to save my leg. So far, he’s declined to aid.”

Glissande and Flitana traded a quick glance. Chelsea slapped her thighs and jumped to her feet.

“Please, excuse me. I must attend to something, and I’ll return in a moment.” With a snap, she vanished.

The Queen’s violet eyes moved and held mine.

“Within a god’s prerogative, yet the Triune fails as your health declines. Do you trust me, Keeper Patra?”

Not a minor question, by any stretch. Fae were scary as hell, killed with remarkable proficiency, and had an otherworldly glee while doing so. I sat on my sofa with my daughter and her critters tucked under my arm, best friend returning to my side, and the second Keeper rocking a towel. If the fae attacked, if this was a setup by Loboli, we’re dead or damned close. By removing both Keepers, upending failure becomes the alternative path of the worlds.

Peace moved in my blood. A sign? Or in the Vapors long-range plan, had my usefulness expired?

Chapter Twenty-Two

Afaint pop and Chelsea returned, looking satisfied, and sat next to me. I held out my arms, the Vapor symbols etching onto my skin and connecting. She read them as I held them aloft to show Flitana. Trust.

Brotherhood,

Focus.

Peace. “We trust you.” The queen lifted her gaze from the message and rose, wings a fluttering blur. “Hold still,” Glissande warned. “Get her a bite stick.” “Whoa,” Parker breathed, gawking as the queen’s bared teeth grew to needle points, mouth hinged to open a full 180 degrees, as Chelsea pulled a wooden rod from the air and handed it to me.

“Aegeus, please take Justice to your room. He may misunderstand, and I don’t want him to attack. Daisy, too.” “OK. Mommy, are you scared?” “No,” I lied. “The fairies are trying to help.” I hoped. I bit the stick as the petite Queen shrank to the size of a mosquito. With a sizzling zip, she dived and slammed into my knee. Parker and Chelsea held me in place as I shrieked, skin and tendons expanding and shrinking, shaking as if an enthusiastic, invisible terrier had my kneecap in a death grip. “Holy shit!” Parker pointed as the largest blister first flexed and shrank, the red angry welt fading to pink. Bubbles kept draining, and healthier skin emerged. With a tearing sound, the tiny Queen blasted from the side of my knee, enlarging to her full size as her exit point oozed blood along my calf. “Spittoon,” Glissande murmured to Chelsea, who conjured a deep, elegant bowl embossed with fairies and ed it to her. “Pi-too,” the queen spat, eyeing the foul smelling contents, then lifting my sweaty face with a finger under my chin. “You’re a tough one, Keeper. Where did you find this poison?” “Chernobyl. When Apollo took me to interview the dragon Campe.”

“Despite how logical it sounds, the sickness isn’t radiation,” Flitana said, eyeing me with a thoughtful gaze. “Someone sabotaged you.” What? By who? Apollo? Campe? Every time I gain ground on the tipping situation, the shit goes sideways. Incredible pain seared my brain. Chelsea took one look and waggled fingers at the booze cupboard. A bourbon, neat, zoomed into my hand as I bent the screaming knee. At least I could feel the damn thing. Walking might be an option, but first, dropping the agony to something below excruciating sounded appealing. “Thank you,” I said to the Queen, trying not to sound weak as symbols for joy and health etched across my forearms. “This is a huge favor.” “Not a favor, a respect. We ire your fight for truth. From this point, any talented witch can cure your ailment. We’ll take this,” she pointed to the spittoon, “and study its origins and purpose. The fae understand war well, and if Ares assists, our battle lines lie beside yours. En venterim.”

The former coffee table now resembled an apothecary, and Glenna hummed as she sorted, setting up a series of bottles and a small fire. The latter she fed with aromatic herbs, and the condo careened from scents of upscale restaurants to floral fields. I breathed, relaxing. “Maybe lavender is the new weed.” “What makes you think it isn’t for magicals?” Glenna smirked, laying the last bottle on the table. I eyed the two neat rows. “Are you going to tell me what’s happening?” She gestured to the first row. “The potions are for internal healing.” She gestured toward the second row. “The topicals are for the skin. Keep that bite stick handy.” “If I have any teeth left,” I muttered. “I’m pretty good with teeth,” Glenna’s gap-toothed grin beamed, and I tamped the mental eye roll. “Do you need me?” Parker asked. “It’s time for my shift at The Boogie.” Chelsea smirked, vanished his towel, and snapped, sending him back to his now freezing shower. “Did you pop him to where you found him? Had to be howl worthy,” I grinned.

“Parker has a ton to learn about hanging out with witches,” Chelsea replied. “Of course I reversed each step before returning him. Next time he’ll think through his ask before he runs his mouth. Besides, if he’s gonna barf up his breakfast, might as well be in the shower.” “Don’t weaken the Keeper. I’m still not one-hundred percent.” “Yet.” Glenna fished a few leaves into the fire, which shaded to ivy green smoke. “Time to begin.” She tipped the first potion in and I gagged; the acrid tang of bile filling my mouth. “This is to pull the toxin from your organ linings. A clever and thorough sickening. You’d have wasted away far beyond the damage to your knee.” Who did this to me, and why? Glenna poured the next liquid down my throat. “Swallow it all at once, Keeper.” Pain gripped my gut, and my bowels rumbled, but I held on, brain working overtime. I knelt en venterim. Campe responded in the same spirit. That truce held throughout the flight from Russia and beyond his arrival here. Everything I’ve read says he holds fast unless I break it. If I’m being honest, I don’t think Campe poisoned me. Which leaves Apollo. He could kill me with a glance. Why a long, drawn out attack? Think, Patra. “This one, drink in three swallows, no more or less.” Glenna handed me a red

vial. “It cleans the blood.” Sip one felt weird, as though I could sense every individual vein, and the discomfort stretched the entire length of the long veins. Sip two tingled my fingers and toes, creeping along my skin as my capillaries got in on the action. Glenna flicked her eyes at Chelsea as I lifted for the last swallow. “What?” I eyed them. “Will it hurt?” “No, no. Not exactly,” Glenna patted my empty hand. “Drink it all, Keeper.” I swallowed the rest, and the vial dropped from my fingers as the pain rocketed through my chest and arm. “My heart!” I screamed and slumped, the room fading to grey, then nothing. “Dead?” Chelsea asked. Glenna touched the carotid artery. “Dead.”

Parker palmed into The Boogey, stuffed with shifters, and blenched. The Vapors gave him an enhanced sensory gift, and this was the perfect crowd to listen in and learn. He scanned the bar, reading thoughts. Not a single good one, which matched the vibration as Loboli separated from the group, and walked with steady, predatory power toward Parker, leaning in close, teeth clicking near his ear. “We’re taking over the line. You are not welcome, and if you choose to stay, dead.” Parker’s bowels squished, but he held Loboli’s gaze. “The line isn’t a territory; it’s a moment in time, a fluidity tied with the moon and creation. Your presence here is welcome, but nobody controls the line through occupation. The line is the crossroad of balance and it sways between the worlds. Your being here doesn’t differ from roaming free in the forest. Each race’s power is one piece of a greater event.” The Boogey filled with snarls, and the shifters moved en masse, circling Parker, sealing him away from the office door. “Shifters are intelligent and powerful,” Parker continued, speaking to the wolf as though nothing changed. “The magical world flexes within a set pattern that swings to meet every challenge. When Zeus abused the balance, your pain corrected as part of the solution. We now face a new flex.” “There is no result that includes free dragons.” Loboli tipped his head back and unleashed a howl as Parker’s bladder gave notice. “Nor can there be one that doesn’t include them,” Parker replied, hoping death would be quick. Eaten alive didn’t sound appealing.

His comment set The Boogey into a frenzy as the shifters closed the circle.

Ares paced, watching the unfolding. “She is resourceful,” Athena reminded, smoothing her toga. “I found her mind more than adequate.” “I’ve done what I can to mitigate the interference, but the dead cannot wage war.” “Events continue to stack. A story without an ending is unfinished.” Ares gazed across the Earth, eyeing the massing Thundra. “The pieces come to battle but the players arrive piecemeal and broken. First strike has the advantage.” “The world survives regardless. Minor exchanges of souls for outcomes.” “The creation can be greater. The cause for war coalesces around an unworthy purpose.” “Through your efforts, both sides align with a vision and ion to triumph.” Ares leveled a heavy-browed gaze at the lavender-eyed goddess and nodded. “It is up to them to determine their fates.”

“That was clever.” Zeus gazed at the dead and dying Keepers, then slapped Apollo on the back. “All artistic creation remains preserved for eternity. That’s our agreement. I only interfered to save the refinement of the world; your petty war with this Keeper lies beneath me.” “Oh, so mighty, Apollo. You’re an artsy dweeb, but yes, that’s the bargain. Once the Thundra unleashes mayhem, and the current Keepers are dead, but not by my hand, I’ll be back in the driver’s seat forever. Those Vapors will wish they’d stayed in their jail.” Apollo’s face, staring at the dragons circling the Mexican skies, reddened in frustration and anger.

Drago landed in the Ocala National Forest and shifted, eyeing the woman in the clearing. She was hot, and he was horny. And naked. Also, ready. He crouched low, then ran silently toward her. “Hello, Drago, I’ve been waiting for you.” He stopped several feet from her, taking in the deep brown ringlets and sassy smile. She smelled female, delicious, and decadent. “How do you know my name?” “Because I’m studying you. I’ve seen your work in Mexico. Impressive.” “Study? Who are you?” “My name is Dracena, and I’ve got a proposition.” “Then, strip.” “Lust, in time, but first, let’s speak of alliance and power.”

“Look.” Poseidon pointed at the sides of their imprisoning bubble. “Cracks. Changes in outcomes force the balance.” Nereus eyed the fissures and poked one. “A horse race? Expansion or diminishment as the battle rages? We’re not cut off from all knowledge.” In the water beyond the walls, a figure materialized, walking along the sea bottom toward them, pausing before Poseidon and laying a finger across her lips. “None can see or hear me but you,” Keto said. “The seas are sick, but aren’t aligned with the land shifters. Ocean dwellers perceive this as an assault on their lives and culture. Most mer lie sickened and incapable of fighting, but the ones with strength wait on the line for the moon. The Boogey fell to the wolves and their alliances, one of which includes the demi. Both Keepers are missing, and the Thundra coalesces. A battle looms. I cannot predict the winner.” Poseidon mouthed, “Both Keepers?” “The disappearance is strange. Their signatures faded, but Hades granted me an audience. He does not have them. The balance swings wide, an unsustainable gap, and with it the solvency of the Triune. I cannot say if your freedom is possible, but I will share that Hades suspects interference from Olympus.” “Shit. Figures.” “What?” Nereus turned as Keto faded. “Nothing. Deal the cards.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Istood on the bank of the river Styx, a rickety railing leading to a crumbled stone stairway and a platform. Below, the silky water churned. Hades knew what hideous monsters frolicked below the surface. If being realistic, I guess he’s the only one who did. I eased down the steps, watching the decrepit boat rock as Charon headed my way.

Crud. I didn’t expect this outcome. The hell, Chels?

“Hello, Keeper.”

Hades slid his shades along his nose and grinned. Death was still hot, but disappointment shaded my expression.

“Hey, Hades. I realized I’d end up here, but not because of my best friend.”

Hades shooed Charon, and the little boat started a tipsy turnabout. Something with a megaton of teeth lept in the air, smashed into the river, and displaced a swamping wave. Charon shook a fist at the departing monster, clinging to gunwale of the bobbing boat. After bailing a few bucketfuls, he meandered toward the far side of the Styx.

“There’s crafty shit in play with this situation that you’re unaware of, Keeper. I

thought I’d bestir myself to offer you a hand, or knee, so to speak.”

I stared at my injury, which looked normal again, and shrugged.

Hades gazed across the water, and I followed his eyes. The push, when it arrived, caught and sent me flying, splashing into the Styx, and staring at the thousands of toothy creatures turning to see what’s for dinner.

What in creation did I do to deserve this mangling, Hades? Why?

A shiny black ivy-shaped feeler snapped around my wrist and yanked. At least I can relate to fish now. The sensation of being flung from the sea by a line, my toes clearing the chomp, was disconcerting. I sailed onto the ferry’s landing with a squelching thud, reeking of fishy entrails.

“Why did you dunk me?” I rolled to my feet, knee working like a champ, and glared at my purple haired attacker.

“Keeper, you’re a student of mythology,” Hades purred. “Besides, saving lives isn’t my wheelhouse. I enjoyed that escapade.”

