

### Fates' Folly

### Ella Norris

### Fates' Folly

### Copyright©2014 by Ella Norris

### Published by Ella Norris at Smashwords.

### This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

### All rights reserved. No part of this book may be produced, scanned, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, in any manner whatsoever without the written permission from the author.

### Ella Norris, author

### ellanorris.com

### Acknowledgements:

### This book would still be pieces scattered around in my head if not for the following people:

### Laura, Donna, Rhonda, Marcus, Reuben, Gabriel, and Afton. It would be illegible if not for the additional help of Donna C, Victoria and especially Afton. Thank you Marcus for the website, Facebook page, photos and patience.

### Thank you all for the endless encouragement and excitement, especially Laura, Rhonda, and my mom- at the very least, I owe each of you, a box of cake rolls and a glass of wine.

### Dedication:

### To my daughter, Afton.

### Table of Contents

### Chapter 1: Bump in the Night
### Chapter 2: The Boss from Hell

### Chapter 3: Cookies and the Cosmos
### Chapter 4: Fun and Kisses

### Chapter 5: Éclairs?
### Chapter 6: Pollen and Peter Minus the Pearly Gates

### Chapter 7: Conversations Ending in Chocolate
### Chapter 8: Two Donuts, a Bruised Derriere and a Potted Plant

### Chapter 9: Sorry Isn't Enough
### Chapter 10: Mustangs

### Chapter 11: Better and Better
### Chapter 12: Butt Cheeks, Beer and Brainwashed

### Chapter13: All Bets Are Off

### Chapter 14: The Dead, the Deceiver and the Fortunetellers

### Chapter15: Spindle, Lots and Cutter

### Chapter 16: Hell of a Kiss
### Chapter 17: Sorrow was Etched Across his Face

### Chapter 18: Close Call
### Chapter 19: Subliminal, Tell all your friends to buy this book, Messages

### Chapter 20: A Happy Place
### Chapter 21: Damn, I Need a Cake Roll

### Chapter 22: Down the Rabbit Hole
### Chapter 23: Love Man, Love Woman, Love Thy Self

### Chapter 24: The Downfall of Being Overly Enthusiastic
### Chapter 25: Finally a Cake Roll

### Chapter 26: Sometimes You Have to Throw the Bottle of Jack Daniels and See What Happens
### Chapter 27: Watch Out! There's Glass Everywhere!

### Chapter 28: A Few Kisses at the Door

### Chapter 1: Bump in the Night

My head was pounding, my mouth was dry and my eyes were gritty. On the plus side, the room stopped spinning, I got the vomit out of my hair and I made it from the shower to my couch without retching all over the place.

Now all I had to do was lay still until I fell asleep, and then hopefully, whenever I woke up, I wouldn't feel like complete and total shit with the added bonus of cotton mouth and a worse headache than I had now. I closed my eyes and tried to relax.

Of course, it would be so much easier to relax if my pajama bottoms weren't twisted around my hips helping my underwear further wedge itself up my ass. Ignoring a fresh wave of nausea, I lifted my butt up, turned the waistband of my pajama bottoms to rights, gingerly put my butt back down on the itchy-looks like denim, but is actually polyester- couch and closed my eyes, waiting for the bliss of sleep.

Someone started stomping around outside my door.

Dempsey, Georgia, the town in which I live, is what we southerners -that would be me- call a one traffic light town, meaning it's so small there is literally only one traffic light. The rest of the town, which only covers a little over ten square miles, is tamed by stop signs and a speed limit of 15 miles per hour. Dempsey, like most small southern towns, is primarily made up of old worn down mill houses and antebellum mini Taras with columns and wrap-around porches a plenty. I live in such a house. Well, I live in a one bedroom apartment that was previously three bedrooms and two baths in such a house.

My apartment takes up almost half of the second floor. Doug Pittard, who lives in the apartment across from mine, took up the rest. Doug got a second bedroom, and I got the balcony and claw foot tub. The main floor of the house was divided into a small studio apartment, a large entryway with a grand curved staircase, a couple of storage closets and the landlady, Mrs. Crowell's- wall to wall pink carpet, ugly antique furniture and pink and gold walls strategically covered with ornately framed floral oil paintings- three bedroom monstrosity .

Mrs. Evelyn Crowell was an evil Harpy who insisted on making my life hell, but on one of her best days she couldn't get her bony, haggard self up the stairs. Apartment 1b, the little studio, was still vacant, and Doug Pittard was out of town. I knew because he had asked me to get his mail for him three different times. So who the hell was in my hallway?

Whoever was outside my door was still un-rhythmically banging around, so obviously I was going to have to get up and do something about it. I did a roll-off-the-couch-into-a-squat move and slowly, because the room was still spinning with every step, made my way to the front door. Unfortunately, we don't have doors with peep holes in Dempsey- it would be rude to spy on your visitors and heaven forbid you use them to avoid unwanted guests.

Thinking it had to be some kid, the plan- which really was more of a thought, and a tiny one at that- was to scream my head off and scare the juvenile delinquent away.

It was not a kid.

"What the hell?" I asked.

He looked around as if he expected someone else to be standing behind him. "You can see me, pretty?"

"I'm not the one that appears to have vision problems," I scoffed.

He did call me pretty.

He smiled. It made his little black eyes beadier.

"I am not visually impaired." His smile widened, "And neither are you. You can see me, can't you, pretty?"

"Yes. I can see you and hear you," and unfortunately smell you. "So what are you doing in my hallway, making enough noise to wake the dead?"

He snickered, and it was a little disturbing. Spit started pooling at the corners of his mouth, making him drool. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I can handle the dead, pretty." He snickered again, "it's my eternal work."

"Well, your hours suck."

He continued to smile. The throbbing pain in my head increased.

"Why are you in my hallway?"

"I had required Mr. Pittard's assistance."

Ahh, he was one of Doug's geeky buddies. "He's out of town," I said.

"Yes, but the Fates, bless them, gave me you, pretty," he said, walking towards me.

I probably should have been scared or intimidated, but he wasn't a very big guy-not much taller than me, maybe 5'6", and he was wearing black boots with a bit of a heel. He didn't have any weight on me either- the guy was skinny, almost sickly looking. His long sleeve shirt, torn and filthy, was literally hanging off his bony shoulders. His jeans, stained with Georgia red clay, hung loosely, pooling at the bottom of his heeled boots. Now that I thought about it- not an easy task with my head pounding- with his darkly circled eyes, hollowed cheeks and greasy matted hair, he looked half starved and a little desperate.

I should have just slammed the door in his face. I would have any other day, but I guess my mama had rubbed off on me a little because, apparently, getting drunk left me with a soft spot for creepy strays.

"Hey, do you want something to eat? I've got Lucky Charms, and you look like you could use a meal." It's not like I had to invite him in, I could just give him a plastic bowl of cereal, or the whole box to go.

He stopped about two feet in front of me. "Yes, I am hungry. You will serve me well."

Sheesh, forget the cereal, I think he was flirting with me. Maybe if I had not grown up with a parade of the sleaziest boyfriends, lovers, and one-nighters my mama could catch and bring home, I would have been concerned- or if I was really desperate, flattered- but with my head still throbbing, and his annoying habit of using the word pretty at the end of every sentence, the only thing I was feeling was pissy.

"Look buddy, I'm 5'3" on a good day, 140 pounds on a better one. I see myself in the mirror every day, so you can stop this ridiculous flirtation because no matter how many times you call me pretty," I waved my hands in front of my pelvis, "I am not open for business."

He smiled. "What is your name, pretty?"

"Myra Jane Collier," I said, and then, because I couldn't stop myself, and habits formed growing up in a small town are hard to shake, I added, "Why, what have you heard?"

He ignored my question, stepping forward the last two steps that separated us. "I'm not interested in your virtue, Myra Jane Collier."

If he didn't want food and wasn't attempting to get laid, then what was he trying to do? I started to think slamming the door in his face wasn't a bad idea. I began to step back, but before I could do anything other than shift my weight, he quickly- way too quickly for me to smack his hand away- touched his index finger to my forehead.

I'm not sure if I actually felt his touch, but the effect was as if he punched me, my head jerking back from the blow. I should have fallen, or at least stumbled, back into my living room, but instead I froze, the muscles in my body seizing as a blinding, piercing pain shot from the center of my forehead to the back of my skull. The pain exploded like a Fourth of July firework, the tiny threads of the explosion becoming fire that twisted and twined their way through my head, behind my eyes, across my face. Every nerve in my body was burning- down my neck, shoulders, arms, tips of my fingers and toes. My entire body was cocooned in fiery pain. I couldn't think. I couldn't see. I couldn't breathe. Then, suddenly, as quickly as the pain had begun, it stopped, and there was nothing. No pain, no thoughts, nothing.

I was curled into a ball on the welcome mat outside my apartment door, my cheek scraping against the worn thread as my body shook. My eyes were open. I tried to speak, to respond in any way but could not. My vision was clear, my head no longer ached, and, if anything, I felt a strange sense of clarity I had never felt before, as if the weight of worry and frustration that made up my life had been taken away.

The pressure of hands on my shoulders had me looking up into dark beady eyes. He brushed my hair out of my face.

"You see, it's your soul I want- your pretty, pretty soul."

### Chapter 2: The Boss From Hell

"I swear to you if you've molested or raped me, you better kill me too because otherwise, I'm going to hunt you down and...and...dismember your MEMBER!" I yelled, after waking up to find a large man leaning over me.

"I assure you, no rape or pillaging has occurred," said the man, taking a step back as he ran a hand through his black hair, leaving it sticking up, creating a path where his fingers had been. His speech was crisp, but his tone sardonic, making me wonder if he was irritated at me or himself.

His skin was golden brown, his cheek bones sharply angled, his jaw squared. He was a big man; tall and broad shouldered, but he had a leanness to him, in the way that he moved and just in his overall demeanor. He reminded me of one of my mama's old boyfriends who had fought in Iraq; a weathered and worn soldier who had seen and done things he wanted to forget, but no matter how much he wanted it to be different, couldn't adapt.

He pushed the nosepiece of the round wire rim glasses he wore further up the bridge of his long, straight nose, the wire rims pushing into his dark eyebrows, the lenses highlighting his icy gray eyes. "I have no intention of harming you," he said.

I knew I should think otherwise. I knew I should be scared. The gray slacks and matching oxford shirt he was wearing showed wrinkles from being slept in, his hair was still sticking up and the corners of his gray eyes were tilted down in concern behind his glasses.... his appearance was so contrary to the presence he had about him- it was odd, disconcerting... but not scary. Scary or not, instead of taking the time to catalog the man's appearance, I should have been doing something to get the guy out of my apartment.

Running out into the street screaming Help! Police! There's a strange man in my apartment! crossed my mind, but I've never been one to run around panicked. I'm more of a bullshit-my-way-through-until-I-figure-it-out kind of person. Besides, I was exhausted, still pretty weirded out and my body felt like I'd overdosed on muscle relaxers- limp and unmoving. I couldn't go anywhere even if I wanted to, and, more importantly, before I kicked the guy out, I had questions that needed to be answered.

"Who the hell are you? And what happened to the little creepy guy?" I asked, managing to sit up.

"I am the man hunting the little creepy guy. He left you lying in the doorway, dead. I moved you here to your couch so as not to attract any unwanted attention."

"Dead?" I asked while trying to rub some feeling back into my legs.

"Yes, dead," he replied, as he sat down in my favorite chair. It was orange corduroy- rocked and swiveled.

"I don't feel dead."

"That would be because you're not. Apparently, I seem to have restored your soul."

"Okay..." What else was I supposed to say? "And you are?"

He sighed and stood up, and up, and up. I did say he was a big guy, right?

Bowing slightly, he said with a disgruntle sigh, "I am Caisus Black. I have also been called Master Assassin, Deliverer of Souls, and Hand of Death. I serve Hades, the Lord of the Underworld. I have given your soul back and, in doing so, made you immortal and indebted to my Sire. You, Myra Jane Collier, must accompany me to the Underworld to greet Hades and see what is to be done."

Okey, dokey. Obviously he'd had too many Coo Coo Puffs, but I didn't think he was lying when he said he had saved my life. I don't think it happened like he said, but there is no doubt in my mind creepy guy had bad intentions, and whatever he had done that left me feeling broken on the floor sure felt like it could have been death. I needed to think, and I needed more information, like how the hell he knew my name.

"How the hell do you know my name?"

Caisus Black pointed to the pile of papers on my dining room table. "It was typed on your utility bill."

Wow, now I really felt stupid.

"Look, I think you're going to have to start over with the explanations."

He sat back down, his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging loosely in between them. His shoulders and back were bowed forward with all of his weight balanced on the balls of his booted feet. He looked like he was coiled and ready to spring into action at any moment-obviously, he did not get the beauty of the orange chair.

"As I said, I serve Hades, the Lord of the Underworld. Sebastian, the man who assaulted you, also works for Hades. We gather souls meant for the Underworld and send them on to await Hades' judgment. Sebastian took your soul and, in doing so, your life, though The Fates had not ordained it."

"Why did Sebastian want my soul?"

He adjusted his glasses, making them crooked. "It is a long story, too long to get into now. We must report to Hades as soon as possible."

I have to say, this kind of pissed me off. Here I was on my couch, feeling like my head was being infested with termites, my legs and arms still the consistency of Jell-O, and a man I had never met before, sitting in my favorite chair, in my apartment, was telling me that answering the question of why some creepy friend of his murdered me was too long a story for him to get into. It didn't matter that he was batshit crazy, and I probably wouldn't understand anything he said- I deserved an explanation.

"Look, you don't know me, so I'm going to clue you in. I don't like men, at all. Nothing against you personally, I've just seen what the Y chromosome has to offer, and I've never really been impressed. Not to mention, one of my earliest and only goals in life has been to not be like my mama. Considering that my mama put the male species," any male of the species, "ahead of everything else," especially me, "let's just say I've decided I'm better off without them." Why in the hell did I just tell him all that?

Caisus leaned back. "You prefer women."

Why was it assumed if you didn't have or feel the need for a man in your life, you must be attracted to women?

"No, unfortunately, I've only ever been attracted to men. However, I've always believed love was about what was on the inside, not the packaging." It was a lesson I learned very early with my mama, though eventually, her packaging became just as blackened and harsh as her insides.

I swung my legs around in front of me and was rewarded with a lovely pins and needles sensation from my thighs to my toes.

"My point is, just on general principle, I'm not going to like you, and if you have any chance of getting me to go somewhere with you," there was no way in hell, "you're going to have to answer my questions."

Caisus sighed, "I don't know."

"You don't know what?"

He sighed again. "Sebastian has gone rogue, I don't know why. I don't know why he targeted you. I was assigned to retrieve him- that was all. I also had no intention of giving you back your soul, not that I didn't want to, but I didn't know I possessed the ability to do so. I believe The Fates bestowed the power on me at their whim. In short, I carried you to your couch and, feeling a moment of shame at Sebastian's actions, I wished I could mend what he had broken, and then you were whole again."

Sheesh. "I need chocolate," I said, standing up and, with only a little wobble- yay me- walked into the kitchen.

Caisus Black followed. "What are you doing?"

"Getting a cake roll."

"We must go, Myra Jane Collier. We do not have time for a cake roll."

"There is always time for a cake roll, Mr. Black."

My apartment was laid out in what my mama would have called a Goldilocks floor plan- it consisted of three rooms: small- the bathroom, medium-the bedroom, and large- the living room/dining room/kitchen area. She would have also gone into a long lurid tale about why the bedroom was just right, but we don't need to go there.

According to the style magazine I stole from the teacher's lounge, when you have one large room that has several functions, you're supposed to use furniture to define the space. My space was defined on an art teacher's salary. I had a table with two chairs for eating breakfast- the breakfast room, a table with two chairs for eating dinner- the dining room, and I had a TV for watching, plus two chairs and a small couch to place my ass in while doing so, that made the living room.

So when I say Caisus Black followed me into the kitchen, we actually only stepped eight feet, avoided the dining room table, went a few more steps and, avoiding the kitchen table, arrived at the long butcher block rolling cart that was disguised as my counter.

"You can call me Riley," he said.

Riley? Okay...

I looked up at Riley. "You can call me Myra," I said, turning my back to him as I started cleaning up the paraphernalia from my previous night's lapse in judgment.

The still half full bottle of rum went on top of the fridge, and the empty Haagen-Dazs Dark Chocolate Raspberry ice cream container was tossed in the trash- it took real will power not to stick my finger into the container for a swipe of any remaining chocolaty goodness. I wiped the counter clean of any left-over sticky Coke residue and shook the box of Little Debbie cake rolls until two packages of cake rolls landed with a pleasant plop onto the counter. I couldn't help but sigh. It had been a rough night, and until I shook the box, I wasn't sure if I had gone through all of my stash.

"We must not hesitate any longer, Myra. Hades grows impatient," Riley said from behind me.

I turned around. He was standing less than one foot in front of me, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes stern and his mouth thinned in what I assumed was supposed to be an overall stance of seriousness, but his glasses were still crooked, his hair was still sticking up in several places and his clothes, in the bright lights of the kitchen, looked even more rumpled than before.

"You can't expect to pull off menacing with little wire rimmed glasses, and certainly not when they're crooked," I said.

"I wasn't trying for menacing. I am being patient and kind," he said, a little defensively and, may I point out, not at all patient and kind.

I really didn't know what to say; being social, having men in my apartment, was so not my thing. I still had an unopened package of cake rolls in my hand, so I focused on removing the cellophane wrapper without damaging the integrity of the chocolate icing on the outside of the cake.

Riley was intently watching my progress- his shadow kind of loomed over me. His shoulders and chest were definitely broad, but he wasn't bulky with muscles bubbling under his flesh, instead, the muscles I could see on his forearms- where his shirt sleeves had been rolled up- were sleek and sinewy. His hands though, would be better described as paws, misshapen as they were, with large rounded knuckles and flattened, cracked, callused fingers. I wondered what a crazy person did to have hands like his. He could probably very easily kill with such hands.

I waited for the idea of being in the same room with a possible murderer to affect me- a tightness in my belly or a chill crawling up my spine. I waited...took another bite of cake roll... waited some more...nothing. I just didn't feel it. I knew Riley wouldn't hurt me.

Brrr... Now, that thought sent shivers crawling uncomfortably up my back.

"Would you like a cake roll?" I asked, handing him one of the twin little cakes. He took it, sniffing it for several seconds. I was about to take it back when he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth, his eyes widening as he chewed.

He continued to chew and do weird swishing noises with his mouth while I took my time savoring each bite. "There's a strange film on the roof of my mouth," he said, still making the swishing noise.

"That's the shortening. Don't worry you get used to it."

"I don't think I could ever get used to such a thing. Now that you have had your cake, we must leave for the Underworld. Hades only exudes patience when he is performing torture. He doesn't like to wait."

"Well he's going to have to because I'm not going anywhere with you."

I'm not sure what I expected Riley to do, but pulling out a chair, turning it around backwards and sitting in it with his arms resting on the back, facing me, was not it. I waited for him to say something, but he just sat there. I guess this was him acting patient and kind again.

"What are you doing?" I asked, not attempting to curb any snottiness from my voice.

"You must appear before Hades. I must take you. I won't force you to go, but I won't leave either," he said.

"Look, I rarely have my shit together on a good day, and yesterday ended up being a disaster, before I supposedly had my soul taken from me and subsequently died. So, how about you give me a break, and come back another day?"

"I cannot come back another day. Already Hades' ire grows to fearful proportions. He shrugged. "Soon he will force us to appear before him."

"So why don't you go about your business and I go about mine and, if by some chance this turns out to be Bizarro world and Hades really does exist, I'll see you there. It'll be nice; I hate being somewhere new and not knowing anyone."

"You don't believe me," he said, resting his chin on his folded forearms.

I opened the second package of cake rolls. "No I don't. I actually think you're nucking- futs, but for some strange reason beyond my ability to comprehend, probably having something to do with the drunken disorderly I pulled last night, I seem to have some kind of weird fondness for you, and though I've told myself I should probably be running out into the street screaming for the police, I can't seem to be bothered enough to do so." I took a bite of cake roll. "Ha, maybe I'm the one that's nuts."

Riley watched me finish the first and then second cake roll. I know it wasn't very hospitable not to share, but truthfully, I'm not a very hospitable person. My mama never taught me any better. I did offer him a glass of milk- which he declined as he continued to silently watch me, waiting.

I thought about ignoring him and going to bed. I thought about screaming my head off at him, hoping he'd be annoyed enough to leave. I thought about sitting down in front of him and staring at him in return- see how he liked it- and yes, I even thought, once again, about calling the police. The problem with all of these ideas was that none of them were workable.

If I went to bed, I would not be able to ignore him- therefore, I would not be able to fall asleep. I could scream my head off, I'm actually quite gifted at the verbal assault stuff- I've been called a loud mouth more than once- but I really don't think he'd care. Besides, I had this weird idea in my head that Riley might really in fact be a giant fluffy bunny in disguise and in desperate need of affection, so I couldn't do it anyway. Well, not with any feeling, and what would be the fun in that?

If I sat down and tried a staring contest, I'd lose. I have never won a staring contest. The closest I ever came was with Sarah Todd in Mrs. Winter's second grade math class and that was only because Sarah had a grand mal seizure and blinked. I had to stay in at recess while Mrs. Winters explained that my jumping up and down yelling "loser" at the top of my lungs- while Sarah writhed and jerked on the floor- was insensitive.

And what kind of person would I be if I called the police on a giant bunny, even if he was in disguise. So I did the only thing I could.

"Okay, Mr. Master Assassin, take me to your leader."

"Are you agreeing to appear before Hades?"

"Yes. But I'm driving."

"You think I am going to take you to my apartment and introduce you to my cat or something, don't you?"

I shrugged. "I was thinking more like Milledgeville Mental Hospital and your roommate Steve. But whatever, as long as we can hurry up. I'm tired."

Riley followed me into the living room, standing somewhat stoically by the door while I searched under the couch for my clogs. I found one pink and one lime green flip flop instead. I set them on the floor in front of me and slid my feet into both.

"You don't think you're crazy roommate Steve will care about mismatched shoes, do you?"

Riley said, "If Hades becomes interested in your feet, it will be because he intends to peel the flesh from their soles, not because your footwear is unmatched."

"Good to know," I said, grabbing my school bag off the floor. I slung the shapeless patchwork hippie bag over my shoulder and headed for the front door. I had one hand on the door knob and the other in my bag, blindly searching for my keys.

Suddenly I realized Riley was standing in front of me. It was the looming shadow thing that gave him away. He pulled my bag off my shoulder, letting it drop to the floor.

"I did say I'd drive right?" I asked, annoyed.

Riley took both of my hands in his. "Yes."

That was all he said before my body started twisting itself inside out.

***

"You can stop screaming now," Riley said, still standing in front of me but no longer holding my hands.

That was probably because I was bent over with my head between my knees, in pain. "You'd scream too if you felt like your insides just shot through all your pores in the blink of an eye without warning!" I snapped.

I watched Riley's feet shuffle closer to me.

"Don't touch me! Don't ever touch me again," I yelled, pissed at him but even more so at myself, for trusting him.

After a few minutes Riley asked, "Are you still in pain?"

I had to think about it for a minute. It had hurt so badly, and my body was still tense, not believing the pain had really gone away, but it had subsided.

"No," I said.

"Then why are you still bent over?"

"Because obviously, from what I can see, we're not in my apartment anymore, and honestly, I don't want to stand up and see where we actually are. Denial was an intricate part of my upbringing."

"You're going to stay like that?"

"Yes. For as long as it takes me to rationalize where I am, I will keep my visual knowledge to the minimum, thank you very much."

Riley made a noise. It sounded very close to a chuckle.

"Hey!" I said, poking my index finger into his chest. "Don't laugh at me. You should have been more convincing with the whole Hades-Assassin–Underworld-thing."

"You realize you're no longer bent over, rationalizing."

"Yes. Thank you for the update." I poked him one more time. "You should have given me some warning, it really hurt."

Riley stopped smiling. "It was easier to just shift into the cavern entrance, instead of trying to explain the process, especially since I really can't explain how it works. I forgot about the pain, having traveled between worlds as many times as I have, has left me immune to it."

"Was that an apology?"

Riley shrugged. "Would you like it to be one?"

"No... I don't know." I sighed, "Look I'm trying to get a grip, you know, measure my level of sanity."

Riley folded his arms across his chest. "You're sane."

"Yeah well, you'd say that wouldn't you, since you're probably a figment of my messed up head."

Riley pointed to a smaller cave, opening to his right. "I'm going that way, when you figure it out, follow."

I looked around me- it was dark, damp and smelled like mold and dirt, briefly reminding me of the double wide I grew up in.

I was not claustrophobic, scared of the dark, or afraid to get a little dirty. However, when I glanced in the direction Riley had gone and saw floating balls of fire lighting the pathway for him, I have to admit I felt a little apprehensive. My heart was beating like a hyperactive four-year-old with a new drum kit, but my mind was slow and sluggish, still trying to make sense of the Scotty-beam-me-up moment Riley had put me through.

I figured there was a ninety-five percent chance I was crazy or dreaming- which left a five percent chance Riley was telling the truth and this was all real. What I needed to ask myself, and quickly because the sound of Riley's footsteps were getting fainter and fainter, was- would panicking about being crazy or taking the time trying to wake up be productive? Would it do me any good?

No, not really.

If I was being honest with myself, I'd admit that I wasn't ready to deal with any of the possibilities anyway, except maybe a dream, but then, wouldn't I just continue on and see how things played out? Hell, a naked Brad Pitt could be standing around the next corner.

"What was the verdict?" Riley asked when I reached the end of the cave, where he was leaning against the wall, waiting.

"I decided I didn't want to deal with the possibility of whether I had lost my mind or not, so I'm pretending everything is normal and going to be just fine."

"Pretending? You think that'll work?" he asked, moving off the wall to stand in front of me.

"I don't see why the hell not, worked for my childhood just fine."

He shrugged his shoulders and then turned to the flat cave wall in front of us. "This is the entrance to the Underworld. In the future, if Hades is expecting you, you can forgo this formality and shift directly into his realm."

"I thought he summoned us. Wouldn't that mean we were expected?"

"He summoned me. He knows of you, but I don't think he'll like you just appearing in front of him for the first time. Hades doesn't care for happenings out of his control. You, Myra Jane Collier, are just such a happening. Following a protocol, such as using the front door into Hades' realm, may go a long way to soothe his temper while it is a minor inconvenience to us."

"Oh. So we're doing a little ass kissing. I get it."

Riley stared blankly at me for a second. Finally, he said, "Always take the door on the left."

I looked at the wall of rock. "What door?" Riley took my hand and pressed it to the wall. "What are you doing?"

"I'm introducing you. Hades' power controls the doors and only his Assassins can see or pass through the doors of their own free will. The door to Hades' realm will recognize Hades' power within you. You only have to do this once; in the future you can shift into any part of the Underworld except Hades' inner sanctum."

I wanted to say, 'What?' but before the thought could reach my lips, two unadorned stone doors appeared before me. They were lopsided and the edges were uneven.

"They look like big rocks some giant pancaked together, shoved over the openings and said, 'Ugh, door'."

Riley shrugged, "Probably."

"I was joking," I said.

"I wasn't," Riley said, completely monotone.

Great. "Okay, so always take the left door. What's behind the right?"

"Don't take the right."

"Okay, but what's behind it?"

"I don't know. The Damned take the right."

"The Damned?"

Riley raised his arms, gesturing around him, and started speaking in a very badly done ghostly voice. "This is the Underworld. Hades is the Lord of the Underworld. The Underworld is where the souls of the dead travel for judgment. Hades, being the Lord of the Underworld, has the job of judging the souls that come to him. Those that he finds lacking would be the... Damned."

"You know, at first I thought, poor guy he has no sense of humor. Now I realize you're just a smartass."

Riley smiled and then continued, "To open the door on the left, place your hand at its center."

He motioned for me to do so, so I did. The stone felt cold to the touch but soon began to warm under my hand. There was no glow, creak, click or even hiss of escaped air to precede the door opening. It just opened and Riley stepped through with me following.

"Gold," I found myself saying without thought. I was standing in an octagon shaped room. The walls and dome ceiling were so thick with gold leaf, you could clearly see the impression of the paint brush that layered it. The only thing more ornate was the gold and jewel encrusted chandelier hanging in the center of the room. I was standing under the chandelier, counting the hanging strands I thought might be rubies, when Riley tapped me on my shoulder. "How many different jewels do you think there are on that thing?" I asked.

"The door is over here," was all he said.

I decided there were too many jewels to count and moved towards Riley, who was standing in front of another stone door.

This door was anything but plain. Carved in the center of the door was a tall, cloaked figure, his face hidden in the cloak's hood, with the exception of his skeletal jaw and cold blue eyes. Death. His arms, which were muscular and grotesquely too long, were raised up as if accepting great praise. He stood on a mountain of bones and, intricately carved within the bones, were corpses, souls... I'm not sure exactly what they were supposed to be, crawling towards him. As I got closer, I realized death was actually the only thing carved into the stone. The rest, the mountain of bones and the crawling figures, were made from pieces of metal, and... "Yuck! Is that bone, actual human bones?"

"It's called Death's Door; you must placate death to enter as Hades' guest."

"Not if I have to give him my bones."

Riley placed his hand on the figure of death. "What did you expect in Hades' Realm?"

I started to answer, something about Disney, James Wood and Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey, when a faint hum echoed around me and the door swung open. Riley stepped through and I followed, until Riley stopped, turning around so quickly I ran smack into his elbow.

"Ouch," I said, rubbing my sore cheekbone. "Watch it."

"I forgot about Cerberus," he said, adjusting his glasses.

"The three headed giant dog that guards the Underworld? How could you forget something like that?"

"Shhh. I don't usually have to deal with Cerberus other than the exchanging of simple pleasantries."

I nodded my head. "Okay." What else was I going to say? I was a little bit out of my element here.

"You'll have to wait in Cerberus's office while I speak with Hades. If you will stay where I put you, and not move, or speak, or look at Cerberus, you should be okay. The good news is that you're immortal, and whatever Cerberus does to you, you'll survive it."

"Now I feel better," I said.

"Good," Riley said, as he continued into the Demon dog's... office?

Cerberus's office was very nice, very normal. Three chairs lined the left wall and four lined the wall straight ahead, creating a cozy sitting area. Plants and magazines were strategically placed, and there was even an intricate water fall fountain to the left of a large L shape cherry desk, complete with computer, phone and small coffee station. A small coffee station that had a basket filled with HONEY BUNS!

Riley sat me down in the chair closest to the door and farthest away from the honey buns. "Damn."

"Don't move, don't look Cerberus's way and do not speak, no matter what. We lucked out that the office is empty. I will be back to get you in less than an hour."

"Grand."

Riley smiled. "Love the enthusiasm."

I couldn't tell if he was being serious or a smart ass. So I said, "Thanks". Figuring it worked in either case.

I leaned back in my just-as-uncomfortable-as-it-looked chair and watched Riley exit through a door behind the cherry desk.

I counted the ceiling tiles: 20, light fixtures: 4 including the lamp on the desk, plants: 4 1/2 -one was barely alive- and made scary faces out of the grain patterns in the wood paneling that covered the walls. It's easy- all you have to do is squint, and have a little imagination.

Now I was thinking about the honey buns. Truth be told, I was thinking about the honey buns the whole time. I am a true multitasker.

Obviously, Cerberus was not coming back to the office anytime soon, and just as obvious, the honey buns are set out in a lovely basket for guests to enjoy. And as I am sitting here waiting, and have never been here before, I am obviously a guest. It would be insulting if I didn't take a honey bun, and the last thing Riley would want me to do is insult Cerberus. Plus, if I was quick about it, no one would ever know.

I got up and quietly, cautiously and casually walked to the desk, reached over to the basket and picked up a honey bun, not making one sound other than a hushed crinkle of cellophane. I slowly turned around and came face to face with Cerberus.

Of course, I didn't know it was Cerberus at the time. She, yes I said she, was dressed as a beautiful woman- a woman with long legs that were very visible in the tiny hot pink skirt she was wearing. I don't believe the skirt consisted of enough material to cover one of my ass cheeks, but it was beautiful. She was also wearing a matching jacket made of equal, if not less, materiel than the skirt. The jacket's only button was clasped just below her very large breasts; breasts that were barely contained in a gold lacy bra that, if I'm being honest, I would tell you was lovely and complimented her creamy brown skin and long blonde hair.

I finally managed to stop staring at her breasts- not an easy task. Because of height difference, they were basically in my face- and looked up into her big brown eyes that were looking down at me in a very unfriendly way.

"Whoa oh... hi. Would you like a honey bun?" I held out the delicacy. She didn't say anything, just tilted her head a little to the left and sniffed. Just like my golden retriever Butterscotch used to do when he was curious. That's when it hit me.

Oh shit!

"Oh shit," I said at the same time I thought it. Sometimes my brain and mouth work simultaneously.

Cerberus tilted her head to the right and sniffed again.

"You know, you're never going to pass for a woman if you keep doing that," I said, before covering my mouth.

I was an idiot and somehow thought if I covered my mouth it would change or cancel the fact that I had probably just pissed off a three headed dog, who was dressed as a woman, who was so dangerous I was told not to look at her, much less take her goodies or talk to her.

I waited for her to bite my head off, literally. She just stared, frowning slightly. I opened the honey bun, hell I already screwed up and was probably about to be mauled, might as well eat the damn honey bun.

"Mmmm. I love honey buns." Brain, mouth- working simultaneously again.

"Me too," she said, in a deep throaty voice.

I reached behind me and grabbed another one, handing it to her. She smiled, a little toothy but a smile none the less. We stood there eating our honey buns in silence.

"Would you like another?" she asked, her voice low and husky.

I took a deep breath. "Sure, but maybe we should sit down and have some coffee with them, you know, to help balance out all the sugar."

She tilted her head again but moved to sit behind the desk and started filling two styrofoam cups.

I took a few steadying breaths while I looked for another chair. I felt like I had just avoided a horrifically violent event. Not for the first time in my life, I silently thanked the gods for the creation of honey buns. The fact that Cerberus was all wrapped up in pink and gold wrapping did nothing to minimize the terror I felt in her presence- in some ways, the pretty packaging made it worse.

I pulled up the chair I had been sitting in up to the front of her desk. Cerberus set my coffee in front of me with a bowl of creamers, a cup of sugar cubes and the basket of honey buns.

"So," I said, dropping three sugar cubes in my coffee, "Do you go by Cerberus, in the form you are in now? Which is beautiful by the way, very amazon queen/ runway model."

Cerberus blushed. "Really, you think so? I've worked so hard on this body. You should have seen me six centuries ago. I was still twenty feet tall. I was hoping to get a little smaller, but it takes a lot of godly powers to contain this girl," she said, patting her hair like the best drag queen I'd ever seen- who was John Leguizamo in that To Wong Foo movie.

"I hope you don't get offended and eat me, but just so I'm clear, you are The Cerberus, the three headed dog-like creature that guards the Underworld?" I asked.

"Yes, but the true me is this body. This is me," she said, placing her beautifully manicured, pink with rhinestones, hand on her chest.

"And you're male...?"

"I am all male, one hundred percent. But I like to be pretty," she said, adjusting her breasts.

"It must have been difficult being a dog for so many years on the outside yet a delicate transgender on the inside."

A small tear rolled down her cheek. "The worst. And Hades, the big brute, just wants his drooling hound with no thought to how I feel. I have the most horrid reputation, no one will even talk with me," she sobbed.

I leaned over the desk and patted her hand. "I'm sorry. I will do my very best to start spreading rumors about how sweet and lovely it is to talk with you."

I meant it too, maybe it was the sugar, but all my fear and anxiety had disappeared. Who said a three headed dog couldn't feel like a man wanting to have breasts and dress like a woman, and who was I to assume that because she was capable of tearing my head off that she wasn't sensitive and in need of someone to talk to. Besides, she had a basket of honey buns on her desk- she was obviously good people.

"That is so sweet of you," she said, drying her face with a gold lace hanky she had pulled from her bosom. "Maybe you could visit me from time to time, too."

"Sure. I don't have any girlfriends, transvestites, transgender, canine or otherwise."

She smiled, "You can call me Carrie".

"Carrie? Now that we're friends and all, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Hon."

"Am I crazy and all of this is just a hallucination?"

"No sweetie. It's all real."

"I was afraid you'd say that. I'm just not this creative."

"Would you like another honey bun?" Carrie asked.

"Always."

Three honey buns later we were in the middle of a discussion on waxing- really it was more of her trying to convince me it was worth the pain, and me trying to explain that it wasn't the pain that kept me from waxing, it was that I, unlike Mary Contrary, did not care how my garden grew. Anyway, we were in this discussion when we were interrupted by a huge crash into the door behind Carrie's desk.

"Hades is a bit irritated," Carrie said, taking a sip of coffee.

"Really? What makes you think that?" I asked.

Carrie smiled. "I love sarcasm. No one gets sarcasm around here but Hades, and he doesn't like anyone but himself to be sarcastic, it's no fun."

"What in Tartarus were you thinking!" was roared from the now slightly opened door.

"I should shut that," said Carrie.

"Probably, but how will we overhear their conversation if you do?"

"Hades doesn't like to be overheard," she said, scooting her chair closer to the door.

"Who does? Only the most uncouth would listen in on another person's conversation," I said, sliding my chair over next to Carrie's and handing her her coffee.

I had just sat down with my coffee when a man I assumed to be Hades bellowed, "If you had just left her dead she'd be down here now filing for Carrie or dating Carl for Zeus's sake!" Another something hit the wall behind Carrie's desk, knocking her picture of four dogs playing poker onto the floor.

Carrie rolled her eyes. "Thank the Fates. I have never liked that picture but it was a gift from Hades, his idea of a joke, so I had to hang it up. She walked over to it and stomped on the canvas a few times until it was in three pieces. She shook her head, "Hades and his temper, he is so destructive. Now I'll have to throw it away." She threw the pieces into the trash.

I smiled as she sat back down. "Who is Carl?"

Carrie grimaced. "Carl is short for Charon. There is not a more disgusting daemon in existence- hairy, smelly boils seeping with infection and, since he joined Diet Divas, rolls of unwashed sagging skin. He's so repulsive that I won't allow him entrance to Hades' realm. Hades has to go to Charon if he wants to speak with him, and he doesn't even mind because he knows Persephone would have a cow if he let that pile of pus into his halls," she snickered.

"Wow, he must really be..." I didn't get to finish my sentence because something else hit the wall, this time shattering a wall sconce.

"Hey! I really liked that lamp, it was from Pottery Barn!" Carrie growled.

I doubt anyone heard her though, because Hades was still shouting, "...all you had to do was leave her dead, find that little freak Sebastian and bring him home. But now, because of your moment of pity, I've got Zeus all over my ass and Peter the fucking gatekeeper's been let out of his cage. A pathetic immortal that should be mortal is now my responsibility, and my wife isn't speaking to me, because she thinks this whole mess was some elaborate plan for me to get some hot chick down here to have a hump fest with!"

I heard Riley's deep voice. "I didn't act purposely against your wishes. The Fates..."

"The Fates? They may have gifted you with her soul, but those pimply brats couldn't have done anything without your will to see the girl made whole. Your will- which is why she's now my responsibility."

"I was appalled by Sebastian's actions. I am still appalled," Riley said.

Hades laughed, "You're not going soft on me? Are you, Caisus?"

"Never soft," Riley replied.

"I love Riley," Carrie whispered, her head next to mine, straining to hear.

"Yeah, he's okay," I said, realizing the truth of it when I said the words. I did like Riley, felt completely comfortable with him. Wow, and he was male; how weird.

"No. I mean, I love Riley," Carrie said.

Oh. "Oh! Does Riley know?"

"I don't know. I practically drool all over him whenever he's around, but he doesn't seem to notice. I think he's shy," she said.

"Um, does Riley, umm, swing that way?" I'm sure there was a better way to ask, but my mama never taught me.

"I don't know. Maybe-"

"Carrie! Stop listening at the door and fetch the damn female, now!" Hades yelled.

Carrie stood up, moving the chairs and opening the door to hell, so to speak.

Fabric covered walls and a floor covered in pillows was not what I expected of Hades' domain. I anticipated more bones and death décor, like the stone door we entered through- not HAREMS R US. Of course, nothing could have prepared me for Hades himself. My mama would have called him a sex buffet- a man you'd want to go back to for seconds again and again.

Long black leather clad legs, ending in black boots with silver and diamond studded chain, were sprawled out in a lazy invitation. An invitation made blatant by his broad muscled shoulders and chest, barely contained by a blue silk shirt. His nose was long, his chin was square and his eyes were deep blue under long black lashes.

As we stepped in front of him, he lounged back on his giant floor pillow, cocked his head and ran his hand through his wavy black hair. I found myself mesmerized, desperately wanting to act on the enticement his body offered. I could see myself straddling his lap, running my hands through his hair, knowing that if I touched any part of him I'd burn up right there on the spot.

I wiped the drool off my mouth as he looked me up and down.

"Nice PJs," he snickered. "At least when my wife sees you she'll believe me now."

And just like that, like all the men my mama found irresistible, for me, the spell was broken, and I knew exactly what he was. An asshole.

"Asshole," I said.

Riley jumped in front of me and began pushing me back. "Death shock. She doesn't know what she's saying," he said.

At the same time Hades whispered in disbelief, "What did she just call me?"

I knew I was in trouble. I should shut up and go along with Riley's excuses. I even had a little voice in my head telling me to run and hide, but I stopped listening to that voice years ago.

"Asshole. I called you an asshole," I clarified.

Riley turned around, his eyes wide, mouth thinned into a pained expression. I ignored Riley, using the opportunity to move out from behind him to come face to face with Hades.

"I could tell from the moment you opened your mouth that you were the biggest asshole I've ever met," I said, unable to stop myself.

Hades slowly stood up, the muscles in his jaw visibly tightening as he clenched his teeth. His pale complexion warmed as tiny blood vessels filled to their capacity, spider webbing across his face, and his eyes narrowed, turning from a warm blue to a cold black.

My body started to tremble from fear, and again, the voice in my head said to run, hide, flee- anything to save myself. I took a deep breath through my nose, ignoring my inner panic. I had no wish to die a second time, especially since I'd probably be at Hades' mercy, but I would not run, I would not cower and I would not look away.

Hades continued to smolder. The smell of decay and fire filled my nose, mouth and lungs, until I felt strangled with it. My vision blurred, and my body began to convulse harder as Hades raised his hand above my head.

"You're absolutely right, darling," said a soft feminine voice.

Suddenly, there was air to breathe and my body, which had been constricted in fear seconds before, relaxed. So much so, that if it wasn't for Riley's painful grasp on my arm, I would have collapsed to the floor. I was still looking up at Hades, but now there was a woman caressing his shoulders as she gracefully fluttered around him.

"I would never have believed someone as outspoken as this young woman would be your concubine," she said, now pushing him back down on the giant leather floor pillow.

Hades closed his eyes as she kneeled behind him and started running her fingers through his hair. The woman, who I was positive was Persephone, Hades' wife, then looked right at me and winked.

She looked ordinary. Tall and slim, straight shoulder length brown hair, a heart shaped face with oval shaped blue eyes, a pert narrow nose and a pink bow shaped mouth- she was pretty, just... ordinarily so. No bombshell that would seem fitting to Hades' looks. Yet, I stood there watching while she soothed him.

"My darling husband," she said, still massaging his head with her fingers, "has been under a lot of stress. So few mortals believe in us now, he must work tirelessly keeping our existence in their thoughts. And now he has lost one of his soldiers and gained an unknown, untested responsibility. I'm sure you can understand how it has pricked his temper a bit."

Hades took her hand, and with a tenderness I would have thought impossible of him, kissed it. "Thank you," he whispered. Then, still holding his wife's hand, eyes now back to deep blue, he turned to Riley and me. "I understand why you acted as you did Caisus Black, but now I am left with a ward, and I still have a rogue soul collector on the loose."

"I will find Sebastian," Riley said.

Hades smiled. "I know you will, and before Peter gets his saintly hands on him." He turned to me. "I would like nothing better than to stick you in Tartarus and never see you again, Myra Jane Collier, but as my wife has reminded me, you are my responsibility- one that cannot easily be hidden away with Zeus, The Fates, and all of Olympus watching my every move."

Persephone leaned over to whisper in Hades' ear, bringing a slow predatory smile to his face. Still staring at me he said, "Riley, you will see to her training so she may eventually take Sebastian's place. And to show her readiness to serve as one of my Assassins she will be ready to prove herself at the Olympian Trials."

Riley took a deep breath, then answered, "I will do my best."

Hades laughed, "No Riley. She will prove herself to be more than adequate, or I will prove how much of an asshole I can truly be. Leave."

### Chapter 3: Cookies and the Cosmos

Riley and I skedaddled out of Hades' lair. I'm not really sure what skedaddled means, but my high school art teacher use to say it, and I liked her- and the way it sounded much better than hauled ass.

Carrie started asking questions as we ran through the doorway, but Riley was in a get- out- of- hell fast mode, so all I managed was a squeak before he jerked us back to my apartment.

"Don't ever do that again- at least not without a couple of tequila shots or a chocolate moon pie, or both. Now that I think about it, it will have to be both," I said, bent over, waiting for my internal organs to shift back into place.

"You are insane. Do not ever do that again," Riley said, though I wasn't really listening.

"I don't know about you Riley, but I don't think my body can take doing that again. Right now my muscle and fat are proportional but one more time with the move the molecule dance, and I'm scared my fat will be displaced, and not in a favorable fashion. Now if it ends up in my boobs, we might not have anything to argue about, but truth be told, my rear-"

Riley put his hand over my mouth. "This is important. Do not ever insult Hades again. It is true that you are immortal now, but that doesn't mean you won't feel pain. Making you compete in the Olympian Trials was mild compared with what he could have done. You were very fortunate Persephone intervened. Though why she intervened and what it means for your future is worrisome in itself."

I pushed Riley's hand away. "Maybe she was being nice," I said.

"She is a god. They do not do nice."

"Should I be worried?" I asked, worried.

"No, not yet, but I would be cautious in the future."