Dammit. I do know my myths, and he laid a total solid on me.

“Wow. Thanks. The one thing I needed most, and boom. I’m grateful.”

“Thank your bestie. She petitioned, and it was clever. Too bad she’s got a case for Ares; I enjoy trysts with feisty redheads.”

“I’ll put in a kind word,” I promised. “Now what?”

“See you around, Keeper, but maybe later rather than sooner.”

A long finger tapped my head, and the river’s waters, brimming with powers of invulnerability, faded.

“Welcome back.” Chelsea stared at me, assessing. “That took longer than I expected.”

“Hades is a talker, and you,” I grinned, “are fucking brilliant.”

I flexed my leg, which still looked iffy. Ouch. I guess you do get your best body when you die. Cool.

“Let me see the knee,” Glenna twinkled, and selected the first bottle, dropping three drops, which my kneecap absorbed. “Excellent.”

As the remaining potions dripped or rubbed into the regenerating kneecap, I sipped a hot tea, resting. My lethargy left me feeling as if I’d been days without

sleep, and I mentioned this to Glenna.

“Your body’s been at war with the toxin, working an internal and external fight. The goal was to weaken you so you’d be killed.”

Killed. That’s interesting. Not death outright, not a smite, but a convenient demise. Hmm, who would that benefit? As if I didn’t know.

“Zeus is such a gargantuan asshole.”

“Yup, our thoughts as well. He’s meddling, trying to maneuver around the prophecy.” Chelsea sipped her wine and smoothed her forehead.

“Still eleven?”

“Yeah.”

The front door opened and Ballard walked in, toting fifteen bags of groceries.

“Got the entire list.” He eyed the coffee table and raised an eyebrow. “What’d I miss?”

“Hades offered to help.”

“Did he come here?”

“Oh, uh, no. Not exactly.”

Ballard gazed at me for a long beat, shook his head and turned toward the kitchen. “I’ll make sandwiches while you regale me with the story.”

“It’s a corker.”

With Aegeus’ help, the groceries found their place in the fridge, pantry, and fruit bowl. She settled in on the balcony with Daisy, Justice, and a fresh batch of critter treats. Ballard built a platter of sandwiches and I shared my jaunt to hell.

“While I get the plan’s purpose, can’t say I’m a fan.”

“It was the only way,” Glenna assured him, biting into a pickle. “We aren’t risk averse, but we’re careful.”

“And smart,” I added. “But learning the battle lines lead to the top changes my approach. Plus, I bet nobody on Olympus knows Hades weighed in with a fix. With Ares, I’d guess they might, but his interactions were to define the purpose of the fight, well within his purveyance.”

Except for the blood. When it’s showtime, I’m bringing that vial along for the ride.

“Hades is famous for doing his own thing,” Chelsea agreed. “And pulling one over on Zeus is his jam.”

“For once, it’s a good sneaky.” Glenna bit into her turkey sandwich. “Yummy. What’d you put on this?”

“Spicy mayo,” Ballard replied, ing the potato salad. “Patra’s favorite.”

Aegeus and the crew ran in from the balcony.

“Mommy, something is super wrong at The Boogey.” Her heart-shaped face, pale, creased with worry. “Everybody’s so angry. I’m scared.”

I shoveled the last half of my sandwich in four huge bites and chugged tea to send it the rest of the way.

“Glenna, could you stay here? Chels, in the mood for a drink?”

Two nods in the affirmative.

“Give me one second.”

I ran to our bedroom, knee on point, grabbing a waist sack and my staff. A gift from Chelsea, the walking stick was a superb weapon and offered minor magical protections to the wielder. I’ll take it. In a trot, I headed to the living room, palmed the secret drawer, grabbed the journal, plume, ink, the dragon’s blood Ares gave me, plus a vial of anti-vertigo potion. My fingers lingered on the vials of my own blood.

Nope. Whatever happened, the story stayed public. We’re operating wide open in every world, each with the same information. It’s time.

My arms lit with symbols for peace, and I shut the drawer. Ballard pulled me up and laid a kiss for the ages on me. I held his gaze and nodded.

“Keep Aegeus safe, Baby. Stay alive.”

“Bank on it. Come home, Babe.”

Eyes full of love, I reached for Chelsea, staff tucked under my arm and vertigo potion in hand.

“Let’s do this.”

We landed in Sadie’s yard. I slugged potion and shot Chelsea a questioning side eye as Sadie’s porch door banged open and she ran to greet us.

“Oh, thank the gods, Chelsea. I’m not sure how you knew, but I needed you both.”

“What happened?”

Sadie gestured to her courtyard seating, sat, and rubbed her hands together. “Something’s in my house. A terrible energy. It comes and goes.”

“The man from your dreams? Who came for a reading?” I asked.

“No, it feels female. Malevolent. Last night I woke and saw the sheets pressed across my belly while the baby flipped in my womb. I need to leave.”

“I’ll hide you.” Chelsea raised her hands.

“No! You can’t. I mean, you can try, but I am supposed to be with Patra and confront the fiery man. If I’m not there, the outcome shifts.”

Chelsea rose, pacing a lap around the courtyard before stopping to face Sadie. “I’ll send you to Patra’s condo. It’s loaded with protections, and Mom is there to

fight if needed. Tell her, when this comes to a head I’ll summon you, so she allows the spell.”

Sadie glanced at me, worry clouding her features.

“Right now, we’re dealing with peripheral battles; your dreams depict the final tipping. You’ll be with us, Sadie. I promise.”

“Do you need things from the house?” Chelsea asked.

“I’m afraid to go in there.”

Chelsea rolled her eyes and waved; Sadie’s tarot deck, several roomy boho dresses, and her purse sailed out of her doorway.

“Still puking like it’s an Olympic sport?”

Sadie nodded, and two jugs of herbal tea and a box of saltines flew from the kitchen.

“Anything else?”

Sadie leaned in and hugged Chelsea’s neck. “I love you.”

Chelsea stared for a moment, shadows chasing across her face. “I love you, too.”

That’s not a magical thing. An emotion? What other changes are caused by the impending shift?

A quick rummage, and I pulled the journal from my waist sack and jotted an entry for Parker.

Heads ups, Parks. The rules don’t apply. Chelsea is experiencing emotions.

Yeah. I KNOW.

“I’ve shown only respect, Loboli. My death is your choice, but it’s outside magical law,” Parker wheezed, blood oozing from at least forty slashes. One bite, a ravaging above his ankle, showed crushed bone.

Loboli paced and the cat shifters, stoked with bloodlust, moved throughout The Boogey, urinating to mark territory. Bears clotted around the bar, drinking wine and singing.

“Silence!” Loboli roared, and the bar, except for Parker’s ragged breath, grew quiet.

“The Keeper lies incapacitated and cannot fight. Our actions stand separate from his life’s end. We are proud of our culture and laws, and bound by en venterim. There is no death today.”

The cats wound back and forth, snarling, and the leader leapt onto The Boogey’s bar, staring at Loboli, unblinking, as seconds ticked. A bear crashed a meaty paw on the bar, smashing the big cat’s tail as it yowled in anger, swiping at the offending bear and raising a ribbon of blood across its snout.

Loboli grabbed Parker by the scruff of the neck. In three long strides, they reached the office door.

“Open it or die,” Loboli hissed.

Parker laid a palm on the door, and Loboli yanked the handle, tossed Parker like a bag of trash, and slammed it shut to his screech of pain as he landed on the shattered ankle.

“At least you live,” Loboli muttered, shifting, unleashing a howl of the damned, and entering the fray.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Parker blinked, staring at the floor and assessing his body. Ankle hurt like a mother, not too much flowing blood, and he was alone.

“Halle-freakin-lujah, I’m not dead!”

With a flip onto his least mangled side, he scrooched toward the desk, leaving bloody smears on the decking, and eyed the climb. In an awkward chin up to the desktop, he got a knee under him and grabbed the chair, which obliged with a squeaky roll and slid against the wall as he flopped to the floor, gritting his teeth.

“Come on, Parks, you gotta do this. Grab the damn chair, get to the cupboard, and write. Let’s go.”

Fingertips stretching, he gripped above one wheel and tugged, rolling it toward him and wedging the chair’s back against the desk.

“OK, one hand on the armrest, grab the seat. Dammit!”

Pain ricocheting through his body, he stared at the ankle.

“I gotta immobilize it.”

Patra’s dirty clothes bag gave him an idea, and he yanked it closer, grabbing tee shirts and binding the foot and ankle into a neon testament to beach bondage.

“Better.”

Eyes on the cupboard, he pulled his body up, slid onto the chair, and lay with his head on the desk, waiting for the wound’s screaming to tone down a hair. He palmed the door and removed the record.

“Show me Keeper Patra’s last entries.”

Gears turning, he read.

“OK, so if witches experience emotion, what’s happening with these shifters? Well, hell, it’s balance. If the witches move forward, something else moves back. A regression,” he muttered, dipping the pen.

Patra, the wolves, bears and cats are growing more wild, the balance to the witches’ emotional growth. They’re turning on each other; a howling battle rages in The Boogey as I write this entry. If this keeps up, their alliances will not hold, but feral shifters are fucking terrifying, and en venterim is headed out the window.

From the cupboard’s recesses, he pulled the silver bell, hoping like hell the cavalry came. After securing the book, he rang it three times, and with a groan, ed out cold.

“Parker rang the bell,” Chelsea reached for Sadie. “Don’t move, Patra, back in a minute or three.”

Gripping Sadie’s hand, Chelsea snapped.

My skin prickled, and I stood, ready. For what didn’t matter; at least I’m upright and trying.

“Hello, Keeper.”

I made an unhurried turn. Dracena was, in her way, as rogue as Drago, and damn near as unpredictable. But it takes a lot to scare me and awful hair wasn’t getting it done today.

“Dracena.” I omitted her title and saw the irritation. Good.

“Where is the reader? I wanted to chat with her.”

“Sadie’s beyond your reach. Guess you’ll have to settle for me.”

“Settle is the word, isn’t it?”

“Seat?” I kicked an aluminum chair toward her, hoping my timing was right. It was; lost in the scrap of metal on concrete, Chelsea’s return pop went unnoticed. Hands raised, she drilled a blasting spell into Dracena’s back. Unconscious, she dropped as Chelsea beckoned.

“Hurry!”

I gripped her hand, and she snapped, leaving Dracena’s still body on the patio.

“Parker! Oh the gods, you’ve lost so much blood!” I eyed the colorful assortment of dirty tee shirts wrapped around his ankle. “Interesting bandage.”

Parker cracked an eye. “Hey Boss. I’d avoid The Boogey, it’s a feral brawl fest in there.”

“Take him to Glenna. I’m closing the human side before the insanity spills over and people get hurt.”

“Done.” Chelsea nodded. “Here, Parker,” she pulled a potion vial from her waist sack, “drink this, it’s anti-vertigo.”

“Thanks, Witch Chelsea.” Parker slugged as she gripped the least bloody wrist and snapped.

Staff tucked away in my office, I eased into The Boogie, unsurprised by the lack

of customers. The shifter magic colored the air and humans, instincts dialed on high, were in full avoidance mode. I beckoned to Gloria, who looked sick and determined.

“Now what? Where’s Parker?”

No need to sugarcoat it with Glo. She’d seen way more shit than most humans.

“Attacked and being treated by a witch; he’ll recover at my condo, it’s secure.”

“Attacked by what?” Gloria was having none of it.

“Wolf, big cat, maybe a bear. Could be all three. I don’t know, Gloria. I can say he’ll survive and he’s receiving the best possible care for magical injuries.”

Gloria’s shoulders slumped. “I love that boy to pieces. I can’t believe he’s another Keeper. Was that my fault for getting him this job?”

“What? Oh, no, Glo, never in a million years was his selection on you. Parker is special, and he’s a great Keeper. I love him too.” I pointed toward the restaurant. “For everyone’s safety, I want to close, right now. We’ll eat the tabs, just give them boxes and get our customers out of The Boogie. Tell them there’s a magical disturbance, and it’s best if humans leave while the Keepers handle it.”

“Well, I know I’ll be glad to head home. It’s weird in here today.” Glo grabbed a

stack of containers and worked the tables while I shut the windows, closed out the POS, and secured the booze.

Within 20 minutes, the last patrons plied with to-go cocktails, too — because nobody in Daytona or Boogie Beach would enforce the open container law with the atmosphere we’re emanating — headed down the dock and into their cars.

I stared through the blood spattered magical wall as a big cat yowled and lept onto Loboli, whose snarling jaws ripped at the cat’s throat.

“They’re in a frenzy,” Chelsea announced, landing next to me. “I popped inside and observed for a moment. Two bears and one cat are dead. The wolves attack in unison, and they’re winning. Parker said that Loboli saved his life just as the fight started.”

“If Parker showed no disrespect, Loboli can’t kill him and remain within the law, right?”

“And that’s what happened. Glenna’s working on him, but Patra, he’s a mess. Not only is he dealing with scores of wounds, they’re horrific. He’s a hundred percent out of service, except for writing. Mom is my best talent for healing; one look at him and she called books from the sacred space to help. It’ll take days, not hours, to heal.”

My hands landed on my hips. “To be truthful, it’s a relief. The lineage of Keepers remains intact, a critical piece while under siege.” I blew out a sigh. “Chelsea, even if the dragons are peacekeepers, it’s still a war with huge stakes. I’m grateful Parker isn’t in the middle of the mayhem because he’s brilliant, and

the line can use his resourcefulness after the soot settles.”

“Besides,” I leaned in, “Zeus’s beef is with me. But it appears he’d like both Keepers out of the equation. Permanently.” My arms lit with symbols. “He’s in for a lesson.”

“Yet again,” Chelsea snorted. “Not the sharpest tool in the god box.”

“Vengeance and power lust are clouding judgments on several levels, including Drago and Dracena. War, whack-a-mole style. Beat down one and others pop up unscathed. My best weapon is that Zeus doesn’t know we’re onto him. We need to keep that information close.”

Green eyes flicked to mine, assessing, followed by a curt nod. Good.

“Stop worrying, and don’t save me,” I continued. “I’ve got more power, between the Vapor within me, the knowledge you shared, and the insider tidbits from dissatisfied Olympians, than I’ve ever possessed going into a fight. This will shake out as intended.”

I gestured to my arms. “Internal guidance is on deck, but Parker discovered something important.” I pulled the journal, raised the entries and ed it to her, watching her face. Emotions flitted across features unused to displaying them.

A tear formed, and I reached over to wipe it away. “You’ll feel fear, and it’s OK. , you haven’t lost your edge or ability, but you’re gaining empathy for

your opponents and their struggle. Embrace this as an unexpected avenue of learning, one the coven can study and discuss for centuries.”

Chelsea squared her shoulders. “Any fresh path of knowledge is a gift.”

A quick hug and grins. If we survive this, the possibilities are huge.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“W ho did this?” Drago ran a finger along the edges of the hideous bruise covering three quarters of Dracena’s back.

She tipped the potion, swallowed, and shrugged. “No idea. I snapped there to grab the reader and Poseidon’s unborn kid, but the Keeper was there alone. My guess is Bitch Chelsea did it, but I didn’t see her. I can’t detect my coven, and it’s frustrating. Unplugged for a bull shit reason.”

Drago pulled her close and kissed her neck. “I know how to fix frustration. Climb on top and rest your spine.”

“Not yet; I must take these potions in order and within a timeframe to heal.”

Drago blew a few irritated sparks. Dracena cocked an eyebrow, then smiled.

“I’m not saying no.” She swallowed the second potion and the blast mark’s edges softened to a mustard yellow.

“It’s working.” Drago touched the massive bruise. “Does it hurt?”

“Inside and out,” she muttered, handing him a foul smelling ointment in a small stone mortar. “Rub this only on the wound, not on unaffected skin.”

Drago returned the pot and stared at her healing back. “That’s sealing the blast marks.”

“Good.” Dracena selected another bottle and ired Drago’s physique. To her assessing eye, in the short time they’d been together, he changed by the minute. Muscles throughout his chest and upper body, pushed by the effort to fly, bulged. Drago’s legs and ass, from the workout of managing a tail, were superb.

She’d barely survived their first sexual encounter, but now she had protections in place to conceive and thrive. How his mere human mother managed was a mystery.

“It’s fading away and the skin below is smooth! How the hell did you learn this stuff?” Drago, seated on a fallen tree, swung his legs over and stood, flexing, as the forest quieted around them.

“Mastery and hoarding knowledge are key to a witch’s survival. And belonging to a coven, because the power of twelve multiplies the magic. Once I find eleven cast offs, I’ll rise as High Priestess, and we will show this world that magicals are not equal, but superior.”

“If adding more women makes you happy, babe, call in the troops. But right now,” Drago’s thumb and forefinger pinched Dracena’s nipple, “I wanna fuck.”

Dracena leapt into his arms, eyes locked on his. “We’ll make the most powerful alpha offspring the world has ever seen and rule this rock, Drago. You enforce, and I’ll rewrite law and lore to reflect the correct order. Together, we’ll set this world to run to our advantage, forever.”

“Pacing won’t alter a damn thing, Sea Pup. Looks like your Keeper failed, died, or maybe she took the Nereids’ advice and Loboli ate her. Regardless, the wall speaks for itself.” Nereus tapped the opaque crystal, and a singing tone pinged within the chamber.

Heavy eyebrows shifted in Nereus’ direction. “The problem with you, you barnacle covered bait bucket, is your intellect is flabby. You perceive the world through a lens scoured with salt from the ages and embrace your myopic worldview as a truth.”

“Regale me with your convoluted explanation, Fuckwit. I’ve never seen you use your big head. Entertain me.”

“This wall,” Poseidon tapped, and it responded with a chiming song, “isn’t supposed to fade to water to regain freedom. The sides solidify as the battle lines grow clarity. Crystal,” he knocked harder, and the barrier rang with a robust tone, “breaks.”

“When the clash is over, I’ll break this and free us both. You chose the losing side, Crust Curmudgeon. In time, you’ll reap the results.”

Nereus laughed as Poseidon resumed pacing. “We’ll see, Mer Pappy, oh, I meant Mer Persona non grata. Don’t count on prevailing. For as long as gods gazed on the Earth, shenanigans ensued. We’re reading one more chapter, and you cling, an avid reader yearning for a happily ever after ending. Life isn’t a story, Speedo Cheeks. You are a pawn as much as your puny Keeper. For now, keep those happy thoughts tucked in your tired red rag. I understand the world’s ways far better than you. A stint in ol’ Tartarus will season your sass.”

Nereus hunched over his game of solitaire as a faint formless shadow dappled across crystal, writing in reverse, letters fading as new ones appeared.

Both Keepers live.

Poseidon grinned, watching the ‘v’ and the final ‘e’ fade, then tapped the wall, making it ring in a joy-filled acknowledgment.

“Do you mind?” Nereus grunted. “I’m trying to win.”

The Boogey, bloodied and silent, reeked. Chelsea wrinkled her nose and surveyed the scene, her presence invisible to the shifters. The death toll stood at three cats, two bears, and a single wolf, and the musky carcasses added to the urine parfum.

“Are we in accord once more?” Loboli shook his fur out and snarled, his snout bloodied and torn.

A cat, pacing near a female’s body, yowled, then sat and licked the still face.

“If so, collect the dead. It’s best to return to the forest and reconvene with the dragon and the witch.” Loboli tapped the air in front of him and a message appeared in elegant script.

This directive is your final assist. The Thundra moves to intercept. ~ Apollo.

One by one, beginning with the cats, the shifters returned to human form and lifted their dead, moving into the night, a strange procession fueled by changes none understood. Loboli, the last to leave, turned at the snap as Chelsea revealed herself.

“You are growing wilder in counterpoint to transitions within other magical races. To save the world, refusing the feral choice pulls shifters into a tighter balance. Only you can decide, Loboli. Annihilation is on the table.”

Loboli grunted, turning from the witch. “Destiny flows in our blood and violence sings. Battle and victory beckon.”

“Survival is the pathway to thriving. Save your races, Loboli. You must sense the shift coming.”

He paused, facing Chelsea. “I’m swept in ways I can’t control, an arc greater than my desires.”

“The crossroad is there, but you must take action toward the path. Your culture is worthy of growth and continuance. Neither lie on the commitment to fighting the dragons. Let them exist, and your races will too.”

“Never. They want us gone and we’ll not allow it.”

“What body of negotiation forms this knowledge?”

“My blood speaks, and it is enough.”

“Then you’ll perish. Both for the reasons you conjure to dissuade yourself, and because of your reluctance to learn and question. How ironic you realize your place in the creation, with lands, visibility, and freedom, and you toss it for an ancient lie you love more than your own people. History will show that stupidity ended the noble shifters, and the unwillingness to try a new solution is on your head, Loboli.” Chelsea’s eyes blazed green with anger, tempered with something softer. Comion.

“What do you care? Each race self determines,” Loboli growled.

“Empathy arrived, moving witches forward, while ferocity, a step backward, surrounded you. The balance continues the dance. Draw away from the push to feral, Loboli, save the creation and your status in the budding Triune. Your piece is important, the part of a bigger whole. Accept the dragons are sovereign and help determine how every shifting race moves in a tightening balance. Pick up the true power, the harder task, the path to grow and become more. This is your moment.”

Ragged breath filled The Boogey. Loboli shrugged, turning toward the door to the sound of Chelsea’s snap.

“Even if I agreed,” he muttered to the empty bar, “I’d never get the accord to make the attempt.”

Parker stared at the mangled ankle. “I’m nineteen, Glenna; I can’t lose my foot.”

“Oh, I’m trying, Keeper, but that bear chomped you good. Impressive that you kept your cool and held onto en venterim. They wanted a reason to end you.”

“I had help. The Vapor had a grip of sorts, a layer of calm. The long game is their jam.”

“No doubt there, Kid.”

“Do you always feel them?” Sadie asked.

“No, but their sense was strong while the shifters attacked me. I had clarity, and the terror muted. They made a difference.”

“Parker, I’ve got one more trick up my tank top, and it’s a doozy, but if it doesn’t take, your foot is toast.” Glenna patted his hand.

“Then it better work,” Parker grunted. “I love surfing, and I won’t last long as a one-legged Keeper.”

“Not the greatest odds,” Glenna grinned. “But death is permanent. Anything else in life is an opportunity.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Rain pattered across Lake Okeechobee, mists rising in salutation to the circling dragons who swooped low, landing along the silent bank of the vast lake. Gators, eyeing the newcomers, slid under the surface, unwilling to either engage or be a snack.

Campe ran out of the sky, turning eyes to the swirling mist. Under his gaze, it took the shape of an ethereal dragon. The Thundra continued arriving as the Vapors swirled and eddied in the downbeats of their massive wings.

“Are any missing?” Campe gazed along the banks as majestic heads shook in the negative.

“And our demis, Morgu?”

“Reconnected,” an enormous, bluish green dragon replied. “I located every demi and weeded out the few who entertained darkness. My deepest commiseration to of our Thundra whose children were dispatched. I was swift.”

Several nodded.

“We cannot be both light and dark, and we granted the pruning.” A red dragon called from the back.

“One remains,” Campe said. “He is powerful.”

“Young, and full of secrecy and anger. The path to peace shines with clarity.” Morgu agreed.

“And his alliances?”

“They must be free to choose. Each race controls its destiny.”

“They will initiate action against us, a sign of disrespect. The past lies behind and the way forward beckons. How we chart history is today’s decision.”

Loboli paced the patio, reaching the stone railing in long, loping steps before spinning to march to the opposite rail.

“Why the agitation?” A second wolf, seated at the table, stared at Loboli.

“I cannot shake this sensation of doom. The chosen path is wrong.”

“Talk of withdrawing will get you killed.”

“Death comes regardless.”

“Not the inspirational language of a mighty force entering the fray for the glory of the pack, Loboli. Regroup and lead.”

“I am leading,” Loboli snarled. “It’s my role to read the crisis, not yours. I see the moving pieces your hot temper blinds you from understanding. Leadership,” he paced across the patio, “is making the right choice, even if difficult.”

“None will follow if you change the accord. The heat in their blood tells them otherwise.”

“I have to try. Convene them.”

“Damn cat pee,” I muttered, wiping the walls and corners with bleach to remove the blood.

“I cast a diminishing spell.” Chelsea zoomed the wine from under the bar. “It’ll fade by the hour.”

“Those bottles are coated in bear slobber.”

“This used to be a quality place. It’s gone to the dogs.”

“Wolves, but I’d be happy if I never saw another cat.” I wiped my eyes, the dual sting of bleach and piss doing a number on my tear ducts.