Yay for me. "Well, I'm not sorry I called Hades an asshole. He was being an asshole. God or not, I told myself a long time ago I would not let anyone, especially any man, treat me badly."

Riley shook his head. "You may want to rethink that when you've been skinned and hung by hooks on display in Hades' meeting room for the months it will take you to heal."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Maybe." I didn't really think so though. Making that promise to myself had been what I would call a hinge moment. It made it possible for me to shut the door on some of the more painful memories from my childhood, and I don't think even horrific torture could make me want to open that door again.

I sat down in my orange chair and swiveled. I always swivel when I first sit down in my favorite chair. It makes me happy. Who doesn't like to spin?

Riley was watching me with- if I interpreted his furrowed eyebrows, clenched jaw and thinned lips correctly- a somewhat exasperated look on his face.

"What?"

"Why aren't you hyperventilating or crying? You should be reacting in some dramatic display of fear."

Okay I guess the look was more perplexed than exasperated. I've always been a little off with emotional body cues- probably why I suck at poker.

"I don't know. I asked Carrie if it was all real, and she said yes." I shrugged- something I was doing a lot of lately. "I believed her."

"Why didn't you think she was a figment of your imagination?"

"A three headed dog, shaped like a man, with perfect breasts, dressed like a woman? Come on, I know I got bombed last night, but even I can't make up something like that."

"I have served as one of Hades' Assassins for well over a thousand years. Every soul I have taken has reacted, most in fear, some with joy, but all have reacted. Other than your few minutes of cowering in the cave, you have not had a reaction- it's suspicious."

"Look, first off I don't really grasp my predicament. Second, you can't assume that because I'm a woman I'll handle stress by having a good cry or acting out dramatically, that's so stereotyping."

"How do you handle stress?"

I got up and started walking into the kitchen. "Chocolate."

I didn't have any of my stash left, so I decided to make cookies. Riley followed me into the kitchen. He sat in one of the kitchen chairs, immediately rocking back, balancing on two of the legs as he watched me gather ingredients.

"I love cookies. Chocolate chip is my favorite-sweet, salty and crunchy." I got out butter, flour, sugar, semi-sweet chocolate chips and pecans. "I would be hanged if I did not put home grown Georgia pecans in my cookies," I said to Riley, tossing the plastic container of pecans in front of him where it slid off the table into Riley's hand.

"Good catch."

"It's almost an insult that you thought I wouldn't catch it."

"It's not that I thought you wouldn't catch it. I was just happy that you did."

"You are very unusual," he said

"One of a kind my mama always said." Of course, I don't think she meant it as a compliment.

"So what happens next?"

"I continue my search for Sebastian, find a trainer to help you prepare for the Olympian Trials and find somewhere to sleep."

I started digging through the utensil drawer, looking for measuring cups.

"You could sleep here." I stopped mid search- what the hell did I just say? My throat tightened, and I couldn't catch my breath. "Holy shit, holy... shit... holy... shhh..."

Riley stuck a white cardboard box in my face. "Breathe. Deep. In. Out. In. Deep breath. Out. Close your eyes, and focus on your breaths," he said in a low calming voice.

I did. I closed my eyes and breathed into the box, only thinking of each breath and the sweet smell coming from the inside of the box that had held snack cakes only hours before, until I calmed down enough to feel stupid. I opened my eyes.

Riley was bent over, his eyes meeting mine. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I said, taking one last breath of yumminess before crumpling the box and putting it in the trash, hoping we could forget the last five minutes.

Riley backed away from me, claiming his seat at the breakfast table. "You're sure you're alright?" he asked.

I returned to the utensil drawer. "Yes, I'm fine," I said, finally finding the stack of red plastic measuring cups and the matching measuring spoons.

I set them on the table in front of a smiling Riley, who was again balancing on the legs of the chair. I started measuring out the flour, ignoring Riley, who was still grinning from ear to ear. I grabbed a teaspoon and measured out the salt and baking soda, and Riley snickered. I stirred the dry ingredients, and he snickered again.

Obviously he wasn't going to shut up until I asked, "What the hell is so funny?"

Riley rocked the chair forward, putting his arms on the table in front of him. "Within twelve hours you've had your soul ripped from your body, been made immortal, met one of the most vicious monsters of all time, survived insulting one god and being saved by another, all without any real concern or fear, only to have a full blown panic attack because you offered for me to stay at your place. It's funny- odd, unexpected, and somewhat unsettling, but still funny."

"So basically, you think it's funny that I don't fit into your idea of what is supposedly typical human behavior, and even though it could be because of my horrible childhood that I react so differently from the norm, it's okay to laugh at me."

Riley laughed, "Yep, pretty much."

I grabbed a wooden spoon and started smashing butter into the mixing bowl. "Well if you think my reaction is funny, wait until Mrs. Crowell finally keels over and arrives at the river Styx instead of the Pearly Gates," I said, adding sugar.

"Actually, she would not be under Hades' rule," he said, opening the pecans and stealing a few.

"Well damn. Why not?" I asked, as I stirred in the eggs and vanilla.

"It's not easy to explain."

I started adding the dry ingredients. "Explain anyway," I said, putting the bowl down and switching hands.

Riley leaned forward and took the bowl and wooden spoon from me, which was a relief because my arms were killing me.

"The deities only exist as one believes," he said, as he set the bowl of virginal cookie dough on the table.

"Huh? I'm an art teacher, Riley. I can bullshit with the best of them about what made Van Gogh insane but brilliant, but I don't know anything of religion or philosophy. The only thing our family bible was ever used for was a booster seat when I was two."

Riley walked around the table. "It's hard to explain."

He pointed his index finger at me.

"Hey, get that finger away from me buddy! I do not allow fingers pointing at me anymore," I said, backing away.

Riley stopped. "It's called an immortal touch."

"I don't care what it's called. After your psycho co-worker touched my forehead and I died, there will be no more fingers doing any fingering to this girl."

Riley laughed.

"You know what I meant," I said, pushing his hand away.

"Myra, Sebastian couldn't have taken your soul by immortal touch. He probably used it to make you more compliant. That's what I usually use it for. I know it's hard to believe but most newly departed aren't happy to see me. It can also be used to impart information. It is especially helpful when the information is an all-encompassing concept or thought."

"Such as?"

"Such as, showing mortal souls the entirety of their lives and how their actions affected the mortal world. It's not a linear thought process- it's more of a holistic approach to understanding."

"How did Sebastian take my soul then?"

"I don't know. I guess that's one of the things I'll need to find out."

"What did Hades say?"

"He didn't. Will you let me do this?" he asked, moving his index finger in a circle towards me.

I really didn't want him to touch me, but I didn't think he would hurt me. "Okay. I don't know why, and it's totally against my nature, but I trust you."

"I think a familial bond formed between us when I returned your soul to your body. It has affected me as well. Believe it or not, I'm not usually this jovial."

"Familial?" I smiled. "Okay, Uncle Riley, give me the juice."

Riley touched my forehead with his index finger. I expected pain, heat, flashes of light, something on the lines of what happened before when Sebastian had touched me.

But I guess knowledge is a subtle thing, because all I felt was a gentle push- a warm breeze swirling in my head, carrying words and understanding that fluttered and teased until they settled into conscious thought.

Riley sat back down, crunching another pecan before he asked, "How do you feel?"

I had to think for a minute, amazed at being able to instantly comprehend something that I didn't really have the vocabulary to explain. "I don't know, weird?" I said, feeling knowledgeable and dumb at the same time.

Riley folded his hands behind his head. "Can you explain it?"

I've always been a visual learner, so I took five small candy dishes and some other ingredients out of the cabinet and spread them out on the table in front of Riley.

"Okay," I said, putting my hands into the bowl of cookie dough. "This is God, the creator, the all-powerful, higher power, giant soul in the sky."

Riley rolled his eyes.

"Hey, you didn't give me any real knowledge on what..." I waved my hands around my head, "GOD, for lack of a better word, is."

Riley popped another handful of pecans into his mouth and nodded for me to continue.

"Now, as I was saying," I held up the ball of cookie dough, "this is GOD." I pulled a chunk of cookie dough off and put it into one of the candy dishes, sprinkling chocolate chips on top. "This is Christianity."

Riley raised an eyebrow. I continued pulling off more cookie dough and filled another candy dish. I added a tablespoon of oatmeal and peanut butter. "This is New Age."

I filled the third candy dish with dough, this time adding almonds I had found in the back of my baking cabinet. "This is Islam."

"Chocolate covered almonds?" Riley asked.

"Work with me please." I filled the fourth candy dish with dough and pecans. "Pretend the pecans are olives. Anyway, this would be Greek mythology."

"Yogurt would have been good," Riley said.

I ignored him. "The point is, they all have part of the dough, or GOD, as their main ingredient. Adding a different ingredient can completely change the taste of the cookie, but they all begin with the same dough." I smiled, feeling quite pleased with my little object lesson.

Riley's mouth quirked up a little on one side, "What religion does this dish represent?" he asked, pointing to the fifth and empty candy dish.

I looked at the forgotten empty dish, "Buddhism."

Riley frowned, obviously not getting my joke.

"You know, it only exists because you believe it does, and the dish is empty so..."

Riley continued to look stoic.

I sighed heavily. "Nothing is worse than having to explain a joke. Look, it doesn't matter. I'd have to have a hell of lot more candy dishes and table space to represent all the different beliefs. Sheesh, you really know how to ruin a perfectly good lesson."

"You forgot an important point."

I started removing ingredients from the candy dishes and adding the dough, pecans and chocolate chips back into the mixing bowl.

"Please, do tell, Professor Riley."

"I liked Uncle. I have never had a niece," he said.

"Okay, Uncle," I said, not -I repeat, not- feeling lonely for him.

"The reason Mrs. Crowell will never see the River Styx is because she believes in the Pearly Gates. This is why Hades is so... short tempered. Not many believe in him anymore, which limits his power."

I folded pecans into my dough. "So, because I really got into Greek mythology in my two years of high school Latin class, and I've never read the Bible, I get Hades and Mrs. Crowell gets George Burns?"

"Yes."

"I guess Buddha was the one to get it right."

"They all got it right," Riley said.

"If you say so," I said, not really wanting to think about it anymore. My brain was starting to feel heavy, and I didn't think it could handle anything else at the moment.

I pulled out my favorite cookie sheet and started spooning cookie dough onto it. Riley quietly watched. I finished, put the sheet into the oven and grabbed two large spoons, scooping out a spoonful of dough for each of us.

"Do you like cookie dough?" I asked.

"Never had it. I'm not one for sweets."

"Eat this. It's a family custom," I said.

Riley, looking doubtful, put the entire spoonful in his mouth at once, swallowing instantly.

I shook my head in disappointment. "Obviously, you're from my Daddy's side of the family tree. Even my mama knew how to savor." I handed him another spoonful. "Let's try this again. Take just a little taste, close your eyes and let it melt on your tongue."

Riley took a smaller bite and closed his eyes, opening them at the same time his mouth curved into a slow smile.

"Ha. You have just evolved," I said, savoring my own spoonful of cookie dough, evolving a little myself.

### Chapter 4: Fun and Kisses

Three, maybe five cookies later -you should never count cookie consumption, it ruins the chocolate high- Riley and I had finished baking and put away the rest of the cookies.

"Thank you for the cookies, niece," Riley said, ruffling my hair.

"You may be taking this Uncle thing a little too far," I said.

Riley grinned. "It's fun. I don't usually do fun. We get in some good practical jokes on the souls we collect from time to time, and we have a betting pool on various situations that usually result in a good laugh or two, plus I guess back when I was lopping off heads, it could have been categorized as fun, but... this is different." He looked puzzled as he ran his hand through his hair and shifted his glasses. "I haven't laughed this much in centuries. I had heard accounts of familial bonds, but always with a dark consequence- unwanted, unending responsibility. I didn't know I would feel so light-hearted, though I wouldn't categorize my feelings as light-hearted when you were baiting Hades. I think I was more concerned for your safety than I was my own. I'm not sure what I would have done if Persephone hadn't stepped in."

I was choosing to ignore the lopping off heads comment, at least until a later date. "I was not baiting Hades, I was being honest."

"Honesty is not always the best policy."

I rolled my eyes. I was not going to get into this conversation again. I glanced at the wall clock- 6:15 a.m. Damn, no wonder I was so tired. I was trying to function on less than an hour of sleep, and that's if you counted the time I had been dead. I sat down in my orange chair and swiveled, stopping in front of Riley, who was sitting on the couch. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands forming a steeple, with his chin resting on the tips of his fingers. The look in his eyes was intense, maybe even a little cold. I had to wonder if the guy ever relaxed.

"What now?" I said, a little embarrassed by the whine I heard in my voice.

"We go meet your trainer," he said, standing up.

"Don't you think it's a little bit early? Wouldn't it be wiser to get a little sleep and do a meet and greet later when we're rested?"

"No," was all he said, stepping in front of me.

He was holding out his hand. My stomach muscles tightened at the sight of that hand. I absolutely did not want to take it.

"I don't want to do the beam me up Scotty thing again. It hurt worse the second time, so I can only assume it's going to hurt even more this time. If you want to drive, I'm more than willing- otherwise you'll have to go without me."

"Driving isn't an option."

"Why the hell not?"

"Bartholomew lives in San Francisco."

"We can find someone else, someone local," I said, slowly turning my chair away from him for a quick escape.

Riley stepped forward, halting the chair's movement with his knee. "There is no one else."

I kicked out at his knee, swiveled the chair and jumped up, running for the bedroom door.

Riley caught me and threw me over his shoulder, laughing. "I can't believe you kicked me- very spunky. You should have gone for the other door though. You wouldn't have made it, but it was the better option."

I pounded on his back. "I'm not going. Put me down, NOW!"

He grabbed my waist, I think to put me down, but he was still laughing and his hands slid over my ribs which happen to be my most ticklish spot. I squealed, trying to squirm out of Riley's arms while he laughed harder.

This is how Bo Kelley found us when he opened my front door, thinking the squeal he heard was a scream, and he was coming to my rescue.

"Myra!" he yelled, barreling into the room.

Riley turned toward Bo as he put me down on the floor in front of him. I don't know about Riley, but my mouth was still open wide in a smile. Well, until I watched Bo's eyes travel from Riley, whose hands were still on either side of my waist, to me, and his expression changed from one of worry to hurt.

I was not going to feel bad about this. Bo was not my boyfriend. I had adamantly and often told him to back off and leave me alone. I had nothing to feel guilty about. So what if he looked like he'd just been stabbed in the back? It was nobody's fault but his own. In fact, I so very much didn't care how he felt, I was about to drive the knife a little deeper.

"Bo, what a surprise. This is Riley my boy-"

"Uncle, on her daddy's side, Riley Collier," Riley said, leaning over me to shake Bo's hand. "Just got into town. Sort of surprised our little Myra Jane, but you know how sweet and accommodating she is. Right away, she offered to let me stay for a while, until I found my own place."

Bo limply shook Riley's hand but otherwise didn't respond.

Riley just kept on, drawing out his vowels and inserting a twang that spoke of the Deep South. "The way you came barging through the door, I guess you figured Myra Jane was in some kinda trouble. Sorry bout that, I haven't seen her since she was knee high to a tadpole, and what can I say, I got a little exuberant in my display of affection." He wiggled his fingers over my side, making me dance away from him with a giggle. "She has always had that tickle spot."

Bastard. He took away my chance to finally be rid of Bo. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut and let me introduce him as my boyfriend.

Bo put his hands in his pockets, rocked once forward and back. "Myra, could I please speak with you in private?" he asked, his usual deep voice, soft and quiet.

I elbowed Riley in the gut, smiled at Bo and walked into the kitchen.

"This isn't exactly private," Bo said, looking behind him at Riley, who was now sitting in my orange chair, leaning back with one of my romance novels opened inches from his face.

"Maybe we could go to your bed-"

"We're not going to my bedroom," I said.

Suddenly, Bo's pensive frown turned into a huge smile, making his eyes crinkle adorably at the corners. "You didn't have a problem with me being in your bedroom last night."

"That was a moment of madness, brought on by Andrew Lloyd Webber and copious amounts of alcohol."

Bo stepped forward, crowding me toward the edge of the sink. "Phantom of the Opera and two glasses of wine are hardly precursors to madness, if that's what you want to call what we experienced last night."

"I was vulnerable from the movie- you know how I feel about musicals. Plus, I was drunk and not aware of my actions."

Bo's smile only got wider. "You weren't even tipsy, and I'm not sure vulnerable is the right word to describe what you were feeling when you straddled my lap and started unbuttoning my shirt."

He was right of course. I was not feeling vulnerable last night. Tortured heroes and red wine had nothing to do with what I had been feeling.

The truth was I had been fighting my attraction to Bo for months now. At first, I didn't really think much about him. Yeah, he was kind of attractive. Okay, okay, he was more than kind of attractive. Hell, half the town called him their Adonis.

He could have garnered the nickname because he was the head coach of the Dempsey High School football team, the Titans, but I was pretty sure it had more to do with his wavy blond hair, blue eyes, high cheek bones and full mouth. He was beautiful, and as an added bonus, he had charm, confidence, and a body that made even Mrs. McNealy, the eighty-two-year-old citizenship teacher, crane her neck to do a double take every time he passed her in the hall. I had seen many beautiful men in my lifetime. My mama was no slouch, and she had standards -well, as far as looks go anyway.

I had always been immune to the men who strutted through my mama's and, consequently, my life. The problem with Bo... well, there were actually two problems with Bo. First, he was a good guy. Assholes, liars, drunks, thieves, etc- these types of guys I knew how to deal with. I didn't really have much experience with good guys. Obviously.

The second problem was that Bo was smart, patient, aggressive, and, worst of all, a planner. Along with coaching football, he taught history and economics. He knew strategy. He made a plan and then followed it, plodding along, no matter what, until he reached his goal.

What kind of defense can a person have against someone like that? I did all the usual things I had done in the past. I was sarcastic, unfriendly, short tempered, unresponsive, hell I've been at my bitchiest for eight months, and through it all, Bo just smiled and continued his campaign.

And then, last night, I gave in. I don't know what happened. One moment I was watching Phantom of the Opera, crying as Raul sees the black ribbon wrapped rose left on Christine's grave, and the next, I was crawling up Bo's massive chest doing my damnedest to remove his shirt. I don't even remember how we got to the bed, where my shirt went or who removed it. I just know that we were two buttons and a zipper away from doing something I swore I'd never do again. Luckily, Bo's phone rang with the song Back That Thang Up, blaring into my lust filled mind. I quickly came to my senses and backed my thang up and out the door. Bo joined me in the living room a few minutes later, apologizing and laughing, going on about football players, phone theft, practical jokes and poor timing, while I grabbed a sweater off the hook by the door and sat wrapped in wool and silence until he left.

I held my hand up to stop whatever agenda he was working at. "Look, it was a mistake. I don't know what got into me last night but it was a one-time thing. I told you when I agreed to watch movies on Friday nights that you were wasting your time with me and five minutes of lust doesn't change anything."

Bo pushed his body into mine. He was much taller than I -another reason I thought he was all wrong for me- but he bent his mouth to my ear with ease. "It was not five minutes, and it changed everything." He nipped my ear lobe and then whispered, his breath caressing the curve of my ear, "You want me as much as I want you."

I started to shake my head, but Bo stopped me, wrapping both his hands around me, one at the nape of my neck, the other cradling my jaw and cheek.

He laid his head against mine. "No, Myra. No more games," he said, before he covered my mouth with his.

His lips were so soft, yet his kiss was hard and as his mouth overtook mine, I tasted desire, satisfaction and need. I didn't want him to stop. I never wanted him to stop. He was right, I desperately wanted him-his mouth, his hands, all of him. My body sang with want for him. So it was not surprising that it was Bo who pulled away, Bo who had the strength to stop the kiss. "Is he really your uncle?" he asked, placing tiny butterfly kisses on my neck.

I was still burning from his original kiss, and it took me a minute to catch up and realize what he asked.

"Yes, on my father's side," I said, though I should have said something different. I should have lied to save myself from Bo, not lied to save Bo from me. I shouldn't have cared if he got hurt. I should have welcomed the opportunity to finally end his pursuit.

"Good. I won't tell you how disappointed I felt when I found you in his arms."

"Bo, listen I know you think-"

"Shhh," he said, softly kissing me into submission. Then, I don't know how much later, he said, "I have to go. You have company, and I have a meeting. I hadn't even planned to stop by. I just couldn't leave things as they were. I almost came back last night."

"You would have found me drunk, sick, or dead," I said, my thoughts still wasted from his last kiss.

"What?"

One day I'd be able to control my big mouth. "After you left, I had a couple of chocolate raspberry, rum and coke floats with snack cakes on the side. I got drunk, and then I got sick and passed out dead to the world." Literally.

Bo grimaced. "I guess I'm not sorry I missed that."

"Yeah, it was a blast."

Bo stepped back away from me. He leaned against the fridge watching me, waiting... for something.

I had to try one more time. "Look, I don't want any kind of relationship. I know my body responds to you, but that doesn't mean I want anything other than friendship with you. You're wasting your time. Even if you managed to get me into bed, one night of sex is all it would be. Last night was my biological clock or the full moon or something, not me. I'm not interested."

Bo tilted his head, giving me a small smile. "I'm not going anywhere, Myra."

And he left.

I was still leaning heavily against the sink when Riley walked into the kitchen. "I thought you didn't like men."

"I don't. I just can't get him to realize that."

"You might try using your mouth for speaking instead of-"

"That's none of your business. Besides, I thought we were in a hurry to get to San Francisco."

"And I thought you refused to go because of the pain."

"I've changed my mind. Bring it on." I'd welcome the pain, anything to help me forget the man whose kisses made me feel.

### Chapter 5: Éclairs?

We landed in an apartment building hallway that had definitely seen better days. I was bent over, pushing my fist into the spot where I believed my left ovary used to be. "I hate that," I snapped.

"It will get better with time," Riley said, walking down the gloomy hallway.

"It will hurt less?" I asked, shuffling after him, still feeling disjointed.

"No, but you get used to it."

"Great, something to look forward to."

Riley stopped in front of a door with 4c in tarnished brass characters under the peep hole. Considering the dingy walls, broken light fixtures and scarred, battered door, I really didn't have high hopes for the apartment's occupant. Riley knocked on the door, four precise knocks.

We waited. No answer. Riley knocked again, knock, knock, knock, knock. We waited.

"Maybe he's not home," I suggested.

Riley knocked again. "He's home. And we are not leaving until he sees us," he announced loudly.

I slid down the wall directly behind Riley until my butt hit the floor and my legs were stretched out in front of me. I was so damn tired.

I wondered what germs and microscopic organisms were in the carpet. If I were to lie down for five minutes, how many of those organisms would get into my hair?

Would I notice, and could I wash them out?

I ran my hand across the carpet, ick. I suppressed a gag while quickly rubbing the sticky, greasy residue off my fingers and onto my pajama bottoms.

"If he's home but isn't answering the door, obviously he wants nothing to do with us. Are you sure there is no one else we can go to for training?"

"It has to be The Trainer Extraordinaire."

"Did you just say éclair?" I loved éclairs.

Riley turned around to look at me, pointing to a sign above the door. Trainer Extraordinaire was engraved on a gold name plate that hung above the door.

"Thinks highly of himself."

"Zeus awarded him the name plate. After five consecutive years of the gods taking turns sponsoring him in the Olympian Trials and winning each time, Bartholomew was given the name plate and the privilege to never have to compete again. He is the best."

"Fine, he's the best. He is the most amazing trainer in the world. However, he is not opening his door. So I say we skedaddle to the nearest pastry shop on our way home and call on Mr. Extraordinaire at a much later and, therefore, more convenient time."

Riley knocked again. "We are not going anywhere until he agrees to at least see us," he shouted at the door.

I thought again about letting my body fall down to the carpet. Riley knocked again. I watched a large roach crawl across the floor by my leg. I jumped up to stand next to the door.

"Good grief, Riley, this is ridiculous! You probably don't know this about me which isn't surprising considering I've only known you for less than twenty-four hours, but I have no patience. None whatsoever, but especially not when waiting in a disgusting hallway listening to you systematically knock on this damn door."

Riley, giving me a mock bow stepped aside.

I pounded on the door. "Hey asshole, how about you stop being a yellow-belly pussy, and open the damn door!"

I stopped pounding. No answer. Riley sighed, leaning against the wall beside the door.

I stuck my head against the door and the casing where it would open and in my most menacing voice I said, "If you don't open this fucking door right now I'm going to scream up and down this hall that you're my baby's daddy, and I think you gave me syphilis and herpes and-"

The door swung open. A tall -probably over six feet- leanly muscled man stood in the doorway. He was dressed in black super skinny jeans and an equally tight, short sleeve white polo. His skin was the same color as his shirt and heavily freckled. His hair, bright red and slicked back, revealed perfectly plucked eyebrows, both arched over large brown eyes that, in a strange way, balanced the super skinny mustache that outlined his top lip.

"Do you kiss your mother with that Mouth?" he sneered.

"Yes, I did. Who the hell do you think taught me my colorful vocabulary?"

He raised one red eyebrow. I've always been suspicious of anyone capable of singular eyebrow arching.

"It's like you're an oversized Opie Cunningham," I said

He curled his top lip in disgust.

"Who thinks he's French," I added.

Before Mr. Extraordinaire could respond, Riley reached around me, opened the door wider and pushed me through.

Books -lots and lots of books- greeted me. I should say shelves of books- they lined the walls below and above the two large windows and pretty much everywhere in-between. Where there weren't shelves, the furniture acted as substitute, with books stacked on every available surface and crammed into every available space.

"Somebody's a reader," I muttered to myself.

Giant Opie looked down at me, his top lip curled in disgust again. "A man is known by the books he reads. Ralph Waldo Emerson."

"The more you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go. Dr. Seuss." Jackass.

"Bartholomew," Riley said in greeting, walking past me to stand in between The Trainer Extraordinaire and myself.

"Caisus," Bartholomew said, with a regal head nod. "What did I do to deserve this mongrel pounding at my door?"

"Mongrel? Listen here you freakishly tall, red-headed bastard-"

I'm not sure what I had planned to do, but just as I stepped around Riley, he pulled me back against him, turned me so my left side was practically one with his chest and tucked me under his arm.

It took him less than five seconds. His voice never wavered, nor was there any other indication that he had just rendered me completely immobile and was still holding me in place as he answered Bartholomew's insulting question. "We've known each other too long for theatrics, old friend. You know exactly why we are here," Riley said.

"Why me? Really Caisus, I think I've earned the right to only accept the elite for my tutelage, and you bring me..." he gestured to me, "this."

I really didn't like this guy. "I really don't like you," I grumbled into Riley's chest.

I was so pissed. I didn't appreciate being held like a disobedient child while the Jackass Extraordinaire insulted me. I tried again to break Riley's hold when suddenly he let go.

I did not miss my opportunity. I gave Riley a quick elbow in the stomach and swung a fist at Bartholomew's ribs. He blocked my hand. I kicked. He blocked my foot. I stomped on his toe and kicked his shin. At least, that was my intention. He moved his foot out of the way and grabbed mine, flipping me so that I landed hard, very hard, on my ass.

"I really, really don't like you," I growled.

Bartholomew ignored me, nodding at Riley, holding out his hand. "I'll do it," he said.

I stood up. "I don't want you to," I said, now whining because my bum really hurt.

"Thank you," Riley said, shaking Bartholomew's hand.

I turned to Riley. "Why can't you do it?"

"Bartholomew is the best," he said.

I frowned.

"Better than me," he said.

"True," Bartholomew said.

"He won't do a good job. He doesn't even like me," I said, feeling a little panicked. I did not want to be left with Barty the red headed Frenchman.

"I always do a good job. Like has nothing to do with it. However, I do think I will enjoy training you," Bartholomew said, with a smile that was so creepy it made my skin crawl.

"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but why?"

"Watching you fall on your ass was highly entertaining, and I have a feeling you'll be doing it often."

I thought about calling him a number of foul names, giving him the finger, or my patented don't-mess-with-me glare, which always worked well on high school students, but it was no use. Bartholomew out matched me in wit- and probably intellect- not to mention he'd probably throw me on my ass again.

"Fine. But you'll have to work around my school schedule, and though Friday is the last day for students, I still have two more weeks of post planning."

Bartholomew gave me a look of disdain.

He said to Riley, "I'll get my appointment book."

I watched Bartholomew disappear through a doorway. All of a sudden the apartment felt stuffy, and I felt too tired to stand. I moved a stack of books off a little settee and sat. I looked over at Riley who was intently staring at his feet. I wondered if he was disappointed in me, then I mentally slapped myself for the thought. Why the hell did I care what Riley, who –I shouldn't have had to remind myself- I'd only known for less than a day, thought of me? I was about to continue with my silent self-admonishment when I realized the corners of Riley's mouth were turned up. The bastard was smiling.

"What the hell do you think is so funny?" I asked.

Riley looked up at me, a full smile spread across his face. "Let's just say I'm congratulating myself."

"On what?"

He didn't get to answer because Bartholomew walked back in carrying a glittering purple book.

"Nice organizer," I said.

"Let's see," he said, ignoring my comment. "Except for personal grooming appointments, it appears that my schedule is free for the most part, so...I'll just pencil you in, T.T... Monday through Friday at four and Saturday and Sunday at ten. "

"Are you insane? That's every day! I don't get home from school until four, and what the hell does T.T. stand for?"

"Quit bouncing, I obtained that piece of furniture in 1696, and though it survived the French revolution, I don't know if it can withstand your girth."

I leaned back until I heard a distinctly satisfying creak. "No problem Barty. What did T. T. stand for again?" I said, using my sugary sweet southern bell voice.

Barty smiled his creepy smile again. "Trailer trash."

I stood up, one step away from wiping the smug smile off Barty's face when Riley threw his arm around me and forced me to the door.

"Thank you, Bartholomew," he said, as he pushed me into the hall.

"My pleasure," Barty said. "See you tomorrow T.T." I heard him coo before he closed his door.

Riley dragged me further down the hall. I jerked my arm out of his grasp.

"Why didn't you let me at least try to get in a good kick or punch? It's not like you didn't let me go at him earlier, knowing what I was going to do."

"It wouldn't have served any purpose, other than proving to you that Barty was capable, and considering your lack of fighting ability, that wasn't really needed."

"So why did you let me attack him the first time?"

Riley grinned. I had a feeling I wasn't going to like his answer.

"Because we need him, he really is the best, and I was counting on your special ability to interest an otherwise bored Bartholomew into taking you on."

"What ability?"

Riley faced me, taking my hands in his. "We're going to shift now," he said.

"What ability?" I asked.

If possible his smile grew wider. "Ahh, Myra. Your ability, I've begun to discover- your gift actually- is being a major pain in the ass."

And then we shifted home.

### Chapter 6: Pollen and Peter Minus the Pearly Gates

I ate some cookies, drank a glass of milk and tottered into my bedroom. I was practically crawling into my bed before I realized two things. One, I was no longer wearing shoes- I had lost my mismatched flip flops somewhere between the Underworld, San Francisco and home- and two, I had not addressed the where will Riley sleep question.

I walked back into the living room. Riley was sitting in my orange chair. He was smiling. He actually had a very nice smile- I just wished it wasn't always at my expense.

"Okay, why are you laughing at me now?"

"I'm not laughing."

"So what are you doing?" I asked.

"I was waiting to see how long it would take you, once you went to bed, to ask me if I was taking you up on your offer to stay here for the night. It took you one minute, twenty three seconds. I have to admit you were much faster than I had estimated."

"You should never underestimate this girl's mental prowess," I said, lightly tapping my temple. I sat down on the couch. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know where I left my shoes, would you?"

Riley smiled. "Twenty minutes and..." he pulled a black pocket watch out of his... well, pocket, "eight seconds it took for you to notice."

I rolled my eyes. "Could you tell me where I lost them, please?"

"Somewhere in between San Francisco and here, they didn't make the shift. It happens sometimes." Riley shrugged.

"Oh great. Any particular body parts I should be worried about?"

"No. I don't think there's any real pattern to warrant concern over one body part or another."

I laid my head against the back of the couch, my eyes beginning to sting. "I'm not cut out for this. Give me a drunken belligerent mother, or tell me to teach a classroom of sixteen year olds that Dali is not a big breasted woman who owns a mountain top amusement park- those I can handle. Angry gods, freaky red mustached personal trainers and shifting through space, time and realities with the possibility of missing body parts... I don't think I can do."

Riley sat down beside me. I was so tired, so distraught, that I didn't even flinch when Riley's callused fingers brushed a tear away.

"You'll do fine, Myra. You have a lively soul, and you're a survivor. What you need is sleep."

I looked up into Riley's gray eyes. He had taken his glasses off- his gaze was soft and warm.

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

"I want to stay here, and I'll want to stay in your bedroom."

I closed my eyes, shutting him out. "I don't like men in my bedroom. I don't know what you overheard between Bo and me but that was a one-time Freaky Friday kind of thing."

"I have no intention of sleeping in your bed. I actually prefer to sleep on the floor. Sebastian has lost your soul, and I very much doubt he is happy about it. I do not think he will just go off searching for someone else. It's too difficult to find a Greek believer, and those are the only souls he could take. Plus, he has always been a sore loser. He will not just accept the loss of your soul without committing some act of vengeance."

"You think he'll come back."

"Yes."

"Can he still take my soul now that I'm immortal?"

"No, but he doesn't know you're immortal."

"You can't tell? I don't, like, glow or something?"

Riley smiled. "No, you can't tell. Let's go to bed."

I wanted to say okay. It was scary, and I wasn't being over dramatic when I said I did not like men, especially in my bedroom. I had lived through too many nights as a kid waiting for floor boards to creak and door knobs to turn, signaling an impending visit from one of my mama's overnight friends. I didn't survive those encounters -keeping a knife and, later, a gun under my pillow- just to give away the security I had worked so hard to earn. But I liked Riley, and more importantly, I trusted him. My creep-o-meter hadn't gone off once since he first showed up, towering over me. It may have been the familial bond he described, but in the end, it didn't matter. I was tired and I felt safer with Riley around.

"Okay, just don't startle me awake or anything," I said, heading for the bedroom.

"Why?" Riley asked, from behind me.

"I keep a Glock 19 under my mattress."

"Do you know how to use it?"

"If you mean do I practice, and can I shoot anything with accuracy, no. If you mean will I use it if I have to, yes, I will," I said handing him an extra blanket and pillow out of the top of the closet, before climbing into bed.

Riley began arranging the pillow and blanket neatly on the floor. "I could teach you accuracy," he said

I crawled under the covers and fluffed my pillows a couple of times. "If they're close enough for me to want to shoot, I don't need to worry about accuracy."

"If you change your mind let me know. It never hurts to be prepared for any possibility."

I leaned over the bed, looking down at Riley, who was lying on his back, his feet crossed at his ankles and his hands pillowed behind his head.

"You mean like a soul stealing bastard?"

Riley chuckled, "Exactly. Sweet dreams, Myra."

"Same to you," I said, laying down, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I'd be able to fall asleep. No matter how much I tried to make my bedroom curtains block out the day, the sunlight streamed through, but within seconds of closing my eyes, the pull of the last ten hours dragged me under.

A hand grabbed my arm and shook me. I opened my eyes. Actually, I only slightly opened one eye. I can't open one eye and not the other and, presently my other eye was glued shut with eye snot, courtesy of the millions of pollinating pine trees.

"What?" I growled.

"I'm leaving," Riley said.

"Shit. I was hoping it was all a dream," I said, turning over and covering my head with the pillow.

Riley moved the pillow.

"What?" I snarled.

"I'm leaving. You need to be awake and alert. Keep that gun of yours handy, just in case."

I rolled over- he was a blurry mass of gray leaning over me.

"What day is it? And where are you going?"

"Saturday, May19th, 8:15 pm, I have to report to Hades. He has information for me. What is wrong with your eyes?" he asked, not even trying to hide the laughter in his voice.

I looked through my one squinted eye towards the window, it was almost dark. Wow, I had slept over ten hours.

"Pollen, allergies- you know love is in the air, literally," I said, answering Riley's question.

He didn't respond.

"The pine trees are pollinating, reproducing, hence my joke, love is in the air." He still didn't say anything. "Look, I have allergies. When I'm asleep my eyes seep nasty mucus that oozes onto my eyelashes and causes my eyes to stick together because the mucus dried while I was asleep, you know, with my eyes closed."

"Is that why you snore so badly, as well?" he asked.

"I do not snore," I said, trying to sound indignant, knowing I probably looked like Popeye on crack.

Riley stood up. "You snore louder than Cerberus in dog form."

"Why can you tell jokes, but not get mine?" I asked.

Riley smirked. "It wasn't a joke."

And he left.

I made myself get up and go into the bathroom. I filled the tub with hot water and added some pomegranate bath bubbles. I don't own any expensive perfume or get pedicures or massages. I don't shave, pluck or wax any hair that isn't occupying my legs or underarms. I don't wear makeup, and I own only one dress. I got my wavy chestnut hair courtesy of my mama, and -though I inherited her curvy figure, green eyes and puffy lips, as well – I'd never desired to have my body dressed for attention as she had. So I would never categorize myself as girly or overly feminine, but when you grow up not ever having a usable bathtub, much less any access to bubble bath, you tend to seek out such things as an adult. I wouldn't say I was obsessive, but I did enjoy a nice bath.

I soaked a wash cloth in hot water and laid it across my closed eyes. I was going to take a moment and forget my worries of the past day. I was going to relax, let all bad thoughts float away like the bubbles that surrounded me.

Thump.

I was not going to freak out because I heard some random noise. I live in an old house, and it makes noises all the time. If it wasn't for the events of the past day I wouldn't even have thought twice about it.

Thump

"Shit," I said under my breath as I jumped out of the tub.

Who was I kidding? There was a soul stealing maniac who'd had all day to get right and truly pissed, doing the gods only knew what, while waiting for Riley to leave so he could enact his revenge on me. And I was in my bathroom, dripping wet and naked while my gun was safely tucked away in the bedroom.

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were wide open, my face pale- I even looked scared. Shit.

I grabbed a towel off the hook. I could at least take care of the dripping wet bit, I thought, as I quickly wrapped the towel around my middle, under my arms.

"Okay, now what?" I whispered to my reflection.

I looked at the door, waiting to see if the little glass knob would start to turn. That's when I noticed the old fashioned key hole. Holy crap, had he been watching me?

I got down on the floor, hiding under the sink. I waited for what felt like forever. No new noise and no movement of the door knob.

I pinched the sensitive skin on the inside of my arm, the sharp pain helping me deal with my fear, and then I made myself lean forward on my knees and peeped through the key hole. I could see my front door, my school bag lying on the floor, the dining room table and part of my orange chair. No one was standing within my sight, no moving shadows, and still no new noise.

I didn't think I should stay there, huddled under the sink. Sebastian could probably shift - or whatever Riley called it- into the bathroom and then I'd be trapped. Besides, I'm just not a sit-tight-and-wait-it-out type of girl.

I slowly turned the knob, the clicking of the latch overly loud in my ears. I opened the door, slowly at first, then, unable to stand the suspense, I swung the door open, just catching it before the door knob hit the tiled bathroom wall.

I pretty much had a view of almost my entire apartment from the bathroom doorway. There may have been someone hiding on the other side of the fridge or between the small blue chair and the balcony door, but I didn't think so. If someone was hiding in my apartment - and I was starting to think it was all a case of me being paranoid- they were most likely hiding in my bedroom.

My bedroom door was open about a foot. I could see my green wicker headboard and most of my bed. I took a step forward and pushed the door the rest of the way open. My dresser was the first thing I saw. The drawers were open and clothing was hanging out and strewn over each drawer.

I walked through the door and did a quick one eighty; the bed was unmade, its covers twisted around each other. Towels and shoes were haphazardly thrown on the floor. The closet door was open, one folding door off its track- hanging crooked, off to the side with only a laundry basket holding it up- and plastic hangers were poking out at odd angles, shirts hanging precariously every which way.

I took a deep breath in relief. Nothing had been touched, the only thing off was the neatly folded blanket on top of the pillow that Riley had placed on the end of the bed.

I pulled on some panties and a pair of cut offs from the top of the dresser- a bra and my green Kermit the frog t-shirt from the basket of clean clothes. I found the clogs I had searched for the day before in the back of my closet and slid my feet into them as I headed out the door. I paused for a second, staring at the mattress where I knew my gun was hidden, but I left it in its hiding place. I was already spooked, I didn't need a gun at my paranoid fingertips.

What I needed was some sugar and chocolate, and I knew just where to go.

Linda Farnsworth owned the convenience store just off Highway 441. Linda's overly large breasts were way too perky to be real, but I was pretty sure it was her breasts that persuaded Norman Sweeney to drive into Madison four different times every weekend to bring her fresh Krispy Kreme donuts to stock in her store, twice a day- ten in the morning for the Saturday bingo bunch or Sunday church goers, and ten at night for pot smoking teenagers with the munchies.

I checked my watch- 9:30pm. If I hurried, I could get there before Norman and have my pick of yumminess. I grabbed my school bag off the floor, and my hands had just found my wallet when...

Thump, thump, thump.

My heart stopped, which was okay, because a knot lodged in my throat so large I couldn't breathe anyway.

I ran into my bedroom, reached in between my mattress and box spring and pulled out my little gun. It was light weight yet powerful the sales guy had told me, a 9mm worth every penny. It better be worth every penny I thought, considering it cost fifty thousand of them.

I walked towards the balcony doors, where the sound had come from. The curtains, original to the apartment, were made of thick white and cream tweed. They were as ugly as they could be, but I kept them up because you couldn't see anything behind them at night when I had the lights on. I wasn't going to see what the hell was on the balcony, unless I pulled the curtains aside.

I held the gun in my right hand and tried using my foot to push the curtains open. The curtains swayed slightly but otherwise didn't move. A hundred ideas on how to stealthily get the curtains open crossed my mind, but none seemed practical, and I was starting to have thoughts of running back into the bathroom to hide under the sink.

I know Riley said I was safe from Sebastian, and being immortal meant I couldn't die, but it wasn't a full twenty-four hours ago, I was laying on the floor at Sebastian's feet, writhing in pain. Some things you just don't easily forget, and for me, having my soul sucked out of my body is one of them. Finally, pretending my stubbornness was courage, I yanked the curtain open and pointed my gun at anything that moved.

It was not Sebastian. But it was a man. He had a rolled up newspaper in his hand which he thumped against the door as soon as I moved the curtains.

I opened the door, still pointing my gun at his head. "Who the hell are you?" I rasped, still trying to swallow the fear that had lodged in my throat.

He smiled. It was an ordinary, somewhat benign smile, and it perfectly matched his simple khaki slacks and oxford. His hair was brown and thinning, cut short, only a little longer than a buzz cut. Military was not what came to mind though- he was too relaxed. His face was also ordinary, maybe a little pale, but his features were normal. He had a mouth, a nose, and ears. Everything was where it was supposed to be and just like his clothes, un-noteworthy and easily forgotten. He was harmless, at least, I was pretty sure that's what he intended me to think.

I probably would have bought it too, but his eyes gave him away. They sparked with intelligence and a hard, sardonic edge.

"A very good question," he said, his voice warm and even, "but tell me, Myra, is that really the question you want answered? I have so many answers at my disposal, and you asked the most mundane and simplistic of questions," he added with patronizing disapproval.

I stepped back and slammed the door in his face.

The last thing I needed right now was another man in my life, and I certainly didn't need one talking down to me. I put the safety back on the gun, and not even concerned that another stranger had shown up knowing my name, I sat down in my favorite chair and swiveled. After three swivels, with a whispered weee on the last turn, I came face to face with my balcony guest, sitting casually on the couch.

"I don't believe I've ever had anyone shut a door in my face before," he said, his voice carrying the same even tone as it had when he was on the balcony.

"I'm so glad I could help. Who are you?" I said, doing my best to sound just as easy going.

He nodded his head, "As I said before, a very good question."

This was getting old. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Never," he said, without inflection.

Maybe he was just a smart-ass.

"Usually, if someone is being sarcastic, they want the other person to realize it. Otherwise what would be the point?"

"Self-amusement?"

"So, you were being sarcastic, but only for your own benefit," I said, getting more and more ticked.

He leaned back, folding his hands in his lap. "Does anyone really benefit from sarcasm?"

I rolled my eyes and tried again. "Who are you?"

"You may call me Peter," he said.

Holy Hades! I practically jumped out of my chair, barely catching the gun before it hit the floor. Laying it in my lap, I asked, "As in Peter of the Pearly Gates?"

"Maybe you should put the gun away," he said slowly, as if I were incompetent or crazy.

I am not incompetent.

The gun slid off my lap and onto the floor. Okay maybe a little.

"The safety's on, see," I said, showing him the little button, before tucking the gun between my hip and the chair cushion.

He smiled. "I'm delighted to know that you're cautious."

Apostle or not, St. Peter was an annoying, condescending ass.

"Why are you here? And when will you be leaving?" I asked on a loud sigh, making my annoyance obvious.

Peter's smile grew wider. "Why would I want to leave? I'm enjoying myself. You are a very likable young woman."

I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes again. "You know, I'm going to have to call bullshit on you thinking I'm likable or friendly, not that I'm not capable, but I have done nothing but treat you rudely from the moment I slammed the door in your face. As far as you enjoying yourself, since you have done nothing but smile while annoying the hell out of me, I have to say that, yes, though most likely at my expense, you do seem to be enjoying yourself. And my question remains, when are you leaving? "

"Likable in spite of a foul mouth," he said.

"You should have met my mama," I mumbled, exasperated, starting to rock my chair back and forth.

"She was a delightful woman."

I really didn't like this guy. "Did you just imply you've met my mother?"

His eyes twinkled. "Are you sure that's a question you want answered?"

The last thing I needed was to know about my mama's after life experience. "No. I do not want that questioned answered. I actually don't want any questions answered except why you are here and when you'll be leaving."

"One would have to wonder why you continue to ask questions you'd already know the answer to, if only you applied yourself," he said.

Fine, I'll play. "I'm assuming, because you never actually answered me, that you're Peter of the Pearly Gates. Based on that assumption, I know you're after Sebastian. I know you've implied you know, or at least have met, my dead mother. And, I know you think very highly of yourself and seem to have a problem with ever getting to the point. What I don't know, is why you chose to knock on my balcony door, and, considering that you seem to be relaxing more and more by the minute, I haven't a clue when you'll bless me with your departure."