“Take a break and have a drink. The groups massing to attack the Thundra stay in the forest, not on the line, yet Asclepius inferred the conflict happened here.” Chelsea raised an eyebrow and sipped.

Hmm. Did something change?

“Clep might have believed that it was Drago’s fight against me, instead of the larger Thundra battle. Instead, he’s staging in the woods with Dracena and the shifters. Dammit, I thought Loboli was smarter.”

“So did I.” Chelsea leaned her cheek against her palm. “He’s brilliant, and his integration with the human world set a standard for others. I tried to talk to him; the old Loboli enjoyed engaging in the exchange of ideas.”

“But not this time?”

“Not that he’d it to me. I confess, I’m concerned.”

A faint smile crossed my lips.

“I know. It’s so damn weird feeling these non-logical, um, impressions. Plus, they color my thinking in new ways.”

“Yeah?”

“If Loboli is the leader I’ve seen, despite the rising bloodlust, he may try to swing the shifting races to other options.” She shrugged. “Based on what I witnessed here, they won’t listen.”

I rubbed my temples. “An enormous risk.”

“Shifters choose leaders in battle and death, Patra.”

With a crash, The Boogey’s door banged open. Two bears strode in, flinging Loboli’s body to the decking.

“He’s a traitor to us. Bury your dead, Keeper. And prepare. You’re next.”

A huge paw sliced the air. Growls filled the bar as they turned and left.

Chelsea’s spell cracked across the door, sealing us in with the motionless Loboli. She knelt, hands running over his chest.

“Faint, but still there.”

Ten fingers splayed on either side of her nose, she blinked twice, and The Boogey filled with nine of her coven mates.

“Glenna remains, healing the other Keeper,” said a witch with one green and one blue eye.

“The wolf nears death, rejected for trying to turn the shifters from the war. If we can save him, we must try.” Chelsea laid her hand on Loboli’s chest as the others gathered around the sprawled figure on the floor.

“While you work, I’m going to write in the record.”

Focused, a few absentminded nods met my pronouncement; I grabbed my bourbon and palmed into my office.

Show me Parker’s latest entries.

Two brief paragraphs lifted through and displayed.

My mind keeps returning to Apollo, and his apparent sabotage of Keeper Patra. He didn’t seem to care about her one way or another when they first met.

Why offer to help? Was attempting to kill her for his purposes or another’s? What angle or motive explains his role?

I know how smart Parker is. He’ll get there. Best to make sure he keeps it to himself, especially since Zeus, as far as I can tell, prefers us both dead. I dipped the quill and filled in the blanks.

“Anything else?”

The hairs raised on my arms. This entry was written in blood, for other Keeper’s eyes only.

Glenna left to grab another potion, and I’m writing this in quick. Patra, I may lose my foot. If I do, I’m as good as toast. If it comes to it, sacrifice me to gain for the Triune. I mean it. If you see me going in, let me.

The hell I will. Gloria would kill me and pick up her next order like nothing happened.

A huge thud echoed throughout The Boogie and I stashed the book and grabbed my staff, sipping my drink as I walked through the empty restaurant and stepped through to the long fishing pier at the back. Bourbon on the railing and my free hand on a hip. I stared at my roof’s ridge.

“Keeper.” Campe gripped the edge of the ridgepole, swung, and dropped to the deck. Naked again. The sheer percentage of smokin’ men in this job had its moments. This qualified.

“Alone?” I eyed the roof. Drago was nowhere, nor were there any other mega hot nekkids.

“The Thundra assembles. I’m here to request you to us for a conversation.”

“Um, I’ve kinda got a few balls in the air.”

“Now.”

I patted my waist. Journal, potion, plume. Check. With an air of casualness, I touched my neck. Charm for calling Chelsea, check. OK, Patra. Based on the knowledge you have, do it.

I picked up my stick. “Let’s go.”

Campe’s neck elongated, and he dipped a shoulder as the rest of him shifted. I stepped on his front leg, scrambling with zero elegance onto his back, and tucked my knees behind his wing ts.

A toothy head inclined my way. “It’s not far, Keeper. Hang on tight.”

A whooshing flap and we sailed off the end of the pier. The surf crashed below us, backlit by the occasional shrimper or fishing boat, and the moon, nearing full, lit the sea with sparkling motion.

After twenty minutes, Campe banked to the right, following the St. Lucie River, and headed to the big lake. Okeechobee teemed with gators and pythons. I hoped to Hades I had a ride out of there.

In a sweeping arc over the shoreline, I shuddered. Hundreds of gator eyeballs reflected the moonlight in the water. On the shore, dragons stared at Campe, enormous yellow eyes never leaving me as he angled toward the bank, blasting a small puff of fire to light his landing.

“So many,” I breathed, staring at the prehistoric swamp soiree.

Campe landed in a bumpy trot and turned without shifting. I perched, gawking at the sea of scales and pops of glowing sparks before me.

“Hello,” I managed.

An immense head stretched toward me and sniffed. I’d fit in his mouth with room to spare. Yikes.

“Interesting. How long have you held the symbiont?”

Hoo boy, an intellectual exchange in a sea of predators from all millennia? Come on, Patra, find your guts. I’m sure they’re somewhere between this swamp fest and The Boogie.

I blew out the fear and leaned forward. “How much insight do you have regarding the Keepers?”

“Tell us what you know.” It was not a request, but also didn’t sound too grouchy. Bonus.

“Since the beginning, the Vapors recorded the of the line between the worlds. After their run in with Zeus, they imparted a trace of Vapor into a chosen human, and that person became the Keeper, continuing to record the line’s events. I confronted Zeus and freed the Vapors, creating the Triune.”

“Speak of the Triune.”

“The humans, oblivious to magic, created a society based on greed and manipulation, but they are capable of powerful, immersive love. The magical world, invested in knowledge and law, tolerated humanity but didn’t interact. And the gods did their thing.”

I shrugged. “The Triune’s goal is to pull the races together to create a new balance. I believe this opens a period of intense learning, beauty, and discovery. An impetus for the creation.”

The dragons swapped side eyes, and several nodded. A surreal scene, trust me.

“And your symbiont?”

“An additional Vapor ed me, offering peace and courage. No clue how long it plans to stay.”

“Understood. Questions for us?”

What?

“Lots. First, I’m sensing discord within the various shifting races. Many don’t this clash with the Thundra. Is en venterim a zero-sum game? If a few shifters or humans screw up, are they all, innocents included, doomed?”

Here I am, gun toting rednecks, watching out for your asses.

“Before, yes. Today, we concur that a remarkable shift looms. We’ll weigh the behaviors of the few over the entirety,” a pair of huge golden eyes blinked at me, “then decide.”

OK, so it’s fluid. That’s better than absolute.

“What’s your goal for this, er, situation?”

Dragon laughter is loud, clattering, and smoky.

“Peace, a place, and a voice. Our history, told as it happened and not a victor’s tale, shared throughout the world, and to thrive.”

Pretty fucking reasonable.

“And we will kill the demi, preserving our light.”

“Um, that’s a problem. The Triune has places for everyone. It may not be a kumbaya house party, but each prospers in peace.”

“This demi must die because he pollutes our law. We cull every demi who entertains darkness. To remain in the light, the sacrifice of a demi child is acceptable. We call this practice the pruning.”

“The idea is that everybody lives.”

“Fanciful and impractical.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter. Every world and race changes whether or not they want to, even dragons.”

A blast of fire shot across the lake as a pile of gators submerged, a few thrashing their tails. Seated on Campe’s back, the sense of enormity verses tinyness sat on my heart.

Fuck it. I know I’m right.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

In the stillness, the night noises returned to the Okeechobee’s black waters, and I sat, enduring the stares of a freaking plethora of monsters. Zero chance a nightmare will ever scare me again; I’m starring in a scene of terror dialed to twelve. But it’s also the job. With care, using my staff for balance, I rose, standing on Campe’s back. At least they’d have a clean shot if crispy edges were my destiny.

“In a Triune led world, equal opportunity to thrive is paramount. The old world’s upheaval, caused by wars for domination and reliance on an antiquated alpha structure, must fall. It’s no longer a creation of benevolent alphas and simpletons. Within that change great opportunities for happiness and intellectual advancement wait. Nothing happens without peace between races.”

Smoke and sparks greeted my opening foray.

Ugh. Here I go; yapping is my superpower.

“While Campe shared his reluctance to commit until he knew more, we’re at the point of choosing. The Triune wants peace; for humanity, the magical races, and to have the immortals become seen and known entities. The creation, tipping broadly to contain the disparities of the earth’s creatures, approaches an apex and the rare chance to tighten. When it does, we enter a place of advancement. The current teetering preserved our worlds, but this rocking back and forth, resembling contestants in an ouzo chugging contest, is a stopgap. Before, we needed time to coalesce. Now, the window of approaching opportunity inches

open. Are you ready to step into next?”

In her clearing, under the faint hoots of owls and calls of the soaring raptors, Dracena eyed her cauldron and nodded, satisfied. The final potion shimmered, iridescent colors expanding and contracting as she knocked the smoldering wood from under the pot with a brisk sweeping motion of her right hand. With care, she ladled the hot liquid into flasks, lining them up in a large, deep tray until full.

“Finished?” Drago eyed the cooling vials while Dracena pushed stoppers into each.

“Close. I still need to bottle the expansion batch.”

“What does this one do?”

“Boosts their wildness, enhancing their feral urge to fight. Add that to the ability to increase their size tenfold, and we have a suitable army. Behind your fire, battle tested brawn and bloodlust wait.”

“Campe is soft.” Drago snorted. “All he cares about are his stupid rules and peacekeeping. What an idiot. Their time of patting everyone’s head like we’re children is going down like cougars on spring breakers.”

“Perhaps.” Dracena eyed him with a skeptical look. “Underestimation is a poor battle strategy.”

“Confidence in outcomes creates success.” Drago huffed sparks and glared. “I

read that on a billboard in Orlando, and it stuck with me.”

“Unpredictability drives achievement for magicals,” Dracena onished. “A confused foe provides an advantage. Long range planning outstrips splashy overconfidence; the two are not interchangeable.”

Drago gripped the back of her neck and yanked her into his chest. “Nor should you confuse your place in my world, Witch, child or no child.”

Dracena held her tongue. He’d learn, too late, who was running this particular end of world scenario.

“Of course, Drago. Forgive me.”

The full moon’s light, cresting the far horizon, lit the evening skies. Ballard stared at the condo’s balcony as mermen scaled the building, flung legs over the railing and formed a lengthening line. Soon the space filled with sixty mer, shell blades held at their sides. One stepped forward.

“We seek the Keeper.”

“She’s not here. What is your business?” Ballard stood, framed in the light of the balcony’s magically sealed doors.

The mer exchanged a glance, and Ballard knew they perceived a request from a mere human as an insult. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited, listening.

“We owe him nothing. He killed a mer and stands as though an equal.”

“We fight for the Triune, and humanity is now a part of the larger world.”

“If the balance doesn’t restore, we lose the mer that lay sickened; the cost of inaction is too high.”

“We have no Olympus ally, and none answer our petitions for healing.”

A throat cleared, interrupting them.

“You want the Keeper’s help to quell the sickness. Why not tell me what you need?” Ballard raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

“He understood our language?”

“How can that be?”

The full moon crept away from the horizon, and one mer gestured in irritation. “We talk, wasting the night. These attacks require action.”

The leader nodded, turning to face Ballard. “I am Akura, the second mer. Qiton, our first, lies stricken with the water sickness. For the full, we fight alongside the Keeper to drive the fire back to its place, and heal the creatures aligned with water.”

“Humans as well?” Ballard asked, tone neutral.

“They suffer too? How? They do not live in water.”

“Humans align with fire, earth, and water at the time of their birth. This imbalance sickens one-third of the humans. Another third is overwhelmed with fear, and the final one, the fire aligned, is in a frenzy. Human beings need this balance restored. Are you prepared to form a binding alliance for harmony

between sea and land?”

The mer huddled, then faced Ballard. “To discover humanity connects with the three prongs of the magical world is powerful information. We’ll fight for every being affected by the raging fire.”

Teeth chattering, I hunkered on Campe as the Thundra flew across the high, chilly air above Central Florida toward the Ocala National Forest, following Drago’s scent. Behind me, the dragons branched out, flying in a loose formation that accelerated and flanked Campe and me until the entire group flew in a wide circle that spanned a mile or more. Numb hands gripped in panic as Campe’s low roar called them to drop, hurtling to the earth. The rushing wind ate my tiny scream.