Peter laughed, "Your assumptions are correct in so much that I often do think too highly of myself, and I am here in hopes of finding Sebastian. You said you didn't want to know about your mother, so we'll leave that unanswered, but I usually have no problem getting to the point. In all honesty, aside from enjoying your inability to control your reactions to my teasing, I was trying to educate you.

"When dealing with those of my power and knowledge it is better to get straight to the heart of the matter. Usually you'll only have one opportunity to do so- most celestial beings of my propensity are not going to sit down and answer twenty questions while you try and figure things out. To be blunt, in the scheme of things, most would consider you insignificant and unimportant, only valuable as a means to an end."

I couldn't believe he was fucking lecturing me.

"Thank you for the reality check on my worth," I said, interrupting his crisp speech long enough for him to raise an eyebrow and then go on.

"However, I understand it's only natural to be curious and want to have some say in one's own existence. So in the spirit of sharing, please accept my advice, and, in the future, if you find yourself in such a predicament again, ask 'What do you want?' If you had asked me what I wanted, the questions of why I was here, who I was and, most likely, when I would be leaving, would have been answered."

Only if he chose to answer.

"Great." I stood up, pulling back the curtains on the balcony doors. "Thank you so much for the mini lesson. As you can see, Sebastian is not here, so you can leave. Now."

"Ahh, but if Sebastian was all that I wanted. I wouldn't have stood out on your balcony and knocked."

I flopped back into my orange chair. "Fine. What do you want?"

"Would you believe me if I said intellectual conversation?"

"No. And even if I did, my conversational skills are lacking. I guess you'll be leaving now," I said, hopefully.

"Your conversation is certainly not lacking. If anything, you're a refreshing change," he said, stretching his arms out on the back of the couch.

I gave him my don't bullshit me look.

He chuckled. "You doubt me, but consider it from my point of view. After thousands of years, conversations tend to replicate one another. Neither time, technology or," he winked, "evolution can change the basic premise of human life, and, unfortunately, the conversations in such lives. Add to that my well known job title, and you can't possibly imagine just how monotonous my usual interaction with mortals can become."

"A lot of am I getting into heaven stuff, huh? What about your coworkers? You can't be the only one roaming around the puffy clouds, manning the Pearly Gates."

He winced. "There aren't actually any gates- it's a metaphor, symbolism."

Before I could respond, he waved his hand as if physically batting the sentence away. "All immortals want to speak about is shop, 'Who sinned? Who didn't? Did I know so and so was a closet Buddhist?' et cetera. It gets old. You aren't afraid of me. You aren't worrying about impressing me, and you haven't been immortal long enough to have formed prejudices. Is it surprising that I would find the idea of a conversation free of all the trappings that accompany my position refreshing?"

I sighed. He sounded sincere- there wasn't even a hint of the condescending asshole from a few minutes ago. When was the next time I'd get to chat with a saint?

"Okay. Let me go get a bowl of magically deliciousness, and we'll talk, but I'm warning you, my upbringing didn't give me much of a background for intriguing, much less intelligent, conversation."

I left Peter relaxing in the living room while I made a quick jaunt into my bedroom to tuck my gun back under the mattress and sprinted into the kitchen to pour myself a bowl of cereal and milk. I plopped back into my orange chair, took a bite of dehydrated marshmallows and waved Peter on with my spoon.

"You start," I said.

"Why don't you tell me about Sebastian's visit last night and your subsequent visit to the Underworld?"

"Hmm, those questions have nothing to do with boredom and a lot to do with your search for Sebastian, almost like you're interrogating me. I think my feelings are hurt."

I took a big bite of cereal, not really caring about the dribble of milk on my chin, hell, I hoped it offended him. "I believed your whole spiel about not having anyone to talk to. It's a good thing I've gotten some sugar in my system, or I'd really be pissed."

"First, I'd hardly call this an interrogation. Second, you believed me, because it was the truth. The fact that I used the truth to get you to agree and speak with me is another lesson in dealing with my kind. We are highly manipulative. In actuality, you should be grateful. I'm using a lot of effort to assuage my curiosity about you. If in the process of getting to know you, with the application of a few harmless questions, I gain information that will benefit me in my capture of the Assassin, Sebastian," he smiled, "then lucky me."

He was still smiling, I guess waiting for me to smile back or say something, but I couldn't. He didn't look harmless anymore- his features had sharpened, become more angular, his eyes darker, his smile predatory.

Holy shit he's scaring the crap out of me!

I took a deep breath- he was still smiling, waiting for me to say something.

"Ha! You just like to hear yourself speak and found someone new to lecture at," I said, managing to make my vocal chords work, proud that my words only held a slight quiver.

"You've caught me," he said, his features smoothly changing back into the mild middle-aged man I'd found on my balcony.

I crunched a spoonful of cereal, trying for once to think before I spoke, watching Peter, as his mouth curved into a small pleasant smile, his eyes crinkling in amusement. What the hell had just happened? I wondered if he had been playing with me, another lesson for the new immortal. Probably.

"Why do I feel like this is some game? Like you already know all the answers, like you already know what I'm going to say, before even I do?"

Peter straightened the cuffs of his shirt. "No one has all the answers. However, the phrase history repeats itself is not entirely without merit. If you live long enough you start to see patterns, and there is a certain feeling of inevitability to it all, but not always. Personally, I very much enjoy those moments of surprise. You could almost say I live in anticipation, waiting for the monotony to be broken."

"So this is really about you being bored," I said, getting pissed again.

Peter smiled a benign smile. "A simplistic description, but I suppose still accurate."

"And I'm entertainment while you wait for Sebastian," I said, all fear I had felt completely dissipating with my building anger. I'm good like that.

"Again, a simplified description, and still accurate."

I was never going to get anywhere with this guy. He'd just admitted he was screwing with me because he was bored. I was starting to wonder if I had a sign on my back: Please fuck with me, my life isn't nearly exciting enough. How did Peter know about me?

"How did you know to come here? Was there some after-life news bulletin? Soul stolen! Hades acquires new henchman! Update at eleven."

Peter laughed, "I think henchman is a most appropriate title, but no, there was no such announcement. I, like many immortals who serve in the After-life, as you termed it, have a connection with the mortals whose souls we will most likely care for when they have left their bodies to the earth."

"But I thought the reason Sebastian could take my soul was because, at some point, subconsciously at least, I had picked the Greek gods as my deities of choice."

"If what you say is true, why can you see me?"

"Are you usually invisible?"

Peter nodded. "Unless I wish otherwise. Right now I am not trying to achieve visibility, yet you can see me just fine."

"Well yeah. I'm immortal, working in the afterlife department. Doesn't it come with the job?"

Peter stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off his pants. "Regardless, you would have seen me yesterday as well if I had knocked on your door, before Sebastian found you."

He walked toward the door. I swiveled, watching him.

"What are you saying? I don't understand."

He leaned against the front door. "What can I say, Myra, that won't sound clichéd and over done?"

"How about the truth?"

Peter smiled, putting his clasped hands together over his heart. "The truth, my dear, is complicated and often dangerous."

"And that wasn't clichéd and over done? Why bring it up if you're not going to tell me anything?"

"Amusement?" he asked, before disappearing as if he had melted into the door.

"I've never been able to figure out how he does that," Riley said from behind me.

### Chapter 7: Conversations Ending in Chocolate

I swiveled, sloshing pink sugary milk over the bowl onto my hands. Riley was standing over me frowning, but I was more interested in the bag of Krispy Kreme donuts he was holding.

"Where did you get those? And are you planning to share?" I asked politely- because that's what you did if you wanted something.

Riley held out the bag. "I tracked Sebastian's movements from last night. Unfortunately, it ended at a gas station near the highway. Some blonde behind the counter sold me the donuts." A hint of a smile crept up on his face. "She was very attentive, showed me which flavors were your favorite and was kind enough to offer me her services if I ever found myself in need."

"That bitch." I snatched the white paper bag out of his hand and looked inside. "Awww, what a sweetie, she saved me two of the chocolate frosted."

Riley shook his head. "I have never understood your kind."

"What, women?"

"No, southerners."

"Funny," I said, taking my bowl and bag of donuts into the kitchen.

I was staring at the can of Hershey's syrup on the top shelf of the fridge.

Riley, who had followed me into the kitchen, said, "Are you at all concerned that the blonde at the gas station knew I was staying here?"

I shut the fridge and turned towards him. "No, I introduced you to Bo this morning...sheesh that seems like ages ago...anyway, he probably said something to someone, and they said something to someone else. It's how quaint little towns work, it's part of their charm," I said, heavy on the sarcasm.

Riley frowned. "I don't think charm is the correct word. I find it a bit alarming. It was not my plan to advertise my presence here. I doubt Sebastian is walking around chatting with your neighbors, but if enough people are talking about me staying here, he'll know, and any element of surprise I might have had will be compromised."

"Look, it was unavoidable. If Bo hadn't found out about you, Mrs. Crowell, my downstairs neighbor and landlord, would have had it all over town by now. She's probably sitting in her gaudy apartment right now counting our footsteps and working out some mathematic equation involving weight ratio and sound decibels that will tell her your height, age and sexual orientation."

"She sounds interesting," he said.

"She's a crotchety old hag, but I would never underestimate her."

He leaned against the kitchen table, so I continued, "My point is that it would have gotten around anyway, and at least, if it was Bo who talked, everyone will also hear that you're my uncle- which isn't juicy enough to keep anyone interested. By tomorrow, everyone will be talking about something else."

I reopened the fridge. My plan was to continue my assessment of the can of chocolate syrup, but Riley reached around me and shut the fridge door.

"Hey, I was contemplating gluttony. The visit from Peter of the Pearly Gates has made me reconsider some of my choices in life."

Riley smirked. "And I was only teasing, but I guess it's a good thing I stopped you. Gluttony, really?"

I sighed, "No, not really." I slumped against the closed fridge. "I was trying to decide if chocolate milk and my impending donut consumption would make me sick. Unfortunately, my stomach still hasn't recovered from my Haagen-Dazs binge last night. But for a moment there, I did think I should reevaluate my life. Do you think Peter would see me as redeemable?"

"He sees everyone as redeemable, but, in your case, it wouldn't matter. You're a future Assassin in training. You belong to Hades. You're even his chosen Champion in the Olympian Trials. You wouldn't be allowed through Peter's gates even if he held them open for you."

"Wow. That's depressing."

Riley folded his arms across his chest. "Except that you don't believe in Heaven and the Pearly Gates."

"I didn't use to, but how can I not believe it now? I had Peter the freaking apostle sitting on my couch, belittling me, not five minutes ago. Besides, he said I would have seen him too, if he had shown up before Sebastian had last night. So what does that mean?"

"He was messing with your head. Peter likes to screw with people and see what happens. He's bored."

"He did say that, too, but, I can't help thinking there was more to what he was saying, or not saying."

"There's always more to what Peter says." Riley took off his glasses and started using the bottom of his shirt to clean them. "It will be interesting to see how he reacts when I find Sebastian before he does."

"Sore loser?"

"I don't know. I've never known him to fail before."

I knew what he'd say, but I had to ask, "What makes you so sure he will fail this time?"

He slid his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and gave me a cocky grin. "Because I will not."

"Hmm. And how will you act if you're wrong?"

Riley stole a donut from the bag I was holding. "Trust me, it won't be an issue," he said over his shoulder as he walked into the living room.

Riley was lounging on the couch, his body slumped down into the seat with his legs sprawled out in front of him. He was rubbing his extended belly with both hands, his head was awkwardly angled to the side, his eyes were closed and his glasses were resting crookedly at the end of his nose. I had just finished savoring my donut and was licking the residual chocolate from my fingers as I sat in my orange chair.

"Comfy?" I asked.

Riley grunted, "No, but I'm determined to be."

I made a mental note to curb Riley's high fructose corn syrup and shortening consumption. I've had years for my body to condition itself against the onslaught of hydrogenated oils and corrupt molecules that are involved in giving snack cakes and donuts an eighty year shelf life. Seeing him laid out in a lazy fog only proved -immortal or not- his body just wasn't up to it.

Thinking of Riley's immortality reminded me of several questions about my own life expectancy that had been skipping around in my mind. However, deciding that I really didn't have the energy to open up that can of peanuts, I asked, "So... what's next?"

Riley stayed in his pseudo relaxed pose. "Tomorrow I will go to Sebastian's workplace and poke around a little, see what I can find out. I'm hoping, if I figure out what event turned him rogue, I'll figure out what his next move might be. I'd like to stay here until he's found. My best bet is still catching him trying to recapture your soul. But I'm not a sit-around-and-wait kind of guy."

I smiled, feeling only the mildest of twinges at the idea of Riley spending several nights at my place. "Me neither. You said Sebastian's job, I thought his job was to collect souls."

Riley straightened his body so that he no longer slouched, propped one foot over his knee, pushed his glasses up on his nose and said, in a very clipped professor like voice, "Hades has twenty," he pointed to me, "make that twenty-one, Assassins. At one time, he had the need of three times that. Even with the fewer numbers, we don't have enough work to keep us all busy. Hades' fear that there will no longer be a need for us -for him- is not without merit."

I swiveled once, stopping again in front of Riley. "If there is no need for any of us, will we go work for another deity?"

Riley shook his head. "The consensus in Olympus is that we'll no longer exist."

"Damn," I said

Riley straightened his glasses. "I have never been afraid of death, but to just not exist... I'm not sure what would happen to our souls."

Shit. I'm an endangered species.

"Good grief, Riley. I can't believe you walk around with that kind of shit running through your head. You have got to bury that stuff, push it into some hidey hole and never bring it out unless you're couching it with a high priced shrink. And even then, I'd think twice about opening up that box- some things should always stay buried."

"I don't think ignoring the prospect will make it go away, and neither does Hades. Have you ever heard of the company Ambros?"

"Yeah, they have a plant here in town. It smells funny."

"Ambros is short for Ambrosia. Hades owns it."

"How the hell does Hades run a multi-million dollar company from the Underworld?"

Riley said, "Stock holders and a good C.E.O."

I jumped out of my orange chair. "Oh my Gods! The Goddess Greek Yogurt commercial! Don't you dare tell me he's responsible for the Goddess Greek Yogurt commercial!"

"Okay, I won't because he isn't. Bartholomew is. Bartholomew runs the advertising/marketing department for Ambros. He is especially proud of that jingle."

"'Slip into your inner goddess by letting Goddess Greek yogurt slip into you', Riley, the commercial is practically soft porn. Have you seen it? Some hunky guy is feeding a busty model yogurt, in bed, with both of them barely covered by white sheets.

"It's awful. Though I have to give him some credit, at least he didn't have the models try to speak. I'm sure whoever thought it was a good idea to let the Victoria Secret models talk is making hemorrhoid commercials now- talk about ruining the fantasy. It ruined it for me, and scantily clad women in push up bras don't even get me hot and bothered."

"Bartholomew describes his style of advertising as artistic and edgy."

I rolled my eyes and sat back down. "So Hades has his Assassins work second jobs on earth, all geared toward promoting Greek theology. I guess that's pretty clever. How many Assassins work for Ambros?"

"Only one other- Marcus. He works in acquisitions."

"What about Sebastian?"

"Sebastian teaches, well taught, Latin and Greek mythology at Morgan Hill Academy and Cade County Community College."

"Holy shit, Morgan Hill? It's easier to get into an Ivy League school than it is to get into Morgan Hill. It's supposed to be the best private K-12 school in Georgia, hell, in the United States."

I once overheard Darla Kemp, Dempsey High's chemistry teacher, tell Erin Laughlin, the band director, that she'd been required to supply a DNA sample with a four generation pedigree attached to her resume to even be granted an interview.

Every day, I drove by the fortress that took up two square miles, just on the outskirts of downtown. There was no way I was going to miss an opportunity to step through the gates at Morgan Hill.

"Was Sebastian at school yesterday?" I asked.

"He was reported missing by a teacher in his department when he didn't show up for a late afternoon faculty meeting. When the fellow teacher went in search of Sebastian, he found his office in shambles and his belongings, including a set of car keys, his briefcase and a cup of coffee-still steaming- on his desk."

It sounded intriguing. Of course, I didn't know squat about solving mysteries and hunting down rogue Assassins.

"Hey, how do you know something didn't happen to Sebastian?"

Riley raised his eyebrows. "Hades said that Sebastian was agitated and angry when he reported in Friday morning. He told Sebastian to report back as soon as his earthly responsibilities were completed. Sebastian did not show, nor did he answer Hades' call- which in itself is virtually impossible."

"So he didn't come when Hades called, there could be a million explanations. Why do you think he went rogue?"

Riley laughed, "I think it was the stealing of your soul that led me to that conclusion."

I ignored his chuckle at my expense.

"So, you were originally sent to find out why Sebastian didn't answer Hades' summons. You had no idea he had gone rogue. Of course, rogue is just a word meaning disobedient, right? I guess Sebastian was being that when he didn't answer Hades' summons."

Riley took off his glasses and started cleaning them on his shirt again. I wondered if this was a nervous habit, a sign of his stress. He didn't strike me as the type to get stressed out. Everything he did was so purposeful. I couldn't see him acting on impulse or fear. The only time he seemed the least bit upset or agitated was when he had been dealing with me, but I brought out that reaction in a lot of people.

"To be labeled as a Rogue is a severe offense. It means Sebastian chose to break his oath and act outside the laws of Zeus. I was given the Sword of Peleus, with Hades' command to 'Cut the Rogue down'."

I was not going to ask where he kept his sword.

"So the question is- why did Hades claim Sebastian had become a Rogue before he had taken my soul? Because, just not answering Hades' summons wouldn't put him outside of Zeus's laws, would it?"

He had to have done something else before he reached my door.

Riley put his now much polished glasses back on. His eyes had lost any hint of amusement, his mouth drawn tight, entire mood turned grim.

"I doesn't matter how Hades determined Sebastian went rogue."

"But it doesn't make sense, if what Hades says is true-"

"I was commanded to hunt down and capture Sebastian. I was told if I could not achieve capture, to end Sebastian's immortal life, and I was given a weapon to do so. I will follow Hades' orders."

"But-"

"Never trust, never bargain, never question and never go against a god. Do you understand, Myra? We do as we're told and, in doing so, hope to avoid the attention of any god."

I didn't necessarily agree with the whole do as you're told mentality- it's just never set well with me. But I didn't think I should test the serious look on Riley's face, so I kept my mouth shut and moved on to more important things, like me checking out Morgan Hill.

"I'm going with you tomorrow. You've got me curious and besides, your southern charm could use some work."

Like a passing shadow, Riley's mood shifted, a wide smile spreading across his face. "The blonde at the gas station didn't seem to find me lacking."

"It wasn't your charm she was impressed with. Seriously, Riley, you have to let me go. I'll never get another chance to step inside the gates of Morgan Hill."

Riley stared at me intently for a second, adjusted his glasses and then said, "Okay. Do you have anything to eat that isn't sugary or chocolate?"

"No, but we can order out. How do you feel about Chinese? Mr. Chiu has the best Cashew Chicken and he delivers."

"Anything but chocolate."

"Suit yourself. Personally, I think everything is better with chocolate."

### Chapter 8: Two Donuts, a Bruised Derriere and a Potted Plant

The next morning, after a shared breakfast of cold Cashew Chicken and Mongolian Beef, Riley announced he had to go out. He said he was craving more Krispy Kreme donuts, but I knew that was said just to get a reaction out of me. Not that I cared, but Riley was way too good for the likes of Linda Farnsworth.

Though cold Chinese food was always a good choice for breakfast, I had awoken with a hankering for chocolate chip cookies. So, not long after Riley left, I was in my kitchen, one cookie already consumed, the plastic bag filled with the rest of the cookies held securely under my arm, while I stood in front of the open fridge stealing a swig of milk. Hey, it's my milk.

"What do you think you're doing?" Barty asked nastily, pushing me aside while taking the half gallon of milk out of my hands and putting it back in the fridge.

"Having a second breakfast," I answered calmly, though inside I was having a temper tantrum because I had put Barty in my denial box and forgotten about him. Now he was standing in my kitchen, glaring at me and I didn't think I could get away with sneaking out or killing him.

"Why?" he asked, using his body to push me further away from the fridge.

"Because I think I'm a hobbit. Because I want to. Because these are damn delicious cookies, and they shouldn't be neglected and allowed to go stale. Because this is my kitchen, in my apartment, and I can do whatever the hell I want!" I said, not so calmly.

"All wonderfully delusional reasons. Now hand over the bag."

"No." I clutched the bag to my chest.

"It's three minutes after ten- past time to begin training. Hand over the cookies."

"No. I'm not ready for training. I haven't even brushed my teeth yet."

"You haven't brushed your hair or put on make-up yet either. It is still time for training," he said.

"I don't wear makeup."

"That's not exactly a shocker. We'll work on your grooming habits later. Right now, you need to hand me the cookies, go brush your teeth, then we can get started."

"No. I'm not feeling up to dealing with you today. Come back tomorrow," I said, planning on turning away from him and running to my bedroom so that I could lock the door and hide.

Instead, I turned to run, Barty grabbed my shoulder, spun me around so my back was towards him and snatched my cookies- that sounded a little like a sexual innuendo didn't it? Let me rephrase- snatched my bag of cookies- not much better is it? Basically, he spun me around, grabbed the bag of cookies out of my hands, turned me another half turn so I was facing him, hooked his foot around my ankle and pulled my leg forward, so that I lost my balance falling on my ass. The same ass I fell hard on yesterday that was already black and blue, and was now not only throbbing, but also shooting spasms of pain into my tail bone straight up my spine.

Barty casually looked at his watch and laughed, "Only five minutes. I knew I'd enjoy this."

I stood up. "I hate you. I hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE you!"

"Is this another example of your mother's choice vocabulary?"

"My mama would sweep the floor with you if she was still alive!" I yelled, waving my hand in the air for emphasis.

"Really?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I don't know, probably not. But she'd bluff really good after she got a few drinks in her."

"You're being honest," he said.

"I usually try to be," I said, feeling stupid.

"So do I. The proper phrasing, by the way, would be she'd bluff really well, not good."

"I hate you."

"We've established that. Now are you ready to start our training? Or are we going to banter some more?"

"My butt hurts or I'd be wittier. The pain is distracting," I whined, rubbing my rear end.

"Then maybe our first lesson should be how to fall," he said, like the patronizing bastard he was.

"Why don't you just teach me what I need to know so I won't fall? Or, here's a novel idea, you could just stop tripping me."

"Technically, I have never tripped you. I blocked your kick yesterday and lifted your foot until you lost balance. Today, I hooked your leg with my foot, again until you lost balance. So, as I said, technically, I have never tripped you, just assisted until gravity and your own clumsiness took over."

"Bastard."

"Is this your idea of wit? If so, I am very disappointed," he said, casually leaning against my dining table.

I took a deep breath. "Fine. Please show me how to fall without bruising my ass," I asked.

He stood up from the table, smiling-his line of a mustache spreading wide. "I will be happy to help you save your derriere."

We spent the next three hours practicing falling. When I say we, I mean me- falling over and over again, trying to spread the impact throughout my body, moving my legs, so I could catch myself before I landed on my backside and improving my center of gravity, so I wouldn't lose my balance in the first place.

"Okay, we can stop," Barty said, looking cool, calm and relaxed.

"Good. I'm starving," I said, putting the couch cushions back on the couch and limping into the kitchen.

I put a jar of peanut butter, marshmallow cream, and chocolate hazelnut spread in the center of the table next to the loaf of squishy white bread and a box of vanilla wafers.

Barty picked up the jar of marshmallow cream. "Is this what you plan to serve for lunch?"

"No," I said, going back into the kitchen and grabbing paper plates, two butter knives and two bottles of Coke. I returned to the table, put a plate and a bottle of Coke in front of Barty, and said, "This is what I plan to serve for lunch."

"Exactly how are we using these ingredients?" he asked, sniffing inside the box of vanilla wafers.

I went back into the kitchen, filling up two jelly jars from my Tom and Jerry collection with ice and returned, setting a Tom glass beside Barty's Coke.

"Peanut butter and marshmallow cream sandwiches with hazelnut spread and vanilla wafer cookie sandwiches on the side and a cold Coke poured over ice to help wash it all down," I said.

His face turned a little green.

"I suppose you could have the marshmallow cream on the vanilla wafers, and the hazelnut spread would be good with peanut butter, this is just how I prefer it," I said, sitting down across from him.

"Is this how you have always eaten?" he asked, now sniffing the ice in his glass.

"Pretty much. The hazelnut spread wasn't around when I was a kid, so I used chocolate frosting, but I like the hazelnut spread better."

"Your mother made this for you? For your lunch? As a meal?" he asked.

I opened up the peanut butter and started spreading it on a piece of bread. "No. My mama wasn't into cooking all that much. Plus, she didn't really eat, her only nutrition coming from a bottle of Jack Daniels and cigarettes. Every once in a while she would smoke a joint and then she and her date for the night would raid the kitchen, but for the most part, I would take the food stamps and any change I could scrounge up to the grocery store and do the shopping."

Barty made a funny face. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was feeling sorry for me. "As your trainer I cannot allow you to eat this poison. I will make a healthy diet plan for you to start tomorrow," he said.

"No. You can make suggestions, you can even ridicule me if you want to, but you will not plan out my meals or tell me what to eat like I'm a child. I don't care if you're right, and this food is unhealthy, I may even agree with you. Hell, I'll take out an ad in the Cade county paper saying its nutritional suicide if you want, but you will not decide what I eat. Ever," I said.

"So as long as I don't tell you specifically what to eat or plan out your meals, I can do anything else I want, to get you to eat healthily?"

"Except physically forcing me," I added, hoping I wasn't making a mistake.

"To even suggest such a thing is an insult," he said, sounding truly offended.

I rolled my eyes. "Why does it matter? I'm immortal, it's not like I have to worry about heart disease."

"You need to have Riley explain how immortality works, but mostly you're right. It's about self-worth."

"Look, don't go all sympathetic on me because my mama wasn't much of a mother and loved men and whiskey more than me. I made my peace with that years ago."

"Why would you think I felt anything other than disdain for you, T.T?"

"Because you have that look, the one that says, Oh look she's been neglected. Let's make her our pet project and we'll feel better about ourselves."

"Poor pitiful Myra," Barty said, sarcastically, as he started making himself a peanut butter sandwich.

One hour later, when Barty was finally about to leave, Riley arrived. I was laying on the couch with a towel over my head, trying to soak up the sweat dripping down my face.

"How did it go?" he asked.

Barty sighed, "Miserable. She's a walking disaster. She doesn't have the ability to follow direction or keep her mouth shut. She has the attention span of a ferret, and I'm beginning to wonder about her intelligence-"

I yanked the towel off my face. "Hey, I'm sitting right here!" I shouted.

"See, she felt the need to point that out, though we obviously both see her."

Riley was staring at his feet. I recognized this pose. He was trying to keep from laughing. Barty, seeming not to notice, was still in mid-rant, listing my failing attributes. "No patience, lazy, poor balance-"

I gave up, crawled off the couch and went to take a bath. Twenty minutes later, Riley knocked on the bathroom door. "If you're still going with me to Morgan Hill, I have to leave in five minutes," he said.

"Is he gone?"

"Yes."

"Did you leave this morning because you knew Barty was showing up?"

"Yes."

"I don't like you very much right now," I said, menace oozing from my voice.

"Okay. Five minutes."

I guess Barty could add, 'unable to convey deadly violence with her voice' to my list of shortcomings.

Morgan Hill was all that I'd thought it would be and more.

"Large brick buildings with arched windows, architectural columns and wide marbled steps framing a large courtyard neatly divided by cobbled paths, stone benches and old bent oak trees, draped in graying Spanish moss. Ivy climbing the corners and sides of the buildings, beautifully manicured to add texture and age-"

"Are you finished?" Riley asked, annoyed.

"Sorry, I guess I was thinking out loud," I hate it when that happens, "but don't you think it's beautiful? There's a kind of presence, like it's been here forever. You have to admit that's pretty impressive for a campus that's only ten years old."

Riley frowned. His voice coming out a little rough, he said, "Honestly, I have seen much more beautiful buildings, not including Olympus, which is beyond magnificent. With time, what I once found beautiful has become mundane or excessive, leaving me feeling bored and unimpressed."

I folded my arms around my middle. "Wow, immortality just doesn't seem all that cool right about now."

Riley lifted my chin until I was looking into his gray eyes. "I've been around a very long time, Myra, and I was a dreary S.O.B. to begin with. You'll be fine."

I wanted to accept his comfort, to give him a smile to show my appreciation, but his light gray eyes held a shadow of despair I didn't feel comfortable with, so I took the cowardly way out.

"Hey, are we going to go all, Mystery Incorporated on this or what? Don't we have some investigating to do?"

Riley nodded and walked ahead. Feeling like a jerk, I followed.

Would it kill me to have a real conversation involving real feelings without becoming an obnoxious moron? Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of Scooby Doo, have two sets of jelly glasses to prove it, but sheesh, I just reduced a moment of soul sharing camaraderie to a quip having to do with a cartoon dog and his stoner sidekick. Sometimes I can be such an asshole.

Clyde Hedrick, the Headmaster of Morgan Hill, was in Atlanta for a meeting, Ms. Gardner, his administrative assistant informed us, as she directed us to a cluster of chairs and a desk, grouped together in a small alcove. Dark cherry paneled walls, oriental rugs in green and blue, leather furniture and a lot of intricately placed knickknacks decorated the foyer and outer office. Ms. Garner's little space was much the same except for one large potted peace lily filling up a corner of the room, as well as taking over a good part of her desk.

I had to hide a snicker as she sat down. Her solemn look of intellectual superiority -and matching brown suit- was lost as she did battle with the leaves of the peace lily, batting them out of her hair and face.

"You are inquiring about Dr. Black?" she asked, pretending there wasn't a giant green leaf in her face.

I looked at Riley. Dr. Black? Couldn't Sebastian have thought of a better name than that? Riley, of course, ignored my inquisitive expression.

"Yes. As I told the receptionist I spoke with yesterday, my niece and I are Sebastian's only living relatives, and distant ones at that. However, being his only living kin, we had hoped to gather his things. I received a message," he looked at his black pocket watch, "Friday afternoon, stating that I could do so."

We had talked about this on the way over. In my excitement to see Morgan Hill for myself, I had forgotten it was Sunday. Riley assured me it was not a problem, he had already checked and discovered the school offices were open from 11 to 3 on Sunday. I asked how he planned to get into Sebastian's office/classroom, but he only smiled and said, 'Godly gifts'.

When Ms. Garner blinked twice, murmuring, "Of course, of course you poor dears, we only hope Dr. Black is found well," and busied herself going through a ring of keys from her desk, instead of asking for our names, identification or how we received a call to get Sebastian's stuff less than two hours after the school reported him missing, I assumed this is what he meant.

While Ms. Gardner worked on finding the correct key to Sebastian's office and classroom -a time consuming task which consisted of matching the numbers printed on a drawer full of different keys, to numbers on a list with each teacher's identity- I wondered two things. One, why wouldn't a school like Morgan Hill have a better system to keep track of extra keys, and two, where did the peace lily come from?

A peace lily was a beautiful plant with fat green leaves and white flowers that looked like a delicate cup curved around a tiny pearl colored thistle. They were deadly to dogs and cats, and in the south, the traditional gift at funerals. I had been stuck with four giant peace lilies after my mama died- one from each of the four Baptist churches that lived and breathed the morality in the town of Covington, where I grew up.

Watching Ms. Garner swipe at the plant every few seconds led me to believe that she wasn't any happier about her acquired peace lily than I had been about mine. And, like all good southern girls, I was nosy.

"That's a beautiful peace lily," I said.

Ms. Garner nodded, with a quick, "Yes," as she continued to search her lists of numbers. Riley gave me his own version of an inquisitive look. I pointed to the plant, but Riley didn't seem to get it. I started to mouth out funeral, but Ms. Garner made a little squeal and announced, "I've got them. Yes, 3035 and 3038, these are Dr. Black's office and classroom keys."

She stood up, and so did we, but feeling like I really needed to ask, I said with a hint of a southern drawl, "I hope you don't mind me asking but what have you done to keep your plant looking so healthy? I got several as gifts from my mama's funeral, God bless her soul, but I just can't seem to keep them alive, one is just as weepy and bare as it could be."

Ms. Garner stopped walking around her desk. She looked at the huge plant and then looked back at me.

Riley sighed, impatiently.

Ms. Garner continued to just stare at me.

Suddenly, she said, "I'd love it if the damn thing would die, it's been in my office barely two days and already it's practically taking over. If it wasn't a gift from the school to Joshua Collins' family, I'd have hauled it out to the dumpster days ago. I still can't figure out what idiot had it delivered here instead of the Collins home. I can't exactly drop by their house and deliver it myself, can I? No, I have to wait until Tuesday when I'll have to carry it into the funeral home myself like some poor classless hillbilly that doesn't know any better."

"Joshua Collins? I didn't realize he was a student at Morgan Hill."

"Why would you?" she snapped. "Where are you two from again?" she asked, her eyes appearing sharper by the minute.

Riley gave her a pleasant smile. "Tennessee, same as our dear cousin Sebastian. I'll take those keys now, Ms. Garner."

Ms. Garner's eyes glazed over again and she handed over the keys. Riley and I, excusing ourselves and assuring Ms. Garner we could find our way, left the administration office and headed outside and down the little stone path that led to the building that housed Sebastian's classroom and office.

Once we were back outside, I said, "Wow, you're going to have to teach me those Jedi mind tricks."

Riley kept walking, while I ran to keep up. We reached building 300. As Ms. Garner had directed, because the front door was locked and would only open from the inside, we walked around the back of the building and entered down a set of stairs through the basement. Riley opened the door and started down a long hallway to a set of elevator doors. He pushed the up button, the doors opened and we got in.

When the doors slid shut he leaned against the wall, folded his arms across his chest and asked, "What was that all about?"

"Are you angry?"

"No. I told myself I didn't care why you were going on and on about a plant, or Joshua Collins, whoever he is, but I can't stop wondering why you started asking all those questions. So, now I'm asking-what was that all about?"

"First, tell me about the Jedi mind trick thing."

"It's nothing. All of Hades' Assassins are given the power of misdirection. It helps us remain inconspicuous when soul collecting."

"But I thought only believers could see you, unless you wanted it otherwise."

"For the most part, yes, but there is always an exception to the rule. More and more of us have been spotted in the last century. The power of misdirection is an inherent gift of Hades' Assassins." He gave a small shrug. "Basically, it comes with the job. Yesterday, when I reported to Hades, he gave me the power of persuasion, not a job standard, but considering it's also one of Hades' inherent gifts, not a big deal either. The two powers combined enabled me to maneuver Ms. Gardner into accepting the story we gave her and easily gain her cooperation with our request. It also helped that she really doesn't give a damn."

"It's still pretty cool, though."

"I guess."

"Okay, my turn. The peace lily is usually a funeral plant. I was just being curious, but hearing it was for Joshua Collins, I have to wonder."

Riley frowned. "I don't understand. Who is Joshua Collins?"

"Joshua Collins committed suicide late Friday morning. You've already learned how fast Dempsey gossip is. Anyway, by fifth period on Friday, Mrs. Kilpatrick, the 9th grade algebra teacher, was overheard telling Ms. Alverez, the Spanish teacher, about a student, Joshua Collins, who had taken his own life in the home of a city school employee. She hinted it was a teacher, and that an inappropriate teacher/student relationship was at the heart of the tragedy. But Ms. Garner said Joshua was a Morgan Hill student. Mrs. Kilpatrick told Ms. Alverez he was an eighth grader at the middle school. Obviously she was wrong, which would explain why, after going through all the middle school teachers, she couldn't think of anyone who could have been involved. At the time, I hadn't put any real thought into the rumor, thinking it was too farfetched to believe."

"What does this have to do with Sebastian?"

"I'm not sure, but the timing seems more than just coincidental. You said yourself we don't know the event that made Sebastian turn rogue, maybe Joshua's suicide was it."

### Chapter 9: Sorry Isn't Enough

Sebastian's classroom was impressive. Rows of folding metal seats were surrounded by three muraled walls depicting Olympus and the twelve Greek gods acting out various myths. The rows of seats narrowed as they descended to a small octagon shaped stage cluttered with a battered oak desk, rolling chalkboard, and traditional podium.

"Wow, I could sit in here for hours. The kids must have been lined up to take his classes," I said, staring at the Greek constellations painted on the ceiling.

Riley began to search the desk. "When I find Sebastian I'll be sure to tell him how impressed you are with his decor."

I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Cute. How about making yourself useful. Take the other key and start looking through Sebastian's office," he said, pointing to the back corner of the stage and the glass windowed door with the word 'Office' printed in bold black letters in the center.

"Sure," I said, catching the key as I walked across the stage.

After a few minutes of frustration, I came to a conclusion- the key didn't work.

"Riley, the key doesn't work."

"Did you try it more than once, I made sure she matched the numbers correctly," he said, walking over to where I was standing in front of the door.

"Yes, I'm sure. Do you think I just decided it didn't work without trying it first? I thought it was just a temperamental lock, so I jiggled it, slid it inside slowly, slid it inside fast, and even halfway, wiggling it more. The key doesn't work."

Riley was looking down at me smirking. "After all that caressing, it still didn't open for you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Why are we wasting time with sexual innuendos?"

"Because the look on your face is worth any amount of time, trust me, I know the value."

I sighed loudly, indicating my degree of annoyance. "Do you want me to go back to Ms. Garner and ask for a new key?"

"No, I got it."

I waited for him to try to get the key to work. I was looking forward to his failure. Actually, I was looking forward to my gloating at his failure.

Riley took the key out of the lock, handed it to me, smiled at me and put his right fist through the glass. He then reached around and opened the door from the inside.

"That was very disappointing," I said, as I walked through the door he was holding open. Both of us ignored the bits of glass that were still falling to the floor. "What would you have done if the deadbolt was the kind to need a key to unlock both sides?"

"I would have walked through the convenient opening I made."

"I guess everything works that way for you, straight forward and simple."

Riley nodded his head. "Just about, but I've had a lot of years to work out the kinks."

As artistic and inviting as Sebastian's classroom was, his office was devoid of imagination. It smelled funny and it was a mess.

Sebastian's office had been reported as being trashed when he was reported missing, so the papers and books scattered across the floor, desk and chairs, the cluttered bookcase, and the torn, barely hanging curtains weren't a surprise, nor were they causing the shiver of wrongness knotting in my belly. It was the space itself. It was just wrong. I'm not sure why, it just was.

I tried to ignore the wrongness and sat down at Sebastian's disaster of a desk.

"Just how old are you?" I asked Riley, thinking of his comment about things working out for him because he'd been around long enough to work out the kinks.

"Old. Very, very old."

Riley had started going through Sebastian's file cabinet while I began skimming over the papers on the desk.

"Old? Like five hundred years old?"

"Older," he muttered, looking through one of the files.

"A thousand?"

Riley looked up at me. His jaw was clenched and his lips thinned into a grimace. Either he didn't like me asking about his age, or he didn't like what he found in the file he was holding. I hoped it was the latter.

When he spoke, the harshness of the look he was giving me subsided fractionally, but the cutting tone in his voice quickly nullified any doubt of his anger. "Older. I'm a very old man, born long before the birth of Christianity. I've seen civilizations rise and fall and collected the souls of the dead before, in between, and after. It's what I am- Hades' first Assassin." He held a manila folder up. "Now, would you like to hear what I've found or continue to pester me about a time that has long since passed?"

I had to take a deep breath. Every word Riley had spoken was intense and given with such sharp, precise articulation that I felt as if I had been physically struck. Not to mention that in those few short sentences he had unloaded information I was still trying to process. So, it's not surprising that, "Sure," was my only reply.

Riley picked up the chair that had been hidden under a stack of files in the corner, tilting it so the papers fell, adding to the mess on the floor. He set the chair in front of Sebastian's desk, sat down and opened the folder.

"Joshua Collins, a senior, has been in one, if not two, of Sebastian's classes for the past six years. He was president and founder of the Olympia Club that performed Greek mythology themed plays and readings once a month. He created and organized Greek week for the senior class and had been accepted at Harvard where he had hoped to eventually earn his doctorate in History of Art and Architecture with a focus on Greek antiquities."

"Wow. All of that is written in his school file?"

Riley scowled. "It's not the school's file. The entire folder is compiled with a detailed account of Sebastian's influence in his students' lives. It has been constructed with Hades' approval in mind." He nodded his head toward the file cabinet. "That metal box is filled with files on every one of Sebastian's students for the past eight years and his plan of action in guiding them toward a belief in Greek theology."

"I guess Hades would have been pleased. Why are you so angry?"

Riley stood up, throwing the file on top of the cabinet. "Sebastian started out teaching college kids with some added community courses for adults. Eight years ago, it was felt that a younger generation would be easier to sway in their beliefs."

"Why would that be necessary? With all the movies and books out today Greek theology is all around kids."

He turned the chair around, sitting in it with his arms folded across the back. "It only takes the slightest shift to have your soul claimed by one belief rather than the other. Many times, I have gone to attend a soul that, with the body's last breath, took on another faith and was then no longer available to me. Belief is a complex thing, but can be changed on a whim, often by love, fear, hate, even curiosity, but the longer a belief or even idea tied to a particular theology is held, the more chance the afterlife belonging to that belief will be the soul's destination. I'm not surprised by the desperation felt by the gods when their-our- very existence relies on such a capricious set of circumstances. But I would rather not exist at all, than exist due to the manipulation of children."

"So... Hades decided to have Sebastian use his talents on impressionable kids, the majority of whom would have no clue that Hercules and whatever other cool stories they've seen on TV and in the movies would be considered a religious belief and aren't exposed to any other belief system, other than that of their parents. Let's face it, what kid wants to pretend he's Moses parting the Red Sea when he can be Perseus taking on a Titan? Wow, another reason to hate Hades."

Riley sighed. "No matter how we feel about it, we are even more powerless than mortals because we have already made the choice of whom we give our souls to, and just like the souls we collect, we must do as Hades says."

I went back to skimming papers. I hadn't previously had time to contemplate my current state of immortality, and honestly I had no idea when I'd get around to it. I'm very much with Scarlett on the worry-about-it-tomorrow philosophy. However, the more I learned, the more I was coming to realize that my life might have just taken a distinct turn into the toilet.

I moved the stack of papers, tossing them onto the floor for the sheer hell of it.

Turning back to the desk, I was surprised to see what the papers had been hiding. "Well, apparently, Sebastian expanded his age demographic even more and decided to go for the folks at the nursing home too."

I held up a wooden plaque with a golden angel cutout taking up the center. Above the angel, the words 'Sugar Tree Convalescence' were engraved on a tiny gold banner. Below the angel, another gold banner read 'Favorite Volunteer' and under it, 'Dr. Sebastian Black'

Riley grimaced, taking the plaque out of my hands. "I don't know why Sebastian would be involved with a convalescence home, but pursuing it won't help us find him. He isn't going to be hiding out at a nursing home."

"Okay. But maybe getting more information about Joshua would lead to a clue about Sebastian's whereabouts. I really think the suicide is connected to Sebastian going rogue."

Riley shrugged, setting the plaque back on the desk. "Maybe. What do you suggest?"

"We need to speak with Joshua's parents," I said.

Riley nodded. "We're done here," he said, turning to make his way through the bits of glass, paper and... phone! A clue! Damn, I feel like Velma!

"Phone!" I screamed, "Riley, look! There's a cell phone lodged in between the file cabinet and the baseboard! It could be Sebastian's!"

Riley tried to reach in between the wall and the filing cabinet for the phone, but his hands were like baseball mitts, hard and calloused instead of pliable and soft- they wouldn't fit. If I wasn't so excited about a possible real clue I'd have taken a moment to laugh but instead, with a huff to show my impatience, I maneuvered myself in front of him and easily slid my hand down the wall, turning my wrist as the space became smaller, stretching my fingers...I got stuck.

"Shit."

Riley laughed.

"Shut up and help me get my hand out."

"Hmmm what would you suggest, should I start pulling on your arm?" he gave a tug.

"No... ouch... ouch... crap! Stop it already, sheesh I get your point."

"I guess I'll have to move the cabinet."

"Why didn't you think of that in the first place?"

Riley pushed against the taller-than-me metal cabinet. At first, nothing happened, and I was very close to making a Hercules joke at Riley's expense when... Whoosh! The cabinet spun out away from me, taking the phone with it- the cabinet slamming into the adjacent wall and the phone sliding within inches of Riley who was now standing in front of the desk. I picked the phone up, patting Riley's bicep.

"Wow, it's good to know all those muscles aren't just for show."

Riley remained silent, his face grim.

"Hey, I was only teasing about the muscles. I didn't say the Hercules joke out loud did I?"

Riley turned me around so I was facing the wall the cabinet had been against. There was a dark reddish brown stain on the wall, cracked plaster where a huge dent had been made and little chunks of something...

"Oh my gods."

I turned and Riley had already grabbed the little trash can, holding it up to my face, which was good because I emptied the contents of my stomach and then some.

"What the hell," I said, snatching a paper off the desk and using it to wipe my mouth.

"I think we've found the location of Joshua's suicide," Riley said.

"Why didn't Ms. Garner warn us? And why in the hell hasn't someone cleaned up the mess? And who reported Sebastian missing? Was the guy blind? How can you report someone missing because they didn't show up for a staff meeting, note the office being ransacked and Sebastian's personal items, plus a fucking cup of coffee that was still hot, but not notice the fucking brain matter on the fucking wall!" I wailed, having to hold my stomach in hopes of not vomiting again.

Riley put an arm around me, tucking me into his side as he walked me out of the office, out of the classroom and, skipping the elevator, out the front doors of the building, where he sat me down on a marble step, continuing to hug me to his side while I blubbered, hiccupped and tried to keep my nose from running all over his shirt.

"Sorry. I just... that poor kid... shit," I said.

Riley squeezed me.

"We need to see the parents. I don't think we can wait until the viewing on Tuesday." He looked down at me. "I can go alone."

I wiped my nose, pushed my hair out of my face and stopped leaning on Riley. "No, I'll go with you. I'm okay. It just surprised me, I don't even know why I reacted like I did, it was just really shocking, you know?"

Riley gave me a final squeeze before he stood up, offering me his hand. "You'll be fine, Myra. It's when you don't react that you should worry."

***

The Collins lived just outside of Dempsey proper, in a neighborhood that consisted of six brick-and-stucco million dollar monstrosities, clustered together on one street.

The Collins house was a three story horror of pink brick, columns and a large cedar front door.

"I hope the architect who designed this house was fired," I said to Riley as we walked up the stone path to the house.

Riley had just stepped onto the porch when the front door swung open. A petite older woman clad in black pants and lavender blouse stood in the doorway. Her silvery white hair, cut in a short pixie style, was disheveled, sticking up on the side, her large brown eyes were puffy and red, and her mouth, pulled tight in an obvious look of disgust, was discolored where her lipstick had been wiped off.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"Mrs. Collins?" Riley asked

"No. I'm her mother, Eleanor Fredrick. What brings you to my daughter's home on the Lord's day, and in her time of grief?"

Riley bowed his head slightly. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Fredrick-"

"I'm sure you are but that's not going to bring back my grandson, is it?" She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and patted the tears from her face. "It's just not enough," she said, as the door slammed shut.

"I'm not sure what we were thinking," I said, as I got back into the car. "Who would want to speak with complete strangers at a time like this? We just acted like insensitive vultures. Damn, twice in one day I've been an asshole. I hate that."

Riley leaned back in his seat, trying and failing to stretch his long legs out. I drove a red Ford Festiva, not a lot of leg room.

"Insensitive or not, we need to question Joshua's parents. We'll have to speak with them at the viewing Tuesday evening."

"Good times," I said.

Riley laid his head back and closed his eyes. "Once again, love the enthusiasm."

We picked up burgers, fries and milkshakes on the way home and sat at my kitchen table, eating in silence because Riley was so mesmerized with my eating habits.

"You should try it, it's really good, I swear," I said, dipping another french fry into my shake.

"I don't think so. I like my fries unaltered."

"Suit yourself," I said, spooning some shake onto my cheeseburger.

Riley just shook his head.

After dinner I took another bath, washed my hair and decided I was in the mood for a musical. How can you not like a musical? Everyone's so happy they have to sing and dance about it. This was the argument I used to convince Riley to watch Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, for approximately, coincidentally, seven minutes before he threatened to destroy the TV. We watched Blazing Saddles- technically a musical by the way- instead.

My bathroom is small. The tub, a cast iron, claw foot that was gloriously large and unique and that I absolutely loved, took up most of the space. A built-in linen cabinet took up most the rest, leaving little room for the toilet and sink. The walls were tiled -except for the last two feet before the ceiling- and so was the floor. I like tile, I even enjoyed cleaning it most of the time. It was the yellowish / brown color, always making me think of warm vomit, that I had a problem with. Needless to say, in such a cramped space, I preferred to have the bathroom door open. So, as soon as I finished pulling on my polka dotted pajama shorts and a Princess Bride t-shirt, I opened the door and came face to face with Riley.

He had a black gym bag slung over his shoulder and was holding a large blue bedroll. I didn't say anything, just loaded my toothbrush with toothpaste and waited. He took a step into my room then hesitated, glancing back at me for a minute. I think he was waiting to see if I'd object. I was foaming at the mouth at the time, so I couldn't exactly voice any concern over the idea. However, after doing a little mental check and realizing I was pretty much over the whole Riley staying in my room thing, I decided that I wouldn't have objected anyway.

I couldn't sleep, probably because I couldn't stop thinking about Joshua Collins. I needed a distraction, or chocolate, and considering I still hadn't replenished my supplies, and Barty stole my cookies- which he was probably eating right now with a tall glass of chocolate milk, the bastard- I really didn't have a choice.

"Riley?"

"Hmm?"

Riley had said he was older than Christianity, which piqued my curiosity. "How did you become an Assassin?"

He was silent for so long I thought he wasn't going to answer. I had just decided a spoonful of peanut butter dipped in chocolate syrup would make a good snack when Riley, in a casual let's-talk-about-the-weather voice, spoke.

"Originally, my people came from the mountains, but we were always restless and never really settled anywhere. Most considered us barbarians, and I don't know that I would disagree with the description. We liked to fight and were very efficient at killing, conquering, and destroying.

"One day, after a particularly nasty battle and a night of celebratory drunkenness, I stumbled my way back to the field where the battle had taken place. I can't remember if I was hoping to find souvenirs or wanting to relive the carnage, but what I found was a woman. I'd swear to you she glowed- her skin pale and delicate and her hair so bright, it shimmered in the early dawn light. I was mesmerized." Riley cleared his throat. "I know and respect woman's right to equality, but at the time..."

"It's okay, I got it. You were a barbarian, small brain cells, me want woman, blah, blah blah... go ahead with your story."

"She was leaning over a body, shaking with grief. I stomped toward her, planning to take her as mine. When I stood over her, my shadow swallowing her light, and she didn't move, I -in my drunkenness- assumed her to be docile. I reached down to take her by the arm, but before I could, she turned and thrust a blade into my gut, and then into my leg. I knew the first cut would kill me, the second, ensured my death would be quick.

"I don't remember what happened to the girl. A large bird filled my vision and all thoughts of her were gone. Birds, especially crows were thought to be the messengers of the gods. I thought I had been blessed, and the gods had sent the giant bird to collect me." Riley laughed. "I was a fat headed fool."

He was quiet for another minute, before continuing. "The giant crow leaned over me and whispered, 'Tell me brave warrior, what is humanity?' I thought it a test. I didn't know the answer but I didn't think I was supposed to, so I replied, 'I do not know humanity.' The bird asked, 'Would you know it if I gave you the chance to do so?' I, still feeling I was being blessed and about to receive a grand gift, said, 'Yes, please show me.' The bird straightened to its full, enormous height and it asked, 'Do you accept my bargain, my tether, to see this gift that I offer?' I said, 'Yes'."

By this time I was sitting up, hugging my pillow tight in my lap. "What happened?"

"I was taken to the Underworld. Hades changed from the bird into the man and granted me an immortal body, my soul, and the title of Assassin."

I was shocked. "How? You didn't believe in Hades. I bet you didn't even know who he was."

"True, but my beliefs were vague, and I had agreed to Hades' bargain with my last living breath."

"He tricked you."

"I still chose his bargain."

"What about his end of the deal, did he explain humanity to you?"

"Every day I see humanity in action and in the souls I send to Hades. I will witness humanity for eternity."

Sad. I felt so sad on his behalf.

"Hades is the biggest asshole. It's not fair. You were vulnerable, and he tricked you."

Riley sat up. I couldn't really see the expression on his face, but his voice had become cold, sharp, like when he was angry in Sebastian's office.

"Myra, who says the gods have to be fair? You should take my story as a lesson. You should never trust, never bargain, never question, and never go against a god."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah I got it, but Hades is still a grand and giant dick head."

Riley lay back down. "You won't hear me agree with you. But, you won't hear me disagree, either. Goodnight, Myra."

"Night, Riley."

I doubted I would fall asleep anytime soon, but not because of Joshua Collins. It was Riley who was keeping me awake now. I couldn't believe he had just accepted his fate without putting up a fight. Surely after more than two thousand years he was sick of it. Maybe he felt guilty for the barbarian stuff when he was mortal, but come on, how long could he punish himself? I needed to find a way to help him, but first, I was going to find out more about where and when he was from.

### Chapter 10: Mustangs

"Monday, Monday" the Mamas and the Papas sang through my radio as I parked my Festiva in my assigned spot, five rows back in the student parking lot. The crappy parking space was a lovely reminder of my importance to the school. A reminder I received every morning, as I was harassed by students with better parking spaces, and apparently, better cars.

"Good morning, Ms. Collier," Andrew Morris, captain of the varsity football team, said. "Are your feet sore from peddling to school in your Flintstone car?"

"Good morning to you, Andrew. And no, my feet are not sore. There was a good southwest wind this morning, so I coasted most of the way."

Dalton Sands joined our group, walking into the school. "If I was Coach Kelley, I'd be embarrassed to date someone that drove a piece of crap car like yours," he said, shaking his head.

I stopped just outside my classroom door, turning around to face the boys. I was not going to discuss the particulars of my nonexistent relationship with Bo Kelley, but I loved my car, and she was not a piece of crap.

"What kind of car do you drive, Dalton?"

"A Dodge Ram, Power Wagon, Crew Cab," he said.

"Yours is the one that has those giant tires, right?" I asked.

"Yes ma'am! My Baby's rockin'- KMC Monster wheels, full roll bar, kick ass stereo and party lights," he said, with a proud grin.

"And you, Andrew?" I asked.

"A full size, fully loaded Hummer," he said, giving Dalton a high five.

"Hmm, I see a pattern here. Do you boys know what is said about guys who drive flashy cars?"

"No, what?" both boys said in unison.

I acted the concerned but flustered teacher. "Unfortunately, I don't have time to explain, but Coach Kelley could tell you, after all he owns a Shelby." I opened my classroom door, pausing when I realized the two boys were still standing behind me. "Oh, and Dalton, grab a dictionary and look up the word compensating before you speak with Coach Kelley. It may help," I said, shooing them away, my hands flapping like a deformed bird.

***

I love art. I had even fancied myself becoming a famous artist one day- for about three seconds, then I had to pawn my bike to pay the electric bill. Famous artists were starving artists before they were famous. I had starved enough thank you very much, so art teacher was the next best thing. Or so I thought. Teaching art to kids who have allowances bigger than my monthly salary, are only taking my class for what they think is an easy A, and think spin art is the same as impressionism, is not exactly a rewarding career choice. But hey, at least my lights are never shut off.

After third period, I spent lunch in the library searching for anything I could find about civilizations before Christianity. I found absolutely nothing. Well, I did find the call numbers for a book on Pagan celebrations, but I couldn't find the book. Finally, I had to ask Mrs. Marcel, the seventy-six year old librarian.

"Oh, that book was burned last year, dear," she said.

Of course it was, I thought, as I wolfed down my peanut butter and brown sugar sandwich while walking back to class. I was unlocking my classroom door when I heard a distinct high pitched clearing of a throat. Shit.

"Ms. Collier, am I mistaken or did I actually see you eating while walking down the corridor?" Dr. Covey, the principle, asked.

With my mouth full of peanut butter and squishy white bread, all I managed was a nod.

Being above average in height, Dr. Covey easily looked down her long nose at me. "Ms. Collier, I find it very disturbing that I cannot count on you, as a teacher, to follow the schools rules. You know perfectly well we do not tolerate food outside of the cafeteria, nor do we encourage personal phone calls to the front office." She handed me a square pink of paper. "I'm not your secretary, and neither is anyone on my staff."

"I didn't-"

She stuck her index finger inches from my nose. "Tut, tut, tut. I will have no excuses, please. Just know that this is your last warning. The next infraction will be recorded in your record and, I can assure you, will affect your contract next year. That is, if one is offered," she said, turning on her sensible heels and walking away.

I put any worry about Dr. Covey in my denial box- a fairly easy task considering what was written on the pink slip of paper she'd handed me.

From: Sebastian Black

Message: Needs help finding lost item-looking forward to seeing you real soon.

I was not going to panic.

I. Was. Not. Going. To. Panic.

What I needed to do was think logically. Sebastian knew where I worked, so what? Anybody in town could have told him, along with my bra size and the brand of feminine products I used. He left a message for me. Obviously, he was trying to scare me. And it worked! But what did he want? Did he expect me to run out of the building screaming so he could get to me more easily? No, because- let's face it- he could pop in anytime he wanted, grab me and pop back out again. So he was playing with me and doing his best to terrify me... for the fun of it.

Now, I was starting to get pissed. I don't do victim, abused or neglected anymore. I ripped the paper into tiny pieces and watched as they floated down into the trash can.

"I don't waste my time worrying about creepy asshole soul thieves either," I said, hoping that if I spoke the words out loud they'd be believable.

I still had some of my planning period left, so I stuffed the whole Sebastian-sending-me-creepy-messages incident into my denial box, and decided I should try my hand at being productive and organize the supply closet. I thought it was a great idea-until I had company.

The supply closet in my classroom is not very large- add rolls of craft paper, bags of clay and a kiln, and it becomes almost too small to stand in. Add a big man the size of Bo Kelley, and let's just say I'm glad I chose to not eat the Funyuns at lunch.

Or not! What am I thinking? Funyuns breath is just what I needed to repel someone like Bo Kelley, even if it feels really good having him press me into the supply shelf, well kind of.

"Um... Bo, the metal shelf doesn't feel all that great puncturing my skin like it is. I know a lot of people equate pain with sexual release, but apparently I'm not one of them because all I can think of right now," except for a tiny part of my brain, liking his chest rubbing against my nipples, "is ouch."

Bo didn't say anything, just closed the door with his foot and spun me around against the door.

"Better?" he asked, into my ear.

Hell yes! "No, not really. I think I've become claustrophobic, you know, tight places and all."

Bo let out a harsh breath, resting his mouth near my neck. He was just leaning into me, it was wonderful, I mean weird.

"You questioned my manhood to my students. Had them come to me asking what you meant by compensating and what their rides, I'm quoting now, had to do with it," he said into my neck.

"So you're mad at me?" I asked, strangely nervous about the answer.

"No. I'm choosing to see it as a form of flirting and am using it as an excuse to make out with you."

"But I insinuated you were inadequately built to please a woman. Aren't you worried about what other people might think?"

Bo chuckled. "I don't care what other people think. I only have to worry about satisfying you and what you think. Plus, no matter what you say to Dalton and Andrew, they are convinced the vehicles they drive are 'cool and help them get all the hotties.'"

"Exactly, it's like driving a big penis around yelling, hey look mine is better. Sheesh, I can understand liking a fast car, one that has power and handles well, but-"

"So you like fast cars? Ones that have a powerful engine and handle well," he whispered.

"Well, yeah, my mama had almost as many muscle cars as she had men. I can appreciate a powerful engine and the thrill of driving fast. Who doesn't like a stick shift?"

Bo smiled. "Even if my Shelby was a symbol for my penis, you just admitted you'd like it," he said, kissing my neck and making his way to my ear.

"Holy Hades, I can't think when you do that. Stop," he stopped, leaned back a little and looked at me. "You've missed the point," I said. "Men drive the hot rods because their own sexual prowess is more like a Pinto than a Mustang, but they want everyone to think they're like the Mustang because- let's be honest- there was nothing good about Pintos."

Bo smiled again. "My Shelby's not flashy, just good, strong and powerful."

Damn, his words were making me tingle.

"My mama always said Mustangs were too much work. They looked pretty, even sounded good, but they ate up a lot of gas and had to constantly be maintained, making them costly and tedious."

"Sounds like your mama never invested her time in much for very long. I can guarantee that if she had, she'd have found the Mustang worth it."

My mind had gone blank. I just didn't know what to say. Bo was triggering some very uncomfortable feelings in me as of late. I could handle the sexual stuff, but this, this was different. Between Riley and Bo I might actually get kicked out of the Man Hater's Club.

Bo started kissing my neck again.

"I do believe this is the first time I've seen you speechless," he whispered. "I think I deserve a reward," and he kissed me on the mouth.

All the sensations of his body against mine, all the nerves that were smoldering at his touch, caught fire with his kiss.

He left my mouth to nibble my neck again. "How do you feel about Funyuns?" I asked, desperate.

"Love them," he said.

"Ah hell," I said, before I pulled his mouth back to mine, and- because I really wanted to, because my body was humming a happy, happy tune and because of everything I'd experienced the past few days that I had no control over, that weren't my choice- I kissed him back, giving Bo Kelley all of Myra Jane Collier.

For a moment.

The bell rang. I vaguely heard students filing into my room and Tabitha, my fourth period student aid, tried to get into the closet.

Bo stepped away from me, the look of intensity on his face thrilling, I mean, scaring me a little. "I have what you need, Ms. Collier," he said, stepping onto the step stool and picking up a box of glazes, like he was just getting the box off a top shelf, at the same moment Tabitha opened the door and peered inside.

"Yes...um...thank you, Coach Kelley," I said, following his lead, a fact that was almost as disturbing as the melting heat I was still feeling from our kiss.

Bo smiled, handing me the box.

"Always," he said, so softly it was almost a whisper.

"Okay, well see you later. Thanks for your help, bye, bye," I said, not gaining even a little control of the situation.

Bo nodded his head and left, grinning, while I leaned against the metal shelf, trying not to collapse into a pile of wanton school teacher.

Tabitha looked at me. "Ms. Collier, is everything alright?" she asked.

"No," I said, digging a five out of my pocket and handing it to her. "Go to the teachers' lounge and get all the chocolate you can buy. I don't care what it is, just make sure it's chocolate."

### Chapter 11: Better and Better

The rest of my Monday, at school at least, went without incident. I hid in my classroom, avoiding Bo, Dr. Covey and hopefully, Sebastian. When the afternoon bell rang, I left, hiding in the crowd of students walking to their cars.

On the way home, I stopped at the discount bread store to restock my pantry. Martha Garrett managed the little store. She was downright rude and apparently had never been taught the finer points of retail-like don't scowl at the customers, and spitting tobacco into a plastic cup might not be considered sanitary, let alone pleasant to watch. But she stocked every possible Little Debbie cake, cookie, muffin, etc... ever made, and she didn't expect any phony southern chit chat so, as far as I was concerned, she was good people.

In the five minutes it took me to drive from the store to home, I wondered what the chances were that Barty even knew where Riley originally came from and, more importantly, if he would be willing to tell me. The curiosity of it was killing me, plus I just couldn't wrap my head around the idea of being alive for over two thousand years. I'm still not so sure it would be a good thing.

What was so cool about being immortal anyway? As far as I could tell, my body hadn't changed- I had all the same wrinkles, cellulite and fat I had before Sebastian had killed me. I sure as hell didn't feel any more energetic or strong. The only thing immortality had changed was converting my crappy life into a crappy eternity.

I should send a Thank You card, Thank you Fates, my life sucked, and now, because of you, I get to enjoy that suckiness forever. A very fuck you to you and yours, sincerely, Myra.

Of course, I wouldn't want the alternative either. I was glad to be alive. I was just going to have to tweak a few things in order to make immortality work better for me. Hell, it wasn't like I didn't have enough time to make it happen.

I very carefully closed the screen door of the old house that held my apartment. I had taken my shoes off and stuffed them into my school bag. I was not looking for a repeat of last Wednesday when a squeaky sneaker had led to a twenty minute lecture on my lack of personal hygiene. I held the plastic bags full of snack cakes out, away from my body and the wall, in hopes of avoiding any sound of crinkling plastic as I tip-toed up the stairs.

"Myra! Is that you clomping up my stairs?" my landlord shrieked.

I had made it halfway up the curving staircase. I was almost around the corner-I'm not ashamed to say- hiding in the shadows.

"Myra Jane Collier!" she shrieked again, my name echoing against the yellowed papered walls of the little antebellum house.

I decided I'd just ignore the old hag and continue up to my apartment. It's not like she could actually drag her decrepit body up the stairs and follow me.

"Myra!" she screamed, her shrill voice hitting a painful note.

I had just placed my foot on the next step when I heard her suck in a long wheezing breath. I hesitated. If she had an asthma attack, I'd have to go downstairs and deal with her...nah, she was probably too evil to die. I hunched my shoulders, determined to continue up the stairs.

"Myra! Don't act like you don't hear me, girl. Listen, your mama paid me a visit last night. Don't you want to know what she had to say?" she crooned, in a sickly sweet voice.

That was interesting, considering my mama was dead and buried, and Mrs. Crowell had never met her. One look at my mama, in her usual outfit of leather mini skirt, barely-there top and fuck-me pumps would have catapulted Mrs. Crowell all the way across the street to avoid any possible association. If she had actually heard my mama open her mouth and spew her wild charm, it would have had her frantically running home to lock her doors and call the police.

But none of that mattered. Mrs. Crowell had something to say, and if I didn't go back down the stairs and hear what it was, she'd just tell someone else. It would be the butcher at the Piggly Wiggly or the teller at the bank, and before long the whole town would be itching to tell me about the ghost of Ronnie Lynn Collier.

I turned, leaning over the stair rail so I could look down at the old woman. She was looking up at me, grinning and tapping her ugly square toed shoe on the scarred hardwood floor. Her cream-colored linen pantsuit clung to her bony body like an old burial cloth, the sleeves and collar billowing slightly from the two wicker ceiling fans that spun quietly above.

I turned around and stepped back down the stairs. Mrs. Crowell rested both of her hands on her hips with her gnarled arthritic fingers sticking up and curved out like talons.

"I thought it was you stomping up those steps, sounded like a herd of elephants," she said, patting her white helmet of tight little curls while she further stretched her pointy face into an even nastier smile.

Her beady little eyes gave me a once over from my head to my toes. "You know, I think you've put on some more weight. You wore those same blue pants over the Easter holiday, and I don't believe they were stretched quite so tight like they are today."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure I've packed on at least another pound or two. Nothing celebrates the rebirth of Christ like a giant, chocolate bunny."

"Don't be sassy with me, girl," she snarled.

I bit my bottom lip to keep from saying anything else snarky and counted to ten. Mrs. Crowell continued to glare at me, I'm sure waiting for an apology that was never going to happen.

Finally I said, "Mrs. Crowell, as I believe you know, my mama died last July. Whoever visited you was playing a practical joke."

Mrs. Crowell's thin skin creased into deep lines across her forehead. "No, child, it was your mama. She came to me last night as God's loving angel."

I said another silent fuck you to The Fates and sat down on the steps. "Are you taking those rum soaked raisins for your arthritis again?"

Mrs. Crowell pursed her lips. "Didn't you hear me child? God has given your mama wings."

"Mrs. Crowell, the closest my mama ever came to owning wings was the ones she had tattooed on her back with the lyrics to 'Freebird' inked in between. She didn't believe in God. In fact, the only time I ever heard her mention the big guy was when she was cursing him for sticking her with me."

"You don't have to believe in God for him to know you. If you ever came to church, you'd know that. Your mama was deemed worthy because of her good works."

I snorted, "I don't know that I've ever heard it referred to that way."

"She told me you wouldn't believe me. She said she used to get down on her knees at every opportunity-"

I laughed. "Well, that's probably true."

"To pray for you."

"Mrs. Crowell, one of the kids at Cal's Country Buffett must have slipped some shrooms into the gravy again when you had your Sunday dinner yesterday, because there is no way my mama's an angel."

Mrs. Crowell scowled down at me. "It was the saddest sight these old eyes have ever beheld, your mama, a most glorious angel, her golden wings sagging as she lay curled up in the corner of my sofa, weeping for hours with her worry for you."

"I'm sure nothing's sadder than angelic tears," I said.

She stepped closer, folding her arms across her chest, her eyes flashing a vicious gleam. "It was truly a sad sight, and so avoidable. All she wants is for you to be happy."

"I am happy." If you'd just leave me the hell alone.

"Honey, you're a twenty-seven year old small town art teacher, completely alone in this world, with nothing to show for yourself but the increasing ability to closely resemble Beulah Higgins's prized heifer. How could you possibly be happy?"

I looked down at my gray t-shirt and blue capris. Okay, I'd have to admit my boobs, which were on the large side, didn't quite obscure the view of my hips and newly extended belly, and my pants were a little tighter than usual, but come on, Mrs. Higgins' cow? I looked up into Mrs. Crowell's smiling face. My hand tightened on my school bag.

"I guess Bo likes cows then, huh?" I said, feeling as childish as I sounded.

Mrs. Crowell sneered, "My nephew always has had a thing for charity cases. It won't be long before he moves on to something better."

"Harpy," I muttered.

She cackled, "Oh Myra, dear, I meant no offense. You know I'm only trying to help. I'd be lying if I said I thought anything would come from Bo's slumming, and what kind of friend would I be if I did that? It's better you know how things really are than be crushed later when he loses interest.

"I, along with your precious mama, am only worried about your future. You have no prospects for marriage, you work a dead-end job-"

I stood up, grabbed my bag of snack cakes, turned my back on Mrs. Crowell, and started walking up the stairs.

"Myra? Myra, don't you walk away from me. Myra!"

I kept climbing, now stomping loudly on each step to counter her screaming. I'd probably end up regretting it later, especially when it got all over town. Considering she's the one who decides if I get to renew my lease in two months, I should actually be finding ways to kiss her ass instead of pissing her off, but every day the bag of bones that made up Mrs. Evelyn Crowell came out to pick at me. I imagine, if I ever stood still long enough, she'd pick my bones dry.

At the top of the stairs, I ceased the stomping and walked quietly across the large landing that separated my apartment from my neighbor, Doug Pittard's place. I turned the glass knob and opened my door. There was no need to lock my door, besides the fact that Mrs. Crowell was scarier than the hounds from hell, everyone is too hot - May in South Georgia- and miserable to bother climbing the twenty stairs necessary to steal my meager collection from Goodwill.

I walked over the threshold, using my body to close the front door. I leaned against the door, closed my eyes and enjoyed the instantaneous peace that settled over me the moment it clicked shut. Yes, this was worth enduring the nagging screeches of Mrs. Crowell every day, twice a day if I had to. I'd pay any price for the sanctuary of my little apartment.

"You're fifteen minutes late," Barty said, sitting in my orange chair, looking comfortable and relaxed.

I looked up at the ceiling. "Can I get a break today? Please!" I pleaded.

"Who are you talking to?" Barty asked, still lounging in my orange chair.

I threw my school bag down, enjoying the satisfying thud it made as it hit the floor, and took my bags of Little Debbie goodness straight to the kitchen.

"The Fates. Get out of my chair, my apartment, my life."

"What do you have in the bags?" Barty asked, following me.

"My sanity. Now go away."

He reached over my shoulder, trying to grab my snack cakes. "Give me the bags."

"Hell, no!" I answered, opening the fridge so the door was between us.

"Seriously, Myra, give me the bag. You know I'll get it anyway, why not give your bottom a little reprieve and hand over the cakes?"

I stuck my hand in the bag, grabbed a giant individually wrapped star crunch and stuffed the two bags into the fridge. Slamming the fridge closed, I leaned against the door and at the same time popped the cellophane off the chocolate covered caramel rice crispy cookie and-

"Don't do it," Barty warned.

-shoved half the thing into my mouth.

Barty shook his head. "Poor, poor, Myra."

I smiled, my cheeks puffed out with a mouthful of chocolate. Barty punched me just below my diaphragm. I coughed, expelling my partially chewed star crunch onto my kitchen floor. While I was bent over, holding my aching stomach, Barty took the rest of the cookie out of my hand.

"Well, that was fun. Shall we begin our training for the day?"

I tried to ignore my screaming stomach muscles as I straightened to look Barty in the eyes.

"Listen jackass extraordinaire, I've had the principle all over my ass, Bo all over everything else and a threatening phone call from Sebastian. I just spent fifteen minutes of my life that I will never get back, listening to my crotchety landlady tell me that my mama's been given wings and is now boo-hooing all over the place because, not only am I worthless, but I've also gained another pound. So believe me when I say, I DON'T NEED YOU IN MY KITCHEN TRYING TO STEAL MY SNACK CAKES!"

Barty folded his arms with a large exaggerated sigh. "You have to train."

"Fine, go away, give me fifteen minutes to change and regroup and I'll be ready."

"You're going to spend those fifteen minutes stuffing your face."

"Probably."

Barty cocked a hip, rolling his eyes at me. "It just so happens I have something I need to take care of. Otherwise, I'd not give in. But, fifteen minutes is all you get, and you have to agree to let me add a healthy item of my choice to your diet."

I waved my hand. "Whatever, just go."

Fifteen minutes later...

Barty opened my closet door. "You are a sad sight, TT," he said.

"I wouldn't have had to hide in the closet if I hadn't been worried you'd come back early. I already told you I've had a bad day. Have some compassion and help me up."

Barty sighed and held out his hand for me to grab. I clasped his hand and let him pull me up. He pulled a silk hanky out of his pocket and wiped some chocolate off my chin. "Let's get started. I've already marked this day off as a loss."

"No arguing with you there," I said, grabbing my sweats and retreating to the bathroom to change.

"Why am I doing this again?" I asked, once again falling off the two inch wide piece of wood that was balanced between two upside down paint buckets.

"I enjoy watching you wave your arms in the air like an idiot before you fall. But mostly, because your balance sucks, and you need a decent center of gravity or you'll never learn any fighting skills, not to mention how miserably you'll fail at any endurance test."

I stood on the wood again, only to fall off minutes later.

"What exactly do the Olympian Trials consist of?" I asked, trying to re-balance myself on the stick.

"I don't know."

"Did you just say, you don't know? The mighty, the Trainer Extraordinaire, Bartholomew the Great doesn't know?"

Barty started to say something, but I cut him off.

"Oh no, wait!" I said, dramatically cupping my hand to my ear while still keeping my balance, yes I am a bad ass. "Do you hear that? I believe that is Hades bellowing from his domain because hell has frozen over."

Barty kicked the board. I fell very hard on my stomach and face.

It hurt, especially my face. I did not want to move. Truthfully, I wasn't sure if I could.

"Not such a badass," Barty said, calmly.

"How did you know I was thinking that?" I mumbled, from the side of my mouth that wasn't pressed against the floor.

"Like your nickname suggests, TT, you are easy. Easy to read, easy to anger and easy to drop to the floor," he said smugly, holding out his hand to help me up.

"I'm not the only one easy to anger. You didn't have to resort to violence," I said, letting him pull me to my feet.

He shook his head. "I know. You are the only person who is capable of making me lose my temper. It's very unsettling. Many adversaries much more intelligent and wittier than you have tried to prick my temper and failed."

"Maybe, instead of trying to prick your temper they should have just called you one," I said, wincing all the way to the kitchen where I grabbed a bag of frozen pizza bites from the freezer and applied them to my face.

"My point exactly. You lack any ability to be clever or witty, yet you still manage to-"

"Piss you off? Well, don't worry about it too much, the feeling is mutual. All I have to do is look at your ridiculous little mustache and I'm pissed off."

"It's called a pencil mustache," Barty said, nose in the air.

I wanted to say, it doesn't matter what it's called it is still ridiculous, but instead I said, "Why don't you know what the Olympian Trials are going to be? Riley said you're called Trainer Extraordinaire because you've won it so many times."

"No one knows-that is part of the challenge. Every year a different god or goddess is in charge of the competition. They set the tasks, seal them in a sacred urn, and give the urn to Zeus, who has given an oath to protect it."

"What's to keep the originator of the tasks from telling anyone?" I asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Zeus erases their memories of the event."

"Zeus is creepy," I said.

Barty nodded his head. "This year the creator of the tasks is Hermes."

"Hermes, the god of cunning? Maybe the tasks will be more brains than brawn."

"He is also the god of thievery. Plus, as an added bonus for you, he does not like Hades."

"Why?"

"Because, Hermes was the original Psychopomp."

"He's psycho? All the gods seem a bit nutty to me."

"Psychopomp means guide of souls. He was the original Assassin before Hades changed the name and gave Hermes' job to his own team of immortals. Hermes was not too happy about his dismissal."

"Why did Hades replace him?"

"I do not know, but Zeus supported the decision, so it must have been for a good reason," Barty said, sitting down beside me at the dinner table. "The Olympian Challenge is very important to the gods. Hades' champion has placed in the top three since the first competition," he said.

"I assumed he placed me in the competition as a punishment, but you're saying he usually wins. Do you think he actually believes I'll succeed?" I asked.

"No, you were accurate in your initial assessment. He's already started laying the ground work for the heavy bets he will make on your dismemberment, decapitation and incompletion of the first test."

"Wow."

"You must have really pissed him off to get him to give up a chance of winning. I believe he thinks he can counter the loss by winning on the heavy wagers he will place. You are an unknown to most, so it will be assumed Hades has another champion worthy of the competition."

"Well, whatever the competition throws at me, at least I'm immortal and won't die."

Barty laughed, taking my bag of pizza bites back to the freezer. "You think you are safe from the gods because you are immortal. Hades is not the only one who can make you beg to die."

"You don't have to be so happy about it," I said, standing up, because sitting down while talking about me being tortured just didn't seem right.

"To see someone else have to deal with you will be a pleasure," he said, putting the piece of wood back on the buckets. Then, out of nowhere, he had a pink metal baseball bat in his hand.

"Now, let's see if you can keep your balance while I swing this bat at you."

"This day just gets better and better," I said.

### Chapter 12: Butt Cheeks, Beer and Brainwashed

I had taken a scorching hot shower, rubbed Bengay on every muscle I could reach and was lying on my stomach, stretched across the bed, naked. The plan was to wait for the ceiling fan to work a miracle and dry the Bengay so I didn't feel like I was covered in eucalyptus-scented lard.

"I would have to disagree with Mrs. Crowell's assessment- you have a very nice bottom, not overly wide or plump like she described," Riley said.

"Oh my gods!" I screamed, turning over and at the same time, trying to grab my top sheet which actually resulted in me grabbing for the sheet and missing, but rolling off the bed in a body aching oomph. I quickly sat up, grabbed the towel that was lying on the floor next to me and used it- and the fact that I was hiding behind the bed- to cover myself.

Riley was standing in my doorway, laughing. "Is that one of the moves Bartholomew's been teaching you?"

"You need a damn bell!" I yelled.

Riley just laughed harder.

"Listen, I know this is a really personal question but, considering you were just ogling my ass, I need to ask. Are you gay?"

"I would think it obvious that I'm not exactly a joyous person." He smiled. "Though you seem to be changing-"

"You know exactly what I'm asking-are you sexually attracted to men?"

"No."

"Okay. One more question. Are you sexually attracted to me?" I asked, hiding my face behind the bed because I was afraid of his answer. Not that I knew what I wanted him to say, I was scared either way.

"No, not sexually. I think you are attractive and funny and I find myself looking forward to being around you, but not once have I thought about having sex with you." He looked puzzled. "Which is odd now that I've thought about it. It has to be the familial bond. I guess I think of you as family, a niece, or younger sister. Though, if you are in need of some fulfillment, we could try-"

"No, no, no. I think of you as my friend and having sex with you would just be wrong, wrong, wrong. Besides, I don't have sex, it leads to no good."

Riley gave a slow thoughtful smile. "I can't think of anything disparaging to say about sex. However, I will say you'd be surprised how many deaths have occurred, and souls I've collected as a result of it."

"That's not disparaging?"

Riley grinned. "Hell of a way to go."

I rolled my eyes. "Right, but you'll understand when I say that it's highly inappropriate for you to pop into my room and comment on my unclothed ass." I held my hand up, halting his reply. "Although, as uncouth as your actions were, I would like to take a second to thank you for the compliment. Mrs. Crowell is on my shit list today, so it was nice to hear you disagree with her, and, as an added bonus, the disagreement was over my ass- it being nice, that is."

Riley laughed. "Anytime. I'll be happy to compliment your breasts as well-"

I threw a pillow at him. "You're lucky I don't shoot you."

Riley caught the pillow. "It was completely innocent, I swear. I spent most of the day listening to Hades rant and the rest trying to track down the owner of that damn phone. I stopped by the gas station and ran into your landlady and the busty blonde, discussing the width and fat content of your ass. I shifted into the apartment, and there it was, the object of their twenty minute discussion, on display for my perusal." He shrugged. "I thought you might want to know that I disagreed with their assessment. I didn't mean to upset you," he smiled again, "but I won't lie and say I regretted it, or the roll-off-the-bed-and-hide move that followed."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Myra falling on her ass is a hoot. I'm so glad I've managed to entertain you, once again. We'll chalk it up to bad timing, but next time I'm going for my gun."

Riley laughed, "I can't wait."

Smartass. "You can leave my room now so I can shower this crap off of me and get dressed. We could order a pizza and watch a movie."

"Can't. The cell phone belongs to Sebastian's girlfriend. She tends bar downtown, and I want to interview her."

"Okay, get out, I'll shower off real quick and go with you."

The thing about living out in the middle of nowhere is that it's the middle of nowhere. It would take us at least an hour and a half to get to midtown, so I decided that this was the perfect opportunity to talk. I swerved a little as I turned off the radio, having to hold back a smile when Riley grabbed the oh shit bar.

"Pay attention to the road. You're a horrible driver," he said.

"I'm not a bad driver. Look around you. This is how all Atlanta drivers drive- impatient, careless and fast. I'll have you know, I've never had an accident or a speeding ticket."

"That's because you live in a town where you could get somewhere faster by walking than driving the speed limit."

"Why do you care anyway? It's not like you'll die or something, we're indestructible."

"Immortality does not mean indestructible. If you broke your bones they would heal, maybe a little quicker, but the same as before."

"That would explain why my ass still hurts and is black and blue."

"Are you opening up a discussion on your ass?" he asked.

"No. Continue."

"If you developed an incurable disease, such as cancer or heart disease, becoming immortal would not change this, because your body is still functioning as before. However, instead of dying and ending any suffering, your body would eventually produce new cells. Basically, you would outlive the disease."

"So, if I have a stroke tomorrow and I am paralyzed, I would be that way for as long as it took for my body to regenerate and repair the damage?"

"Yes. It really doesn't take that long. Because you are immortal, your cells would reproduce at an accelerated rate."

Thinking of Hades' bets, I asked, "What if I was decapitated?"

"That would take longer. Total regeneration takes a long time. If we had possession of your head though, and attached it by any rudimentary means, it would greatly reduce the regeneration time," he said.

"Why wouldn't you have my head?"

"They make good trophies."

I ignored the trophy comment. "I'm really having issues figuring out what's so great about being immortal. How is it a blessing?"

"Who said it was a blessing? We have contracted ourselves into servitude to a god for eternity. Immortality is only part of a uniform we wear in order to succeed in our obligation."

I switched lanes and went around the Toyota Corolla that apparently didn't know that a speed limit of 55 really meant 75. "Contracted obligation? I didn't sign any contract or agree to any obligation."

Riley let go of the Oh shit bar and leaned back in the seat. "No, you didn't. And maybe you don't actually have to serve Hades, maybe your servitude will be added to my own- I don't know. As I told you, I don't know how I brought your soul back."

"Tell me how it happened."

"When I found you, your body was still warm, but your soul was not present. You will find- if you start escorting souls- that a body most often holds an impression of its death, especially if it is unexpected. Most of the time the impression dissipates, though sometimes, if the death is violent or extreme in any way, the impression lives on."

"Ghost," I said in my best creepy, scary voice.

"I have never seen a ghost," Riley said.

"Yeah, but to you it wouldn't be a ghost, would it?"

"Call it what you will, but it would still be a replay of the body's demise, not a phantom, or spirit, moaning and rattling its chains."

"Fine. Did you see the impression of my death?"

"Yes, I saw how you died. I knew Sebastian had to be responsible. I was angry and ashamed that someone I knew, liked and once respected would take an innocent life. Before I had even completed the thought, I heard the Fates' voices whispering in my head and felt power surge through me.

"As an immortal, I have my own power. I am stronger and quicker than any mortal could be, but this power was more immense than I could have possessed. I assumed it was Hades' power. Within minutes of the return of your soul, Hades summoned me with an acknowledgement to bring you along, taking responsibility for you, something I don't think he would have done if it weren't a necessity. Both actions solidified my assumption that you would spend your immortality in service to Hades.

"I realize you don't have a formal agreement, but I'm not sure if any of the other Assassins made agreements with Hades either. We are, for the most part, a solitary group but even when we are around one another, the way we came into servitude is not discussed."

"I don't like feeling that I have no control of my life," I said.

Riley laughed bitterly. "It's not a feeling, it's reality. All we can do is make the best of it, lie low, serve well and hope that our actions will one day be rewarded."

I exited off the highway.

"The thing is, Riley, I'm not good at lying low, or making the best out of a situation. I've never been obedient, and I can't say I give a shit about pleasing a god like Hades." I stopped at a red light, looking over at Riley. He was the picture of relaxation with his eyes closed, head leaning back. "Do you think you could get me in to see The Fates?"

Riley's jaw clenched. The person behind me honked their horn and I pulled forward through the intersection. We rode in silence for the twenty minutes it took me to navigate downtown Decatur and find a parking space. I turned off the car and turned in my seat to face Riley again. "Well?" I asked.

"I can, but I wouldn't advise it. They are the worst at manipulating and twisting lives for their own benefit, which is usually because they think other people's misery is funny. They despise Hades and would love to have a way to enrage him. I'm positive that's why they chose to interfere in reclaiming your soul. I'm just not sure that's the only reason."

"I want to see them. I'm not that easily manipulated. I think I can handle myself." I can't just sit back and let someone else decide my life.

Riley leaned forward, opening the passenger side door. "I'll see what I can do."

Having spent a better part of my childhood in the backroom of one kind of a bar or another, I could usually tell what to expect on the inside of such an establishment before I walked through the door. One look at the Brick Store Pub, where Amelia Harper worked, and I could tell it was definitely a few steps up from any of the dives my mama worked at. Riley and I opened the weathered wooden door and walked into a darkly rich room of bricked walls, arched shelves filled with various shades of colored glass bottles and tables made of wooden beer casks. The noise of conversations, the clink of glasses and the soft glow of lanterns wrapped me in an instant feeling of familiarity and warmth, making me smile as we settled in at the bar.

A small man, well into his sixties, with silver hair and a handle bar mustache, made his way over to our seats. He was dressed in jeans and dark gray t-shirt with the Brick Store Pub logo on the breast.

"What can I get you this evening?" he asked.

Riley nodded. "Two Guinness. Is Amelia working tonight?"

The bartender gave Riley a quizzical look but answered, "Yeah, she's working the Belgium bar." He pointed to another bar upstairs.

Riley put some money on the bar, grabbed our beers and walked over to and up the steps to the other bar with me trailing along.

"Where did you get money, and why are you always so calm and easy going?" I asked, as we sat down at the other bar.

"I get paid. Most immortals do. To work on earth you need currency. And I've never been the nervous and anxious type, can't see where it serves any purpose," he said, waving the tall blonde bartender over.

"I'll be right with you," she called to us, before handing out beers to a group of guys at the end of the bar.

"What do you do when you're not hunting rogues or soul collecting?" I asked, trying to imagine Riley hanging out at the bar with a group of friends.

"I train," he said, as the young bartender headed our way.

Amelia Harper was tall, blonde and leggy. She had a young round face with pink cheeks and bright blue eyes. As she walked toward us she almost bounced in her enthusiasm, making me think she was one of those fun outgoing types of people that everyone likes. I found myself snarling. Bubbly personalities made my skin crawl.

"I don't trust her," I whispered to Riley, just as she landed in front of us.

"What can I get for you? We have a nice pale ale I usually recommend, or if you're not sure of the particular taste you're after, we offer samples," she said with a pretty smile.

"Are you Amelia Harper?" Riley asked.

"Yep, that's me," she said, still smiling.

"I'm Riley Black, this is my niece Myra. We're relatives of Sebastian Black, and we're wondering if you know anything about where he might be."

Amelia shook her head. "I'm sorry but I think you've got the wrong person. I don't know a Sebastian Black."

"Look, we know he's upset and doesn't want to be bothered but we're worried," I said.

Her smile became strained. "Hey, I'd like to help you out, but seriously, I don't know anybody named Sebastian Black."

Riley said, "Have you ever heard of Morgan Hill Academy?"

She bounced. "Well sure, I've been student teaching there all year. I'm still blown away that I got such a great opportunity."

Curiouser and curiouser. "What department do you teach in?" I asked.

"Classical languages."

"So, you teach Latin, maybe Greek?" I asked.

Before she could answer, Riley leaned forward so his nose was only a few inches from Amelia's smiling face. "Who was the teacher you worked with?"

Amelia's smile widened but her whole body slumped as if she deflated a bit, her eyes became glassy and, though she was still smiling, the rest of her seemed confused.

"I...I... don't remember. Isn't that the funniest thing, I remember going to class, I remember speaking with my adviser, at least the conversations, his instruction... yes it was definitely a man..." She cupped her cheeks in both hands with her fingers pressing on each temple. "I just can't remember who he was, or what he looked like. I don't know why I can't remember." She pulled her hands away from her face, hugging herself, her smile gone and her eyes dark with fear. "I don't feel so good. Would you please excuse me?" she asked.

Without waiting for an answer, she turned away from us and, in a half run, hurried out from behind the bar through a door marked Employees.

I asked Riley, who was still staring at the closed door. "Do you think she was lying and has Sebastian hidden away at her apartment or something?"

"No. I used the power of persuasion on her, someone has taken her memories."

I took a long swig of my beer. "I didn't think someone like Sebastian was capable of something like that. I guess a god could have done it, though?"

"Let's go," Riley said, downing his whole beer in one gulp as he slid off the stool and started for the stairs.

I followed, practically running down the steps and out the heavy wooden door to catch up. I stepped out onto the sidewalk as Riley turned the corner, heading for my car.

He was standing on the driver's side holding his hands out for the keys when I walked up. I didn't even know he could drive, but I guess, like the money, it would be hard to get by on earth without the basics. I tossed him the keys and got into the passenger seat.

After counting to ten, I asked, "Okay, what's up?" Riley started the car and smoothly zipped out onto Church Street. "Speak to me, Riley."

"None of this makes sense. A god could have erased her memory, but not without The Fates or another god finding out. The gods can't just materialize on earth and screw with humans without being held accountable. They have very specific rules of behavior while on earth."

"Are we sure she's Sebastian's girlfriend? I know we found her phone but she could have dropped it anytime she was at the school."

Riley pulled a brand new phone out of his pocket.

"What's this?" I asked, taking it from him.

"Amelia's phone was damaged, so I bought a new phone and switched out the memory cards. Look at the photos, they're how I found her."

I tapped the little camera icon, and the screen filled up with pictures. There were pictures of Amelia behind the bar at Brick's, pictures of Amelia on the beach, pictures of Amelia with a much healthier, sane looking Sebastian- in bed, at the park, at her work, in his classroom, all with the two of them looking infatuated.

"Okay, so if a god didn't mess with Amelia's memories, maybe Sebastian did?"

Riley grimaced. "He shouldn't be able to. But I can't think of any other alternative that makes sense. Someone moved Joshua Collins' body, did a poor job of covering up the mess in Sebastian's office and altered Amelia's memories."