Don’t fall off, Patra. Roadkill is not a good look.

The landings, as the gigantic beasts, claws splayed, pounded out of the sky, shook the forest.

Campe turned his head. “I’m sticking you in a tree, Keeper. Watch and record.”

Before I decided whether arguing or acquiescing was my go to, Campe gripped my body, without perforating, which was appreciated, and plopped my butt high in a huge Southern oak. The downdraft from his wings tipped me, but I clutched a higher branch and caught my balance.

Once my heart slowed to somewhere between the levels of a dead heat finish at the Firecracker 400 and snatched by a rip current, I whooshed out a breath and took stock.

Crap, it’s at least forty feet to the ground.

I eyed my perch and eased along the branch until my spine connected with the tree’s trunk. Wedged and way less wobbly, I slipped my fingers into my waist sack, pulled the journal, plume, and ink, and watched at the forest surrounding my bird's-eye seat.

Silence.

To be frank, the quiet is unnerving. I’m sure Dracena didn’t sit around crocheting lap blankets, and the rest of the merry marauders are top level frightening without a witch-led assist.

An owl fluttered and landed, staring at me and the journal, then hooted once before lifting a foot in the book’s direction.

“Friend or foe?” I’d never encountered owl shifters before and had no idea what they shifted into when they didn’t feel like being a cute owl.

The owl lifted one talon.

“First option? Friend?”

A blink.

“Any clue what Dracena is cooking up for the fight?”

A blink.

“Yes?”

Another blink. On one level this was cool as hell, but of course, on another, it’s terrifying. The owl can leave, but if this tree lights up with forever fire, I’ll need options.

“Care to give me a clue?”

The owl puffed its feathers out and spread its wings wide. Impressive, for a bird that a moment before resembled an upright bread loaf.

“Size?” I guessed.

One blink.

Crud. I’m unsure if my heart can withstand the feral mojo of a regular sized shifter, let alone a supersized version. Visions of Parker’s injuries tugged at my mind, and I shoved them away.

“Anything else?”

The owl blinked, paused, then leapt at me, talons extended, just missing my eyes before circling and landing on the branch.

Coronary aside, what in Hades did it mean? Think, Patra. Attack. A wild animal. Felt ferocious.

Oh, shit.

“Did Dracena brew something to enhance their ferocity?”

If owls could smile, I’m pretty sure that’s what my new downy friend was doing. Kinda cute, and accompanied by another blink.

“Is there more?”

After giving his feathers a good shake, the owl walked across my thigh and extended a ridiculously long leg, tapped my heart, and hopped back onto the branch as I surveyed the bloody cuts. Those talons are the real deal.

“Heart. Love? Pain? Grief?”

My fluff ball buddy looked disgusted.

“Betrayal?”

A soft hoot and the owl flapped, dropping, before soaring through the trees.

Hoo boy, Drago. That bitch has your number, and I bet she crafted a brew with your name on it.

One last thing needed handling. I tapped my necklace and Chelsea landed on a branch, teetered and fell before rising with a red face and crossed arms.

“Good gods, I’m dying to hear this explanation,” Chelsea groused. “A tree, in the forest, at night, during a full moon, and sober. Stupid much? And where in Hades have you been? I was frantic!”

“I see the emotional inputs are still loading.”

“And I don’t care for them one bit.”

The tree shook with the Thundra’s roars, and Chelsea’s head swiveled.

“They’re here?”

“Yeah, I’ve been with Campe. He’s hard to refuse. Dragons fill the forest. Plus, Dracena brewed potions to both increase the feral underpinnings and the size of the shifters. Clash of the Titans, 2.0.”

“How do you know this?” Her eyes narrowed.

“A big-eyed bird told me.”

Chelsea pulled a potion from her waist sack and dripped it on my leg. The blood dried, the slices sealed, and the scars faded in twenty seconds.

“Thanks.”

She shrugged and gazed throughout the forest. “I have information for you. The mer appeared on your balcony, saying they want to fight to restore the balance.”

“Do they understand the dragons aren’t the enemies?”

“They’ve been with Ballard for the past hour, and he’s solid, Patra. He impressed Glenna, which isn’t easy. He covered both the true lore and the battle lines.”

“Well, he jumped in feet first, Chels. He’s no quitter. Can Glenna make the mer grow too?”

“Fraid not. That potion takes days to brew and doesn’t keep. You got lucky she had a batch ready the night you tangled with Gaia.”

“Then I’m thinking that going guerilla style on the Achilles’ heels might be their best tactic. Mer will die.”

“Patra, my sense is, for the first time, the mer coned to a greater whole. Instead of living isolated under the water, they’re engaged in a meaningful magical battle. They, erm, feel empowered.”

“Feel?”

“Shut up.”

“OK, I’m staying in this tree and recording the fight. Could you hang with me and bring Sadie here when the fighting shifts? In my gut, or could be my Vapor, I don’t think we’re supposed to engage, at least not yet.”

Chelsea popped over to the branch next to mine, relaxed against the trunk, and reached to pat my shoulder. Huh. Another roar shook the ground of the forest.

Showtime.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chelsea busied herself casting protections around the tree while bursts of fiery light pulsed through the darkest sections of the forest. A hand reached across and gripped my neck, hard, then pointed toward the ground. I glanced and froze.

The back of an enormous cat slid, in silence, past our tree’s trunk. At his shoulder, he was twenty feet tall. Not good, since that meant jumping my entire tree was a low exertion move. I slid my eyes to Chelsea. She drew a hand over her face and smiled.

Invisible. We’re not seen, thank the gods.

I tapped my ear, and she nodded, but even knowing she’d cast a silencing spell, my tongue remained frozen. The vibe rocking off the cat threatened to unleash my bowels, and in a panic, I touched my nose. She waved a complicated series of gestures. Cool. No odors, either. If there was a pants-pooping-, I’m taking mine today.

A series of, well rustles wasn’t the word, but the obvious motion of huge beasts filled the surrounding forest, and my heart managed every other beat as bears, thirty foot high at the shoulder, lumbered by, their musk mushing my gut into a shivering quake. Real-life images of King Kong sized bear action did little for my overwhelming desire to flee. Being forty feet in the air ended up as a good idea; as badass as I try to be, if I was on the ground I’d be a running snack, duties to the book be damned.

Fingers shaking, I opened the journal. Chelsea glanced at me and wiggled a finger. The ink pot rose and floated, steady, next to the page. I shot what I hoped resembled a grateful look, but I was too rattled to write; no Keeper could ever read tonight’s shaken entries.

A fog flowed from the left side of my chest, forming a misty human face in front of mine, then bent forward and kissed my forehead, a wispy benediction.

Holy crap.

Heart attack likelihood dropped from inevitable to non-existent. Intestines took a nap. Blood relaxed, no longer craving an out-of-body experience. The sensation of shifting from terror to peace filled me with a profound sense of place. Right timing and settled into the perfect moment.

My arm, the one furthest from Chelsea, lit with symbols, and I stared, tears welling, before gazing at the distant glows, speckling the forest in a ‘come hither’ to war.

Destiny.

Benevolence.

Death.

Birth.

My last fight. My darling child, my beloved original love, how grateful I am to have held you both, even for the fleetest of moments.

I looked at the waiting mist and nodded. “Ready,” I whispered into the swirling wind as the vapor withdrew into my body.

“Did you say something?”

“No, just a sigh.”

I dipped the plume, blotted on my shorts and wrote, describing my conversation with the Thundra, the interaction with the owl, and the advancing shifters.

My entry faded, and another rose, penned by Parker.

Witch Glenna applied the last possible healing potion. I’ll know by tomorrow’s dawn. The mer, led by Ballard, travel to the forest to meet with the fae. The Queen’s number two, Glissande, arrived to escort. Ballard insisted on going, Patra. I tried. I’m sorry. He took a small arsenal with him. Maybe that will help.

Horrified, I gasped.

What? No! I’m dying tonight. Aegeus needs Ballard. She can’t lose us both. If we fail, Poseidon remains lost to her, too.

I leaned against the rough bark, tears flowing. Chelsea bent and wiped my face, then read the entry.

“I am so sorry, Patra. He’s brave, and doing what he sees as the right path. Humans have a stake. A sacrifice for creation’s betterment is a noble way to die. He stepped into the role to Aegeus, but a warrior lives in his soul. Ares respects the ones lost fighting for truth.”

I flushed red and glared at her. “Ares can stuff it. This is my child, my love, and my life. Everything I cherish in my heart, them, you, and Sadie, is on the line, and I don’t give two shits whether Ares finds my sacrifice acceptable. I sure as fuck don’t.”

“Wage the war to win it, Cleopatra.” A nearby branch bent with extreme weight as Ares shimmered into view, standing and surveying the fires. “You obtained everything you need to prevail.”

He raised an eyebrow at Chelsea and one corner of his mouth lifted in a smile as his bronze spear tipped feeler shot from his palm and hovered at her heartspace before landing with a single light tap. Chelsea blinked, green eyes shading to a blazing blue.

“To victory,” Ares rumbled, fading to nothing.

“Babysitting by Aegeus is available,” I said, as a gut quaking roar cut the night.

“Cool,” Chelsea nodded. “I’m going to need her.”

“Just like that?”

“His gravitas speaks to me, Patra. Hearts call, we follow. You offered to sacrifice your life for Ballard’s. The reverse is inevitable and is an immutable truth.”

I stared at her face, lit by the flickering glow from the distant dragons. The knot of grief loosened, and I sucked in air.

“Good wisdom, Chels. Thanks. I love you.”

A blasting roar cut through the night as a tree ignited, and the shadows moved in ferocity, punctuated by yowls. The cats’ offensive launched; a war begun.

“And I love you,” she replied. “We’re pawns in a movement beyond our comprehension. Nothing remains but the ending, and our efforts toward preservation.”

The fae Queen surveyed the assembly.

“Unlikely pairings, but perhaps that’s the point,” Glissande murmured.

“I see potential,” Queen Flitana answered. “Unexpected alliances can be powerful. You, human,” she pointed at Ballard, “how do you fight?”

“With these.” He lifted a gun. “It sends hot lead at high velocity. A head or heart shot kills.”

“Any protection? How do you defend against magical attack?”

“Humans have no innate defense against magicals.”

“Well, that sucks.” Flitana turned her gaze to the mer. “Your ground battle is to disable these overgrown hairballs by attacking their legs. Lots of blood and they might eat you. Still game?”

Akura glared. “Mer stand forever ready to defend their culture.”

Flitana beamed with a deceptive, cheery smile. “As do the fae. Who volunteers to work with the human?”

Owls blinked, the osprey preened, and the eagle rolled his eyes. Well, as much as an eagle can, his sentiment was obvious, translation unnecessary.

“We will,” Pook called out.

“We’re proud to help him. This human fights on the side of magicals and fairness.” Bingo added, glaring at the eagle.

Glissande shot a shrewd glance at the two and leaned into the queen’s ear.

“Interesting,” the Queen replied. “We’re decided. The pelicans fight beside the human. Owls and raptors call positions from the skies, and the mer fighters hold the ground. As you slow a shifter, the fae will end them.”

“All of them?” An owl hooted in dismay. “The races are self-determining.”

“If they self-determine to extinction, so be it,” the Queen reed. “We did not start this path, but we walk it without fear. Consequences matter. The beast’s war ends tonight.”

The Queen rose in a blur of wings and lifted her scepter. “To balance.”

“To balance!”

Glenna tapped Loboli, fully shifted because of the moon, on the top of his head and he woke, growling, and leapt to his feet.

“Settle your furry butt down and listen.” Glenna waved a hand in annoyance. “You’re lucky, with everything we have going on, that we had time to tend your wounds. Even luckier,” she snorted, “that bears are too dumb to differentiate between near death and dead.”

“How’d I get here?” Loboli paced, a stream of low growls filling The Boogey.

“Shush. We don’t need any distractions. This war of yours blasts fire in your beloved, hard won forest as we speak. Hope you enjoy prairie life because that’s what’ll remain.”

“Bring me up to speed.”

“You aren’t the boss here, Mayor. I don’t have to tell your ungrateful fuzzy butt squat.”

“Forgive me,” Loboli murmured. “I misspoke. The shift into feral footing still courses in my veins. I am grateful for your efforts to save me, and lie in your debt.”

“Better,” Glenna eyed him, assessing. “You are calming. Interesting. It’s a choice, so it’s possible we can use that. Tell me what happened to you.”