I grabbed Riley's arm as my mind began thinking of the possibilities. "And the memories of anyone at the school that would have heard or seen Joshua's suicide, plus the parents have probably had their brains wiped as well. How else would they be convinced that Joshua committed suicide somewhere other than the school? I wonder what they think actually happened."

Riley pulled onto I-20.

"We'll speak with them tomorrow night at the service and find out. Then, you and I will have to report to Hades on our progress."

"A funeral where we're not invited, much less welcomed, and a trip to the Underworld. Wow, Riley, you sure know how to show a girl a good time."

"I aim to please."

"Well, aim for the nearest pizza place- I'm starving."

### Chapter13: All Bets Are Off

Tuesday was pleasantly boring, no encounters with Bo, Sebastian, Dr. Covey or obnoxious teenagers. I was actually humming when I was stopped on the fourth step up to my apartment by a disapproving Mrs. Crowell.

"I want to let you know that they opened up a Diet Divas. Melanie Brock's running it out of Lydia Pierson's hair salon," she said.

"Great, maybe I'll check it out," I said, already starting up the stairs and secretly smiling because I seemed to be getting off easy today.

"I signed you up for classes. Melanie said she would come by one afternoon this week so she could clean out your cupboards and do your initial fat measurement. I told her you'd want to do something like that in private."

Busybody, decrepit hag. "Well, I'm sure to be looking forward to her visit," I said, gaining another step.

Mrs. Crowell moved along the wall so she could continue to see me. "It's what your mama asked me to do."

I made it to the curve of the staircase, where Mrs. Crowell would no longer be in view. "I'm sure she's real pleased with your efforts," I said, rounding the corner and running up the next set of steps to my apartment.

I could hear Mrs. Crowell's cackle as I shut the door. I shouldn't have run, shouldn't have let her know I was upset, but hell, if I didn't hurry, she'd get on the phone with Lydia Pierson and I'd never get through. I ran into the kitchen, pulled the skinny city directory off the top of the fridge and started frantically searching for Golden Touch, Lydia Pierson's hair salon. I found the number and dialed.

"Golden Touch. How can I help you?" a scratchy voice asked.

"Lydia?"

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"Hey, it's Myra Jane Collier. I'm sorry to bother you, but I need to speak with Melanie. There's been some sort of mistake and Melanie may think I've signed up for her new fitness club."

"There's no mistake. Mrs. Crowell came in this morning for her weekly perm and told us all about your poor mama. You should be ashamed the way your disrespecting her, especially now that's she's God's heavenly messenger. Your weight is the least of your problems. You need to get your butt down to church and start worrying about your eternal soul."

I took a moment to give Mrs. Crowell the finger, though I doubt she saw it through the floor, and then I got mean. "Lydia, I'm going to make this very simple for you. Give Melanie the damn phone or give me a number where she can be reached, or I'm telling whoever will listen that your son, Dillon, made a bong in pottery class and -when asked where he got the idea- said he made it to look just like the one you keep in your closet. I have pictures of it Lydia, and you and I both know that Dillon is so stoned most of the time, he won't even think of denying it." I paused, waiting to see if she'd deny it herself. She didn't. "Now personally, I don't see a problem with you smoking weed, we could all use a little mellowing out now and then, but I doubt all those old biddies in town who frequent your salon will feel the same."

"Bitch," Lydia huskily whispered.

"Damn straight, now put Melanie on the phone."

"You know you're going to hell," Lydia said.

I laughed, "Yep, been there already."

It took a few seconds but, before I could become impatient, I heard, "Yes, this is Melanie."

She sounded falsely upbeat. I'm sure Lydia was standing next to her, foaming at the mouth.

"Hi, Melanie. This is Myra Jane Collier. I wanted to tell you that I am not interested in the Diet Diva's Program or you coming to my home for a consultation, and though you may not know me, just so we're perfectly clear, I have a gun and know how to use it."

"Are you threatening me?" she asked on a gasp.

"Absolutely not. I am just informing you that I own a fire arm and know how to operate the weapon properly. Have a nice day."

"That was stupid," Barty said from behind me.

I'm proud to say that I did not jump in surprise. Apparently, I was getting used to the bastard. "Why, because she knows I have a gun? I had to register it, most of the town already knows, hell I had to sign a liability addendum added to my lease because of it. Not to mention, this is Dempsey, Georgia, and half the town owns a gun, most of them kept on racks in the back of pickup trucks."

"It was stupid because it was your last defense. What else will you use as a threat if they don't back down? It won't take long before those two women work themselves up into a frenzy and go on the offensive, and as you said, most of the town owns guns, so it won't last long as much of a deterrent," Barty explained, leaning against my fridge.

I leaned against my butcher block cart directly across from him and folded my arms across my chest. "Fine, what would you have done?"

"I would have ignored them, and if they became too much to ignore, I'd threaten to sue their asses for forgery and defamation of character. If that didn't work, I'd go and find an aggressive Atlanta lawyer who has an axe to grind against the abuse of civil liberties in rural towns and actually sue them. They can't hold you to a contract that you didn't sign, and they can't harass you at your home, work or even socially and get away with it."

"And if that didn't work?"

He shrugged. "It would have, but if that didn't work, I'd kill them-probably in their sleep."

"Shit, a bit extreme don't you think?" I asked, a little freaked out because he seemed completely serious.

"Worked like a charm for the Celts."

"You mean for you-because you were a Celtic soldier before you became immortal?"

"I was a Uiros Uiramos, a very successful one, and now I am paying for it. Go change, so you can get to work and I can continue my penance."

I did as he asked without further comment. Though Barty looked flamboyant- in his pretty purple jogging shorts and matching spandex shirt, not to mention his ever present annoying pencil mustache- he had a certain edge to his persona, one that said yes, I've done the worst you can imagine and not only was I good at it, I enjoyed it too. So, like I often did with my mama when she reached the mean drunk stage, I backed off and did what I was told.

We worked for over an hour, this time with Barty trying to knock me down and me, with his direction, thwarting his attempts. Barty said the technique was basically Aikido, slowed down for my minuscule brain. I didn't care what he called it. All I know is that by the time Riley showed up and we had to end our training session early to get ready for Joshua's memorial service- I was grinning so wide my face hurt.

Why was I grinning, you may ask. Because, though I landed on my poor battered bum more times than I can count, I managed to deflect Barty's punch and throw him over my hip onto the ground. It was only one time, and he jerked me down next to him and gave me a nasty jab in the ribs for pay back, but it didn't matter. I successfully grounded his ass, and for the tiniest of seconds, he wore a look of surprise.

"So how did it go today?" Riley asked from behind the wheel- again- on our way to the funeral home. He was dressed in gray slacks and a matching gray silk shirt with a charcoal gray tie. I've never been a fan of the monochromatic look, but Riley wore it well, making me hope that Linda Farnsworth wouldn't be in attendance. I'm sure she didn't know the family, but you never know who will show up at a viewing, especially in a small, gossip monger town like Dempsey.

"What did Barty say?" I asked, wondering if he had been honest.

"He said you didn't fall on your butt as many times as he thought you would, and he's worried about losing the betting pool this week."

I pulled on the bottom of my dress- a simple black number, knee length with an empire waist and satin trim on the hem and sleeves. I had purchased it for my mother's funeral-sheesh-almost a year ago. I mentally smacked myself to stop thinking about my mama and thought about what Riley had just said.

"Betting pool? What betting pool?"

He grinned. "As soon as Hades assigned you to compete in the Olympian Trials there was a betting pool. With the actual competition still months away, there have been smaller side bets based on your training."

This was interesting.

"Such as?"

"Such as how many times in a session you'll be thrown on your ass, how often you can get Barty to lose his temper, how many times you succeed in learning a skill-"

"How do they know the results?" There better not be a hidden camera.

"Nothing nefarious like a hidden camera or anything. Barty reports on the training session. He has given an oath to report the truth in exact detail and to do nothing to impede your training for his own benefit."

"Just how many are involved in these pools?"

"Pretty much all of the Underworld, except the souls of course, but in all fairness, I'm not sure if the rest of Olympus knows your identity. I don't think Hades wants them to. The gods don't have to announce who their champion is until the week before the Trials start. That's when the real betting begins."

"You know, I don't even know when the competition is."

"New Year's day."

Seven months. That's a long time... and a lot of bets. "Barty said that Hades would be wagering on my defeat in the Challenge, but I had no idea there was an actual betting pool, involving so many."

Riley parked the car in an empty corner of the funeral home parking lot. He turned off the car, turned in his seat to face me, and waited for my reaction.

I turned in my seat too. "Do you think you could place some bets for me?"

Riley laughed, "Sure, sweetheart."

I smiled, a little embarrassed by the endearment. "Thanks. Now let's go bug these poor people until they kick us out."

### Chapter 14: The Dead, the Deceiver and the Fortunetellers

I've always thought it funny that a town as small as Dempsey, with only enough residents to have one grocery store, two gas stations and one bank, could have five churches, two funeral homes and three cemeteries, not including the little family plots of gravestones that were scattered along the countryside.

Meadow Walk Funeral home, the more upscale of the two funeral homes, was housed in a grand white antebellum with the standard five white columns and balcony overhang. The grounds were immaculate with beautifully trimmed hedges of pink and white azaleas, dogwoods and pear trees that had just begun to bloom, and an assortment of jewel colored pansies that were planted in strategic locations to offer nature's support and good cheer. Overall it was a very picturesque place to visit the dead, even if it was only to see the closed, dark cherry casket with gold trim that Joshua Collins' body was tucked away in.

Riley and I had followed the line of visitors around the room to pay our respects to a boy we'd never met. My thoughts of stupid, lost boy were not exactly respectful but I couldn't help the frustrated feeling of anger that squeezed my heart for the loss of a life not yet lived.

We walked past the casket to where the family, clothed in various shades of black, mourned and graciously accepted condolences. Riley stopped in front of a younger version of the woman we had met on Sunday. She looked up at us, her wide brown eyes shadowed and her small pixie mouth turned down and trembling in despair. Suddenly, I desperately wanted to leave. I did not want to cause this woman more grief with our intrusive questions. I tugged on Riley's sleeve, but it was too late- he had already begun.

"Please accept our condolences, Mrs. Collins. My name is Riley Black." He pulled me closer, from where I was doing my best to hide. "This is my niece, Myra, and we are cousins of Dr. Sebastian Black, Joshua's Latin teacher at Morgan Hill. Sebastian spoke often of your son and, as we were in town to gather Sebastian's belongings, we thought we'd take a moment to pay our respects."

She continued to look up at Riley, her face devoid of everything but her grief.

"We are truly sorry for your loss," I added.

Mr. Collins, a man equally as slight of build as his wife, turned his attention to us. His face was pale, his cheeks sallow and his eyes excessively shiny, compared to the deep dark circles that surrounded them.

"I'm sorry but my wife and I have never heard of a Dr. Black. You must be mistaken, Joshua didn't take Latin."

His wife gave a ghost of a smile, clinging to her husband's arm. "He hated foreign languages, said it was a waste of his time," she said.

"Our mistake, we're so sorry to have taken up your time," I said, nudging Riley to move on.

"That's all right," Mrs. Collins said. "Joshua did love Morgan Hill and I'm sure he knew your cousin in some aspect. He was a very..." she choked on a sob, took a deep breath to calm herself and then, in a whisper, finished her thought, "he was very outgoing."

I nodded my head and pushed Riley forward. We stepped out of the room into the large foyer.

"Are we satisfied? Can we leave now?" I asked, very disgusted with myself.

Riley began to answer, but an arm wrapped around my shoulders, and at the same time, I heard Bo's smooth voice. "Myra and Uncle Riley, what a surprise. What are you doing here?" he asked.

I was already not happy. Bo's arm wrapped possessively around me was not making me any happier. I moved to my left, making a point of removing his arm from my body.

"What do you think we're doing here, Bo? We've come to pay our respects."

He looked concerned. "Did you know Joshua?"

I could feel myself squirming. "No, umm..."

Riley saved me. "I'm buddies with one of Joshua's teachers at Morgan Hill. In fact, one of the reasons I came to town, besides," he put his arm around me, pulling me to his side, "catching up with sweet little Myra, was to hunt my buddy down. Though, when I got here, I heard about the boy, and as bad timing would have it, my friend had already left town. I only felt it proper that I should pay my respects. I'm sure my friend will be devastated that he missed the opportunity to do so. This way, I can ease his mind a bit." He squeezed me tighter to his side. "Of course, I had to drag Myra along with me. She's so much better at these types of social events than I am."

I had a hard time not rolling my eyes. I was so bad at dealing with people that antisocial was listed on my birth certificate, and Bo knew it which was why he was staring at Riley like he had grown horns or something. It also could have been Riley's arm wrapped around me, but either way, I was going to need to diffuse the situation.

I walked out of Riley's hug and took Bo's hand. "Would you like to walk with me to the car? Uncle Riley has bladder issues, so he'll need to hit the restroom before we can go."

Riley chuckled, "Yep, that's me, always needing to find the head. I'll meet you at the car sweetheart," he said, walking off into the line of mourners.

Bo and I walked in silence out onto the lawn and made our way around the house to the parking lot.

"This is not the place I'd wish to run into you, but I'm not sorry I did. You look quite stunning. I don't think I've ever seen you in a dress before."

"This is the only dress I own. I just bought it last summer."

"So somebody got you out of the house on a date. I'll have to meet this guy, discover his secret," he teased.

I wasn't going to tell him why I had bought the dress, but for my benefit, not because I was protecting his feelings. After all, I had no feelings other than irritation for this man. Why did you ask him to walk you to the car then? the annoying voice in my head asked. Because, I wanted to question him, I answered. Then why are you holding hands with him taking the long way through the garden to the parking lot instead of asking your questions? She must be my inner bitch, I thought, growling at her to shut up.

"Did you just growl at me?" Bo asked, letting go of me so he could move his hand to my waist, pulling me closer to his side.

"No, I was just clearing my throat. Did you know Joshua Collins?"

"Yeah, he was on the community football team I coached a few years back. He was a bright kid, really outgoing. I can't imagine the parents' shock to find him like they did."

We had reached my car. Bo let go of me, and I leaned against the passenger door, facing him.

"The parents found him?"

Bo ran his hand through his hair. "They came home from an early dinner out. Joshua was supposed to be at school working on a research project. His mom noticed his bedroom light was on, went in to turn it off, and that's where she found him, on the floor, the gun still practically hanging out of his mouth."

I thought of the blood splattered wall in Sebastian's office and had to squash the urge to gag, squeezing my eyes shut, mentally erasing the image.

Bo pulled me into his arms. "Sorry. So, so, sorry. I didn't mean to be so graphic. I'm just shocked, he had so many good things ahead of him in life."

He wiped the small tears that slipped from my eyes. "Are you alright? Would you like me to take you home? We could pretend it's Friday and watch a movie, some inane musical or something."

I smiled. I couldn't help it. He was such a good guy. I could see Riley's tall figure heading our way.

"Thanks for the offer, Bo, but I can't. I already made plans with Riley. I'm helping him track down his friend, he's really worried about him."

Bo looked disappointed and took a step back, retreating from me. "Okay. Anything I can help you with?"

"No, not that I know of, but I'll let you know if something comes up." He was still looking a little hurt, so I leaned into him and gave him a small peck on the cheek. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

Riley walked up, slapped Bo on the back and then, with a hand shake, ended my conversation with Bo.

As we drove out of the parking lot I found myself watching him in the side mirror, walking away.

"Somebody's got it bad," Riley said.

"I do not, it's just that he's a nice guy."

"I wasn't talking about you, but isn't it interesting that you thought I was?"

"No. Not interesting at all," I snapped. "Are we driving to the Underworld, or can I go home and change first?"

Riley pulled into the Piggly Wiggly parking lot, cutting off the engine and took my hands in his. "No, we are not driving and no you do not have time to go home and change. Hades is waiting."

"Great, grand... wonderful."

We shifted into the hallway outside Carrie's office. I was digging my fingernails into Riley's forearms while waiting for the pain of shifting to subside.

"I hate this," I growled.

"You've said that."

"Right now, I hate you, too."

Riley patted my hand. "It's okay, I won't hold it against you."

I growled again, and the door to Carrie's office swung open. "Honey, you have got to learn to meditate through the shifts, otherwise you're just making it worse for yourself," Carrie said, patting the sweat from my forehead and cheek with her gold lace hanky.

She was wearing a glittery gold mini skirt, purple camisole and sparkly gold stilettos. I looked up at her smiling face and saw she had worked her hair into a bee hive with little gold sticks popping out here and there. They were adorned with gold tassels that shimmied when she spoke.

"Wow. You look spectacular," I said.

Carrie, giving Riley a flirtatious smile, took my arm and escorted me into her office to a chair in front of her desk. She placed two donut sticks and a coffee in front of me and then moved around the desk to the other side where she primly sat down.

"I was feeling a bit nostalgic this morning, but I've been dying to wear my new gold mini." She ran one hand down her hip to her thigh, where the hem of the skirt ended, while the other patted the large pouf that was her hair. "So, this is what I ended up with. Personally, I thought it was beyond divine."

"You remind me of a Hershey's kiss, the ones with almonds," I said

Carrie looked up at Riley as he walked up to her desk. "What do you think Caisus, do I look like a wrapped up piece of candy, with nuts?"

Riley acted oblivious, more concerned with the open door to Hades' chamber. "Yeah, I guess so."

Carrie winked at me, turned her chair towards Riley, crossed her long legs and arched her back. Her large breasts stretched the satiny camisole to its limits. "Would you like a lick?" she asked, in a sultry purr.

I spit out my coffee and Carrie giggled but Riley acted like nothing had happened.

"Is he ready to see us?" he asked.

Carrie rolled her eyes. "Let me go check, he's been brooding all morning."

I watched, fascinated as she sashayed out of the office, giving Riley an extra wiggle when she stepped next to him and through the door.

"Somebody's got it bad," I said.

Riley gave me a look that promised death, but only said, "When we get in there let me do the talking."

"Okay, but I forgot to tell you what Bo said, about where Joshua was found."

"So tell me now," he said.

"Joshua was supposed to be at the school library-"

"Riley, grab the girl, and get your ass in here!" Hades yelled.

I stayed in my seat and, with much effort, ignored the urge to run and hide. The fact that Hades was an asshole, and I had told him so, didn't make him any less scary, nor did it quell my instinct to flee.

Riley started walking through the door just as Carrie stepped back in. She gave me an encouraging smile. "Don't let him bully you, sweetie. I'll be right here if he gets out of hand."

I got up and made myself walk to where Riley was waiting by the door. "Let me handle the talking, you just stand beside me and pretend to be obedient," he said.

I nodded my head and followed him into Hades' lair- though with the walls covered in gauzy hanging fabrics and the floor covered in an assortment of pillows, it was really more like a scene out of Arabian Nights.

I didn't think it was a good idea for Hades to see how afraid I was of him, so as Riley began to speak, I let my mind wander in search of a distraction. It didn't take long. I was tired and surrounded by giant pillows. Like the last time I was here, I desperately wanted to test one of the pillows out. There was a dark blue one that looked especially soft, like I'd sink into the plush fabric and sleep for days.

Maybe I should ask Carrie if she knows where he got them. But where would I put it, just the one pillow would take up most of my living room. I guess I could get rid of the other furniture to accommodate it, but that would be really awkward on Friday nights. Bo would probably like it though. Oh, but what about my orange chair? There is no way I'm getting rid of my orange chair-

Suddenly a black shadow stood in front of me, taking the place of the pillow. Hades' face was only inches from mine when he screamed, "I SAID, DESCRIBE YOUR TRAINING!"

I stepped back because he was too close. I looked into his cold blue eyes, about to say something about his lack of people skills when I saw Riley, over Hades' shoulder, shake his head in warning.

Obviously, I missed something and was caught not paying attention, and just as obvious, Riley wanted me to tone down my normal bitchiness. So instead of being a smart ass, I went with a standard reply. "Sorry," I gave my version of a self-deprecating chuckle and said, "I guess I was day dreaming."

Hades stalked back towards his fat leather floor pillow. "Well, at least she looks halfway presentable this time." He looked at Riley. "Not too bright though, is our Marla?"

"Myra," I corrected, looking down at my black dress, wishing I was wearing flannel pajamas instead.

Hades continued like he didn't hear me, though I knew he did, just like I knew he knew what my name was. Asshole.

Riley, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, started talking as if Hades' little tantrum hadn't occurred.

"It looks as if memories have been modified. The boy, Joshua Collins, died in Sebastian's office, but no one seems to remember it. Sebastian's girlfriend doesn't recall their relationship at all, though I have seen the photos that prove its existence, and the parents of Joshua deny that Joshua took classes from Sebastian, though his school record clearly shows that he did."

Hades waved his hand dismissively, sitting back down. "Why are you telling me this? Have you lost your focus? You're wasting time being concerned with the pitiful mortals Sebastian had the misfortune of getting himself involved with. They are of no consequence to you, nor will they aid you in the hunt for Sebastian."

"If I can find out why Sebastian went astray, it will help me to find him," Riley said.

Hades laughed a dry throaty chuckle. It was not a pleasant sound, and it intimidated me much more than his screaming, moments before. Riley stepped back, and I found myself moving over to stand at his side. Call it the familial bond or just plain friendship, but I was not going to let him stand alone.

Hades continued to laugh, "Riley, Riley, Riley, I know you didn't just contradict me, did you?"

"No. I explained my actions and the reason behind them."

Hades continued as if Riley had not answered, "Because, if you had contradicted me, after over two thousand years of loyal service, I could only assume it would be because our newest recruit has somehow managed to influence you."

"I am not contradicting your counsel or your orders, nor am I in any way attempting to disobey you. I was simply explaining my actions in hopes that I could gain a better footing in the assignment you have given me."

Hades leaned back, spreading his legs out before him, resting his right hand on his crotch. He tilted his head to the side in an almost playful manner.

"Did she spread her thighs for you, Riley? Has it been a long time since you've scratched that itch?" He was rubbing himself and leering at me as he spoke. "Riley my man, she may have an ample figure, if you're into abundance, and the breasts are nice, but that mouth, unless she's highly gifted at using it for things other than talking...," he shook his head. "No, even a fantastic blow job wouldn't be worth it. You and I both know she's not worth the sacrifice."

Riley's hands, still clasped behind his back, were balled into fists. His whole body trembled with anger. If it wasn't for Riley's struggle for control, I would not have taken Hades' insults. I knew he was trying to get a reaction out of Riley, but why? I had no idea, but I wasn't going to make it worse. It would be one thing to defend myself, but another to do so at Riley's expense.

"I am not contradicting your counsel or your orders, nor am I in any way attempting to disobey you. I was simply explaining my actions in hopes that I could gain a better footing in the assignment you have given me," Riley repeated.

Hades stopped rubbing his crotch and sat forward, his elbows on his knees. "That's good Riley, because I'd have to do something about it, and I'd get creative, very, very creative."

Riley nodded.

Hades stood. "Find Sebastian, use the sword to end his disobedience, then you can spend your free time fucking Melba. I want this situation handled. You have seventy two hours, and you better hope Peter doesn't find Sebastian first," he said, before turning his back on us and leaving the room.

Riley grabbed my arm and escorted me back into Carrie's office.

As soon as Riley closed the door that led from Carrie's office into Hades' domain, I exploded. "What the hell was that all about? He insulted you and me and was practically giving himself a hand job while doing so. I'd ask if he got off on belittling people but hell, it was obvious that he does!"

Riley sat in one of Carrie's office chairs. He sat with his body slumped forward, elbows on his knees, head held in his hands. The muscles along his back were tight and strained under his gray dress shirt. I placed my hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort, but at my touch, he jerked from the chair.

"Not now, Myra," he mumbled, and then shifted.

I sat down in the chair Carrie had put me in earlier, stunned. "He just left me. Where the hell did he go?" I felt a tear roll down my cheek. "And why in the hell am I crying? I swear I'm not a crier, and this is the second fucking time I've cried tonight."

Carrie was suddenly in front of me, pulling me up from the chair and wrapping her long muscular arms around me. "Oh honey, it's okay. He'll be back. Riley's a strong alpha male, and he just had to take it in the ass. He probably wanted to put his sword right through Hades' black heart, but what if he had not succeeded? We'd all be rotting in Tartarus, and worse, what if he had been successful? Zeus and the rest of the gods would be seeking retribution.

"He was stuck with nothing to do but take it, and now he's going to have to go let off a little steam-kill something or someone. You can't blame him for not wanting you to tag along. He probably already feels like shit that he couldn't defend your honor. Just give him time, and he'll be back." She loosened her grip, looking down at me. "In the meantime, how about some hot chocolate and a honey bun?"

I nodded my head. "Sure."

She sat me back down and walked around her desk to her little coffee station where she started mixing hot water and powdered chocolate mix.

"You know, if someone really wanted to stick it to Hades, she would have to outsmart him. Use the gods' rules against him. They're all egotistical and conniving, but just like any immortal, if they swear an oath they are bound by it." She set my cup of hot chocolate down in front of me. "I'm just saying, if I wanted to get past Hades' commands, I'd start researching the gods' oaths and laws. After all, like I said, they have to abide by them too."

She handed me two plastic wrapped honey buns and sat down across from me.

"So where would one look for such information?" I asked.

"Oh, baby doll, Google it, of course."

Two honey buns, a cup of coffee to follow the hot chocolate and a sweet ice tea later, I was pleasantly full. Well, truth be told, I was bloated and miserable, but Carrie kept putting the stuff in front of me and I didn't want to offend her. Who knows the proper etiquette in refusing hospitality from a three headed dog, in the body of a man, dressed like a woman? Do I pat her head and say no, tell her enough is enough, or say a demur, no thank you with a comment about ruining my figure? Finally, because I was truly curious, and she had just put a slice of pound cake -her Aunt Hera's recipe- in front of me, I asked.

She laughed. "You're so silly. I'm neither a dog, a man nor a woman, I'm all three. Just say, 'Carrie stop shoving food and coffee at me, I'm full'. Don't make it complicated. Besides, I don't get offended if the intention is clearly not to offend."

Carrie offered to shift me home but, wanting to wait for Riley, I declined, so we were busy discussing Carrie's latest boy toy -an apparently extremely limber farmer from Wisconsin- when Carrie looked up past me and, with a roll of her eyes and an exasperated sigh, whispered, "Incoming, mini divas."

I turned around in my seat and watched as three teenage girls walked through Carrie's door. The tallest, and the obvious leader of the group, fanned her waist length, corn silk hair over her shoulder as she lissomely floated into the room. Her arms were held at graceful angles away from her body, her hands delicately posed. When she walked, each step was measured, her toes pointed forward, like a ballerina stepping onto the stage. She was wearing black flats, black skinny jeans and a pink top with a black shrug pulled over her shoulders, though I could easily imagine her in a tulle skirt and toe shoes. Her pale translucent skin, large green eyes and pink, bow shaped mouth only added to the image.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Lolly, Candy and Pop?" Carrie asked.

Putting one hand on her hip, the diva ballerina struck a pose. "Poppy," she said.

Carrie grinned wide, showing tiny canines. "So sorry dear, Pop goes so well with the others," she said, not sounding sorry at all.

"It is the name she asked us to call her at first, but she didn't like some of the innuendos that went with it," snickered the second girl, who, down to her clothes, was a clone of Poppy. Well, almost. She was not as tall, her long blond hair not nearly as shiny, and her bow shaped mouth, though just as full and painted the same shade of pink, turned down on one side, giving her a permanent sneer. Even her large green eyes, identical to Poppy's, seemed too big on her thinner, sharper angled face. It was like she was the prototype to the other girl's perfection.

Talk about living in someone's shadow. Personally, I'd have done everything in my power to look different which I supposed was exactly what the third girl had done. Her hair was dyed black and cut in a choppy, chin length bob. Her large green eyes were circled in kohl and long spidery eyelashes, matching her black painted and pierced lips that along with her eyes, worked in exact contrast to her white powdered complexion.

She also wore dark, skin tight jeans and a pink top with black shrug. But she had accessorized with battered combat boots and a belt made of a tarnished silver chain that jangled with various sized shears- archaic and modern- hanging from the links.

"Aren't you going to introduce us, Cousin Carrie?" Poppy asked.

Carrie smiled. "Of course. Girls, this is Myra Collier-"

"Hades' newest Assassin and champion for the upcoming Olympian Trials," Poppy said, in a bored unimpressed voice.

"Friend and confidant to the barbarian, Caisus Black," Poppy's mini me squealed, jumping up and down.

"Unwilling student to the Celtic warrior, Barbatus Black, and daughter of Ronnie Lynn Collier," the third girl solemnly added.

"And recipient of a very interesting, undecided and unclear future," they all said, unnervingly, at the same time.

Carrie sighed. "Myra, meet The Fates."

### Chapter15: Spindle, Lots and Cutter

I stood up and walked around my chair to greet The Fates. "I wanted to meet with you," I said.

"We know," snickered Poppy's mini me. "I'm Lolly, that's Candy," she said, pointing to herself and then to the dark haired girl standing beside her. "And, I guess you know," she poked Poppy in the stomach. "This is Pop."

"Poppy," she said as she casually wrapped Lolly's hair around her hand and pulled until the smaller girl had tears in her eyes.

"You are such a bitch, let go!" Lolly screeched.

Candy laughed.

I took a small step forward wanting to pull Lolly's hair free. Poppy, still holding Lolly's hair entangled around her fist, looked at me and smiled. It was an evil smile, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it sent chills down my spine. Luckily, I was used to high school girls. I folded my arms across my chest, acted unaffected and smiled back.

"So, what did you girls want to see me about?" I asked.

Poppy gave me an assessing look from my head to my toes. "Mainly, we just wanted to see what you looked like, in person."

Lolly, who was pulling at Poppy's arm, trying to wrench her hair out of her sister's clutches, stopped her efforts long enough to turn to me and add, "We had hoped for better."

The sound of scraping metal caught my attention, and I turned to see Candy unhook a large pair of rusty shears from a link of the chain circling her waist.

"Yes, we might have been too eager in our assessment," she said, snapping the jagged blades, opening and closing them over and over again, very close to Poppy's hand, where Lolly's hair was gathered.

"Please," Lolly whined, tears flowing rapidly down her cheeks.

Poppy slid a finger across Lolly's cheek, catching several tears. Her beautiful ethereal face wrinkled, as if in thought. Then, with a tiny shrug of her delicate shoulders, she let go of Lolly's hair and Candy backed off.

I think I breathed a bigger sigh of relief than Lolly did. Not very bad ass of me I know, but it seemed like more was at stake than just long blonde hair. Candy continued to open and close the scissors, the sound of the metal blades sliding across one another, the final clink of them snapping shut, shredding my nerves.

I quietly took a deep breath to regain some control, at least of myself, if not the situation. Though the Fates' actions seemed juvenile, typical sibling behavior, the tension felt thick and strangling.

Lolly ran her fingers through her hair, working out the tangles. She seemed almost cheery as she turned her tear stained face towards me and smiled. It wasn't as evil as when Poppy flashed me her pearly whites, but I still got the point as she walked the few steps to stand in front me.

"Give me your hand," she said.

I folded my arms across my chest. "No."

She smiled again. I think she was going for sweet, but it was more of a grimace. "Please, I want to show you something."

I hesitated, which made her pout. She looked like one of my students, just a kid, which I guess was why I finally held out my hand. She held it flat, palm parallel to the floor, spreading my fingers wide apart. I had a tremendous urge to change my mind and snatch my hand back, but I was more than a little curious to see what she would do. Besides, it would do me no good to let on how much they were freaking me out.

Poppy and Candy walked up to stand on either side of me. Poppy took over, holding my hand out while Lolly pulled a small wooden spindle, wrapped with coarse black string, out of her pocket. She unwound the string a little and, starting at my thumb, began winding the string around each finger, sometimes wrapping the entire finger before she went on to the next.

"Lots of twists and turns in mortal lives," she said, wrapping my middle finger to the nail bed and back down again. "Some make humanity stagnant and un-moving," she went on wrapping two wide loops around my ring finger. "Some are quick and..." she pulled the string tight so it burned into my skin, "painful, but allow humanity to move and grow."

She moved onto my pinky and began to wrap my wrist. "It is all the same, but different, and each life is tethered at the beginning and continues until it is cut and brought to an end," she said, wrapping one last loop around my wrist before unraveling the string out about a foot from my hand.

Candy snapped her shears once by my ear, before moving them down the string, stopping about an inch from Lolly's fingers. She opened the blades so the string pulled tight against the inside of the bottom blade. I gasped, not wanting the string to be cut. Candy turned at the sound, giving me a wink and smug grin.

"Myra, pay attention," Lolly snapped. "After the thread of life is cut, the soul continues on to the Underworld, where it is caught, judged, and directed until it is tethered once again."

"We have given you a gift beyond the normal mortal life," Poppy whispered in my left ear.

I really wanted to swat her, but my right hand was being extended in front of me by Lolly's string, and though I could probably manage at least an elbow to Poppy's ribs, I was scared my movement would pull the black string against the blade of Candy's shears. I didn't know why, but I desperately didn't want that string cut, so I opted for clenching my jaw and calling her foul names in my head.

"We have seen your beginning and end," Poppy said. "And we have already risked father's punishment by interfering and gifting you immortal life."

They were scaring the shit out of me, which in turn pissed me off.

"Look, I didn't ask for your interference in my life. I'm certainly not thrilled with my present predicament as Hades' newest boot licker, which, by the way, scares me a hell of lot more than the three of you. So, whether the goal of this little demonstration was to incite my gratitude or scare me, you're wasting your efforts. Immortality didn't even make my boobs perkier, I'd rather have continued the trip Sebastian booked me on, drank from the River of Forget Me Not, and be floating around in the Field of Asphodel without a care in the world."

"It's called the River of Lethe," Poppy hissed while Lolly jerked my arm, tugging the string she was still holding out for Candy to cut.

I couldn't help tensing as the string rubbed against the blade. I looked over at Lolly, who was glaring at me.

"You expect us to believe you would prefer a gray world of nothing, to immortality?" Poppy sneered in my ear.

I thought about my day so far: I had endured an encounter with Mrs. Crowell, a work out with Barty and crashing a young boy's funeral before I had the delightful experience of watching the God of the Underworld jack-off while insulting me and berating Riley to the point that he left me. All so I could enjoy the novelty of being fucked with by three pubescent gods who liked to hear themselves talk. I could definitely do without immortality.

I turned away from the sight of Lolly, Candy and the string, and looked into Poppy's cool green eyes.

"If you bothered to really look at my life you'd have no problem believing that I'd choose an afterlife of oblivion." I tried to make my voice sound hard and edgy, but it came out hollow and tired.

I was still doing my best to stare down Poppy when I heard Candy's shears snap, a second before I felt a burning heat where she had moved the blade against my hand, cutting the string and slicing diagonally across the inside of my wrist.

I watched blood gather and drip into the string still coiled around my hand and fingers. I looked up. Candy was holding the long piece of black string that Lolly had previously stretched out. She stepped forward, grabbing my wrist and holding it up for me to see.

"You could have always opted for a way out, you thought about it enough. You were so close that one time," she said, sliding her thumb across the cut. It stung and there was a lot of blood, but I ignored it.

She was referring to when I was fourteen and I had stolen a pocket knife from one of my mama's boyfriends. I locked myself and my morose thoughts in the bathroom, only to be interrupted by my mama's screams, when she and the boyfriend had both reached the mean side of drunk.

Looking back on it, I realized it was probably a close call. Even now, my chest ached at the remembered feelings of hopelessness.

She was a bitch to pull forward a memory I had successfully buried and forgotten long ago, but I wasn't going to be baited into defending the desperate thoughts of my adolescence or whining about the shitiness of my life. I told Riley I could handle them, and I would. So, I plastered a smile on my face and said, "I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about."

Candy didn't react to my comment, other than smiling as she released my hand and allowed Lolly to step forward with another spindle. This one was gold with a matching wide gold ribbon twined around it. She unwound several arm lengths of the ribbon, smiling at me, a real smile, when she held out the end for Candy to cut. Holding up a pair of small, shiny gold scissors, Candy cut the ribbon.

Lolly then folded the ribbon over the frayed ends of the black string Candy's shears had sliced. Covering the ugly red slash across my wrist first, she moved on to wrap my hand and fingers until the black no longer showed. Finished, she took the last foot of ribbon and held it up for me to take, but I ignored it.

Lolly said, "We easily see the past and watch your kind root about in the same predictable paths their ancestors carved out thousands of years before."

Her words sounded rehearsed, and I tried to think back on their other ramblings. Were they also rehearsed? Were they screwing with me for the hell of it, or was this whole thing some bizarre object lesson?

Poppy took my other hand, forcing it near the ribbon Lolly was holding up for me to take. "The present, which should be a wondrous chaos of changing lives, emotions and events, has become dull and easily predictable."

Candy turned the tiny gold scissors around, offering me the handle. "The future should be unknown with lives shifting like a violent storm of our father's making, but we only see a placid existence for your kind and a tragic one for ours."

Poppy began to squeeze my hand to the point that it became painfully apparent she wasn't going to stop until I did what she wanted. I didn't want to fight, especially since they'd probably kick my ass, so I took the damn ribbon end that Lolly was shoving in my face and tucked it into one of the folds across my hand. Candy waved the scissors in my face and I snatched them from her. She smiled. They all smiled, stepping back away from me.

Poppy said, "We have given you a gift. Immortality was just the wrapping."

Lolly laughed, "Do your worst, Myra Jane Collier."

Candy grinned. "And do it fast."

Then they shifted, only a faint whisper of, "Farewell cousin, Carrie", lingering in the room.

I turned to Carrie, who until The Fates' last words, I had completely forgotten about. "What in the hell was that all about?" I asked her.

Carrie stared blankly at me for a second and then reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a box of Godiva dark chocolate truffles. She opened the lid and held up the box. "I'm not sure what they were trying to accomplish, but anytime the Fates start interfering with your life, it's not good. To put it plainly-you're fucked."

I sat down, set the scissors on Carrie's desk and reached for the chocolates, only to realize I had the ridiculous string still wrapped around my hand. I unwound the gold ribbon and then the black string, laying both strands and the scissors on the corner of Carrie's desk.

Carrie picked up the gold ribbon. "I know Candy cut the ribbon, I saw her do it, but look." She held up the gold ribbon for me to inspect. "Both ends of this are sewn with a tiny gold trim."

I stuffed a truffle into my mouth. "I didn't understand any of it."

"The Fates, like most of the children of mythology, have taken aliases." She popped a truffle into her mouth, savoring for a few seconds before she continued. "The Fates actually have several names, but it's the original ones that are important: Lakhesis, the Measurer, Klotho, the Spinner, and Atropus, the Unturned, or as I like to call her, the Cutter. These are their names and their jobs.

"I didn't understand entirely what they were alluding to, but they made it pretty clear that they gifted you with more than immortality. Whatever they did for you, to you, they expect you to use it to relieve their boredom. The problem is, the Fates aren't entertained easily, it would take a huge chaos filled event to amuse those three which means all of Olympus and Zeus would notice, too."

I sank down in my chair. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Carrie leaned over the desk and shoved a truffle into my mouth. "Eat the chocolate and listen. This doesn't have to be bad. You just need to find out what they're up to and beat them at their own game. Like I suggested with Hades, figure out the rules, and use it against them."

We finished the box of truffles in silence. I twisted the gold ribbon in my hands while futilely trying to decipher the Fates' cryptic words.

Carrie handed me a glass of water.

"I thought they were supposed to be ugly old hags," I said.

Carrie chuckled. "It was a gift from Aunt Hera. She's a cunning bitch, do your best not to ever piss her off," she said, taking a sip of her coffee. "Hera decided that since the Fates' job was to keep a close watch over the progress of humanity, from its infancy to its death, they too should progress as if time held dominion over them- from infancy to death, being reborn and starting over again and again, but remembering all of their own experiences and the memories of all the lives they watch over."

"That's some gift, no wonder they're insane," I said.

"Hera claimed to Zeus that it was to instill compassion and empathy in his daughters so they could better serve mankind." Carrie gave me a conspiratorial look. "Personally, I think Hera just likes to screw with them the same way they screw with everyone else, and at the same time, it was a roundabout way to stick it to Eileithyia, who has to take care of the brats while in their infancy."

"Eileithyia?"

"Goddess of childbirth, Hera's not so favored daughter." She waved her hand. "Anyway, the point is, don't ever accept any gifts from a god or goddess."

I grimaced. "Now you tell me."

Carrie giggled. "I guess that was ill timed advice, sorry."

"The truth is, I didn't actually accept the gift, they just gave it, whatever it is."

"You know, that might be a good place to start. It's possible you could refuse their gift and reverse their meddling. Though, you'd be dead and, unfortunately, you can't reverse Hades' knowledge of your existence. He makes the Fates look like the children they appear to be when it comes to appeasing his boredom."

"You're making me depressed," I griped.

Carrie winced.

I felt bad, she was only trying to help. "So what do you think the different strings and all meant?" I asked, trying to sound more upbeat.

"I don't know. Usually, when you speak of Lolly and a spindle, it's in reference to the Spindle of Life which is not made of wood or small enough to be held in the palm of your hand. They were definitely trying to tell you something."

"I wish they would've skipped the drama and just told me."

"Don't wish that," Riley said from behind me. "They only tell you the answers when there's no hope left."

I jumped out of my chair and crashed into Riley's chest. I wrapped both arms around him and squeezed as tight as I could. Riley patted my back, and suddenly I felt a flash of embarrassment burn across my face over my impulsive show of affection. I started to pull away, but Riley tightened his arms and hugged me back.

"I'm sorry, Myra. I..."

I squeezed harder. "Don't you dare apologize Riley Black. Let's just go home. We can plan our next move over pizza or something and forget this whole day even happened."

Riley nodded, and after telling Carrie -me with a hug, Riley with a head nod- goodbye, we shifted home. I dealt with the pain of shifting as quietly as I could and went into the bathroom to take a bath while Riley jogged the two miles back to the Piggly Wiggly to pick up my car.

As I sat in a tub of steaming water, I thought about my suggestion to Riley that we forget the day's events. I truly hoped Riley could do so, but I realized I had no desire to bury anything that happened to me today.

I wanted to remember the quiver in Melanie Brock's voice when I told her I owned a gun. I wanted to relish the look of surprise on Barty's face when I threw him to the ground. I didn't want to forget the anguish Joshua's mother must have felt knowing she'd never see her son again, and yes, I even wanted to hold on to the small feeling of pleasure that came from Bo and I walking hand in hand. Most of all, I refused to forget even one of the cruel words Hades used to hurt and demean Riley today.

Some things shouldn't be forgotten or hidden away. They should be used as fuel, put into a tinder box to burn and rage until they emerge as the cold calculating beast of revenge.

### Chapter 16: Hell of a Kiss

When Riley got back, we didn't actually eat pizza, and we didn't discuss a new plan for catching Sebastian. Instead, we ate hot dogs smothered in chili while watching Rudy Ruettiger doggedly pursue his dream of playing football for Notre Dame.

By the time the movie was over, I crawled into bed feeling battered and bruised. My strung out emotions had left me with the raw and empty feeling of a long, ugly cry, and my body ached, every joint and muscle making their presence known.

I had meant to offer encouragement to Riley- say something wise and noteworthy. Of course, wise and noteworthy weren't exactly my thing, and other than, Hades is an asshole, which seemed a bit redundant, my brain was empty. I closed my eyes with the idea of formulating my thoughts into a well said statement of support, but with eyes closed, my mind remained blank, and I fell into the numbing bliss of sleep.

I woke up, and though it was still dark, I could tell by the quiet of the night that it was only hours before sunrise. I spent several frustrating minutes fluffing my pillow and changing positions in an attempt to go back to sleep. When I realized it was a futile effort, I leaned over the side of the bed to see if Riley was awake and was not surprised to see the floor empty.

He must have already started his search for Sebastian. I was disappointed- between our exhaustion, messy hot dogs and the movie, we had barely exchanged ten words last night. I had hoped we could talk this morning. Not that there was a whole hell of a lot to say, Riley had three days to find Sebastian, and of course, Hades was an asshole.

I sat up and leaned my back against the headboard, my pillow held securely in my lap. Staring into the gray darkness of my room, I wondered where Riley would have begun his hunt.

We still didn't know what happened to Joshua or who moved his body, ransacked Sebastian's office and wiped and rearranged the minds of Joshua's parents, Sebastian's girlfriend Amelia, and most of the staff of Morgan Hill.

The logical choice was Sebastian. Joshua killed himself in Sebastian's office, he was one of Sebastian's prized pupils, and Sebastian went nutso within the same time frame as Joshua's death. Sebastian could have ransacked his own office, hidden the evidence of Joshua's suicide and moved Joshua's body, but did he wipe all those memories?

Riley said it wasn't possible for Sebastian to have done it. He had the power of misdirection and, most likely, the power of persuasion, but neither was enough to permanently change a person's memory.

A god could have done it, but not without the other gods finding out. The gods had rules too and, though they may have the capacity to break them, the other gods, including deities of other beliefs, would know and not be pleased.

Thinking of other deities, I wondered just how much Peter of the Pearly Gates knew of the events surrounding Sebastian going rogue. Why was Peter on the hunt anyway? What did Sebastian taking my soul, one held in Greek belief, have to do with the Christians' gate keeper?

Not for the first time, I had to wonder if Sebastian did something before he showed up at my door. Why else would Peter be hot on his trail and Hades have already pronounced him Rogue?

I liked the idea that Sebastian had done something unspeakable before he killed me. It would certainly be a valid reason for Joshua's parents, Amelia and the staff at Morgan Hill to have their memories erased. They were probably all witnesses to whatever atrocity Sebastian had committed.

It would actually be a great theory, except Sebastian supposedly didn't have the power to erase memories. But what if he did? Hell, maybe the erasing of those memories was the unspeakable act Sebastian had committed? But then, the question of why he needed the memories erased was still left unanswered.

Damn, Scooby and the gang always made it look so easy.

***

I had just locked up my classroom and was walking to my car, thinking about the fact that my day had actually turned out much better than it had started. The seniors were all done for the year except for graduation, my two drawing classes had just finished their self-portrait's, which counted as their final exams, and when I opened my kiln from the last firing of the year, I discovered not even one of the pots from my pottery class had exploded or cracked. It had been a fun, active day, and the sight of Bo leaning on my car at the end of it didn't bother me one bit.

"Hello, Ms. Collier," he said with a slow smile that made my insides tingle and tighten.

"Hi, yourself," I said, walking up to stand in front of him.

Bo pulled a strand of hair out of my eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. You?"

"I feel fine. But you know what would make me feel even better?" he asked.

I shook my head.

He reached out and pulled me forward so I stood in between his outstretched legs, wrapping his arms around me, pulling my body against his. Strangely enough, I had no inclination to stop him, and I absolutely refused to think about why that was, or what it meant. I was just going to enjoy the warmth of his chest as I rested my head against it, and the feel of his legs around mine. I felt petite and delicate and warm. Very, very warm.

"God this feels good. I swear I've been waiting and wanting just this simple embrace for so long." His laugh felt deep and gravelly with my ear pressed against his chest. "Kids are staring at us and I know I should-but I really don't think I can- let you go." His voice became quieter, more serious, "I really don't want to let you go."

I looked up at him. He was smiling down at me. It wasn't the charming smile he always wore- it was a fiercer, unpracticed smile. His eyes were soft and maybe a little sad. He looked vulnerable.

At that very moment I desperately wanted to crawl on top of him, rip his clothes off and get as close to his body, his heart, his soul, as possible. It scared the crap out of me. Holy fucking hell, what is wrong with me?

"P.D.A. Coach Kelley," someone in a group of students yelled from behind us.

I breathed a silent thank you to the kid and stepped back out of Bo's arms. Bo gave me a small smile and opened my car door. I quickly got in, and would have just as quickly shut the driver's side door, but Bo stopped me. He leaned down and kissed me. It was a scorching kiss that made my poor neglected vagina rejoice as the rest of my body melted into a creature of pure want.

Bo finally ended the kiss. Of course, I had practically pulled him into the car on top of me.

He gave me a chaste peck on my cheek. "I'm letting you go, but we both know this is only temporary." He kissed me again, this time on the lips, not quite the kiss of a few minutes before, which only left me wanting more.

"You need to make sure your uncle is off doing something Friday night or I'll be kidnapping you and taking you to my house. One way or another, we're going to finish what we started last Friday," he whispered intently.

Before I could respond-I'm not sure I could have-he shut my car door and walked away.

I sat there watching him, admiring his slow confident gait, broad shoulders and impressive ass. An ass that starred in an equally impressive daydream that I was still enjoying, who knows how long after Bo had already climbed into his shiny gunmetal gray Shelby and driven away.

A knock on my window pulled me out of my reverie. I looked up, and Sebastian Black's face was pressed against my driver side window.

"Hello, pretty."

I opened my mouth to scream, and a hoarse, choked, garbled sound came out. Apparently my vocal chords stopped working when I was scared shitless. I reached for the ignition and realized I didn't have any keys in my hand. Sebastian started lightly drumming his fingers on the window.

"Myra, darling," he crooned.

I ignored him, grabbing my bag off the floor where I- or Bo, who the hell knows-had put it. I started digging through the bag, at the same time looking out the passenger window at the students going by. I briefly wondered why none of them seemed to notice the creepy guy leaning against my window. Then I remembered Hades' power of persuasion and misdirection. I would not receive any help from the students.

I dumped out the contents of my school bag. Sebastian started tapping on the window.

I moved the books, papers and my wallet out of the way, tossed my cell phone aside too, thinking even if Riley owned a cell phone I didn't have his number. I looked at the pile of receipts, hair clips, pens and other crap that found a home in the depths of my bag, but did not find my keys.

The tapping on my window changed from a light finger tap to a metal clink. I turned around and was met with Sebastian's smiling face and my car keys, clutched in his hand, as he used them to lightly tap, tap, tap on the window.

"Must have been one hell of a kiss. Neither one of you noticed your keys hitting the ground," he commented pleasantly, as he pushed the key with the black grip into the door lock and tried to unlock it.

But the key didn't turn and the lock didn't tumble, thank the gods!

My car had an ignition key and a door key, and because I had locked my keys in my car one too many times, I kept them on separate key chains. Of course, I lost the key to the doors months ago but that really wasn't important at this time.

"Come on, Myra, open the door. You're not going anywhere, and as soon as this parking lot clears of all these children, I'll just break the glass and pull you out anyway. Let's save us some time, unlock the door."

I reached over and opened the glove box, pulling out a flathead screw driver and wire cutters. I jammed the screw driver into the ignition and tried to turn the car on. It didn't work.

"Myra, pretty, you're panicking. Don't be scared love. This is what The Fates destined you for- to serve me."

"Fuck you!" I yelled, yanking the screw driver out and jamming it into the plastic casing around the ignition until the plastic gave. I pulled the plastic apart and off of the steering wheel column, quickly pulling out the wires. I cut the red ones, stripping their coating and twisting them together. Sebastian started pulling on the door handle.

"I could easily break the glass, or just shift into the car," he said.

I ignored him. Cutting the brown wires, and trying my best to control my shaking hands, I touched the two ends together, exhaling the breath I'd been holding when my little Festiva purred to life. I didn't even look to see Sebastian's reaction. I did not want to stall out, so all my concentration went to putting the car in first and getting away. As far as I could tell, that was exactly what I was doing.

I drove out of the school parking lot, grabbing the screw driver before I shifted from second to third, it was the only weapon I had if Sebastian shifted into the car. After a few seconds, I relaxed, figuring it wasn't possible to shift into a moving vehicle.

I took the next corner but had to slam on the brakes, fishtailing into a one eighty, when a body shifted into the passenger seat beside me.

Barty knocked the screwdriver out of my hand and pushed down on my leg to keep the engine from dying, while he screamed, "Go back! You fool! Riley will be here any minute!"

So much for my theory about shifting into a moving vehicle. "Why the hell would I go back?" I yelled.

Barty rolled his eyes. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because we're trying to catch the bastard?"

I didn't want to go back, but I didn't want to hurt Riley's chances of catching Sebastian either, so I took a deep breath and made my way back to the school parking lot. Riley was pacing in the parking space where my car had been.

"You lost him," Barty said, practically jumping out of the car before I came to a stop. Riley ignored Barty. Looking at me, he asked, "Are you okay?"

I had to think about it for a minute. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Of course, she's okay. She ran and fucked up our capture."

"What was I supposed to do, let him kill me?"

"You're immortal, you idiot, he couldn't have killed you. Even if you were mortal, you were in no danger of injury. He was still playing with you."

"How do you know how close I was to injury?"

Barty put his hands on his hips. "Because I was standing two cars over watching. I watched you slobber all over the football coach, dropping your keys. I watched you get into your car. I watched Sebastian walk up and tap on your window and I watched you panic like some clichéd teen age slut in a bad horror flick."

"I've been immortal less than a week, you jackass! So please, excuse me when the crazed maniac, who murdered me four days ago, shows up and I forget I can't die, and do my damndest to get away!"

"You sound so proud of yourself. Why, if tuck-tail-and-run is one of the tests in the Trials I should just consider my tutelage complete," he sneered.

I stepped closer, wanting so bad to slap the look of disgust off his face.

"Speaking of tuck tail, why, if you were right there only two cars over watching my every move, didn't you capture Sebastian? You are, after all, the Trainer Extraordinaire, the self-acclaimed bad ass Celtic Warrior, or are you only good enough to throw around girls."

Barty stepped forward, so only inches separated us. "It was not my capture," he said, through gritted teeth. "I have sworn an oath to follow Hades' command, which also means honoring the commands he gives others. I was already pushing my oath by helping Riley watch over you, as it was. Do not ever question my honor, bravery or reputation again." He smiled maniacally. "It isn't pleasant to regrow a spleen."

I desperately wanted to kick him but I'd have ended up on my ass, or worse. Even knowing this, I was so pissed, I was still considering it. If I could get in one good kick to his knee, it'd be worth it.

Riley must have read my intention because he pulled me away from Barty before I could act. "You two are squabbling so loudly that kids are starting to pay attention. Barty, I will see Myra home. Are you willing to delay your lesson half an hour or so?"

"I don't see a need for a lesson today. Myra has shown such fortitude, I think she can have the day off," he snapped.

I stuck my tongue out, but he had already disappeared.

"I hate him," I said, walking back to the car.

Riley walked beside me, smoothly steering me toward the passenger side.

"I think the feeling is mutual," he said, before he shut my door.

The contents of my school bag was scattered all over the floor. I found my wallet, phone and hair clips, plus a few pens and pencils and shoved them into my bag. Everything else, I tossed onto the back seat or left it where it was.

Riley was trying to snap the plastic box hanging from the steering wheel back together.

"You can just pull it the rest of the way off," I said, picking up the screw driver and wire cutters, forcing them into the glove box.

With a loud pop, Riley tore the rest of the plastic off the steering column. "Where did you learn how to hot wire a car?" he asked, pressing the brown wire to the already connected red ones.

"My mama. She had an affinity for cars, almost as much as she had for men."

"It's a useful skill. Was your mother a car thief?"

"No. She just didn't like the tendency her boyfriends had to want their cars back after she had moved on to someone new. So she would borrow their vehicles sometimes, go on a wild ride, move us to another town, whatever she felt like."

We had been caught by Dempsey's only traffic light. Riley was silent for a moment, then he said, "My mother's throat was slit when I was four."

I turned to look out the window. I didn't know what to say. The hum of the Festiva's engine seemed loud in the silence, and I wished for the light to change. Finally, I felt so uncomfortable that I turned back to Riley, about to offer a sympathetic reply, when I realized he wore the same hardened, tired expression that I evoked when anyone offered sympathetic drivel after finding out about my childhood.

The problem for me had always been that, no matter what a person said, no matter how eloquent or sincere, it couldn't come close to meaning anything to me because unless you lived with the experience of my mother raising you, you couldn't possibly understand the complexity of my relationship with her. Sympathy was really the most inappropriate response of all. So I said, "Well hell, I guess she didn't do much car stealing then, did she?"

Riley smiled. The light turned green, and the Festiva's engine gave a tiny growl as Riley gassed it through the intersection.

"No, she never took to thievery, though she would have been impressed with the skill your mother taught you."

"Thanks. I'm sorry I screwed up and lost Sebastian before you could get there."

Riley pulled the car into my driveway. "I couldn't have taken him from the parking lot. I would have had to use my sword. We would have battled, and the power of misdirection and persuasion combined wouldn't have been enough to keep the students from noticing."

We walked up the front steps, and Riley held the screen door open for me.

"Still, you could have followed him," I said.

Riley shook his head. "I doubt it. Though I wondered why-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence because Mrs. Crowell had come out of her apartment. She stood in front of us, wearing a purple and orange Hawaiian shirt with matching purple polyester shorts, that not only perfectly matched the bright flowers in the shirt, but also her purple canvas slip-ons.

"Who are you?" she asked, pointing at Riley.

"Mrs. Crowell, this is my uncle on my daddy's side. He-"

"I didn't ask you, Myra Jane. I asked him," she shrieked, putting one of her gnarled talons in Riley's face.

Riley took her hand in his and kissed the top of it. I had to turn away so she wouldn't see me gag.

"Mrs. Crowell, it is such a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I do hope you will accept my apology for not properly introducing myself when I first arrived in town. I'm afraid I have been so busy trying to locate an old acquaintance of mine and catching up with my dear niece that my manners have left me." He said all of this with a southern accent used only by politicians and the old moneyed families of the south.

"That's quite alright, dear," she said in a sugary, almost sweet voice.

"No ma'am, it is not. My mama would have had me over her knee with a wicked briar to my backside if she was still alive today."

"Oh, I'm sure she would understand," Mrs. Crowell said with what I guess was supposed to be a flirtatious laugh.

"No ma'am, honestly, I was raised better. I was going to correct my error yesterday when I saw you in Mrs. Farnsworth's establishment, but you were both in such an animated conversation, I did not want to appear rude."

Yeah, I'm sure they were quite animated discussing my ass.

Mrs. Crowell beamed. "Oh, that's alright. Don't you fret about it. I shouldn't have been so fierce moments ago but, you know, I'm like a mother bird protecting her chicks from the wilds of the world, and Myra is so very young and careless."

"Don't harpies eat their young?" I mumbled.

Riley turned to me. "Why don't you go ahead upstairs, Myra, I'll be along in a moment."

At first, I wanted to balk at his dismissal, but after only a second, I hurried up the stairs, thankful for any reprieve from the old hag.

About twenty minutes later, having already changed into cut offs and my Wonder Woman t-shirt, I was rocking in my orange chair while eating the top half of a giant fudge round, when Riley walked through the door.

"Did you have to cut off her head to escape her clutches?"

Riley sighed. "No, but it was a close call. Lucky for me, her soaps had started, another five minutes of having to ooze sugary southern charm and I might have had to take my own life."

"Well, I'm glad she was a pain in the ass for you, too. It makes me feel better to share the misery."

Riley sat down on the couch. "You know, she says your mother is visiting her in the form of an angel."

I shrugged. "She's an evil crack pot who enjoys torturing me, and her latest effort involves made-up angelic visits from my mama, cleverly designed so she can insult me while claiming God as her backer."

Riley stretched, leaning his head back and straightening his long legs out in front him. "She seems to really believe what she's saying."

"So? To this day, I'd swear I saw a fairy in the morning glories that grew in the ditch behind our trailer when I was six. Nothing could have convinced me otherwise at the time. We all create little fantasies for one reason or another. Maybe she actually feels guilty for her treatment of me and has created my mama's angelic visits to make herself feel righteous in her cruelty."

Riley grinned. "That's a sound theory except for one tiny flaw."

"What flaw?"

"Fairies are real and so are angels."

I took a huge bite of my fudge round to cancel out the bad taste Riley's statement had left in my mouth. "I'll have to think about the whole fairy thing. After meeting Peter of the Pearly Gates, I have no issue believing in the existence of angels- it's the thought of my mother being an angel that is impossible for me to swallow."

"Why?" Riley asked.

I sighed, not really wanting to get into my childhood. "Look, my mama would never have been considered a good person. In truth, she could be downright mean unless she was working at capturing a man's attention or in the overly affectionate stage of drunkenness. There is no way she would be granted wings and become an angel."

Riley shook his head. "You are assuming that becoming an angel is a blessing, just as you thought immortality was supposed to be. As far as I've witnessed, angels serve the same basic purpose as Hades' Assassins- though they have a more elaborate costume, their service is still mandatory. From what you've described of your mother's personality, it doesn't seem it would be an easy place for her to be."

"I still don't believe it," I said, feeling a bit defensive.

Riley laughed. "It would be funny, you and your mother serving in basically the same capacity in the afterlife."

"Strangely enough, not for the first time, I have found myself not appreciating your sense of humor," I said, stuffing the rest of the fudge round into my mouth while Riley continued to laugh.

### Chapter 17: Sorrow was Etched Across his Face

My mama always said she had the soul of a gypsy. We're from a wild and romantic people. It just isn't in us to stay in one place too long. We can never be held down baby, we're meant to fly, to be free. This was said to me whenever I complained- about her being out all night, or about yet another move to a different town, sometimes only miles down the road, sometimes to a different state. It became her mantra, she said it so many times. I guess, in a way it was true because when she finally did stop flying, it wasn't long before she died.

I felt like my mama, like a wild gypsy, as I stood in front of Riley, waving my arms and screaming, "We should check out Sebastian's apartment and the old folks' home instead of sitting here waiting for him to make his next psychotic move!"

Riley was sprawled out on the couch, as much as was possible for a man his size. Glasses folded over his collar, eyes closed and head laid back, he cracked one eye open and calmly said, "I have checked out Sebastian's apartment numerous times and found nothing. The place couldn't be more non-descript if it was a hotel room."

"What about the old folks' home?"

"What about it?"

"Obviously, Sebastian was up to something. I've only met him twice, but neither time did he strike me as the benevolent type."

"Whatever Sebastian was doing at the retirement home has no bearing on me finding him and taking him to Hades for judgment."

"How can you say that?"

Riley leaned forward, no longer pretending to be lethargic. "I was ordered by Hades to drop it. I was ordered to forget about Sebastian's activities prior to taking your soul. I am only to find Sebastian Black."

I hated the look of frustration on Riley's face, but I couldn't sit back and ignore the nagging sensation that something else was going on and that I, who the hell knows why, felt a responsibility to find out.

"You were given a weapon capable of killing him. Aren't you the least bit curious why that was? Why did Hades pronounce Sebastian Rogue before he took my soul?"

Riley put his glasses back on. "I've been given the Sword of Peleus before when hunting an immortal, enough times that it could be considered standard procedure." He frowned at me. "I don't care why Hades categorized Sebastian as Rogue, it's not my concern, and neither should it be yours."

"Innocent lives are being screwed with, how can you just stop caring? I know you have to be careful because Hades has his panties in a wad-"

"Panties in a wad!!!" Riley suddenly erupted, now standing up and glaring down at me. "That's how you would describe Hades threatening you?" He ran his hand through his unruly hair. "By the gods, Myra, you have no clue how close you came to being taught a lesson last night, and I'm not speaking of lashings or something so quick. The last time I was required to watch Hades administer punishment, he slowly dismembered the body of a disobedient daemon. He used a jagged blade to tear the daemon's body into small chunks of flesh and bone, leaving only the tiniest connection of nerves between parts, so that the poor creature could feel and experience every cut and the painful mending of regeneration.

"Hades made sure the mutilated daemon was always on display for all to see, so I was also present when the daemon, who was almost whole again, stupidly let a flash of relief shine in his eyes." Riley sat back down, a look of weariness across his face. "I can still hear Hades' laugh as he produced the blade and began to repeat the process of butchering that the daemon had just spent seven months regenerating from."

Riley stretched his legs out in front of him and laid his head back against the couch, in the identical pose he had been in at the beginning of our argument, and I realized that my earlier assessment of his faked relaxed state had been wrong. He wasn't sprawled out in pretend laziness- he was stretched out in defeat.

I sat down in my orange chair and swiveled, one, two, three times. "Okay, Riley, I'll concentrate on preparing for the Trials and leave Sebastian to you."

Riley tilted his head in my direction. "Truly?"

I nodded my head. "Yep. It won't even be hard to do. I've always been self-centered, it doesn't take much effort for my wants to replace anyone else's needs."

He seemed to relax a little. "Nothing is wrong with being selfish if it keeps you safe."

"Yep. Speaking of wants, how about I order us some ribs and corn nuggets for dinner?"

I took Riley's grunt for agreement and headed into the kitchen. I rifled through the junk drawer and shuffled through the take out menus until I found the one for Gooey Suey's, the local barbecue joint.

I figured Riley knew I was lying through my teeth when I said I'd forget about Sebastian, but there was no way we were going to get anywhere in our disagreement. He didn't want me to be tortured, and I, having the blessing of never experiencing such a thing, still felt I could do what I thought necessary and get away with it. It's not that Hades didn't scare the crap out of me, but my sense of denial, combined with my stubborn nature, overrode my fear. Besides, no matter how much I had tried to make it otherwise in the last year, it obviously just wasn't in my genetic make-up to live a docile life of safety. I might as well embrace it- make my mama proud and raise a little hell.

***

Thursday morning beamed brightly into my bedroom while I tried to bury my head under my pillow. Finals and the end of school year carnival preparations that I was working very hard at not being suckered into, meant I didn't have to be at school until 10:30, when my beginning drawing class started.

I remembered earlier last week thinking how great it was going to be that I'd get to sleep in today. Of course, that was before I became immortal and acquired a six foot tall, two thousand year old roommate, who I just realized was standing above me, staring, with a crooked grin plastered on his face.

"What?" I growled.

"Your butt is clothed in purple turtles," he said.

I looked over my shoulder. I hadn't really registered that my butt was basically sticking in the air, as a result of my efforts to pull my pillow over my head. "So, I like turtles." I rolled over, sitting up to face him. "I thought we already had the talk about the inappropriateness of you discussing my ass."

"That was your naked ass. I wasn't talking about your ass, I was speaking about what you have chosen to cover it in."

I sighed, "Riley? What do you want?"

"Hades summoned me early this morning, I just got back. I didn't expect you to be home but I heard you sleeping," he said, making a snoring noise. "I thought you might have overslept. I was going to wake you, but I was distracted by the purple turtles." He laughed, "I can honestly say it's the first time I've encountered such a thing in my many years as an immortal."

"Once again, I'm so glad I amuse you. Now go away."

Still laughing, Riley turned and walked away. He started to pull the door closed, and I had just thrown myself backwards onto my pillows, when he said, "Oh yeah, I have donuts."

I jumped out of bed yelling, "Give me two minutes. I'll meet you in the kitchen and you can continue to laugh at my underwear."

"I was going to do that anyway," he said, through the now closed door.

Riley had a plate piled high with Krispy Kreme donuts and donut holes sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. He had a Scooby Doo jelly jar sitting in front of him, filled to the rim with milk, and was in the process of stirring chocolate syrup into a milk filled Velma jelly jar when I sat down. He pushed the glass of chocolate milk toward me and smiled.

"Good grief, either you had sex with Linda Farnsworth and you feel guilty or..." I couldn't think of anything else. "Damn, Riley, you could do so much better than Linda Farnsworth."

He didn't reply, only smiled, pulled a glazed donut off the plate, and sat down across from me.

"Just tell me on thing," I said, as I unfolded a napkin in front of me and snagged a chocolate iced donut, "are her boobs real?"

Riley, having just taken a huge swallow of milk, had to fight hard not to spit it out as he choked on his laugh.

"What? It's what everyone thinks when they first meet her. You can't blame me for asking."

Riley wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I did not sleep with Linda Farnsworth, and I do not feel guilty about anything. I didn't even think you were home, remember? I stopped by the convenience store to listen to any gossip, and Linda wanted to complain to me about the creepy little guy that came into her store last night. I needed her to keep talking, so I ended up buying all her donuts."

"So, that's what they're calling it nowadays."

Riley threw a glazed donut hole at me. "Sebastian was loitering in Linda's store last night, asking questions about you. She said he was a bit obsessed, she had to call the sheriff's department to get him to leave."

"Why didn't he use the power of persuasion crap on her?"

"From Linda's description he was pretty bad off, I'm thinking he was too weak. Maybe a side effect of losing your soul."

"Did the sheriff pick him up?" I asked, halfway through my second donut.

"No, he left before they showed up."

I drizzled chocolate syrup onto my last bite. "What did he ask about? He already knows where I live and where I work."

Riley tossed a donut hole in the air, deftly catching it in his mouth. "He wanted to know who your friends are and if you have any family living in the area. I think he's looking for leverage. He's looking for a way to control you. Taking a loved one hostage is simplistic when it comes to strategy, but it works."

"Well, except for my visiting uncle, I don't have any relatives or loved ones to worry about. I guess it's too much to ask that he doesn't realize you're my supposed uncle and will try to kidnap you."

Riley folded an entire vanilla frosted donut into his mouth, smiling with overly full cheeks when I shook my head at him. He guzzled his milk, wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and leaned back in his chair.

"He knows it's me. From what Linda said, she gave him an earful, which included my name and description."

"Why in the hell would she do that?"

"She's decided I'm good boyfriend material, and threatening the creepy homeless guy with my knightly attributes would, when I heard about it, trigger my protective instincts."

"And she wants your protective instincts triggered because?"

Riley's mouth spread into a slow cocky grin. "As Linda figures it, my protective instincts would cause me to ravish her, preferably against the back wall of her storage room, culminating in a shared climax so epic, I would vow my undying love and never leave her side."

Someone's been hitting the Harlequin Romances a little hard.

"She just told you this?"

"I may have used a tiny bit of the power of persuasion. I was trying to find out exactly what she had said to Sebastian when she started in on her plans for me. I think she's been working on that particular fantasy for some time- she was very detailed," he said, smirking.

"You sound pleased about it."

Riley shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be? Linda Farnsworth isn't my type, but it's still flattering."

"You're kidding me."

Riley threw another donut hole at me, bouncing it off my nose. "If Bo Kelley walked through that door and confessed he had a detailed fantasy about you involving dark chocolate, a bubble bath and a couple of cake rolls, you'd be-"

I was shaking my head, laughing, as the idea of me and Bo in a bath tub floated through my mind, only to have another thought, laced in panic, hit me.

"Oh shit. Bo!"

I ran for the door but Riley took hold of my arm, stopping me before my hand could grasp the knob. I tried to pull away. "Let go! Let go! Sebastian saw Bo and me kissing in the school parking lot, he even commented on it. I have to go warn him! I have to make sure he's safe!"

Riley put both his hands on my shoulders, gently squeezing. I again tried to pull away from him, but the intensity in his face and voice stopped my squirming.

"Myra, listen to me for a second. I'll shift to the school and check to make sure Bo's safe. In the meantime, you should get dressed. I don't think you need to show up at school in pajama pants and a Wonder Woman t-shirt."

I looked down at Lynda Carter's smiling face and my Marvin the Martian pajama pants and decided maybe Riley had a point. Besides, he could shift to the school and back in seconds, and I would know for sure if Bo was all right.

Riley continued, "As soon as I find Bo safe and sound, I'll shift back and drive you to work. Okay? Sound like an acceptable plan?"

"Yes." And... if Sebastian was up to no good, Riley could slice his head off.

Riley gave my shoulders another squeeze. "Good. I'll see you in a few minutes."

I nodded my head, and Riley disappeared.

I turned away from the door and walked into my bedroom, doing my best to ignore the cramping of my stomach and the acid taste of bile in my mouth. For a second, I thought I was going to be sick, but knowing that Riley would be back any minute and that I didn't have the time to vomit helped me bring my body under control.

I pulled on a pair of gray yoga pants, a plain white t-shirt and my flip flops, shut my bedroom door and walked into the living room to wait for Riley. I wasn't really dressed appropriately, but I decided if Dr. Covey had a problem with my attire, she could just bend her bony legs and kiss my ass. I almost smiled at the thought, but as I looked up, Riley was standing in front of me with sorrow etching lines across his face.

### Chapter 18: Close Call

Suddenly, my body felt heavy, and I thought I might collapse. Riley reached me before the thought took physical form, turning me around and pulling me down beside him on the couch.

"All I know is that Bo was not at the school, and no one seems to know where he is. There could be a dozen or more reasons why he is missing, and only one of them would involve Sebastian."

"Then why do you look like your best dog just died?"

Riley sighed, brushing unruly locks of hair out of my face. "Because, I'm a jaded asshole, and I always assume the worst. Ignore me, and hold a little hope that you'll soon be able to prove me wrong."

"Let's go then. Mrs. Alverez has third period free. Her gossip network is so advanced that she's usually within minutes of knowing the details of any event that's taken place in Dempsey."

I snatched my school bag off the floor and ran out the door, down the stairs and to the car, making sure I'd skip any encounter with Mrs. Crowell.

Riley dropped me off at the front of the school. The plan was for me to find Mrs. Alverez, find out any information I could and then report back to Riley, who would be waiting in my classroom. I had about twenty minutes until my fourth period class started, and it would take at least ten minutes for Mrs. Alverez to grill me about my visiting uncle- something she'd been trying to do all week. So I hurried down the hall, my flip flops making a dull slapping noise as I walked.

As luck would have it, I didn't need to speak with Mrs. Alverez at all. As I approached her door I could hear her and Mrs. Kilpatrick clucking back and forth as they did whenever they got together. "I still can't believe she would do that to poor Norman. The man has doted on her for two years, driving to Madison twice a day for donuts, not to mention all the time he's put into fixing up her old house. One look at some tall, handsome stranger and Linda just threw it all away."

"Well, he isn't just tall and handsome, Betty, he is drop dead sexy. In fact, Donna Wilson said he was some stripper Myra Jane picked up and brought home from downtown Atlanta."

Mrs. Alverez snorted. "Well, we all know he isn't her uncle."

"Coach Kelley must be broken hearted."

Mrs. Alverez gasped in excitement. "He isn't just broken hearted Shelly, little Jennifer Mabry came into second period this morning in tears because Tyler Bledsoe accidentally broke coach Kelley's arm during some stupid stunt he pulled in weight training this morning."

"Why was Jennifer crying?"

"Hormones." I could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "Jennifer was blubbering all over my classroom because she thinks Coach Kelley will be so angry, he'll bench Tyler next season."

Mrs. Kilpatrick sighed. "Young love, so silly."

Mrs. Alverez huffed, "Jennifer isn't the only one letting hormones make her act silly. I heard that Dr. Covey, who everybody knows has had a crush on Coach Kelley for years, insisted on accompanying him to the hospital. She said it was to make sure he was getting the proper care." She laughed, "Coach Kelley kept telling her there was no need, but Dr. Covey used those skinny little arms of hers to force him into her Audi and tore out of the parking lot like the very devil was chasing her."

"Good lord, how embarrassing. Who knew the woman could behave so desperately," Shelly Kilpatrick clucked.

I'm sure they continued their conversation, but I had already turned away and started back to my classroom. The moment I had heard Bo was not in Sebastian's clutches, a warm buzz of relief filled me, and I couldn't care less about the rest of the gossip.

Riley took off to check on Bo at the hospital. It was in the next town over, a twenty five minute drive by car, but he shifted there and back within ten minutes. Students glowing with the excitement of an anticipated summer and the end of another school year started to shuffle through the doorway, so Riley shifted into the supply closet, where I joined him, pulling the door almost closed behind me.

"Well?" I whispered.

"Bo has been sent home with his wrist in a temporary cast and an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon for tomorrow. Apparently some kid was fooling around with the bench press and when Coach Kelley stepped in to keep the kid from breaking his neck, he got a fractured wrist as a reward. I'll go hang out at his house in case Sebastian shows up while you're working. I called a fellow Assassin, Marcus, to watch over him tonight."

"Do you think Sebastian will show up?"

Riley shook his head. "Not really. Bo is on so many pain killers he's drugged out of his mind. Marcus is just a precaution. Sebastian won't want a hostage he has to carry around and is too doped up to be afraid of him- trust me, it takes all the fun out of it."

"One day you're going to give me details of your life," I said.

He ignored me. "After I check on Bo, I'll snoop around campus a little and then drop you at home. I'm going to check out some of the abandoned mill houses down Canyon Drive while you and Barty are training."

One of my students, Brian Fently, opened the supply room door. I turned to block his entrance just as I felt the change in the air behind me that signaled Riley's shift out of the closet.

"I brought the TV and DVD cart from the library," Brian said.

"Great. Let's go watch the documentary on Louis Wain and be happy that our lives don't suck as much as his did."

### Chapter 19: Subliminal, Tell all your friends to buy this book, Messages

Riley promptly picked me up twenty minutes after the last bell. On the short drive home he informed me that there was no sign of Sebastian at Bo's house or the school, and the Assassin, Marcus, was already in place, keeping an eye on Bo, and Bo, for his part, was passed out in his recliner, enjoying the effects of Lortab.

"How did you know where Bo lived?" I asked.

He grinned. "Linda gave me a verbal tour of everyone of interest, at least to her, in town. Bo was at the top of her list."

We had just pulled in behind the Crowell house. I turned in my seat to look at him. He was grinning, with one eyebrow raised. I was not going to take the bait and ask what exactly a verbal tour entailed.

"Are you going to shift to the abandoned mill houses or are you taking my car?"

"I'll shift."

We both got out of the car. "I'll watch you walk in before I leave. Bartholomew should be here any minute."

I ran into the house and up the stairs as fast as I could. It had worked this morning, so I figured I had a pretty good chance of it working again.

As I stepped onto the landing, without a peep from Mrs. Crowell, I couldn't help but smile. Of course, it quickly turned into a grimace when I saw Barty leaning against my front door. He was glaring at me, upper lip curled into his signature sneer.

"No one said we had to have training today. You could always go home," I grumbled.

Barty's thin lips curved into a smile. "I'm going to show you how to take a good punch today. I couldn't possibly have you miss out on such a lesson."

I stomped into my apartment, threw my bag on the floor and headed for the kitchen, trying my best to ignore Barty's annoying presence behind me.

I walked into the kitchen and started to open the pantry door.

Barty stepped in front of me. "I just wanted to let you know, that since I'm a little early today, you can take your time snacking, I'll wait." He said this in a sweet tone of voice, full of encouragement, which was all wrong, because Barty didn't do sweet or encouraging, especially towards me.

"Great, then do you think you could move so I could get to my snacks that you're so generously allowing me time to consume?"

He smiled and moved out of the way.

My snack cakes were missing! So were my star crunches, cosmic brownies and fudge rounds. The container that usually held chocolate chips was empty and there wasn't a box of sugary cereal or a bag of chips in sight. But there was a bag of veggie fries, a box of rice cakes and a box of organic puffed rice cereal. My pantry had been pilfered of all its yumminess, and nasty, dry, tasteless food had been put in its place.

I slammed the pantry door shut, turned around and opened the fridge- Goddess Greek Yogurt, carrot sticks, broccoli, and spinach filled my shelf, along with diet soda, vitamin water and skim milk. I didn't dare look over at Barty as I slammed the fridge door shut and opened the freezer. Just as I expected, all of my ice cream had been replaced with pints of benign flavors of fat free, sugar free yogurt. I tried counting to ten, but I only made it to three before I blew.

"You fucking bastard!!! Where the hell do you get off taking my food and replacing it with this," I threw a container of frozen yogurt at him, "crap!"

Barty smiled as he retreated into the living room.

"We agreed I could help you eat better. I'm not forcing you to eat these foods, which by the way, was the only condition in our agreement, I am only providing you with a healthy option."

I grabbed the rest of the containers of frozen yogurt out of the fridge and began throwing them, aiming for his head. Barty, who had managed to dodge each one, only laughed. "Such a temper, T. T. If we could harness all that, you might actually become a formidable opponent."

"Fuck you!" I was only a few feet away from him, and I had one container left. I took a deep breath and threw my last pint with as much force as I could muster. When Barty successfully dodged it, as I knew he would, I hammered my foot into his groin, which of course, didn't make contact because he twisted out of the way.

"See how sluggish all that processed sugar and fat makes you? A child could have avoided your attack."

I didn't think about what I did next, I just charged forward and plowed into him like I'd seen all the football players do. My shoulder connected with his stomach, and we both went down, falling over and bringing with us my favorite orange chair. I straddled Barty's skinny hips and starting swinging. I'm ashamed to say that, after several minutes, not only did not one single punch land on his nasty pale freckled face, but I was also absolutely exhausted, and Barty threw me off of him with ease as he laughed- huge guffaws that shook his body and brought tears to his eyes.

I lay beside him trying to catch my breath, looking up at the ceiling, desperately trying not to cry. "I hate you."

Barty turned over on his side, looking down on me, his face split into a wide grin, his eyes still shiny with laughter. "I know. And I have yet to feel an ounce of concern about it. But I'll let you know if that changes."

"What did you do with my food?"

"I shifted it to my apartment. If you'll add just one or two healthy items to your diet, I'll give it back."

I sat up, crossing my legs like a pretzel in front of me. "You know I can just go out and buy some more."

"Yes, and I will take those as well."

"Why? Why don't you just give up? You don't have to train me, it's not like Hades ordered you to, or that you like me or believe I have a chance of being successful in the Trials. Find someone else to pick on, and make their life miserable."

Barty sat up, sliding his bony butt across the floor and folding his legs up so his knees were practically touching mine. "True, you will most likely fail as no other candidate has before, and I do not like you, not one little bit. However, I agreed to train you, and even if I wanted to go back on my word and walk away, I couldn't."

"Sure you can. Tell everyone I fired you or insulted your honor or something, then you can walk way, and no one will think badly of you."

"I couldn't, even if I wanted to. Any agreement between immortals, whether verbal or written, witnessed or not, once agreed upon with physical contact, is binding. If I got up and tried to walk away with the intention of not continuing your training, I literally would not be able to."

"Is this true of all immortals?"

I remembered Carrie saying something similar.

Barty's mustache twitched. "I know it is true of our realm, even the gods must abide by the rule, but I am not sure of other deities or the immortals that exist within their realms."

"Realms. Sheesh, when am I ever going to wake up?"

"I asked myself that for more than a thousand years. Save yourself some time- get over it and move on."

"Fine. I'll give you one healthy meal three days a week and you give me back by goodies."

"Five meals and I'll give you one confection per meal."

"Five meals, ten snack cakes," I countered.

"Three meals, seven snack cakes- one per day- and a work out video twice a week."

"Work out video?"

"That's my final offer."

"And if I don't take this offer?"

"Then I'll find another way to get you to eat healthy, and your bag of cakes goes down the garbage disposal."

"Wait a minute, that's not how you haggle. You're supposed to counter offer until you get what you want, not just stop all negotiations with a, my way or nothing!"

"I wasn't really negotiating to begin with. I just wanted to see what you would do. My only real offer, from the beginning, was three healthy meals eaten within seven consecutive days, seven snack cakes of my choice given to you, one per day, and participation in a cardio workout twice a week, via video instruction of my choice."

"Is that all?" I said, doing my best to copy his sneer.

"Actually, no. I also need your agreement that my terms are met within a weekly time frame and will continue to be met every week, until the Olympian Trials begin."

"Do I really have to do this?"

"Absolutely not. It would upset me greatly if I thought, even for a moment, that I was forcing you to do something you didn't want to do."

"You're so kind."

"Just so we're clear, it is thirty one weeks until the Trials."

"I hate you."

He raised an eyebrow.

I really didn't have a choice other than taking his deal, but that didn't mean I had to give up. Hell, I already had goodies, stashed away all over the apartment. Twenty dollars and a trip to the store, and I'd have the snacks he stole, replaced, and hidden in no time. I had twenty-five years of experience hiding valuables from my mama. No one is as determined as a dry drunk out of booze and money. She never found any of my stashes and neither would Barty.

"Fine, I agree to three healthy meals eaten within seven consecutive days, in exchange for seven snack cakes of your choosing, given to me one per day. I will also complete a cardio workout of your choice, once a week, but I refuse to be happy about it and, in fact, plan to call you all kinds of nasty and insulting names every chance I get."

"Agreed."

"Dickhead," I said, instantly feeling a little better.

Barty nodded his head to acknowledge the insult and pulled a DVD out of thin air. "Excellent. Where is your DVD player?"

"How in the hell did you do that?"

"I shifted my hand into my office at Ambros and grabbed the DVD off my desk."

"I didn't see you disappear."

Barty gave me a smug smile. "That would be because I didn't, only my arm and hand shifted to my office."

"How is that possible? I mean, how do you do it?"

His overly plucked eyebrows wrinkled into odd little lines.

"Anything is possible. Concentration and over six hundred years of practice is how it is done."

I sat there, a little dumbfounded. I just couldn't imagine spending six hundred years on one task. Hell, I couldn't fathom six hundred years.

"Where is your DVD player?" Barty asked, now standing over me, hands on his hips. He was wearing pleated jeans -who knew such a thing existed- and a very snug long sleeve lavender polo shirt. I had to admit the lavender looked really good with his pale skin and red hair. "Where is your DVD player?" he asked, again.

I got up, opened the cabinet in the rolling TV cart and handed Barty the little silver DVD player.

He held up the box, tugging at the tangled mess of wires attached to the back. "What is all this?"

"They go to the converter box because my TV doesn't have a connection for a DVD player."

He gave the TV a dirty look. "Your electronics are prehistoric."

I returned my orange chair to its rightful position and sat down. "Yeah well, teacher's salary." I swiveled a couple times as I listened to Barty swear in at least three different languages while he figured out the inner workings of my Goodwill TV and $19.99 Wal-Mart DVD player.

I stopped spinning when the crappy music began to play and Barty moved the blue chair over next to mine in front of the TV.

"This is brand new. Ambros is releasing it in September as part of our new Goddess Greek Yogurt campaign. It was delivered today for the test group that's coming in on Monday. This will be the first I've had a chance to see the finished product," he said, excitedly.

In my best I'm an empty headed cheerleader voice I squealed, "Yippee! I can hardly wait!"

Barty ignored me and my sarcasm. "It's basically yoga and simple strength training. Considering your lack of coordination and balance, both should be helpful."

"I didn't think yoga was considered cardio," I said.

"You're so out of shape, any type of movement becomes cardio."

"Dickhead."

"Try not to repeat yourself, and pay attention," Barty said.

I did as he said and turned my attention to the TV screen that was showing a generic set of gray walls, a few strategically placed potted plants and gray carpeted floor. I expected a thin woman to bounce onto the set, swishing her blonde ponytail, wearing a multi colored spandex leotard and matching tights.

So I wasn't disappointed when a tall blonde with swishing ponytail walked into the camera's view, though the shear toga style wrap that clung to her body was a little bit of a surprise. I wondered how she was going to be able to move in such a get up, but as she turned her body at an angle, I was relieved to see she also wore some type of undergarment.

She smiled big for the camera. "Finding my inner goddess with help from Goddess Greek Yogurt has been a joyous experience. You may not know this, but I wasn't born with the body of a goddess," she said, as she ran her hands across her breasts, down her stomach and then her thigh and butt. "I had to work for it, and now I'm going to let you in on the secret of how to become a goddess yourself." She ripped the toga off to reveal transparent tights, a white thong and skimpy white sports bra.

I stood up and hit the pause button on the DVD player. "If you made this for women, you've failed miserably. However, the good news is, I think you could probably get back at least most of your production costs in the soft porn market."

Barty stood up, towering over me, quickly taking on a look of superiority. "Market research shows that women respond to a perfect woman scenario when following an exercise video- they want to see a representation of what they will become, not what they are."

"That may be true, but she comes off like a brainless idiot whose about to start escalating from PG -13 fondling to full out XXX behavior, any second."

Barty rolled his eyes and pushed the play button. "Let's just watch the rest of the video."

"Okay, pre- goddesses, are you ready?" the bimbo said, and then actually paused like she was the host of a toddler show giving the audience time to answer. Ugh! "Okay. We're going to start with some basic stretches. It's always best to warm up your muscles before any kind of strenuous activity. Place your feet flat on the floor about a foot apart and bend at your waist, trying to put your hands flat on the floor. If you can't touch, that's okay, just stretch. Mmmm, doesn't that feel good? Just feel those back thigh muscles stretching. Here, let me turn around so you can see what's happening to your body when you stretch." She turned and her shear-covered ass filled the screen.

"See the tightening of the muscles in my thighs and buttocks when I bend over? Just feel that burn as you bend your body forward, do you feel it? Let the tension ride and slowly bounce a little forward to stretch, stretch, and stretch those glutes. That's it. Good job. I can already see your inner goddess glowing through you."

I reached over in front of Barty, determined to turn the DVD off. He slapped my hand away. "Don't touch."

"You've got to be kidding me. I will not watch porn with you. One, she isn't my type, and neither are you, and two, I'm not in the mood. Besides, it's my TV, my DVD player, and my apartment."

"We are going to finish watching it."

"No!" I yelled, walking around him to the wall outlet so I could just unplug the damn thing. Barty stuck his huge foot out to trip me. I saw it coming and jumped out of the way, but before I could congratulate myself, he landed a kick to my solar plexus that propelled me backwards and flat on my back, gasping for air.

A happy Barty stood over me grinning. "Well, I can at least say you made me use a second's worth of effort this time. I must be doing something right with your training."

I didn't answer, at least not in words. I pulled my right leg up through his spread legs, not a hard task considering he had abnormally long legs, and kicked at the inside of his knee. Barty buckled, and if I had done as Barty had shown me, I would have twisted and caught his leg at a painfully uncomfortable angle. However Barty, being the one who taught me the move, recovered quickly, and while I was going for his leg, grabbed my wrist, stepped over my arm and rolled onto his back, pulling my shoulder and elbow in a direction they were not meant to go. It hurt like hell.

"This is an arm bar," he said, not even out of breath, the bastard. "Say I surrender and I'll let you go."

I was not going to surrender, at least not yet. "First, admit I surprised you with the kick to the knee."

Barty sighed. "The move was not the best executed but, I admit, you surprised me. Partly because you were fast, preternaturally fast, which means your immortality is starting to kick in, but I was also caught by surprise because I saw no indication in your body or facial expression that you were going to do anything but whine and cry about being thrown. That, I have to admit, could be considered a success."

"You can reward me by letting go, without having me surrender."

"You might think so, but no," he said, increasing the pressure to my elbow.

"I surrender," I growled between clenched teeth. Suddenly the pain was gone. Well, not really, but the immediate excruciating pain was gone.

I sat up. Barty did the same. We ended up facing each other in front of the TV. I looked around the room. Except for my orange chair, which again had been turned over, the living room didn't look any worse for wear from our scuffle. Even the TV was still intact, showing the Greek porn goddess now doing pelvic lifts.

"That has got to be the worst-" HADES IS TRUE flashed across the screen.

"What the hell? Barty?"

Barty, who had also turned to watch the bimbo thrust her pelvis, quickly stood up and pushed the rewind button on the DVD player. He pushed the play button just as she was about to start her first set of thrusts. HADES IS TRUE flashed across the screen again.

"Barty-"

"Shhh!" he said, swatting at me like I was a bug. "Shut up for one second." He pushed fast forward, and we watched as the goddess bimbo went through her routine. Barty stopped the DVD, rewinding it and pushing play every time there was the slightest glitch across the screen. I ignored my impulse to attack him again and picked up my orange chair so I could swivel while he played with the DVD player.

There were four phrases in all: HADES IS TRUE; HADES IS GOD; I GIVE MY SOUL TO HADES; HADES IS THE ONLY TRUTH.

"Wow, that is some kind of ad campaign," I said.

"They're subliminal. I guess the physical gifts of our immortality enabled us to see them," Barty said, sitting down on the couch.

"Everybody knows subliminal messages don't work. Hell, you'd be more effective with product placement, make another movie or something based on Greek mythology, and have little Hades action figures. This," I pointed to the TV, "is just bad porn with a few hokey flashes of color thrown in."

Barty started tracing the thin line of his mustache with his thumb and index finger. "I think it's more than just a cheap play at subliminal messages. I didn't approve this and nothing is done on this ad campaign without my approval."

"Okay, so this is someone in the editing department's idea of a practical joke. Personally, I think the whole video is a joke," I said, rocking back and forth in my chair.

"I don't think you understand the implications. Though you seem to have no problem defying me and showing me absolutely no respect, most, I would even say all, other humans and most immortals, even a few lesser gods and goddesses, fear me. They would not dare tamper with my work."