Loboli sat panting, and a witch brought a bowl filled with Mooncraft to him. He lapped it up, muzzle dripping on the floor, and howled.

“Better. Thank you.”

The witch nodded, and Loboli paced as he talked. “The chosen path, I knew in my gut, was a lie. I reconvened, laying the truth out; trapped in their frenzied blood, no understanding or reasoning occurred. The violent takeover of their senses offered no pathway to peaceful solutions. As is our way, my death was required. I’m amazed I lived.”

“It was close, but we’re talented.”

Loboli inclined his head in agreement. “The witch, Dracena, sought to augment the feral wildness of our blood, and brewed a second potion to increase our size ten fold. Those weapons offer a path to victory if used with cunning and tactical precision.”

Glenna snorted. “They face the entire Thundra plus a contingent of demis in a battle of far greater numbers than the original record of dragons indicates. Others rise to fight on the dragon’s side. If choosing the feral effect is a choice, Loboli, there’s a slim chance, provided you knock sense into them, that enough will survive to continue.”

Loboli paced, agitated, as a shimmer appeared at the far end of the bar.

“Witch Glenna, a word?”

Surprised, Glenna stared at Apollo, then nodded as he waved, freezing the remaining occupants.

“The time we spent was special to me, and the child made a favorite. I wish no harm to either of you. Step from this battle, and I can protect you.”

“From whom?” Glenna’s hands landed on her hips, and Apollo’s features looked uncomfortable.

“That’s not important.”

“Oh, sweet loving one, it’s the most crucial thing. What did you do this time?”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The gigantic bear crashed off the protections, too dazed to realize he hadn’t smacked into the rough tree trunk, and turned toward the red dragon with a pissed-off roar, bleeding from a rip across his ribs.

“Close,” I muttered, shooting Chelsea a side eye.

“Glad it wasn’t a cat,” she agreed. “They’re smart as Hades. A hundred thousand trees in the forest, and he bounces off this one?”

She raised my dropped plume from a lower branch and I snatched it with a grin. I dipped, blotting again on my ruined shorts, and added a new entry.

Shifters wage a tactical offense, but the numbers, as they lose to the fight, aren’t with them. I can’t be certain, but my take is that the fallen dragons are demis, with none of the full-blooded Thundra impacted. The cats are agile, dropping from the tallest trees onto a dragon’s back, whose writhing opens their necks to attack from below by the wolf packs and bears. Fire rages around us; Witch Chelsea isn’t sure her protective spells can repel dragon fire if our hiding place catches. The fae and mer are merciless in their attacks on the bears and wolves. In this battle, the big cats fare the best, but it’s far from finished. The crack of gunfire tells me my original love is still in the fight, a human push for balance.

I continued to write as the circle of the dragons tightened, pulling the fighting

closer. Is the strategy to burn it to the ground? Which, to be fair, is a decent annihilation tactic. But it’s also anti-Triune. Peace by extinction isn’t the grand plan. Think, Patra.

“Any sign of Drago? Isn’t this his party?”

A thud that shook the tree answered me, followed by several more. Head whipping, I looked for the source as an enormous clawed food flattened a tree less than a hundred feet from ours.

“Mother of Zeus, that bitch gave Drago the grow potion!” Chelsea shrieked, grabbing my shoulder. “Hang on to me; if that tail hits us, we’re dead!”

I jammed the plume, inkpot, and journal back into my waist sack and gripped her wrist as she grabbed mine. Locked, we watched Drago move, breaking through the edge of the Thundra’s ring and unleashing hellfire on the nearest dragon, the red one embattled with the bear. As the dragon stumbled, a cat dropped from a tree above, and the wolves and bears tore its throat as it screamed.

A blue dragon blasted fire at the attacking shifters, and Drago bent, extended his neck and released a stream of roiling flames, blistering the skin from grey-blue to black, filling the forest with the scent of burnt skin. It roared in fury before swatting the lurking cat from the Loblolly pine tree and sending it sailing in a tail over teeth roll toward us that felt like slow mo, but I’m pretty sure that’s just my shocked interpretation. The cat bounced off the Chelsea’s protections, snarled, and looked up.

“Time to go?”

Chelsea squeezed my wrist. “Maybe. Stay ready.”

Campe crashed through the treetops, landing on the cat and squashing it flat. Sorry, kitty. More dragons crash landed, forming a tight circle around Drago.

“Demi Drago, you will not survive,” Campe bellowed. “You’ve spurned your place in the magical world. Surrender or burn, demi. We tolerate no darkness.”

“I am ten of you lore loving idiots, and the world burns before me. Your time is past. Death comes for you today. Tomorrow I reign, striking terror into the worlds while your carcasses rot.”

“Sadie! NOW!” I hissed.

Chelsea snapped the summoning spell.

Below, the circling Thundra stomped in a ritual I’d bet good money was ingrained from the beginning of time. Drago’s roar blasted fire into the treetops. The incredible noise shot pain through my ears, which felt like they’d reached the end of day three of a thrash metal concert. The pine needles dripped fire and flames licked across the canopy. Between Drago, the answering Thundra, and the crackling flames, I was struggling to think.

Chelsea pinched my arm, hard, and I jumped, catching my balance with an inelegant flop across the branch.

“Sorry.”

I shrugged, taking in Sadie’s wide eyes, and I reached for her hand.

“Do you still want to do this?” I yelled over the mayhem.

Sadie shivered and pointed to her belly. I touched her and the kicking surprised me. Even this barely baby was ready to rumble.

“The baby started up a few moments before Chelsea pulled me,” Sadie called. “He’s never kicked like this until now. I knew it was time!”

“What do you need to do?” Chelsea popped onto my branch and sat in front of me, back to the brawl, eyes locked on mine. Sadie floated in the air next to us, surprised, but getting into it. Atta girl.

I sucked in air, peace surrounding my body, seeing the path.

“We pop into the center of the Thundra, facing Drago. For the Triune to move forward, he and any demis to come must receive an equal chance to thrive. Their lives aren’t accidents or mistakes, and each life is as valuable as the next. The Thundra believe culling any dark offspring is their right, and they’ve done it, ruthlessly, already. This has to end.”

Chelsea tipped her head, staring at me. “They killed their own children?”

“Yes, and I know why. To enter the Triune, they have to see it too. Me protecting Drago is the personification of the lesson. Last chance, Sadie. Are you positive this path is the right decision?”

Her fingers splayed over her baby bump. “Never more certain in my life, Patra.”

I glanced at Chelsea. “Can you deliver an object?”

That netted me an epic eye roll.

“Send this,” I unbuckled my waist sack, “to Parker. Let me grab my anti-vertigo first, though.”

I reached in and extracted the blood from Ares and palmed it, then pulled the vertigo potion and cinched the sack.

Chelsea’s eyes went wide. “You’re breaking the law.”

“No, just trusting a heart I know well and love even more. Besides, it won’t open for you, but I’m not sure it can’t be burnt with dragon fire. Send it to the kid.”

A hard stare, a nod, and a snap. As it vanished, emptiness filled me. One step closer, Patra. Take in the last moments. I grabbed my staff, protective runes moving across the surface. Time to go.

“Ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“OK, let’s do this.”

Snap.

The waist sack landed on Parker’s balls. He winced, pulled the journal from the sack, and opened it to a blank page, a disquiet of dread filling his gut.

“Show me Patra’s latest entry,”

He read, swallowed, and wiped a tear. “Jesus, Boss. I’ll do my best, but this time, you try to stay alive. Fucking Zeus.”

Chelsea landed us on a small patch of not yet torched grass, and I coughed in the rippling smoke. We couldn’t last long without air, but I’d try for as long as I breathed.

“Thundra, I cannot allow you to extinguish any race, including your own demis,” I screamed, smoke tearing at my throat. “A war instigated against you allows for self defense, and those who started it will answer, but your choice to destroy demis must become an ancient, forsworn practice. The Triune can’t any race who asserts superiority via annihilation. This stops now.”

The heads, easily fifty feet above me, stared at my impudence, sparks dribbling. High above them, Drago’s eyes narrowed.

“What’s with your sense of importance, Keeper? Puny and weak, trust me, I don’t need help, and you’ll die today, anyway. Is now the time?”

Sadie’s and Chelsea’s hands in a death grip, I craned my neck upward. “I’m not afraid of death, Drago. Are you? I’m trying to save you, give you space in the creation to be yourself. Isn’t that enough?”

“Fuck you all. I can rule the world, Keeper, and don’t need your or anybody’s permission.”

“No, that’s not my role, Drago, but these guys want peace.”

From the smoking soil, Vapors rose, absorbing the smoke, cleaning the air and pooping what appeared to be charcoal briquets on the ground. Not the fancy entrance I expected. Good old Vapor buddies, keeping it real.

I leaned toward Sadie and whispered, “Poseidon would laugh his ass off if he saw this.”

Sadie’s giggle rang across the tension. “He’d love it.”

The Vapors merged in the cleaned air, growing opaque. I’d never seen so many congregated in a single place. The mist kept rolling, thickening, and within minutes, forming shapes.

“Whoa, they’re dragons,” Sadie breathed. “Look, they match the shape of each one.”

“I didn’t see that coming.” Chelsea’s eyes moved from Vapor to dragon. “Are they shields?”

“No,” I answered. “More.”

“Thundra, in the beginning, you created and curated a peaceful world. When Zeus imprisoned the Vapors, you faced a choice, and you made the best one possible. Now you face a new one. Is peace your true and highest purpose?”

One by one, the dragons bent forward, heads touching the smoldering grass.

“Are you surrendering?” Drago roared.

Silence.

Campe was the last to lay his head upon the ground. “A great wisdom, Keeper. We lost our way.”

“En venterim,” I replied, and the dragons, in unison, inhaled, pulling the matching Vapor deep within their cores.

“Zeus split you, never realizing you were corporeal, but could exist in either form. Now reed, the balance tips to the old center. We can be more.”

“I don’t know what shit you just pulled, Keeper, but I’m done. Time to die.” Sparks and flames seeped between Drago’s teeth as his jaws opened.

Fingers crossed I’d read this right, I yelled to Chelsea and Sadie, “Stand directly behind me and stay there!”

Chelsea took a half second to decide, but followed her heart and yanked Sadie with her, casting a protective spell. We both knew a spell wasn’t enough.

I glared at Drago and jammed a hand on my hip, crashing the tip of the staff into the ground as his blast of fire filled the space between and consumed our little trio of defiance.

Chapter Thirty

Ispit a mouthful of acrid tasting soot on the ground and shrugged. “You’ve got a decent library, Drago, which I keep safe until you return. What does a swim in the River Styx mean to you?”

Enormous yellow eyes blinked. “You have my books? Why?”

“I have Daisy, too. And I safeguard both while you get your shit in a pile. I’m a Keeper. I manage the line.”

With a shrug, I turned my back to Drago, ensuring Chelsea and Sadie remained protected, and glared at the newly incorporated Thundra.

“This demi deserves space, an equal footing, and the chance to thrive, just as you seek. The Triune honors both requests. What I’m asking, with respect, is that you do, too.”

It’s pretty fucking weird sitting in a circle of predators like a tasty smoked appetizer, but as my eyes traveled along the fearsome, toothy faces, the changes within shone.

“I see them, who they were,” Sadie breathed. “Each is changing as the Vapor res.”

Campe stepped forward. “If this demi dies, we start clean, an unsullied line.”

“Are you freaking serious? Can you hear what’s spewing from your mouth? You are no longer more, or less than another race. Look around you! The mer left the water for equality! The fae took a stand for each race’s opportunity to thrive. Humans,” I gestured toward Sadie and a bloody but upright Ballard who stood sandwiched between Pook and Bingo, “came here, with no magical protections, to the Triune. Unsullied is a myth, Campe. The world is messy and imperfect. I plead for the right of this magical, despite his attempt to kill me, to exist.”

The surrounding area filled with pops; nine witches, plus Loboli, landed next to us. No way was my River Styx dunk going to cover this crowd. Here’s hoping for a fire free tête-à-tête.

Loboli moved beside me, glaring at the shifters amassed behind the Drago.

“We convened, and I made the case that this war was the wrong choice. Despite your witch-brewed enhancements that soon vanish, I say again, the true path is one where dragons assume a role as an equal, not a lord. And, regardless of our past behavior, peace lurks, an attainable possibility. Led astray by an outcast witch and demi? Are these the noble underpinnings of our ancient races? In this battle, what did you gain? How much was lost? Can your bloodlines survive? Have you, through black thinking, forsaken your future?”