I stopped rocking, so Barty wouldn't miss me rolling my eyes at his conceit. "So this is an idiotic, suicidal someone's idea of a joke."

Barty smiled his scary smile. "No. It was someone more terrifying than me, or with more power- a master manipulator, the only person who could make a decision and not need my approval or knowledge to do so. The CEO."

"Who is...?"

"Hades."

I started rocking again. "I knew you were going to say that."

### Chapter 20: A Happy Place

"So why would Hades tamper with your video?" I asked.

Barty didn't answer. So, in a good impression of Riley- rocking forward, leaning my elbows on my knees- I gave Barty my version of an intense look and answered for him. "Obviously it has to be part of some nefarious plan. I mean come on, it's Hades we're talking about, and if we go by the messages on the DVD, I think it's just as obvious that he's trying to gain more believers." I shrugged. "I assume this is the end goal for every deity. The weird part, at least as I see it, is why subliminal messages? Everyone knows the government tried them in the 70's, but it didn't work. Hades may be the biggest asshole in existence, but he's not dumb, so what is he really up to?"

Barty pulled himself off the couch and stretched before walking over to the DVD player, ejecting the disc and sliding it into the case he had placed on top of the TV.

"Do you realize how often you use the word obviously? You'd think if everything was as obvious as you make it out to be, you'd be much more successful in life."

I shrugged again. "I can't help it if I tend to see things clearly, it's a gift." I looked up into his pasty freckled face. "Clearly you're being a jackass, and though being a jackass seems to be a natural personality trait for you, obviously, you're using your jackassness to try to change the subject. Which isn't going to work, so stop trying. Answer my question. What do you think Hades is up to?"

Barty sighed, once again sitting down on the couch. His whole body deflated as he laid his head back and closed his eyes. I would have thought he had fallen asleep except for the DVD case he kept tapping on his knee. Finally, he said, "I didn't think anything of it at the time, but Hades has been very involved with Goddess Greek Yogurt as of late. He had a huge tantrum about the base flavor being substandard and had it changed, though all numbers indicated our original base recipe was found more than satisfactory to consumers. I can't help but assume that his sudden interest with the yogurt recipe is somehow linked to the tampering of the video."

"How could he have he done it? I thought he couldn't come to earth around mortals."

Barty snorted. "Hades does as he pleases. He is fully capable of masking his presence on earth for short periods of time, but even if he was concerned about his activities being discovered, he has more than enough covert faithful servants to do his bidding, several of whom live on earth."

"Okay, so what do you think he's up to?" I asked.

Barty stopped tapping the DVD case, opened his eyes and leaned forward, placing elbows on his knees, giving me his version of an intense stare. "I think he's doctored the yogurt with some type of hallucinogen to act as a catalyst with the subliminal messages hidden in the DVD, to influence the consumer into believing in Greek theology."

He was better at looking intense than I was, in fact he was quite scary, so it took me a second to process what he had just said. Once my brain caught up, I couldn't help the giggle that erupted from my throat. "Holy cow udders, Batman, what diabolical plan will the Joker think of next?"

Barty lifted one eye brow, his expression changing to haughty. "I speak of thousands of innocents being brainwashed into an afterlife not of their choosing, a god breaking the Law of Free Will, and in doing so, endangering all of our existence, and you think it the appropriate time to make jokes."

I rolled my eyes. "You are such a snob. You can't deny it sounds like some super villain's I'm-going-to-take-over-the-world scheme. In fact, it's probably been a plot in at least one, if not several, comic books."

"Which does nothing to change the impact of such a plan, if successful," he said, now leaning into the back of the couch and crossing one leg over the other.

I rocked back and forth in my chair, thinking. "What did you mean when you said breaking the Law of Free Will and it being a danger to our existence?"

"The Law of Free Will is simply that, a law forbidding coercion of thought or action."

"Who made the law?"

"I don't know that anyone made it up. Like the laws of nature, it is not an invention, but a discovery."

"Except this is a concept, an idea. So someone had to have thought it first."

He gave a huff of disgust. "I will not get into a chicken and egg discussion with you. It doesn't matter how it originated. What is important, is that it is a law, a sacred understanding known to all that inhabit the realms of belief. Though it is written in several different religious texts, and in several different languages, the thought was in existence and known before words ever existed, before speech was ever formed. It is knowledge sewn into the fiber of our beings, understood by all. We may bribe, trick, lie, seduce, use any manner of deception, and, or reward to get a mortal to do as we want, but we cannot take away their ability to make their own choice.

If Hades is found to have broken the Law of Free Will, the other deities will use it as an opportunity to make sure every thought and every being involving Greek theology is destroyed, leaving only faint shadows in the memories of mortals for our existence to cling to, until they too are forever forgotten."

I gave a big dramatic sigh to counter Barty's drama queen tendencies and then went for practical. "So what do we do to stop him?"

"We will do nothing. The test group comes in tomorrow morning and I will exchange the yogurt with some of the original product and somehow destroy the yogurt Hades has tainted."

"What about the power of persuasion or misdirection that Hades gives his Assassins? Isn't he already breaking the Law of Free Will?"

Barty sneered, "I thought I just explained this."

I shrugged.

His lip curled more. "Neither gift is strong enough to change thought. If you witness a magician make a rabbit disappear, you're thrilled and amazed, because at that moment you're enjoying the idea that it happened by magic, but as you leave the show, you begin to try and figure out how the magician did it. How had he made the rabbit disappear? Because, ultimately, though you saw it happen with your own eyes, you know it was a trick.

"It is the same when the power of persuasion or the power of misdirection is used, like a magician performing a trick, the mind has not been altered, just temporarily amused."

"Oh. I guess that make sense."

"I'm so glad I was able to simplify the concept enough for your tiny mind to comprehend," Barty said, now standing in front of me.

"What?"

"It's time."

"Time for what?"

An evil smile spread across his pasty face. "For you to learn how to take a punch."

Don't panic!

Stop flinching!

Try and anticipate the hit.

Tighten your muscles.

No, no, no! Relax, take a deep breath.

Roll into the punch!

Try and move away so the hit impacts at a less vulnerable part of your body.

Balance! Balance! Balance!

Now, get up, and let's do it again.

This was how the past hour of my life had gone, with the same phrases repeated over and over again, punctuated by a hit or kick to my stomach, legs, head, and ribs.

"If only I had a dollar for every bruise," I said, from my position lying across the couch.

"And if only I had one for every whine and complaint," Barty said, from his position in the middle of the room, where he had, just minutes before, deflected my pitiful attempt to punch him in the throat and, as a reward for my efforts, thrown me against the couch.

I sat up, trying not to cry as my stomach muscles screamed in protest. "You're lucky, my complaining is nothing compared to..."

"Why are you making that odd face?" Barty asked, moving to stand in front of me.

"Mrs. Crotchety."

"Who?"

"My landlord, she lives down stairs." I pointed to the floor. "We've been up here making all this noise way longer than normal and she didn't call to yell at me or bang on the ceiling with her broom. She didn't screech at me when I got home this afternoon, either. I thought it was because I ran and she couldn't get out in the hall in time, but now I have to wonder if it might have been something else."

"You think Mrs. Crotchety might be ill?"

"Yes. Mrs. Crowell is her real name, crotchety is her disposition," I whispered.

"Why are we whispering?" Barty whispered.

I stood up, grabbed my bag off the floor and started searching for my cell phone. "I should have realized something was wrong, I mean she always, and I mean always, catches me when I come home."

"Considering your activity level is equal to that of a three toed sloth-"

"You're an ass. Listen, she's a cranky old lady that cackles like a witch and could blow your ear drums out with the shrillness of her voice while she points out all of your flaws with her crooked, bony finger shoved in your face. You'd like her, she's better at insulting me than you are."

"That still doesn't explain why we're whispering."

"Because every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday afternoon the old crone waits for me to arrive home so she can screech at me. She has never, not even once, not stopped me to give me her 'advice'."

"Why did you make air quotations?"

I shrugged. "Seemed like the thing to do."

"Well don't, it's obnoxious."

I held up my middle finger.

Barty sighed. "So your landlady is a busy body, and we're whispering because she's a 'scary monster' who is loud, opinionated and punctual at least five days a week, and points?"

"You just made air quotations."

"Yes."

"Pot calling kettle! Come on, Barty. Sheesh, can you say hypocrite?"

"No, but I can say bitch."

"Oh, please, you are so off your game."

He sighed again. "I couldn't help it. Air quotations are absolutely obnoxious, but they are also contagious. You see someone use them and you think what an ass, then the next thing you know you're holding your hands in the air making finger quotation marks, too."

"'Really?'" I said, making air quotations.

Barty rolled his eyes. "For the love of Aphrodite, why are we whispering?"

"Because, I don't want the old lady to hear me."

"Let me get this straight. I've just spent the last hour and half throwing you all over this apartment, banging into the wall, furniture and floor. Your landlord has yet to make a sound of protest, and now that you just realized this, and the fact that you didn't get accosted by her as usual on your arrival home, you have decided we must whisper so she won't hear us?"

"Yes. Though I'm thinking she must have had a stroke or something. I'm feeling a little conflicted. Do I call the paramedics before I celebrate or do I wait until after?" I said, holding out my phone.

"Why don't we go downstairs and check on her?" Barty asked.

"I just told you, I can't decide if I should celebrate or-"

Barty opened my front door. "You're not that mean. So stop it and lead the way downstairs."

"Fine. But if she's not lying on the floor incapacitated, I'm telling her you're my date. At least then she'll be focused on you for a few minutes, hell it might even shut her up," I said, heading out of my apartment and down the stairs.

"She'd never believe it," Barty said from behind me. "I'm too good looking. Someone with my bone structure would never date someone who wasn't at least equal in beauty."

"I'll have you know that Bo is quite the hottie, and not only does he have better cheek bones than you do, but also better hair. Plus, he's intelligent, thoughtful and sexy as hell," I said, as I stepped off the bottom step.

"You sound smitten."

"No, I don't know," I said, shaking the thoughts out of my head as I opened Mrs. Crowell's door.

The paramedics did not need to be called. Mrs. Crowell was alive and well, wearing her printed flamingo blouse, favorite pink polyester shorts and matching canvas slip-ons. She was gagged and tied to a chair, kind of frozen in shock I suppose, but alive and well. Sebastian- who had one hand on Mrs. Crowell's forehead holding her head back against the chair and the other holding a long curved knife that seemed to wrap around her skinny wrinkled neck- was equally alive and, if not well, judging by the demented smile on his face, at least very happy.

Barty started to step forward, and I wondered how long it would take for Sebastian to slice Mrs. Crowell's throat. I figured, considering her paper thin skin and the fact that she had one foot in the grave already, she'd be dead before Barty took a second step. I hated the old hag, but no one should die wearing polyester. What could I do though? It wasn't like I had some special skill, but I knew I had to do something. Any second now Barty would push me aside and make his move, and Mrs. Crowell would end up a bloody corpse in cheap shoes the exact shade of Pepto-Bismol.

I tried to think of a clever plan or creative distraction, but I really didn't have time, so I just opened my mouth and embraced my obnoxious side.

"First, before any death threats are issued or any I'm going to take your soul my pretty, blah, blah stuff is said, can I just take a moment to thank you?" I said, grinning wildly at Sebastian while Barty gave me a look that said, what the hell do you think you're doing? Of course, I really didn't know what I was doing, so I ignored Barty's raised eyebrow and lip curl and continued. "The image of Mrs. Crowell tied and gagged..." I laughed, closing my eyes and letting the image become permanent in my mind. I won't lie, the image was a keeper. "Let's just say, you've given me a happy place."

Barty gave me an incredulous smile, Sebastian a deranged one and Mrs. Crowell continued to stare blankly straight ahead. But Sebastian's hand relaxed and eased an inch or so away from Mrs. Crowell's throat, and Barty no longer looked like he was about to pounce, so as far as I was concerned my efforts had been successful.

### Chapter 21: Damn, I Need a Cake Roll

Clothed in the same filthy jeans and shirt he had worn on our first meeting- minus shoes this time- and emitting a stench so foul that even the cloying scent of Mrs. Crowell's many hanging sachets of potpourri weren't strong enough to keep me from gagging, Sebastian continued to smile, his beady little eyes shifting from me to Barty and back.

Dark greenish gray shadows surrounded his eyes, and lines of red welts marred his left cheek. I glanced down at a still unmoving Mrs. Crowell- at her hands bound in torn cloth, her crooked fingers and broken nails- and did my best to swallow the guilt that was caught in my throat.

Barty's arm rubbed against my shoulder as he stepped in front of me. "You do not look well, Seb."

Sebastian gave a sickly chuckle. "As always my friend, you are gifted at stating the obvious. No, I do not look well. I am not well." He let out a high maniacal laugh. "I am dying," he said, tears streaking down his face as his laugh suddenly, erratically became wheezing sobs. "After all this time, finally, when I am at my most powerful, The Fates grant me an end to my immortal life."

He let go of Mrs. Crowell's head using the back of his hand and his sleeve to wipe the tears from his face, and then, with a sickening tenderness that made me shiver, he looked down at the old crone and began to comb his filthy fingers through her neat little rows of white curls. Sebastian crooned, "They are forever cruel, The Fates, especially in the destruction of mortal lives."

I felt a weight against my chest and looked down to see that it was Barty's arm wrapped around me, holding me back. Only then did I realize I had started forward.

When Sebastian spoke, my throat tightened and my stomach churned. I had a brief thought of what Mrs. Crowell would think of me hurling all over her pink shag carpet when I felt, more than heard, the air around me change to signify someone's shift into the room.

"Good afternoon, Myra, Bartholomew, Evelyn, Sebastian. Sorry I'm late," Peter politely remarked from the carnation pink winged back chair, identical and adjacent to the one Mrs. Crowell was sitting in.

Sebastian pulled the knife flat against Mrs. Crowell's throat, angling the curve of the blade against her jaw. "Don't come near me, Peter. I won't give him back."

Peter leaned forward, tugging the hem of Mrs. Crowell's shorts down over her knobby blue veined knees. "You can slice the woman to millions of pieces, it doesn't matter to me. I can easily put her back again, and she will never know anything of it." He leaned back into the chair, straightening his own pants leg and cardigan while he continued in his pleasantly mild voice, "I was just telling..." he tapped an index finger to his lip a few times and then shrugged, "someone, how bored I've been. In fact, I haven't seen a good slaying since the Celts were warring." He looked at Barty. "I believe, not since you held the blade, Bartholomew."

Barty grimaced. "Other than not having a god to blame for my sins, I do not believe my actions have been any different than any Christian soldier."

Peter raised his hand, as if in surrender. "You misunderstand me. I am not judging you. After all, until you ask for forgiveness, how could I?"

Barty let go of me and took a step toward Peter. "Don't start, Peter. I have been judged and am serving my punishment. You cannot give me, nor do I want, your forgiveness. Sebastian is not your responsibility, either. You should leave."

Peter stood up, and for a second I swear his eyes flashed in anger, but when he spoke his tone of voice, though not much louder than a whisper, only held the vaguest interest. "If you only asked, I could see that you were given absolution. You could have peace." He put both of his hands in his pockets and smiled. "You are correct about one thing, Sebastian is not my responsibility. However, the soul he is carrying is."

We all looked at Sebastian.

"No! No! You cannot have him!" he screamed, the knife slicing into Mrs. Crowell's neck.

I gagged as blood started trickling down her throat.

"Sebastian, loosen your hold!" Barty ordered sharply.

Sebastian, surprisingly, obeyed. He moved the curved blade so it was again flat against Mrs. Crowell's neck, no longer cutting into her skin.

"What now?" I whispered to Barty.

But it was Sebastian who answered. "We wait. Caisus should be here soon."

"Yes," Barty said, stepping further in front of me and away from Peter, who had sat back down on the pink chair. "You, Riley and I can settle this matter, Sebastian. You say The Fates have granted you freedom. Let Riley and me help you. There is no reason to harm this old woman and risk any more of the Christian God's wrath. You know Peter will put things right, but it won't change the consequences he will place on you for acting out such cruelty. Let the old woman and the soul go. Let us help you."

Sebastian looked down at Mrs. Crowell and sniveled. "It's just a nick. She couldn't even see me." He smirked. "Didn't stop her from fighting me though."

"The poor woman, no wonder she's frozen in fright, she had no idea what was happening to her," Peter said.

"I didn't do it on purpose," Sebastian snapped. "I couldn't help it. I've lost all corporeal form, except to believers."

He leaned sideways, so I could see his face beyond Barty who was still standing between us. My head tilted slightly, mirroring his movements. He smiled a sickly grin. "Like our lovely Myra. She can see me. Can't you, sweet girl?"

I guess Riley was right, and he couldn't tell I was immortal. He was going to be pissed once he found out and realized he'd wasted time trying to take my soul. I looked over at Mrs. Crowell. Blood was still slowly oozing from her neck. She was probably taking anti-clotting medicine and was going to bleed to death while we stood here chit-chatting. Then, of course, the bank would take the house, and I'd lose my apartment and be homeless because no one in Dempsey would rent to a murderess. They may not know the actual events, but I'm the only tenant presently in residence, so in small town logic that means I killed her.

"Myra? I said, you can see me, yes?" Sebastian asked again.

If I didn't at least try and prevent her death, in a way I would be responsible. Besides, I really loved my apartment

"Yes, I can see you, and I'll do whatever you want as long as you let Mrs. Crowell go."

All at once- or at least only seconds apart- Barty sucked in a breath, Peter laughed and Sebastian leaped around Barty, grabbing my arm. Barty grabbed my other arm as I heard Riley yell my name from behind me, and I felt the painful, although familiar, rearranging of my body's cells that told me we were shifting. Where I was shifting to, or who I was actually shifting with, I had no clue.

***

"Oh, crap. That hurts," I yelled- because if I'm yelling it doesn't hurt quite so bad. I looked around, shakily getting to my feet. My vision was blurred, making me feel disoriented and a little woozy, but not enough that I didn't recognize where we were.

I was standing next to my front door, my discarded school bag lying haphazardly at my feet. I turned to Barty who was standing in front of me. "What the hell? It took like forever, and we only moved upstairs to my apartment! I could have walked faster and without my kidneys feeling like they'd been squeezed through a juicer, thank you very much."

Barty gave me a shove, and I fell back against the wall. "Shut up and stay still," he whispered, pushing me into a sitting position with another shove.

"What the hell?" I yelled.

Barty had already started walking away from me, but he turned around, and even with my screwed up vision, I could see he was giving me one of his creepy grins which usually preceded me being thrown on my ass. So I stayed where I was for a few seconds before I followed him over to the couch where Sebastian was sitting, bent over with his head between his knees.

Barty leaned over Sebastian's huddled form, speaking quietly. I couldn't hear what he had said, but suddenly Sebastian stood up. Barty stepped back, placing a hand on Sebastian's shoulder. Well, that was what it looked like he intended to do, but apparently Sebastian had other plans. In a burst of movement, he twisted to his right, and then, like a taut spring, he quickly twisted back with a backward fist to the side of Barty's head. The blow sent Barty stumbling into my orange chair.

"Trainer Extraordinaire," Sebastian sneered. "You'll always only be a filthy Celt to me."

I made my way over to the orange chair just as Barty stood, his hands fisted and his shoulders rounded forward- he looked bigger, bulkier and a hell of a lot meaner.

Barty took a step toward Sebastian. The anticipation of violence hung so heavily in the air, I almost closed my eyes. Barty took another step forward and then stopped, leaning with all his weight on his right leg. His fists balled tighter as he rocked forward again, but he didn't move. It was like his left foot was caught or stuck to the floor. His body lurched to the right and he stepped back and then, swinging his shoulders forward, he tried to move towards Sebastian again. I could see his body strain- the muscles in his neck and arms bulged, his veins swelling, but nothing happened.

It was almost comical. I would have laughed if Sebastian's crazed cackle wasn't already sucking all the humor out of the situation.

"The calamities of duty, eh Bartholomew?" Sebastian said.

Barty took a deep breath, made another failed attempt to move forward and then, with a mumbled curse, stepped back, panting, his hands still clenched in fists at his sides.

"What is it? Why can't you move against him?" I asked, ignoring Sebastian's continued shrieks of laughter.

"Riley was given the order to capture or execute Sebastian, not I," Barty said, looking depressed.

"But you were just standing over him not five minutes ago. What changed that you can't even get within six feet of him now?" I asked.

"He hadn't intended to kill me when he was leaning over me, only noble intentions of wanting to help poor little ole me. Until I insulted his precious heritage," Sebastian said, pausing to laugh some more. "Now that he wants to end my life, an act that only Riley was given permission to do, he can't."

I had a foul name on the tip of my tongue for Sebastian, but before I could say anything, my front door crashed open. Riley, the force that opened my door in such an extreme fashion, thundered into the room, giant gold sword in hand. He gave me a look that asked everything okay? I gave him a look back that said nice sword and then he replied by stepping in front of me and slashing it through the air a few times before he said, "Sebastian, I am to collect you and bring you before Hades to await his judgment."

"Where is Peter?" I whispered to Riley's back.

"Downstairs. He is duty bound to care for Mrs. Crowell. It should take twenty- two minutes," Riley whispered back, still staring down Sebastian.

I moved to stand beside Riley. "How do you know how long it will take?" I asked, still whispering.

"Because that is what Peter told me. He would not have lied."

"Why would he give that information to you? Wouldn't it hinder his plans to capture Sebastian?"

"He wants to see how things play out."

"Did he tell you this, too?"

Riley turned away from glaring at Sebastian to glare down at me. "Yes. Now could I please finish my apprehension?"

"Sure," I said.

"Sebastian, give up your weapon. Let me bring you before Hades to await his judgment," Riley said.

I looked over at Sebastian.

When had he pulled out his knife?

Riley repeated himself, "Let me bring you before Hades to await his judgment."

Sebastian threw the curved knife in the air, and with the flair of a circus performer, he caught it, the hole in the handle spinning on his index finger. "You will always be a pawn, won't you, Riley- pushed this way and that, moved around and sacrificed at the gods' whims," Sebastian said, spinning his knife, catching it briefly in the palm of his hand, then spinning it again. "Your whole existence is a farce. Master Assassin, master puppet."

"I really don't want to fight you, Sebastian."

Sebastian grinned. "Afraid?"

Riley flexed his wrist, moving the ornate sword in an arc. "You are weak, and your blade is puny. It will be a disappointment for me."

"Hardly," Sebastian said, stepping forward.

Riley's only response was to shove me toward the balcony doors. "Stay," he grunted at me before dodging Sebastian's attack, and doing something in return that made a loud cracking sound and sent Sebastian stumbling.

I didn't know what Riley was so worried about, I was not an idiot. I knew nothing of fighting except what Barty had taught me, and I sure as hell wasn't going to try to use those minuscule skills against a crazed, knife wielding lunatic.

Of course, even if I had wanted to get involved, it wouldn't have mattered because as soon as my back hit the French doors, Barty was beside me with one of his long arms stretched in front of me.

Riley and Sebastian were not pretty to watch. It was not an artistic display of strength and skill by two ancient warriors. It was brutal and messy, and from the sounds alone, I wanted to throw up.

Riley didn't lash out with his sword as I expected. Instead, he used it as a shield, deflecting the crazy twists and turns Sebastian made with his knife while pounding Sebastian's face with his fist and elbows. It didn't seem to be a bad plan either, Sebastian looked rough, his face swollen and bloody, a large cut above his eyebrow steadily seeping blood.

Though Riley didn't look much better- his face wasn't bloody, but his arms, legs, stomach and chest were covered with red slashes from Sebastian's knife, and twice he stumbled when Sebastian managed to cut the back of his knee.

"Why doesn't Riley just go after him with the sword?" I asked Barty.

"He doesn't want to kill him."

"It seems silly that Sebastian would even think his little knife would be a match to Riley's sword."

"Sebastian is using a Kerambit. Though, it's a great deal smaller than the Sword of Peleus that Riley is wielding, the handle fits across the inside of the palm, with the blade pointing down instead of up, like a traditional dagger. This, combined with the curved blade and double edge, gets you a weapon that can be wielded quickly, with a wide range of motion, enabling Sebastian to make multiple strikes, cutting tendons and nerves within the time it takes Riley to make one move."

"Yeah, but all Riley has to do is lop off Sebastian's head. Whoosh, one swing and it's over."

Barty shook his head. "Only if Sebastian stands in one place long enough. He may have spent the last five hundred years as a scholar, but he is first a soldier. His training became instinctual over a thousand years ago. Even kneeling at death's feet as he seems to be, he is a deadly opponent."

"Should we be worried? Should we do something?"

Barty smiled. "Riley will be fine. Cut tendons and nerve damage is tedious and painful to heal, but Riley won't let it get far enough to do himself any real damage. Right now he's having fun. Sebastian knows he can't kill Riley, but he wants to try his hand at it anyway. We all have at one time or another."

"You want to kill Riley?"

"Well no, not really. I consider him a friend, but I can't help wanting to know if I could."

"When I first met you, Riley said you were better at fighting than he was. You agreed."

"He said I was better at training. But don't worry, one day we'll find out."

I covered my head as one of my Goodwill lamps shot towards me. Barty deflected it from hitting me, and it careened into my TV. Oh well, they were bought together, I guess it was only fitting that they bite the dust together too.

I turned my attention back to the fight just as Riley brought his fist, along with the hilt of his sword, into Sebastian's throat. Sebastian went down. Riley, crushing Sebastian's hand and knife under his boot, placed the tip of the Sword of Peleus at Sebastian's throat. "Give it up Sebastian. Even if you weren't sick and weak, you could not best me."

A smile spread across Sebastian's blood caked face. "Once I have Myra's soul-"

"There will be no having Myra's soul. She's immortal you idiot," Riley growled.

Sebastian took his eyes off Riley to glare at me.

"Give it up. Let me take you to Hades. I know you recognize the Sword of Peleus, don't make me destroy you."

"I don't know... final death may be interesting. You kill me, my soul will be released, travel to Hades, and I can offer up Myra as a bargaining chip," Sebastian said to Riley, while still glaring at me.

Riley looked at me, "Myra?"

"Oh. Did no one tell you? She offered herself to me if I let the old lady go," Sebastian snickered. "And I guess- since she's immortal now-when I grabbed her arm to shift, her agreement became binding." He laughed, "Again the Fates shined their approval down on me, gifting me, sweet, sweet Myra. She doesn't seem like the sacrificial type, does she?"

"Myra, did you promise to aid Sebastian?" Riley asked.

"Damn it, I need a cake roll," I whined.

"Myra?" Riley asked again.

"Yes." I continued to whine, "It was the blood and the whole Peter saying he'd put Mrs. Crowell back together again. All I could think of was Humpty Dumpty, cracked and leaking all over the floor. And besides, I'd never find a better apartment."

"Idiocy at its finest," Barty said.

"Myra is unimportant to Hades, she would be no bargaining chip. You would do better to come with me. Maybe I could persuade Hades to help you," Riley said.

Sebastian wrinkled his brow like he was thinking hard on Riley's offer. It was a wasted effort though, considering the condition his face was in, not to mention he was still lying on the floor with Riley's sword at his throat. "I don't think so. You see, I don't believe anything can persuade Hades. I didn't mean use Myra for bargaining with our dark master, I was thinking more of a tool to ease whatever punishment is in store for me. You have to admit, she would be quite the treat for some of the daemons, or the tortured souls of the damned. Mmmm, all that sweet flesh!"

"Asshole," I said, trying not to be scared.

"What do you want?" Riley asked, his voice flat, lifeless.

"I want you to let me go."

Riley stepped back, the sword vanishing and his arms folding across his chest as he did so.

Sebastian stood, leaving his broken knife on the floor. "Myra, my sweet, get me something to clean my face with."

I was in the bathroom rinsing a washcloth with hot water before I realized what he had done. I wiped the tears from my face before I walked back into the living room, handing Sebastian the wet cloth.

Sebastian smiled. "Be a dear, and clean me up," he said.

I slapped the cloth onto his face and began using it to scour his cuts. Sebastian grabbed my wrist, stopping me. "Be gentle," he said.

My hand slowed, my touch softened. "Bastard," I said, through clenched teeth.

Sebastian chuckled. "That's enough."

I stepped back, feeling Riley move to my side. I immediately felt more like myself and gave Sebastian a small rebellious smile. His face was nowhere near being clean. If anything, with dirt and blood smeared over his swollen cheek and forehead, he looked worse.

Riley moved so his arm brushed against me. "Would you promise that no permanent harm will come to her, Sebastian?"

"Why such concern, Caisus? So unlike you. Do you love her?"

"Yes," Riley said.

I wasn't sure who gasped louder, me or Barty. I didn't look over at Barty though, my chest had tightened almost painfully at Riley's words. He loved me? How could he love me? Had anyone ever said that they loved me?

Sebastian smiled. "Time to go, Myra," he said, holding his hand out again.

My mama had told me she loved me, but only when she was drunk and I was walking her to bed or holding her head when she was sick. How could he love me?

"Myra," Sebastian said, crooking his finger. "Now."

I had no choice. I had to step toward him and away from Riley.

"Promise me, Sebastian," I heard Riley say, as Sebastian grabbed my hand, jerking me into him just before we began the molecule dance to wherever he was taking me.

### Chapter 22: Down the Rabbit Hole

I was doubled over, my eyes squeezed shut and my chest tight with a held breath while tiny needles of pain made their way through my abdomen. I exhaled and, though I still felt a twinge of discomfort, opened my eyes and tried to calmly assess where the hell Sebastian had shifted me to.

I was standing on a pitted and cracked concrete floor. A single, dull light bulb screwed into a plastic socket hung from frayed wires, swaying slightly above my head. It showed glimpses of gray cinder block walls and not much else. The air was heavy with the smells of rotten food and body odor competing for dominance. I wiped the beads of sweat off my forehead and tried not to gag.

I was just tall enough, on tip toes, to tap the light bulb into a full swing. It showed more cinder block walls, dark empty corners and a heavily boarded up door to the left of me. I tapped the bulb again and turned to my right- a torn and stained twin mattress was set against the middle of the wall, dirty clothing bundled into a makeshift pillow at one end. Remnants of fast food wrappers, liquor bottles and plastic shopping bags were piled in the corner to the left of the bed. To the right, Sebastian was bent over, facing away from me, his hands grasping the wall while he quietly heaved his guts onto the floor.

I had the strongest urge to kick his legs out from underneath him and watch him collapse to the ground.

"You shouldn't have shifted, as sick as you are," I said. "You should crawl into some dark hole so you can die, miserable and alone."

Sebastian turned, leaning into the wall. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and choked out a laugh. "What are we standing in, if not a dark hole, and though I am not alone, your wish for me to feel miserable has definitely been granted."

"Poor baby," I replied sarcastically, trying to hold onto my anger.

"I cannot possibly fathom why Bartholomew dislikes you," he remarked, sitting down on the mattress with his back against the wall and his legs crossed at his ankles. "Sit down. You're making-"

My knees bent without warning, sending my butt down hard onto the concrete floor.

Sebastian made a sound of disgust. "Subservient just isn't in you, is it?"

"What do you want from me?" I snarled, having no problem feeling more angry than afraid as spasms of pain shot from my tail bone, up my back.

"I certainly don't want a graceless puppet!" he snarled back. "What is the point in kidnapping you when you'll do everything I say?" He waved his hand at me. "You are released from your promise."

That was surprising.

Standing up, I tested his hold. "What do you want with me? You can't take my soul anymore."

"Your company, as I take my last breath?"

I didn't believe him, but I didn't think he would answer truthfully if I asked again so instead I asked, "Why did you go to so much trouble tying up and threatening Mrs. Crowell?"

Sebastian smiled. "Oh, I don't know, to have a bit of fun. I needed to do something to alleviate the boredom."

"Is that why I'm here? To help alleviate the boredom?" I asked, imagining ways I could wipe the smug smile off his face.

He raised an eyebrow. "Possibly. What do you have to offer as a distraction?" he asked, his voice suddenly melodic and husky.

His words sent a shiver of fear that worked its way through my anger. Before he could see my reaction, I started to pace a square in the middle of the room. Unfortunately, it didn't take much to make me feel like the terrified girl I often was when growing up- hiding in my closet, knowing my mother had passed out, and chanting prayers that the man she had brought home would stop tapping on my bedroom door and join her.

I glanced at Sebastian. He didn't look like much of a threat and certainly didn't seem to have in mind what his suggestive words and tone of voice had hinted at. He was playing with me, like the phone call, the note at school and the creepy scene in the school parking lot. He didn't shift into the school or the car because he enjoyed the thought of scaring me, and scared is what I was. Even as weak and sick as he looked sitting in front of me, he still had me trembling in fear, but hiding in my closet when I was a kid hadn't helped me and neither would acting the victim in Sebastian's games.

I stopped pacing and stood directly in front of him. "What do you want with me?"

Sebastian laughed. "Now see. This is much better, you're so afraid your hands are shaking, yet you're doing your best to make me think you're not. If I had kept you to your agreement, I would have been tempted to pacify you. No, this is better, much more fun. Try again to act brave, but hide your hands this time, and I'll pretend to believe you."

Crazy jackass.

I folded my arms across my chest. "I'm not trying to act brave. Honestly, you scare the hell out of me. Your creepy psychotic smile and little beady demonic eyes only remind me of the pain and terror you caused me when you stole my soul." I sucked in and let out a deep breath. "But I had how-to-take-a-punch training with Barty today, and I've just shifted twice within ten minutes. I'm really tired, feel like crap and would just like you to stop with the bullshit and tell me why I'm here." He didn't comment, so I went on, "And, while you're at it, you can tell me why Hades messed with the Goddess Greek Yogurt flavors, made a soft porn exercise video with subliminal messages, and had you working at a nursing home. Who wiped everyone's memories? And most importantly, what the hell happened to Joshua Collins?"

For several minutes he didn't say anything, just stared off into space. I started pacing again and began thinking of possible ways to get through the boarded up door.

"I snagged the old lady in hopes of luring you downstairs, away from Riley. I'm too weak, my ability to shift unreliable. I didn't want to waste the energy trying to grab you and fail because Riley got in the way." He sighed. "Not that my plans seemed to make much difference in that regard."

I stopped pacing. He sounded bored, speaking matter-of-factly in a calm, even-tempered voice. I said a silent plea to The Fates that this more cooperative version of Sebastian would continue and, hoping I wouldn't catch a flesh eating bacteria, sat down on my butt two feet in front of him, to listen.

"I planned to kidnap you, steal your soul and restore my power. I hadn't worked out the details yet, but a cross country killing spree, collecting and consuming souls in the process, was a definite. Within a few weeks, I would have obtained enough souls and subsequent power to have taken on any of the gods. Hades and Zeus would have been paltry adversaries, and then, with their power, none of the gods could have stood in my way."

He was insane, and my hands were still trembling, but apparently I was more curious than afraid because I couldn't stop myself from asking, "What is a soul? How does it equate power? And how were your able to take mine?"

He leaned over, and in a panic, I started to scramble back, away from him, toward the boarded up door.

He chuckled. "Even in my weakened state you'd never make it to the door before I broke your neck- if I was so inclined."

There was a click, and white light glowed from a battery powered camping lantern. I stopped moving.

I could see his entire face as his mouth spread into slow smile, and he continued as if he hadn't just threatened me. "Hades gives gifts to his Assassins."

"The power of persuasion and the power of misdirection," I said.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Yes, both of which he bestowed upon me, along with the power of possession."

"Power of possession? Power to possess what?"

"Souls." he said with obvious annoyance.

"Why would Hades need the power of that? I thought after a mortal died, the soul went on to whatever afterlife the mortal believed in. I thought it was a done deal."

"So did I. However, I'm not stupid enough to question Hades about it, and luckily it was easy to use-like his other gifts, all it took was my desire." He grinned. "My desire for your pretty soul."

Geez. "So, what exactly is a soul?" I asked again, hoping to distract him from the pretty soul bit.

"Would you believe that I do not know? I have suspicions- thoroughly logical and thought out guesses- but no true knowledge. At one point, early on in my immortality, I had the idea to keep a log book of my encounters as I led a soul to Hades' gates. I questioned and documented and theorized. It was quite scientifically done, I assure you, so it didn't take me long to realize that the souls themselves had no answers to their existence either. They don't even wonder about their existence. They are like lost puppies, whining as if they have just been separated from their master, and waiting dutifully for the next command."

"You make a soul sound pitiful and sad."

He shook his head. "Is it not sad and pitiful to not know of your own existence, to not even have a desire for that knowledge?"

I didn't answer. His tone of voice had changed to one with a cruel, patronizing edge that I did not want to test, so I kept what I hoped was a blank expression, waiting for him to continue. It didn't take long. Sebastian liked to hear himself speak.

"I do know this much however, souls are power. Souls fuel the mind to believe and create, and because of that belief, we are still in existence." He gave me a sideways glance as he folded the cuffs back on his sleeves. "I've often wondered if the collected souls act like a bank of power for the deity that presides over their care. What if the judgment of hell, the reward of heaven, the Elysian Fields, the black depths of Tartarus etc... what if they were only a farce? A masterfully created prop? All just one big fancy bit of a magician's trick of misdirection, hiding that the actual dwelling for mortals' souls is nothing more than a corral for the holding of the power the souls possess."

He waited for me to reply, but again, I stayed quiet, mainly because I wasn't quite sure what he was saying, and I was a little scared of what I did understand.

"I know you think me insane, and maybe at this point I am, but my theory is sound. I've felt the power a soul can give, especially a healthy one- enormous power."

"And you know this how?" I couldn't stop myself from asking.

He laughed. "From you of course. For eight glorious minutes, I held the power of your soul within me."

He licked his lips, his smile spreading wide, tightening the thin skin across his sharp cheek bones and angular chin, making him look even more demonic in the limited light.

He raised his hand, as if capturing something precious within. "It was glorious, beyond my imagining, and it felt..." he smacked his lips as if tasting the word, "... right. Like taking destiny in hand and seducing her into submission." His smile changed to a grimace, and his upheld hand clenched into a fist. "Until you were taken from me."

I could feel his anger. It made my stomach twist and the muscles in my legs tighten as my body instinctively prepared to flee. But I couldn't run, as Sebastian had already pointed out. I'd never make it through the boarded up door, and I had no doubt that he would break me if I tried.

So my only option was to keep him talking. Who knew that my years of manipulating lecherous drunks would come in handy once again? I wondered if I should I thank my mother for the preparation.

"Why didn't you just steal another soul?" I asked, proud that my voice didn't sound as shaky as I felt.

"You make it sound as if all I had to do was walk into a store, choose one off a shelf and pocket it. I was already weak when I went in search of Mr. Pittard and found you instead. Once your soul was ripped from my body, I hadn't the strength to move, much less locate another Greek believer. You were here within my grasp, and besides, I had a..." he smiled, "taste of you, and I wanted more of the same."

"And now that I'm immortal, my soul is no longer tasty?"

"You have a dullard peasant's mind," he snapped, before sighing with exasperation and asking, "How did it happen? You becoming immortal?"

"The Fates," I answered, trying not to show my irritation at being called dumb.

Sebastian smirked. "Those little brats, they love to just pick and prod at our lives until we're like little stringed puppets." He mimed holding marionette strings. "I wonder if they'll feel anything over my death."

I imagined Candy's grim face as she snapped her shears. "Probably not."

Sebastian frowned but finally answered my question. "Your soul has been claimed by Hades, and as one of his Assassins, I cannot also claim it. Basically, you've been collared and leashed with Hades holding the reins."

I didn't feel like my soul had been claimed. Wouldn't it have involved some agreement with Hades, like the one Riley had made. I hadn't even shaken Hades' hand. In fact, no one had actually said I was one of his Assassins. Riley had hinted at it a few times, but shouldn't I have been given a uniform or training manual, something official?

Sebastian cleared his throat, distracting me.

"Watching you think is devastatingly boring," he said.

At least when he's insulting me he seems less psychotic.

So I ignored the gibe and worked on getting my questions answered. "So, if you had been able to take my soul, gone on your killing spree for more souls and defeated the gods, what would you have done next?"

He gave me a look of pity. "I would think it obvious. I would admonish mankind for its weaknesses, destroying a few cities to make my point, and then relax as the only god left to be worshiped- spending the rest of my days basking in the love and devotion of my subjects."

I had to bite hard on the inside of my cheek to keep a sudden laugh from escaping. How much more absurd could my life become? Gods, goddesses, immortality, stealing souls, subliminal exercise videos and now, conquering antiquities professors... half the time my brain was still telling me to wake up. Yet he was serious, and from what he had said, he had the means to do it.

"What are thinking?" Sebastian snapped.

"I'm wondering if you were insane before you became immortal, or after," I answered, feeling a little hysterical which was why, once again, my brain and mouth were working simultaneously.

"You don't believe me," he accused.

"No, I absolutely believe you, and, considering you just murdered me less than a week ago, I know for a fact that you're at least capable of killing a bunch of people. But, if I were being honest, I'd tell you that your overall plan is flawed."

He folded his arms across his chest. "Flawed how?"

He was giving me the same mulish look my mama had worn when I'd come home early from work and caught her with a half empty bottle of whiskey. This was probably why, without thought to the consequences, I again answered him honestly, and in the same exasperated tone I had used with her. "Where are all these Greek believers whose souls you would have stolen for power? From the way Hades acts, they don't exist. So your plan was already a failure because you would never have had enough power to defeat all the deities. Even if you did, and mortals were so fearful of you that they did worship you as you predicted, it wouldn't last- they would rebel."

Sebastian shook his head and laughed. "They would love me. I would have made them love me, just like I would have made them believe in me and had thousands of souls at my disposal."

The knowing look he gave me and the confidence in his voice sent an uncomfortable chill down my spine.

"How Sebastian? How would you have made them?"

"It's a secret," he said, suddenly sounding like a precocious child.

The man was nutty, his moods and mannerisms changing quicker than I could keep up with. I tried to think of something else to say anyway, something clever to get him to spill, but- other than screaming at him- nothing came to mind. Luckily, my silence turned out to be the thing to do.

"I just might tell you. After all, I no longer owe any loyalty to the dark god."

"You mean Hades."

Sebastian nodded. "If I tell you...everything, answer all your questions, will you swear to tell others my story? Will you explain things from my point of view?" he pleaded.

"I promise," I said, sticking out my hand only to jerk it away the moment his fingers touched mine, feeling a sizzle up my spine as my intent solidified in my mind.

Sebastian frowned. "I felt it binding, your promise. I wasn't paying attention before when you committed to go with me. If I had been, I would have noticed the binding and known before Riley gloatingly informed me that you were no longer mortal. Though it hardly mattered, once you agreed to go with me, you had no choice."

I nodded. I hadn't felt the binding of my promise either, but as he said, it wouldn't have mattered.

A few minutes of silence passed. He still had his arms crossed, looking petulant with his bottom lip pushed out and his eyebrows furrowed, but he didn't say anything. I wondered if I should say something, but what the hell was I supposed to say? I still felt shaky, I think from anticipation or maybe irritation, but not fear. Gods, I was as bad as Sebastian with the mood swings. Maybe he was rubbing off on me. What an unpleasant thought.

I pinched the inside of my arm to help me focus and then tried to get Sebastian back on track. "Maybe it would be easier if you started at the beginning."

He rolled his eyes. "I have a well ordered mind. I can recall each of your questions and am fully capable of answering them in the order they were asked."

He unfolded his arms. After giving me an assessing look and smiling a fairly normal smile, he began, one by one, to answer my questions. "You're here because I want you here. As we have previously discussed, originally it was to take your soul. However, after receiving the revelation that you were no longer mortal, and therefore no longer of use to me, I decided you would come with me because Riley desperately did not want you to."

That surprised me. "Why?"

"Because he's unaffected by life, and I hate him for it."

"He isn't unaffected-"

"Yes, exactly. He is no longer untouched, is he? He is worried and angry and desperate and helpless, all the things we feel when something has happened to someone we love. It's good for him. I'm actually doing him a favor."

"You're an ass. A childish, jealous ass."

He shrugged. "Maybe. Let's go on to question two-"

I held up my hand. "Wait a minute, how long do you plan to keep me here? What are you going to do with me?"

"I haven't decided yet. I believe the next answer is pretty self-explanatory. Hades changed the formula for Goddess Greek Yogurt and altered the video in hopes that those watching would subconsciously begin to believe in Greek mythology and increase our number of believers which would increase Hades' power, and so on."

"What did he put in the yogurt?"

Sebastian laughed. "Lethe."

"What?"

He continued laughing. "Waters of the River Lethe."

I couldn't help the gasp that escaped my mouth. "The forget everything river?"

Sebastian's laughter grew in mirth. Slapping his leg and giggling, he wiped tears off his cheeks, smearing dirt in the process. "You had almost the exact reaction I had when Hades confessed the contents of the serum he gave me. I couldn't believe it- it seemed so diabolical, yet so simple."

"How will you control how many memories are lost? Doesn't one drink from the River Lethe leave a person with the absence of all of their memories?"

"Yes. This is why Hades diluted the waters of Lethe and assigned me the task of experimenting. I have always had a scientific mind, and it was exciting to see what would happen."

First, I thought of his students at Morgan Hill, then the plaque from the old folk's home came to mind. "You experimented on the old folks at the nursing home."

Sebastian fluttered the fingers of one hand into the other in a mock clap. "I applaud your quick thinking, very surprising by the look of you."

I showed him my middle finger, pleased that my snarkiness had at last returned.

"Yes, much more like what I would have expected. As you correctly guessed, several of the elderly in residence at Sugar Tree Convalescence became my test subjects.

"It actually took no effort. I found five subjects at death's door and with all of their intellectual abilities still intact. After making myself known to the staff and most of the conscious patrons of the facility, it was fairly simple to administer the serum through an injection, and then use the power of suggestion and possession to replace their previously held beliefs with those of Greek mythology."

He took a deep breath and smiled proudly. "The experiment was considered a success, in that four out of the five test subjects' souls, after suffering a normal unaided death, were ferried across the Styx, with a pleased Hades waiting to greet them."

"That's horrible."

"Why? I did not kill them, their souls now rest in the Asphodel Fields, and we received four more souls than we otherwise would not have had."

"You took away their choice."