“The previous era fades! Wake up and choose the opportunity to prosper, for the next generations to flourish, unfettered by the chains of mismanaged history. Let the glorification of misdeeds die today.”

Growls and snarls met Loboli’s speech while the moon, waning, crept toward the horizon. The coming sun lightened the eastern side of the forest. I leaned my head against Chelsea’s.

“The mer fought well but they must return before moonset.”

Chelsea nodded and signaled her coven mates. “Find and transport every mer, including the dead, to the sea’s shore. Leave none behind. Then return and bring Witch Glenna.”

“Yes, High Priestess.” A symphony of pops, and the witches vanished.

“Why are they leaving?” Drago snorted. “Afraid Dracena will destroy them?”

“They honor the mer, who fought with valor, and return them to the sea as the moon wanes,” Chelsea answered. “It is the respectful action to take.”

Behind Drago, deep groans, growing louder, announced the wolves’ forced shift brought on by the end of the full. The bears and cats, shrinking, eyed the dragons with unease.

Campe ignored them and lowered his head toward mine. “You make a strong case, Keeper. You’ve used your symbiont well.”

Rising, he stomped a pattern of beats and the ground shook, earthquake level, as the entire Thundra thudded the rhythm in return. Sadie wobbled, and Chelsea grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the fry zone.

“Stay close,” Chelsea whispered to Sadie. “We aren’t safe, not yet.”

“Drago, we offer peace,” Campe said. “In the spirit of the Triune, en venterim.”

High above, a cackle wafted. I could barely make out Dracena perched behind Drago’s head.

“Was she always there?” I shot Chelsea a side eye.

“No, just arrived. I can find her anywhere.”

“Nice of you to us, Dracena. But your efforts failed.”

“Oh, I’ve only begun, Keeper. Your gullible believers are the losers, convinced of an unfeasible happy ending. Meet the truth.”

Dracena threw a complicated spell, and the briquets scattered, bouncing across the surrounding ground, gaining elevation and velocity with each bounce.

“What’s she up to?” Sadie asked, rubbing her shin where one of the smaller ones struck her. “Is she about to stone us? I didn’t see that in my dreams.”

Chelsea cast a protection bubble, and the bricks bounced away. “I’m not sure what she’s trying with this magic.” The small lines between her brows knit, eyes never leaving Dracena’s hands.

The intervals tightened, until the briquets smacked the ground in unison, mimicking the Thundra. With a crack, they slammed into the earth, sailing in equal numbers toward each dragon and sticking to their chests. Horrified, we watched Vapor wisps pull from the heart spaces of each one and flow into the charcoal bricks as the dragons roared in protest.

“Pretty fucking smart,” I muttered. “How’d she know they’d con?”

“No idea,” Chelsea answered, eyes glued to Dracena. “She always hoarded her knowledge.”

Behind us, as the Vapors disengaged from the Thundra, a sense of fear covered me. “Feral! She wants to make them wild, turn them from their peace, and stoke the fire! She’s tipping the Universe, Chelsea! Knock her right the fuck off of him!”

“I’m trying.” Green eyes cut to mine and away. “She’s stronger than expected. I need the coven.”

“Quite a battle.” Nereus gazed at the wall, heaving between a crystal and semiliquid state. “An even match.”

Poseidon’s gaze never wavered. “My money’s on the Keeper, Chum Bucket. She’s close, and that woman knows how to seal a deal.”

“You believe a simple human will not only solve the problem, but execute the solution? Idiocy.”

“Because I know her heart. At the core, Cleopatra gives a shit. She believes in the balance, feels the equilibrium in her soul.”

“So what? She’ll never see sixty. Why care?”

“Stop thinking there’s a choice, a measured calculation. It’s never been that with her. Cleopatra made the line her family and sees each member as important. In one stroke, she’s done more than magicals have to pull their world into a community. Even us, you crunchy old fart. Olympus changed in her life’s spark.”

The wall crystalized and Poseidon punched it, the clean ringing sound filling the bubble. No cracks.

“Soon.”

Pops filled the air between the bellows of the separating dragons. Chelsea’s gaze never left Dracena. “She’s up to something. This is a distraction!”

Eleven pairs of eyes stared, all heads cocked to the right.

“Potion!” Glenna shrieked, and twenty-two hands cast, knocking Dracena from her seat behind Dargo’s wing t, and she slid cackling, seventeen feet along his spine.

“Weak! Bitch, you’ll never stop me, for I found eleven and you are one short.”

An aqua dragon, smaller than the of the Thundra, cocked its head and shifted, becoming a statuesque silver haired woman. No charcoal fell from her chest.

“A demi,” I breathed. “They can’t be separated from their original Vapor because they never had one.”

The woman reached Chelsea and held out her hand, palm upward. “I am Reva; my mother was a witch. I have no coven. Read my lines.”

Chelsea glanced at Reva’s palm and froze before turning her own. The lines were identical. Reva laid hers over Chelsea’s and they twisted upright until the deep creases aligned. A bright green glow lit the circled coven and a shot of joy reverberated through the clearing, bouncing several briquets off the chests of the

dragons.

As one, the twelve turned and cast, calling Dracena’s vial to them. It smacked into Glenna’s palm and she eyed it, then unstoppered and sniffed.

“Enslavement.”

“A forbidden potion!” Chelsea shrieked. “No safe place in the world remains for you and the coven that brewed this monstrosity. I’ll convene the world’s covens and your signatures will be known, hunted, and incarcerated. Your free days are few, Dracena. You brought imprisonment upon yourself and now destroy the futures of eleven more.”

A pop answered the sentence as Dracena fled.

“Behind me, Sadie,” I shrieked as Drago roared in frustration, fire blasting. As before, the invulnerability dip prevented , but I swayed, feeling woozy.

Inside my body, an overwhelming sense of loosening dulled my senses. I stared at the supersized Drago, knowing I should be afraid, but my guts felt as though a switch flicked. Complete thoughts weren’t landing in my mind. I stumbled, feet moving in an awkward shuffle, a disted puppet, with Sadie and Chelsea on my heels.

I’m not controlling my body. Help me. Please, help me.

Vapor symbols erupted on my arm.

Trust.

Death.

Birth.

Oh the gods, I’m fixing to get toasted right in front of Ballard.

Trust.

Feet slowing, my numb hand shoved into my short’s pocket, pulling the vial of blood from Ares. I stood less than twenty feet from Drago’s front claws, facing his horrific maw. His eyes narrowed, smoke swirling from his nostrils, and his lips pulled away from teeth longer than Poseidon was tall.

Holy crap, I’m about to be dead! An impaled Keeper marshmallow flambé.

I unstoppered the vial and with a shaking arm, raised it as Drago’s fire filled the space between us. We walked in lockstep, with Chelsea’s gasp and Sadie’s whimper of fear rattling in my brain, marching through Drago’s inferno to his gaping mouth.

Heart clattering in my chest, I jammed the staff behind his teeth, using the seconds before its incineration to dump in the blood. To his roar of fury, we fell in a tangle of blackened limbs to the ground.

The symbol for death etched on my soot encrusted arm and I floated away.

Drago shook, shrinking and screaming as the Thundra watched. A final shrieking roar, and he collapsed, limp.

“Is the demi dead?” called Queen Flitana, zipping through the dragons, a petite fae badass, and landing on the inert body. She pressed her ear to Drago’s chest. “The heart beats.”

On the soot scored ground, Sadie groaned and pushed herself up, giving my body a frantic shake.

“Patra! Oh, no! Patra, wake up, honey.”

Chelsea’s hand ran across my chest as Drago seized, scaled body bumping and thudding against the earth. Sadie shrieked as his writhing tail pounded the earth ten feet from her.

One eye cracked open. My left arm hurt like Hades used it for a dartboard. I scrooched closer to Sadie and pulled into a semi-seated position.

“What’s wrong with my arm?” I muttered, trying to focus.

I held my forearm out, squinting. The identical repeating symbol, each more tingly than the last, etched into my skin.

Rebirth.

“OK, I see it. I am it, thanks to you. You can stop now.”

Vapors aren’t much for suggestions.

The pain throughout my chest dropped me flat in the dirt, and Sadie gripped my hand, squeezing hard. The Vapor erupted from my heartspace, a seismic cloud of mist, and condensed, forming a faint, then more opaque likeness.

“Another dragon,” Sadie breathed, eyes locked on the evolving fog. “But it’s shaped like Drago.”

I cracked an eye, watching the shape advance and fold into Drago’s seizing body. The calming effect was instant. Peace flowed from Drago, and his eyelids opened and blinked before closing. As the peaceful vibe permeated the space, I felt my sense of self restoring. I sat up and hugged Sadie.

“OK?”

“Patra, we did it!”

Drago’s voice rumbled, eyes still shut. “Knowledge seeps into my bones. I know my lore.”

Well played, Ares.

Chapter Thirty-One

Chelsea eyed Dracena’s handiwork, still attached and attacking the dragon’s Vapors, and frowned.

“Chelsea, I know what to do!” I called, a huge grin splitting my sooty face.

“Shush, we have to study these briquets, Keeper,” Glenna replied. “This is unknown magic.”

“Nope,” I chortled. “When you added your twelfth, the joy knocked a bunch of the Vapor embedding bricks off their chests. What do you do when a coven finds a new member?”

“To celebrate, we dance.” Chelsea gazed at her now full strength coven.

“No more headaches! Better get to it,” I grinned. “Can anyone ?”

“It’s not forbidden,” Glenna twinkled as I beckoned to Ballard.

Queen Flitana offered a fairy band, and they struck up a rockin’ tune. Feet tapping, Ballard swung me around in a wide, celebratory circle, music

punctuated by the cracks and patter of falling charcoal chunks.

On the periphery, the shifters watched, exhausted and anxious. The musicians cranked and bear booties shook. Bears can’t help it; they’re the original party animals.

“Good song,” one, a Boogey regular, shouted as two pairs of bears got their groove on, easing into the center circle.

Loboli stared at the ecstatic dancers and shrugged, crooking his finger at his mate. Head lowered, she slunk past the celebrating witches. A long finger lifted her chin and he kissed her.

“A new day.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Loboli folded her into his arms and they danced, swaying, the forever mates they were meant to be.

I beamed at Ballard, loving our once-again survival.

“Watch out for that tail,” Ballard eased me away from a pair of sashaying dragons, clinched in a fantastic, surreal tango.

“I’m more interested in this one.” I bit down on his lip, leaving a black smudge, and leaned into his hard-on.

Hands smoothed my spine, and Ballard kissed me until I sagged against him, breathless.

He grinned. “Wanna boink in the woods?”

The brittle sounds of shattering glass, so loud it filled the skies, ricocheted over the music, and I jumped, startled.

“Cleopatra. nice cheeky shorts.” Poseidon’s gold feeler shot out and snapped my butt cheek, dialing my aroused senses to twenty. “Hey Ballsy, you’re welcome.”

He cocked his head. “The face paint isn’t working for me though, it needs to go.” A small wave and Sadie, Chelsea, and I got a god given rapid rinse.

His sex mojo flipping me sideways, I grabbed Ballard’s hand, and we walked, stopping to kiss every few feet, into the trees.

Best.Sex.Ever.

As we staggered from the woods, the party still in full swing, I shot Ballard a

glance. “We have a problem.”

“A big one. What’s your plan?”

“First, I believe a petition is in order. Asclepius, I am asking.”

A shimmer and he appeared, gorgeous dark eyes twinkling. “Well played, Keeper. Your record remains unblemished.”

“Clep, will you help Parker? My request is for him.”

“Witch Glenna’s efforts prevailed, Cleopatra. He kept his foot.”

“Is it full strength?”

“I’ll swing by and ensure that young man surfs for years.”

“Thank you, Asclepius. I’m grateful.”

“No questions for me, Keeper? I’m surprised. You aren’t the poster child for reticence.”

“Oh, I had a dad. I get it.”

A warm chuckle, and he vanished.

“Not too shabby, Babe, you got the answer without asking.”

“The learning curve on this job is steep, but I’m humping.”

“Yes, you were.” Ballard’s eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Lord Apollo, I petition for an audience.”

The pause was longer, but damned if he didn’t show.

“Very well, Keeper, I’m listening.”

“Did the balance restore to its earlier state, or was the goal of closing the sway achieved?”

“The creation grew closer, poised to contract further. A successful effort.”

“What does this mean for Olympians? Greater transparency? A larger role with the races? For example, will you have more ability to interact with the arts? ”

Apollo watched the joyous dance for a long beat. “I did not think the tip was avoidable, Keeper. I was wrong.”

HOLY SHIT. Gods have never, and I mean never ever in the record’s history, itted error.

I blinked.

Apollo gave a rare smile. He needs to do that more often. No wonder Glenna took a tumble.

“We aren’t infallible, just immortal. We get lots of practice. From your perspective, we might appear to always know the outcomes.”

I grinned back. “Thanks for the honesty, and for caring about our creativity. It means so much to so many.”

Another little smile. I was rolling.

“I need to speak to Zeus, but he’ll never do it. Any suggestions?”

“I’ll call him for you, Keeper. I owe you that.”

Lightning cracked across the sky and the dancers looked up, surprised. A bolt sizzled near the resized Drago, trying a flashy dance move with the newest coven member, and smiling. A genuine smile. Mr. Grouchy Bottoms has a few moves, too. Strange times.

Ozone tickling my nose, I stared at Zeus as the dancers slowed and gathered around us. Asclepius appeared with Parker, limp free and sporting a humorless countenance. He’d read the Zeus entry. Here we go.

“Lord Zeus, in the presence of these lives, I petition.”

“What do you want this time, Keeper?”

Hoo boy. Ol’ Big Bolt was pissy. Perfect.

“In private?”

Bushy eyebrows drew together, and he gave me a curt nod. I stepped ten feet away and waited until he ed me.

“I know you made Apollo a deal he couldn’t refuse, and he poisoned me. That’s a big no-no. Then you pressured Apollo to withhold Asclepius from petition so that healing was off the table, nearly killing both Keepers, another prophecy

violation. It’s not the fact that you organized this that triggers the prophecy’s call for your banishment, but the publicity that you were the root cause.”

“Harrumph.”

“Lord Zeus, for the love of you, stop it. I’m contributing what I must, and the creation you preside over is doing better. Let me live my life, do my work, and be one more human in the creation’s grand scheme. And frankly, I’m the most helpful human you’ve had in a long freaking time. Can I get on with it unmolested? Please?”

A grumpy snort. Jeez, he’s uphill work.

“Otherwise,” I gestured to Parker, who waved the journal, “This shenanigan heads for wide distribution, and you’ll be in free fall by sundown. Let us do the job. We didn’t ask for it, but dammit, we are the line.”

Not my most spectacular finish, but his mojo was cranked to max volume. Being in the best post-coital glow of my life helped. Another tidbit of information to add to the book.

Zeus stared at me, active dislike covering his features, and shrugged. “Fine. You’re on your own.”

Ares shimmered into view, shield up and spear angled toward Zeus. Not menacing at all.

“Keepers may petition any god, including,” the spear waggled at Zeus, “this one. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Lord Ares.”

“None who wanted this battle were worthy, with motives of fools and cowards. When faced with a warrior of noble purpose, they shrank, unable to pull from their heart’s depths to prevail. Keeper, you are battle tested, iron willed, and a force of reckoning. It is an honor to share the earth with you, for you embody the purpose of war.”

A hard stare, and his gaze turned to Chelsea, who walked with deliberateness toward him. She took his hand, and they vanished.

Another crack of lightning and Zeus disappeared in a smolder of nose prickling ozone. While he hadn’t agreed to my petition, with the exposed alliances and cracks in the Olympic unity, maybe he’d give it a rest. Oh, well, I guess we’ll find out. His ego needs its own planet.

“Didn’t see a Chelsea and Ares pairing coming,” Sadie murmured.

“Can’t call them all.” I smiled at her belly. “Hi Baby, are you still kicking in a frenzy?”

“Just now and again. He lets me know he’s there.”

“He?”

Sadie grinned and pushed her long hair off her face. “Absolutely.”

With a pleased smirk, Poseidon glanced at Sadie and crooked a finger. “We’re going to visit Aegeus, Keeper. You and Ballsy take the night off.” With leering eyebrows, he extended a hand, and grinning, she clasped it as they faded away.

“Keeper,” Queen Flitana fluttered in front of me. “May I say it’s a pleasure to share a stake on the same battlefield. Unflinching and resourceful.”

“And the mer?”

“Our nations agreed to meet again at the next full. Both are misunderstood races and have interesting intersections to explore.”

“Your Majesty, I can’t describe my delight over this news.”

“You comprehend the magical world and see it from new angles, Keeper. I find your curiosity refreshing. Visit us sometime.”

“Thank you, I’d enjoy that.”

To visit the fairies without an invitation was an excellent path to disembowelment, so I’d call this another win for the Triune.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Time to extend an olive branch. I kissed Ballard and walked, unquaking, to Loboli, surrounded by slinking shifters. Huh, maybe the River Styx dunk had more practical applications. It sucked I lost my protective staff, but who knows, Hades’ trick might stick around and prove useful. Or not. The hot god of death loves messing with me.

“Mayor, I’m glad you survived.”

A couple of wolves dropped their heads, and a few bears looked sheepish. The big cats blinked, unmoved, but cats are asinine regardless of size.

“With your permission, I plan to ask Keto to mediate a truce and craft an ongoing en venterim treaty. Will you work with her and accept the agreed upon outcome?”

Loboli’s expression wilted the wolves and bears further, and the cats looked away. Boredom or agreement, I couldn’t tell, but Loboli nodded.

“Yes, we’ll attend and negotiate in good faith.”

“Excellent. You’ll hear from me soon.”

I headed for Campe, secured his acceptance, and glanced at Drago.

“He’s different.”

“You were the only way forward, Keeper. The gratitude of the Thundra is yours.”

“So Drago’s trainable? Safe?”

“Yes, on both counts. And many other stable demis survived. We’ll bury our dead and embrace the future. We wish to the Triune.”

“Come to The Boogey, and I’ll brief you. It’s a fluid project.”

He rocked a sexy time look that, if I wasn’t loving Ballard, might have landed. Timing, amirite?

I shook my head and grinned. “Wear pants.”

Nereus gazed at the mer surrounding the cracked bubble and shrugged. “What can I say? The outcome was a game.”

“Henceforth, our allegiance is to the Triune, the Keeper, and Poseidon. Stay away from us, Nereus. Tell the traitorous Nereides they are not welcome in the mer’s world.”

Turning in a flash, the mer departed. Tiny crabs pushed up from the sands and transformed.

“Daughters, I landed on the wrong side of the bet, but trust me, they’ll forget it in a few moons.”

In the sea, a fog swirled, tapping the fifty Nereides and Nereus, leaving a sense of both peace and disquiet. The old man scratched his head. “I never thought I’d say this, but Poseidon is smarter than he looks.”

“The ankle healed, but I can see right through it, Parks. Tendons, veins, muscles. You look like a mannequin in an orthopaedic office! Have you got an explanation ready? People, humans at least, will ask questions.”

His ankle looked kinda cool, but this is Florida. It’s hot; we wear flip-flops and shorts ten months a year.

“Clep said once it turns opaque, I’m healed and can return to work. Until then, it’s a reminder not to overdo.”

“Fair enough. But I’m at the ‘stick a fork in me’ level of toastiness and have two bars to run solo.”

“No, you don’t.” Poseidon, Aegeus on his knee, looked up from their book. “I shut The Boogey for two weeks to prepare for the Triune’s new moon celebration. Go to your cabin, sleep three days straight, do whatever feels good.” His horn dog eyebrows waggled, and I burst out laughing.

Ballard grinned from across the room. “We’ll figure out something. Aegeus doesn’t do landlocked well, though, so we’ll stick around here.”

“Aegeus is visiting me. The seas are safe with the mer’s declaration of loyalty and she misses her friends. We’ll return in two earth weeks. Oh, and Keeper? The Boogie’s human side is closed for renovations. I hope you approve when you come back.” His blue eyes crinkled in the corners. “Not The Boogey’s bathrooms, of course. I enjoy making a spectacle of myself.”

“With consistency,” I snorted. Big Red’s bathroom escapades added a nice lowbrow vibe. “I missed you, and I’m glad you’ll be hanging out and making The Boogey interesting.”

“Careful, Keeper, unless you’re looking for round two. In which case, I’m available.” A feeler shot from his palm and wagged in my face.

Behind his head, Ballard grinned. Sometimes that mojo rocks.

Dracena peered at the unfamiliar coven, searching the woodlands below her cave.

“That bitch set the world after me.”

She patted her abdomen and sighed.

“Come little love, we run to live.”

With a pop, she disappeared.

Top down, I steered the fish-scented Beetle north, mountain bound, as Ballard worked on his laptop perusing real estate listings. Since my cabin exploded and wasn’t rebuilt, we took a rental for these two free weeks. The plan was to find and buy a new, larger cabin, one with a pool and room for Aegeus and Justice, rumbling on her pillow between the seats, and goofy-faced Daisykins, busy slobbering out the backseat window.

A family. I have a human, loving, sloppy, slobbery family.

Peace tingled my arms and the symbol rose.

Contentment.

Ballard glanced over, read the message, smiled, and squeezed my thigh.

“Damn skippy.”

Keto ed the treaty copy to Loboli, then Campe, as the assembled wolves watched, then repeated the gs with each shifting nation, finished with the owls whose leader dipped a foot in the ink and squelched a taloned footprint on the bottom.

“Is that everyone?” Keto’s gaze slid from race to race, as nods moved in unison.

“This is a historic day, expanding the creation with positive energy, and embodying an ending. Within its structure, both lines and lore are preserved and given freedom for new knowledge, protection for broadening your paths, and opportunity for interaction with the magical and human worlds. You should be proud of the effort spent to create this treaty, the transformation details within its pages, and the release of old hatred and violence. Know I both ire and am impressed by your efforts.”

The slap of running sandals filled the clearing, and Hermes trotted toward the group.

“Success?”

“Indeed. The races are in accord.” Keto ed him the sheaf of papers.

Hermes tucked them under his arm, nodded and took off, the retreating sound of flying feet lost in the hoots, howls, roars, and celebrations.

“Daddy, why did Lord Ares tell me not to call the water from Mommy’s blisters?”

Poseidon gazed through the transparent walls of his underwater dwelling, as a mer, standing guard, swam by and inclined his head.

“The liquid was poison, Aegeus. One not meant for you, but…” The god’s voice trailed off. He picked up a date from the tray and chewed, thoughtful.

“You have an important spark, child, a gift this healing world needs to become greater. But change has enemies, those who fear and ones who fight. Remain vigilant, daughter. The transformation you embody beckons, and some hearing that signal are foes. Ending you before you begin appeals to their small minds and motives.”

“But they keep changing, Daddy. First the mer wanted to hurt me, but now they protect us. Who do I trust?”

“Yourself. Humans call it trusting your gut. If a person, creature, or situation feels off, believe it.” Poseidon stared through the sea toward Olympus, eyes narrowing as he met Zeus’s gaze.

This business remains unfinished, Brother. Your lust for supremacy stops at my child, and you knew she’d help her mother. A double poisoning to clear your single-minded power grab? Endanger Aegeus again and you’ll fall, not from prophecy, but by my hand.

On far away Olympus, Zeus shot him the finger.

The End

Love it? Don’t forget to leave a review!

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 contemporary fantasy. Her newest contemporary fantasy series, Boogie Beach, releases in 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 wwinkle.com and subscribe!

https://wwinkle.com//

Catch the Beginning!

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 , 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?

Visit https://wwinkle.com/boogie-beach-the-record-book-1/ for reviews and buying info!

Don’t miss book 2!

Visit https://wwinkle.com/salt-shaken-the-record-book-2/ for Salt Shaken: The Record, Book 2 for reviews and buying info!

Let’s Get Social!

Want to follow along?

facebook: @winniewinkle11 - or visit https://www.facebook.com/winniewinkle11

Like my author page and then my group “Winnie’s Winkles” for funny memes, excerpts of current work and new friends!

Twitter: @winklewinnie - or visit https://twitter.com/WinkleWinnie

Instagram: @winniewinkleauthor - or visit https://www.instagram.com/winniewinkleauthor/

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18546071.Winnie_Winkle

my newsletter to get the latest news, freebies, and publication dates! (Always private and never spamming)

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/

Happy reading!

Don't miss out!

Click the button below and you can sign up to receive emails whenever Winnie Winkle publishes a new book. There's no charge and no obligation.

https://books2read.com/r/B-A-NYCH-TNTQB

Connecting independent readers to independent writers.