"Yet, they are happy and have no memory of anything different, so again, why was it horrible?"

"What happened to the fifth soul?"

"I'm not sure. Mr. Kirby was atheist, so I theorized that, because he had no belief to replace, he was unable to accept the belief of mythology that I had suggested. I can only assume that because he did not believe in a hereafter, for him, there wasn't one."

"At least he was left with his choice."

Sebastian shook his head. "I do not see why you sound as if you are disgusted."

"Because it's wrong! Hell, it's the one basic rule that everyone has to obey because it's so wrong!"

He threw his hands in the air. "There are no rules in a war. I have never understood the idea of fair play and acts of humanity in battle. War is inhumane in itself, to try and make it fair and pretty is ludicrous."

"Your test subjects weren't soldiers, they were innocents and you violated their beliefs as if they had no meaning. Your actions decided the resting place for their souls, and though they may have no memory of their previous beliefs, you can't tell me you have not caused some kind of damage to them."

"You are getting tedious, Myra. No, my test subjects were not soldiers. We are the soldiers, and the battle is for our existence. Souls are the prize. If you are naive enough to think that we are the only ones willing to do what is necessary to keep our realm in existence, you will not be with us for long."

"Fine. But if you're so gung ho about Hades' plan, why were you planning to challenge him? Why did you become Rogue?"

"Was, planning to challenge him. I gambled on having your soul and lost. Now I am too weak to search for another, and I don't have any more serum. I had planned to steal the serum Hades had delivered to the Ambros plant, that was how I would have had enough souls, enough power to take on the gods, but it's too late. Now, all that is left is for me to die."

I looked toward the boarded up door again. I was not going to hang around waiting for him to die.

Sebastian cleared his throat, bringing my eyes back to his smiling face. "I am still strong enough to break your bones. I can fracture every one in less than twenty minutes, including the tiny ones in your fingers, it was a specialty of mine a long time ago. It would be a fitting end for my reputation to leave you broken. And though you would heal, it is excruciatingly painful. Or, you could listen to my story, a much more fitting end to my reputation, and a lasting blow to Hades."

I sighed. "Why did you go rogue?"

Sebastian's smile faded.

"Joshua Collins," he said, bitterness and hate dripping from every syllable.

### Chapter 23: Love Man, Love Woman, Love Thy Self

"Joshua Collins was the ideal pupil, bright and eager to learn, with a wonderful mind. He understood the intricacies of the Roman Empire and could have easily given Bartholomew a challenge in strategizing. I loved being his mentor and teacher. You may assume from our recent encounters that I enjoy causing terror, but it just isn't true. I am actually a very gentle person, an academic at heart and soul."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, you are all that is generous and kind, using your academic heart and soul to trick children into believing in Greek mythology. I can see how I've misjudged you."

"It is my duty to encourage Greek theology," he snapped. "Even so, I did not trick anyone I taught."

I didn't say anything. First of all, because he was correct. He did teach. Hell the first thing I had thought when walking into his classroom was how much I would have loved his class- he was probably a damn good teacher. Secondly, though I was no longer trembling in fear, it was hard to forget that he had, just minutes ago, threatened to break all my bones. Sometimes I actually do manage to keep my mouth shut.

I guess Sebastian took my silence as acquiescence because he gave me a regal head nod and continued.

"As I was saying, Joshua was one of my best students, a young man with unlimited promise and the strength of character that is not often seen in this day. I saw him as invincible, though I of all people, having known lifetimes of sorrow and tragedy, should have known it wasn't so.

"I think if I had been quicker to notice how despondent he had become, I may have been able to prevent his death. As it was, I was preoccupied with the experiments Hades had assigned me, and Amelia had just come into my life." He smiled wistfully. "I was in love and feeling proud that Hades had chosen me for such a task.

"By the time I noticed Joshua's change in behavior, it was April, and he had become so lost, such a pale shade of his former self...I tried to speak with him about it, but he refused, said he was fine, and finally, after my third attempt, he told me to mind my own business."

"Did you speak with his parents?"

"Yes. After several phone calls and heart felt pleas by me, including my assurance of only having Joshua's best interest in mind, I was made aware of the problem. Joshua was homosexual and had just recently revealed his sexual preference to his parents. Apparently, it was something he had been struggling with for some time. His mother said she and Joshua's father were not surprised and had both given Joshua their full support. She said that Joshua had been so elated that over the winter break he chose to come out to his friends, as well. Their reaction was not as supportive as his parents' had been. I think if his friends had responded immediately it may have not been as devastating, but they chose instead to wait, and in a very public display, shunned and ridiculed him."

"What did they do?"

"They cornered him after the district wrestling finals."

"And?"

"They beat him. He was fortunate- it wasn't as bad as it could have been. No broken bones or internal injuries, mainly two black eyes, a minor concussion and bruises."

"Jeeze."

"He had never encountered even indifference in his young life, so his idealistic mind assumed, after receiving his parents' easy show of support, that his friends would do the same. He was shocked at their cruelty, and he felt humiliated and alone. If he had not told anyone, he could have kept his secret for five more months, left for college and no one would have known. He lost all self-confidence."

Sebastian looked as lost and helpless as Joshua must have felt. All the animation of his previous craziness had left, leaving his eyes blank, his lips thinned and his complexion gray, but he continued, his voice growing thick with despair. "With his parents' permission, I tried to show my support for Joshua by sharing my experience with having male lovers. I tried to impress upon him the importance of being true to yourself."

"Did sharing your experience help?"

"I'd like to think so. He was responsive enough to join a support group for homosexual teens."

"I don't understand. It sounds like he was working on it, gaining back some of his self-worth. He had what, two weeks left of the school year?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Friday was senior skip day, I had only morning classes, so it was a short day. Amelia brought me lunch-"

"Amelia? That's right your girlfriend, but I thought you just said you were gay?"

Sebastian ran his hands through his greasy hair. "I am from a time when we did not have to be one or the other. We did not use labels to announce our sexual preference. Neither, did we hold such strict opinions." His voice started getting higher, more defensive. "I have lived many life times and have had many lovers, male and female. Naturally, I could not explain this to Joshua, nor to Amelia, later, when she asked. I have made vows against sharing secrets of my immortality. I could not explain."

"So what happened? I assume Joshua caught you and Amelia getting hot and heavy and thought you lied to him."

"Yes. Exactly. He ran out of my office before I could explain. I would have followed him, had intended to follow him, but Amelia was hysterical. She misunderstood Joshua's reaction, thinking I had been having a sexual relationship with him. I was able to calm her down, enough that I could explain. We had just finished a lengthy talk, and I remember feeling that our relationship would be whole once more when Joshua showed up again."

Sebastian wiped a tear from his cheek.

I felt like I should probably offer some type of comfort, but no amount of tears or any sob story was going to make me forget how much of a psychotic bastard Sebastian was, so I sat there and let Sebastian sob in peace.

After several minutes of noisy bawling, Sebastian made one last shuddering gasp and wiped his nose and face on his sleeve. "Joshua had gone home, unlocked his father's gun cabinet, taking one of the handguns. He drove back to the school, walked into my office, and before I could do anything, stuck the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger."

I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears away.

"That lovely, brilliant boy was reduced to a shell and brain matter all over my office wall. I prayed to the gods," he sobbed and pounded his fist into the mattress. "I pleaded with them. I took Joshua's soul into safekeeping and begged Hades to help me, to put the boy back together, to give him immortality, to give him another chance. But no one answered. Hades ignored my pleas, and Amelia was trying to leave me, she had become hysterical again, she was trying to leave me. I needed her, and she was trying to leave!"

He was looking at me, his eyes pleading, as if asking me for absolution which, even if I had the power to give, I would not, because whatever he did to Amelia- and I could tell from the look on his face it was horrific- was not all right.

He drew his legs up to his chest, laying his arms across his knees, his head hanging limply in between.

"Everything had gone wrong again. It always goes wrong. But I knew Amelia was meant to be with me. I just needed her to be quiet for a moment." He lifted his head, at the same time letting his legs relax to the floor, and held out his hands. "I...I...just wanted her to be quiet, just for a moment, but she fought me, and I didn't realize what I had done until it was too late. I would have taken care of her, I loved her."

His high pitched whine turned into a snarl, "Hades chose to finally appear, and he took her from me. He took Joshua's body, confounded Lloyd Bartow's minuscule mind when he showed up to investigate and left with Joshua and my Amelia, ordering me to clean up my mess and report to him when I was finished."

"So you became rogue when you didn't report to Hades?"

"He wouldn't fix Joshua. He fixed Amelia, erased me from her mind, created memories for the Collins, but refused to fix Joshua."

"Did he say why?"

"He said he couldn't because Joshua was Christian and had taken his own life. Lies! All lies!" He punched the mattress for emphasis. "Amelia was Christian. Amelia's neck was crushed, but he fixed every bone," he sucked in a shaky breath, "...and left her mind empty of me." He sobbed, using his shirt again to blow his nose. "After all I had done for him. He said I was his trusted Assassin, his best Assassin. He didn't tell anyone else about the experiment, not even Caisus. I understood about Amelia, I was bad, and she deserved better. But Joshua, Joshua is innocent, and he has so much to offer, so much potential! Hades refused."

I let out a lung full of air trying to shake the suffocating feeling Sebastian's rambling confession had given me. And then, with clarity I normally would never possess, the truth screamed through my mind.

"What happened to Joshua's soul?"

Sebastian folded his arms across his chest. "Why do you wish to know?"

"You know damn well why I want to know, what did you do with the boy's soul?"

"Nothing." He touched his chest. "I have it within me, but I've done nothing to it."

"What do you mean you have it within you? Like you had my soul gloriously in your grasp?" I screamed, realizing but not caring that I was yelling.

"No, I would never! You have to believe me, I...I...couldn't assimilate his soul, even if I wanted to. Joshua is of Christian faith, remember? I can only hold him, keep him safe."

I tried to feel relief, but I couldn't quite shake the sickening feeling that came from imagining the fate of Joshua's soul. "So you took Joshua's soul and continued to refuse Hades' summons. Since Hades wouldn't help you and you were going rogue anyway, why not take over the universe... which started with looking up your old student from Dempsey Community college, Doug Pittard."

He shrugged. "Basically, though the plan sounded much more intellectual in my head."

"Plans to take over the world always sound better in our heads, which is where asinine ideas should stay."

### Chapter 24: The Downfall of Being Overly Enthusiastic

I found myself up and pacing while Sebastian continued to cry and sniffle into the hem of his shirt. I was irritated that I was stuck in this dim boarded up room and had absolutely no access to a cake roll when I so desperately needed one, but for the most part, I was just downright pissed off that I had this nagging feeling of pity welling up inside me.

The problem was that even though Sebastian was a psychotic, soul stealing, arrogant, asshole, who had no qualms about murdering innocent people, or taking their will and manipulating their lives and deaths to suit his own needs, he was himself a victim. He was following Hades' orders, and as he had pointed out, as one of Hades' Assassins he had a duty to convert souls to Greek theology. Who's to say after thousands of years of serving Hades, I wouldn't feel the same way about mortal souls?

I stopped in front of Sebastian and realized that, though I felt no need to give him a hug or even touch him, I no longer felt like kicking the crap out of him either. He probably really loved Amelia and, in his own demented way, was doing the best he could for Joshua Collins.

I needed to get Sebastian to shift me home. If in doing so I ended up helping the little creep, so be it- I've done worse.

"Explain to me why you're so sure your dying?" I asked.

Sebastian wiped his sleeve across his face. "I don't know, but I do know death well enough to know I am at its door."

"And the fact that you're immortal makes no difference?"

"Immortality does not truly exist. Death eventually finds us all. If you live long enough you will welcome it."

"You've got to cut the drama club stuff, it's starting to cancel out my sympathy. When did you decide you were dying?"

Sebastian frowned. "I'm not sure, I think after your soul was taken from me. It left me so weak..."

"You know, you didn't look so hot before you stole my soul either. You looked like you had missed several meals. I remember because I was going to donate my Lucky Charms to you."

Sebastian smiled. "Very thoughtful of you," he said with a leer, a weak and pitiful leer, but I got the point anyway.

"I meant the cereal."

Sebastian shrugged.

I ignored him and began to pace again. "Listen, I know this may be a crazy thought, but what I'm trying to get at is, what if holding onto Joshua's soul is what's killing you? You said yourself that you can't possess it."

"So..."

"It's like when you get a splinter. You hardly notice at first, but eventually, it starts to fester, and before you know it, your whole hand is aching, and then, if you still don't take care of it, it becomes infected."

His eyes became distant, and I got the feeling my analogy was lost on him. "Basically, I'm saying Joshua Collins' soul is a foreign object, and you're dying trying to hold on to him."

I waited patiently, tapping my foot while he puzzled out what I had just said. I will admit, I didn't have two doctorates to my name, but I think I was right in my thinking- in fact, I'd even say it was obvious.

Finally, with a hint of disdain and a raised eyebrow, Sebastian said, "Why I am dying has no bearing on our present situation. I will not give Joshua up to suffer Christian damnation."

"Then let me go home. I will tell everyone who will listen about what Hades has done."

He didn't even hesitate. "No. I don't want to be alone, and you can tell everyone after I die."

"How? I don't know how to shift, and I haven't a clue where we are."

Sebastian sniffed. "We're in a basement storage space in an abandoned parking garage near Lakewood."

"Grand. That solves all my problems. Are you going to help me un-barricade the door before you take your last breath, so I can walk I don't know how far and find a way to contact Riley?"

"No. I chose my safe house with care. There's a cement pylon in front of the door that cannot be moved, even by an immortal. This room can only be accessed by shifting, and considering no one else has been here to know our location," he smiled proudly, "we our quite safe from intrusion.

I kicked the wall in frustration. "I don't know why you're so smug. I can't tell anyone anything if I'm stuck here. That's not exactly going to help your plan of becoming infamous, or your revenge against Hades."

I nudged a liquor bottle with my toe, watching it roll in an arc. "Well, unless you wanted to be remembered for being an idiot. In that case, this was a stellar plan."

"How do you not know how to shift?"

"I've only been immortal for six days, give me a break."

"I was shifting on my own by the end of day one."

"Good for you. You learned how to shift, and I got assigned as Hades' Champion for the Olympian Trials."

Sebastian laughed, coughed, choked a little and then laughed some more. "You're Hades' Champion? That's why Bartholomew was hanging around. I forgot, you said Barty was teaching you how to take a punch. Riley got him to train you, didn't he?"

I rolled my eyes.

Sebastian continued laughing. "The thought of seeing you as Hades' Champion, competing in the Trials," he laughed again, "it's almost enough to make me want to live."

"Great, shift me home, and you can have a front row seat," I half growled.

His only answer was more coughing and laughter.

Fantastic, he was going to die laughing at me, and I'd be stuck here for eternity. "Hey, what happens to your soul when you die? Will Hades send someone to collect it?"

"I don't know. I guess so, it is his to claim."

"Well, what about Joshua? If you just let yourself die, what will happen to Joshua's soul? Are you just going to let Hades decide what to do with it? Though, I guess it could be worse. What if, when you die, Joshua's soul is released and he just floats away, or an avenging angel from Joshua's belief comes and claims him? Everything you've done to protect him would be wasted."

"Poor Joshua, there is nothing else I can do for him," Sebastian whined.

Now I was really getting pissed. Sebastian was just going to sit on the nasty, moldy mattress feeling sorry for himself until he died, leaving Joshua's soul, and me along with it, to who the hell knows what. I glared at Sebastian and very clearly said, "Coward."

Sebastian's lip curled as he menacingly snarled, "I have never been and never will be a coward. I should break you for the insult."

I ignored the fear that was clenching my stomach. "What would you call it? You're afraid to face Hades, you practically agreed with me that Joshua's soul was killing you and, though you say you're trying to protect him, you've done nothing to help his soul find peace. You can't be a martyr by dying in an abandoned storage room amidst garbage- you will only die a coward."

He leapt to his feet, and before I could even think to move, his hand clutched my throat, his nails digging into my skin. He slammed me against the cinder block wall, my skull meeting violently with the coarse concrete wall, making my vision darken while my other senses were stunned by the pain. Sebastian squeezed my throat while I frantically tried to pull his hand away, gasping for air.

I could see tiny purple spider web veins through the filth on his face.

He screamed, flecks of spit hitting my cheeks, "I am not a coward! Do you hear me?"

I had squeezed my eyes shut but still tried to nod. He leaned against me, practically laying on me, his mouth against my ear. Breathing heavily, he whispered, "I will face Hades, and you will find a way for Joshua's soul to be safe or I will take you down with me."

You'd think I would have noticed right away when he let go of my throat, though I guess I was just so frozen in shock or fear, that by the time I realized he had released me, he was back across the room, leaning casually on the opposite wall, most of his face in shadows, his arms folded across his chest.

"I hope you will not hold my temper against me. Though I meant every word that I said, I feel I might have been... overly enthusiastic in expressing myself."

"I would never accuse you of being reserved or subtle," I croaked on a cough, as my throat struggled to start working again.

Sebastian moved off the wall, walking toward me. I will not lie and say I did not stiffen and try to back away from him, even though I could still feel the wall at my back and knew there was nowhere to go. When he took my hands in his, I briefly wondered if he would now start breaking each of my bones, beginning with my fingers. Then I silently thanked The Fates as I felt the familiar, and for once welcomed, pain of shifting.

### Chapter 25: Finally a Cake Roll

I fell into my favorite orange chair. I felt like I was on fire, my entire body burning intensely. "Please, for the love of Ned, do not swivel," I whispered to the chair.

"Myra!" I heard Riley shout my name, and suddenly he was there, kneeling in front of me, touching my face, my hair, my hands. It should have made me hurt worse, hell, it probably did, but the overwhelming feeling of relief at seeing him again overrode any pain.

"I didn't think I'd see you again so soon, whole and unharmed. I was afraid of what Sebastian would do," he said, wiping tears from my face.

I would not describe myself as an overly emotional person. I've been described as cold- hearted more than once, but as the shock of the past few hours and the pain of shifting three times abated, I found myself sliding from my chair into Riley's arms where I proceeded to soak his shirt with the warm tears and snot, of a lengthy, ugly cry.

I'm not sure how long Riley held me in his arms rubbing circles of comfort on my back while I blubbered, but when I finally dried out and looked up into Riley's gray eyes, I felt knowledge burst within me as the feeling formed words in my brain, I love you. It wasn't lust, or hormones or desire- hell, if I was being honest, it was probably one of the least desirable things to occur. I have never loved anyone, aside from my mama, and I'm not sure if my feelings for her were love or obligation. I certainly have never loved any man.

Riley pushed a clump of hair out of my face. "Better?" he asked.

"I'm going to be kicked out of the man-haters club," I said on a shudder.

He laughed, pulling me into a warm hug.

"If you're finished coddling her, Riley, I do believe we have other things of importance to see to," Barty sneered.

Riley stood up, somehow bringing me with him, so I was standing too, facing a disapproving Barty, who was holding Sebastian up by his shirt collar.

Riley stepped forward. "I will take Sebastian to Hades. Bartholomew can stay-"

"No," I said, as I wobbled over to my French doors, pulled the curtain back and un-taped three packages of cake rolls. Before I made it back to my chair I had consumed one cake roll and was in the process of devouring the other.

Riley said, "Savoring?"

"Savor, smavor, I'm in need, "I said.

"Oh my goodness, TT, could you at least swallow before you try to speak?" Barty asked, acting disgusted.

"That's what you say to all the guys," I said, feeling better already.

"And once again, you live up to your nickname," Barty said, with a bit of a smile.

I snickered, "It may have been raunchy, but it was funny- admit it Barty, you thought it was funny."

Barty held up his thumb and index fingers, separating them about an inch. "Maybe a little bit," he admitted.

Riley turned to me. "Myra, I know you've had a tough few hours, but I have to present Sebastian to Hades. I'm almost out of time, and the Christian God only knows where Peter got off to. I don't want to have to fight the Gate Keeper tonight. Barty can stay here with you."

"I'm not saying you can't leave, or hell, take Sebastian with you. I won't lie and say I don't have an urge to punch him myself, but you need to hear him out. You need to know what Hades has been up to, and you've got to help me figure out what to do with Joshua Collins' soul."

Riley pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Joshua Collins, the boy whose parents we harassed? The boy that committed suicide?"

"Yes. Sebastian took his soul, and still has it. I think that's why he's dying."

Barty pushed Sebastian down on the love seat. Sebastian groaned in pain while Barty, unconcerned, leaned against the arm of the couch.

Riley pulled one of the two ladder back chairs from the dining room table, put it down beside me, turned it so the back was facing Sebastian and Barty, straddled it, sitting backwards with his arms folded over the top slat and said, "You've got ten minutes."

Ten minutes later Barty was pacing and shouting. "Maybe we could get Sebastian a job teaching preschoolers. He could warp their little minds until someone spills his Jell-O and he goes over the edge and begins stealing souls again because, as we all know, there just isn't enough Jell-O to go around!"

Riley ignored Barty's ranting and, shaking his head said, "The only solution for Joshua Collins' soul is to give him to Peter."

"What about Hades- we can't let him get away with this," I said. "He wants Sebastian destroyed because he doesn't want anyone to get wind of what he was up to. He broke the one law thingy!"

"I've already told you I would destroy the tainted yogurt and subliminal recordings," Barty said, leaning against the arm of the couch, again.

"Okay, but shouldn't we tell Zeus or something? He shouldn't be allowed to get away with it."

Riley sighed, "Myra. We have no recourse against Hades' actions, we only exist to do his bidding."

"Even if we tried to inform Zeus, after he had a tantrum at being left out of the scheme, he would only reinstate the plan himself," Barty added.

"I hate being one of Hades' lackeys, and I hate being immortal. There's a reason humans have a sell by date- we aren't meant to live forever," I yelled, kicking over the stack of newspapers and uncovering my stash of moon pies.

"You're sick, TT," Barty said, holding a hand out for one and quickly discarding the wrapper to take a bite.

"Aren't we all," I said, biting into my own cookie.

Riley ate his moon pie in two bites. He stood in front of me and, with an air of finality about him, took my hands in his. "Myra, none of what we have discussed changes that I have made a vow to either bring Sebastian before Hades or end his immortal life. I can feel Hades' summons as we speak. Our time is up."

"Is there anything we can do?"

Riley squeezed my hands. "I can try and say a few words on Sebastian's behalf."

Barty scoffed, stepping in between us to whisper in Riley's face. "What has happened to you? I have never known you to take such a risk. Hades will not be swayed, and you could easily end up with a worse fate than Sebastian if Hades thinks you challenge him. First you say you love her, and now you risk yourself by speaking up for Sebastian, who would have been perfectly happy to have destroyed you not three hours ago. I am in fear for you, my friend," Barty said, grabbing Riley's shoulder.

Riley clasped Barty's forearm in his, like some weird secret handshake. "Thank you for the concern, Bartholomew."

To me he said, "We must go."

I nodded. "Okay, but we should all go."

Riley said, "I don't think it would be a good idea to face Hades if you do not have to."

"Trust me, I don't want to see him, but maybe I can give a firsthand account of my time with Sebastian- maybe it will help."

Riley nodded. Barty jerked Sebastian up off the couch, both of them shifting out of my apartment during the movement.

Riley gave me a small smile. "Ready?"

I nodded.

"Breathe."

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs to capacity and held it for several seconds, feeling unease for what was to come. Then- because I couldn't hold my breath any longer, just like I couldn't go hide in my closet with a bag of cake rolls and avoid the future any longer- I released the breath into the unrelenting pain of the shift.

I smelled sugar and eucalyptus, sugar and eucalyptus, sugar...

"Myra? Myra, honey you need to wake up. Come on sweetie, open your eyes."

I opened my eyes. Carrie's deep brown eyes, her perfectly shaped eyebrows bent in concern, filled my vision. As she leaned closer, I watched her glossy pink mouth say, "She's awake."

"It's about damn time," I heard Barty say, as he came to stand next to Carrie and loom over me.

I tried to sit up, but Carrie pushed me back down and shoved a honey bun in my face. "Eat this," she said.

I'm ashamed to say, my stomach clenched at the thought. "I think I'm going to be sick," I croaked, not sure what had happened to my voice.

Carrie picked me up, sat me in a chair, slid a waste basket in between my knees and bent my head over it. "Do you think a peppermint might help?" she asked.

After a few minutes of deep breaths, I sat up, shaking my head. "I'm actually feeling much better, I think I was more disoriented than sick," I said, my voice still sounding hoarse. "What happened to my voice?

"You screamed through the entire shift," Barty said, hands on his hips.

"Look, this was my fourth shift today, it hurts and I-"

"I really don't care to hear your pitiful excuses," he snapped, before turning his back on me and moving to the other side of the room.

"What's his problem?" I whispered.

Carrie waved her hand in the direction of Barty. "He's just having a hissy fit because Hades only wanted to see Riley."

I turned around in my seat. Sebastian was curled up asleep on three chairs that sat against the back wall, and Barty was pacing the small space between the door to Hades' inner sanctum and Carrie's desk.

"How long has Riley been in there?"

"Let's get some coffee," she said, pulling me out of the chair and walking me to one of two big leather wing backs that faced her desk.

I sat down and enjoyed the feeling of slowly sinking into the fat leather cushion. I looked up at Carrie, who was pushing buttons on a shiny gold espresso machine. "You've redecorated- it looks good," I said, taking the cup of coffee she handed me.

Carrie smiled. "Yeah. Hades owed me for the sconces he broke, plus we had some big wigs come through yesterday, so I thought I'd spruce things up a bit."

I added two creams and four sugars to my coffee. "Should we be worried about Riley?" I asked, already worried, but trying to stay low key- not a natural state for me.

"He's only been in there about twenty minutes. I think it's just a basic debriefing. Zeus and St. Peter have been in the formal waiting room since the moment you arrived, so Hades isn't going to waste time with torture."

She unwrapped a chocolate glazed Honey Bun, placed it on a napkin and handed it to me. "Besides, Riley was Hades' first Assassin, and though Hades seems heartless at times, he has a special fondness for Riley, in his own way he respects him."

I took a sip of coffee and a bite of chocolate Honey Bun. "How did Zeus and Peter get here when we did? And how did they know we'd be here?"

Carrie gave me a look of pity. "Sweetie, Zeus is a god, and St. Peter has enough powers that he could be. Knowing when you cross over into the Underworld and being able to appear at the same moment is child's play for them." She took a sip of her coffee. "And honey, even if they weren't that powerful, all of Olympia heard your screams."

"Really, you can hear people during shifting?"

Carrie chuckled. "You're so cute. Yes, at least once you enter our realm, and if you're loud enough."

Carrie refilled my coffee cup. "Thanks Carrie, you always make me feel better."

"No problem, sweetie, we girls have to stick together," she said with a wink.

I slipped down the supple back of the giant chair, and my butt was basically hanging off the edge of my seat while my feet did their impression of a jack hammer- I was in a sugar coma. Well almost, from my knees up I felt dimwitted and lethargic- it was my feet that were holding me back from a full fledge zone out.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Barty asked, leaning on the front of Carrie's desk. His arms were folded across his chest, one over-plucked eyebrow was raised, and his upper lip and mustache were curved into a sneer.

"Ahh. The classic Barty look of disdain."

Carrie snickered. "Not that I have anything against your ass Bartholomew, but you can get it off my desk."

Barty moved to the leather chair, twin to my own, beside me. He sat in it like it was a throne.

I truly thought Barty was a jackass, but I had to admit I was glad he was here. "You know Barty, at first I thought you wholly unattractive, but you do have a certain appeal."

Barty rolled his eyes. "Is she drunk?"

Carrie leaned forward over her desk, her eyes narrowing at Barty. "Two chocolate honey buns, one package of devil squares and two zebra cakes, plus an extra cream, extra sugar espresso," she pulled a diamond heart shape watch out of her cleavage, "all in the last ten minutes. Have you been working out?"

Barty's face flushed to the color of his hair. "A little weight lifting here and there when I get the time."

Carrie nodded, sitting back in her chair, fingernail file poised and ready for action. "I thought something looked different."

Barty's face became a brighter red as he mumbled, "Thank you for noticing."

OH MY GODS! BARTY HAS A THING FOR CARRIE!

I shot up in my seat. "Oh my gods! Barty-"

The door to Hades' inner sanctum opened. Riley, wearing a look of indifference, walked through the door. I felt like we had all gasped and had our mouths hanging open, but it was just me. Riley pulled a chair over to the side of Carrie's desk. "It won't be long before Hades is ready for all of us," he said.

"Were you able to speak with him about Sebastian's circumstances?" I asked.

Riley pulled off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "A little. I was not in the position to convey the whole story or, at least, Hades was not in the frame of mind to listen. I explained about Joshua's soul, but Hades was already well aware of it. Peter is present to take possession of the boy's soul from Sebastian. Hades did not care to elaborate on the particulars.

"He was mostly concerned about the events surrounding Sebastian's capture. I expressed my concern about Sebastian's state of mind, but Hades waved my concerns away and continued to interrogate me as to what was in Sebastian's possession when he was found. He is now having a short meeting with Zeus and Peter. We will soon be joining them, making ourselves available to answer any questions or give testimony to any of Sebastian's crimes that we may have witnessed. I still have hope that we may get another opportunity to speak on Sebastian's behalf."

Barty said, "I have tried to warn you, my friend. Seb is going to suffer greatly. Hades has to worry about his own hide- besides, if Hades does not act, Zeus or the Christian God will. Sebastian has much to answer for. You know this, Riley. You've let Myra's opinions cloud your mind. You will be disappointed if you think we can succeed in any way at achieving mercy."

I sat forward, so I could glare at Barty.

"Don't look at me like that. You are a fool if you think otherwise. I am not saying we shouldn't try. I am just being realistic," Barty snapped.

"He is merely stating the obvious," Sebastian said, coming forward to stand behind Barty's chair.

He looked like shit, actually worse- he looked like death, and though I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Sebastian was as crazy as they came, I couldn't deny the heart ache I felt for all that he had been through.

"CARRIE!" Hades roared.

Carrie stood up. "Okay, I guess he's ready for you. Do me a favor though- give me the count of twenty and then go on in." She smiled, "I want to give my support." She walked out the door with her hips sashaying enough that even I appreciated it.

I didn't count to twenty. Instead, I grabbed the snack basket and handed everyone a cosmic brownie. "We should fortify ourselves."

"With chemically processed brownies?" Barty asked, picking off the rainbow candy coated chocolate chips.

"Whatever it takes," I said.

### Chapter 26: Sometimes You Have to Throw the Bottle of Jack Daniels and See What Happens

Brownies consumed, Riley, Sebastian, Barty and I somberly walked into Hades'...what the hell? Board room?

We walked into a cold black hole that seemed to have devoured any warmth, softness or welcome the room had held on my previous visits. At the far end, a black lacquered conference table and several chairs shone bright under white cylinder shaped lights that hung from above, but otherwise, the room was dark and empty, making me think of a black abyss waiting to drag us in.

I shook the thoughts from my head, blaming my sugar rush for my imagination taking such a Gothic bent. Even so, I couldn't stop the feeling of insignificance weighing heavily on me as we made our way to the empty table and chairs.

"Wow, somebody's been busy redecorating," I said, trying to lighten my mood.

"Shhhhh!" Barty hissed, grabbing my arm and pushing me forward until I ended up in one of the armless black leather chairs. It swiveled!

"What? Last time it was a lounge," I said as he sat down beside me, putting himself between me and Sebastian and Riley, who had already sat down.

"Hades is a god."

"What? Gods don't redecorate?" I hissed back.

"Being a god, he can change his surroundings at his whim. To ask if he redecorated like it was done by manual labor would be insulting."

Good grief, what a snob.

"He isn't even here, so pull your panties out of your ass and leave me alone," I said, in a half growl, half whisper. "I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual," he growled back.

"Children," Hades said with a chuckle, suddenly appearing across the table from us, looking very GQ in a black pin striped suit. "Please, we have guests. And, correct me if I'm wrong, gentlemen, but I do not believe they would want to watch me skin you and then hang you by your toe nails," he said, on an ambiguous chuckle as he slapped the taller man beside him.

As I watched Hades laugh, I couldn't help but admire how well his suit fit his tall muscular body. The cerulean blue silk shirt he wore made his eyes the exact color of an ocean horizon, shimmering under a noon day sun. There was no getting around it, he made my mouth water, and the word yummy came to mind.

The big blond receiving Hades' jovial man-pats gave a deep rumble of laughter, "I would not mind, brother. I miss our younger, wilder days." He looked at me and winked. "No one was safe."

Obviously this was Zeus. He was a nice looking man. He had a GI Joe thing going for him- short, straw colored wavy hair, tall broad shoulders and, from the way his gray suit fit, all over heavily muscled. With his grayish blue eyes, straight long nose and Tom Selleck smile I could see how he could tempt a few Grecian virgins to allow him into their beds.

Barty grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed. I think he was trying to tell me not to respond to their taunts. Duh! I'm not stupid. I wanted to say, but Duh, I'm not stupid, so I kept my mouth shut. I tried to squeeze his hand back to tell him this, but I don't think he noticed. I hadn't put much effort into the task because, once I was distracted from Hades and Zeus, I noticed Peter sitting in the chair on the other side of Zeus, directly across from Riley.

Peter, wearing his uniform of ordinary -khaki pants and light blue oxford- smiled at me. It was a genuine smile and his eyes smiled, too. As with the first time I met Peter, I got the feeling that he knew things, things we thought we knew the truth of but actually didn't, and things we hadn't thought of yet. In my mind, Peter was much more dangerous than either of the gods that stood tall and magnificent beside him.

Zeus, still chuckling, sat down, leaning towards Peter. "What do you say Peter, miss the good ole days?"

Peter pulled on the cuffs of his shirt. "I would rather look towards the future than live in the past. And, speaking of the future, I am afraid I have other appointments today."

Zeus gave Peter a pitiful shake of his head, but Hades, sitting down on the other side of Zeus smiled. "Of course, I sometimes forget you're not your own boss, Peter. Forgive us for wasting time."

"I'm afraid I'm not the one to offer you forgiveness, as you said, I'm not my own boss," Peter said.

Hades ignored Peter's comment. "Brother. Peter. These are four of my Assassins- Caisus Black, Barbatus Black, Sebastianus Black, and my newest underling, Mable."

Not for the first time I wondered what you had to do to earn the last name of Black.

"Myra," Riley quietly corrected.

Hades ignored him. Looking at me, he said, "This is my brother, God of the Sky and Thunder, Ruler of Olympus, Zeus." I waited for some theme music to start playing but instead, Hades introduced Peter. "And this is the owner of the keys to heaven, St. Peter."

Peter leaned forward slightly. "If I may make a correction, I am not the owner, merely the holder of the keys to heaven."

Zeus laughed, "Yeah, but wouldn't you like that promotion?"

Peter only said, "No. I would not."

"But you're like a glorified gofer or the doorman, for shit sake, that's got to get-"

"Brother," Hades interrupted. "We are not here to discuss celestial politics."

Zeus frowned at Hades, almost sneering before he turned to Sebastian. "You're in some serious shit, son."

Sebastian bowed his head.

Hades leaned back in his chair, shaking his head, as if disappointed. "When I assigned you to teach, Sebastian, I thought I was helping you out. I knew of your brilliance and brutal nature in your mortal life, both characteristics that led to my offer of immortality as one of my Assassins. However, it has only been a lack of fortitude that I have witnessed in your many years of service to me. Plainly put, you are weak and cowardly."

Hades leaned forward, both of his arms on across the table. "I have been more than patient with your defective character. I assigned you to a teaching position, hoping it would better suit your disposition, and in return for my patience and support, you reaped a Christian soul and went rogue."

I looked over at Sebastian, his head still bowed in submission. I looked up at Hades, who was staring at Sebastian, waiting. It seemed like we were all waiting. I looked over at Sebastian again and watched two tears, one and then the other, fall from his eyes. Tears of remorse, I thought.

Suddenly, Hades shattered the silence with laughter. Chills and dread walked up my spine at the sound. I dug my fingernails into Barty's palm to keep myself from screaming for the sound to stop.

"I expected gratitude from you, not betrayal. I never thought you would attempt to challenge me. Honestly, I still can't believe you had the balls."

Sebastian didn't reply.

Riley stood with his hands clasped behind his back and gave a short bow. "I ask that Sebastian be able to explain himself, to plead his case. There were extenuating circumstances that led to his downfall. The events were tragic and, though Sebastian has earned your judgment, we hope you will take the time to hear him out and grant him, at least, a small measure of mercy," he said.

As Riley sat back down the room was quiet. I was holding my breath. Hades had leaned forward again, resting both his arms, elbows to fingers, on the table while he stared intently at Sebastian. He tapped his finger on the table, one...two...three times, before he spoke.

"I appreciate your loyalty, Riley, but Sebastian has taken a soul that did not belong to us and attempted to take another soul that, though it would have been ours, was not yet fated to die."

Zeus pointed at Riley. "The circumstances don't matter- we cannot have underlings fucking around earth-side." He pointed to Peter. "Peter here might look harmless, but his boss can dish out some serious shit. You can't just screw with Christianity and expect to get away with it."

"I assure you, as long as I leave here with Joshua Collins' soul, my Boss has no wish to punish the soul reaper, Sebastian Black."

"Assassin," Hades said.

Peter smiled blandly. "My apologies, I was referring to his occupation not his title. No offense was meant."

Zeus looked at Peter and then gave a slow head shake, as if he decided he would never understand him. Peter continued to smile.

Zeus shook his head again. "Well, he may not feel the need to issue punishment, but we do. We can't have everyone thinking we've gone soft."

Hades stood. "I find myself, once again, making note of your loyalty Riley, but sentencing must be made and, as my dear brother pointed out, it needs to be severe."

Hades produced a long black poker out of thin air. "Brother," he said, tilting the end of the poker toward Zeus. Zeus grabbed the poker just under the handle, wrapping his hand around the iron, and sliding it down to the end.

I couldn't see any difference. As if Zeus heard my thoughts he winked at me. "Give it a minute," he said cheerily.

I concentrated on the piece of iron, my eyes stinging from the effort. Hades flicked the poker in the air like it was a giant sparkler and as I watched, the black blur became orange, red, and then white, leaving hot trails hanging above us in the air. Hades stopped twirling and blew on the tip of the rod.

As if it had become a writhing snake, the point melted, twisted and coiled until it formed a flat circle with three points, making it look like a crown at the top. Hades pointed the still white-hot rod at Sebastian.

"Sebastianus Black, stand and hear my judgment." Sebastian stood. I started to stand too, but Barty pulled me back down.

Hades said, "You will release the soul you have stolen, and then you will continue in my service for eternity as my messenger for the damned." Sebastian's shirt disappeared, and before I could close my eyes or look away, Hades placed the glowing crown in the center of Sebastian's chest.

When Hades finally pulled the iron away, the sound of my scream was still echoing in my ears. But Sebastian had made no sound, not even a sniff in response to the horrible smell his burned flesh had made. He sat down and once again bowed his head.

Riley's head was bowed. Barty was staring at my hand, which he still held, and I was staring at Sebastian's chest, at the blistered, red and black burn, not able to do anything else.

Peter stood up. "I will require a more private setting. The small gold and jeweled antechamber I waited in earlier will suffice."

Hades nodded. Peter motioned and Sebastian followed.

A few seconds after Peter and Sebastian left the room, Zeus and Hades moved to the end of the table, calling Riley over to join them.

I couldn't hear their conversation and, at that moment, I really didn't care. I felt so deflated. The whole thing was kind of anticlimactic, and a little surreal. Looking back at it, even Riley's speech seemed empty of any emotion, I guess because it had no effect. Damn.

I turned to Barty. "What does it mean that Sebastian will be a messenger for the damned?"

"Tartarus is a pit of utter darkness where daemons are born, and the damned forever repent for their sins in the hope that Hades or his judges will show them mercy. Sebastian now wears Hades mark. He will be the messenger between the inhabitants of Tartarus and Hades' court."

"I know this is very bad, but honestly, I don't completely understand why."

Barty sighed. "Think of the phrase, don't shoot the messenger."

I shrugged, still not understanding.

Barty said, "When I first became immortal, I served Hades primarily at court-"

"Like court of law, in judging souls or court like king, queen and throne?"

"King, queen and throne. I-"

"Wow, that must have been interesting."

"And a discussion we can have another day."

"Sorry. Sugar rush, trauma of seeing someone being branded."

Barty rolled his eyes. "Hades found that on average it took about a month of torture to render a messenger unable to perform his duties, and almost eleven months for the messenger to fully regenerate and heal. So Hades, being the practical god that he is, appointed twelve immortals to the post, so when one was found incapable, another could take his place."

"If he was practical, why didn't he just refrain from torturing the messengers?"

Barty sighed. "You're showing your poor breeding. Hades didn't torture them, well not literally. You have to assume that was his plan, but they were tortured by the damned. This is the fate Hades has sentenced Sebastian to- being ripped apart, burned, beaten etc...until he can no longer function. Then he will be thrown into a cell while he heals, only to experience it all again and again, for eternity."

My stomach tightened painfully, and I closed my eyes, willing myself not to vomit. "We have to do something! Doesn't Hades have some kind of obligation to Sebastian? Don't his Assassins have some kind of protection, insurance plan, something?"

Barty laughed. "An eternity of service to the God of the Underworld does not come with health benefits. Actually, the only one of Hades' Assassins that has any kind of protection is you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you are his Champion. Once the Champion is chosen, he is considered off limits from the gods, and if the gods forget, the Champion is protected by his own sponsor's body guard, but only until the Olympian Trials have been won. After that, you're fair game like the rest of us."

"Why?"

"It safe guards against unfair retribution if a challenger must engage a god or goddess for one of the Trials, not to mention any accidents to the competitors before the competition begins."

Too bad Sebastian hadn't been chosen Champion.

Zeus' boisterous laugh echoed through the room.

"How angry would Zeus be if he knew what Hades was really up to?"

"We've already discussed this, he'll be pissed that he wasn't included, and then he'll try and reinstate the plan himself. Chances are Zeus already knows Hades hasn't told the truth, he is the God of Lies after all."

"What about Peter, how much would Hades not want Peter to know that he brought Amelia, owner of a Christian soul, back to life? He shouldn't be able to do that, right? Not to mention the four elderly, non-Greek-believing men whose souls Hades now has possession of. How would Zeus react if I told all this to Peter in front of him?"

"I know what you're thinking, but it won't work. They all know something of what really happened. You think Peter doesn't know of the souls he is responsible for? You think Zeus hasn't already figured out that Hades has been lying through his teeth and is lucky as hell that we found Sebastian before any more damage was done? They all know what's happened, they just don't want to acknowledge it. It's like a mother seeing her daughter sneak a cookie from the cookie jar- she allows it because she doesn't want to have to go through the trouble of punishing the kid."

"Well, my mama would have thrown an empty bottle of Jack at me and been done with it, if I stole a cookie. Of course, we never had any cookie jars. Come to think of it, my mama probably would have been passed out, so the point is moot," I said, trying to get up my nerve to do something very stupid.

"What the hell are you blabbering about?" Barty asked.

I stood up. "I'm gonna throw the bottle of Jack and see what happens."

### Chapter 27: Watch Out! There's Glass Everywhere!

I got up, walked around a frowning Barty and plopped into the chair Sebastian had vacated. Neither Hades nor Zeus seemed to notice me, but Riley glanced my way and gave a small head shake.

I pretended I didn't see Riley's warning and rolled my chair over next to him. "Hey, Riley, I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you getting Bartholomew to train me for the Olympian Trials," I said, as a way of inserting myself into their conversation. I admit it was a bit weak, but it worked, sort of.

Riley gave me the, what the hell are you doing look and I swear Hades growled, but Zeus smiled. "You're Hades' Champion? Why wasn't I aware of this? Hades has never had a female champion him in the Trials before."

Zeus folded his big arms across his chest. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think Hades planned for you to become immortal. Did you, brother? Did you play The Fates into turning her immortal in the middle of this Sebastian soul stealing mess? Did you think Hermes' Trials would be tests of intellect, so you found a ringer?" Zeus asked, throwing out one question after another, his face becoming redder with each question, making his raised eyebrows appear white against his now almost purple face.

Riley put his hand on my chair. I think he actually planned to push me away, silly man. But I was not going to be thwarted by a rolling office chair, even if it did swivel rather nicely. I locked my feet around the table leg, and unless Riley decided to make a show of it, I was staying.

Hades was so pissed I could feel his anger coming off him in waves, but Zeus, who was still smiling, was the real threat. His eyes were shiny, and his jaw clenched so hard he had big purple veins popping out all over his neck. I think he was about to explode.

I have to admit, as crazy as it sounds, I had the insane urge to giggle because this wasn't my plan at all. I just wanted an in on the conversation so I could say a few innocuous comments here and there, to let Hades know I had the goods on him.

I tried to think of how I could use the situation to my advantage, but my brain was distracted by the way Zeus' collar was straining against his neck and the panicked look on Riley's face.

Suddenly, Hades chuckled, slapping Zeus on the back. "Brother, you know I'm not clever enough to fool The Fates. Meryl fell into my lap, and my lovely wife, liking the idea of a female Assassin so much, suggested I also put her in as my Champion."

"Myra," I whispered, correcting him, because hell, could I get in any more trouble at this point?

"You hate to lose. It isn't like you to back an unknown," Zeus said, loosening his blue tie a little.

"Yes. I absolutely despise losing, but I'll win with my wife, and any loss is worth earning Persephone's pleasure."

Zeus leaned back in his chair, his color starting to turn back to normal. "Do you mind if I ask Persephone about this? I hate to seem like I don't trust you, but I don't trust you."

"No, not at all. She's having a visit with her mother, right now, but I'm sure she would be happy to see you," Hades said with a smile that gave me shivers.

Zeus shook his head. "I wouldn't dream of imposing on Demeter. I'll wait and ask Persephone on her return home. Gives me something to look forward to," he said.

"Good, good," Hades nodded. "Will you excuse me brother... Riley? All this talk about the Trials has reminded me of a tad bit of advice I wanted to share with Mary," he said- not waiting for Zeus or Riley to answer as he stood, walked around the table and nearly broke my legs yanking my chair out.

I got up and let him take my elbow and guide me away from the conference table, the whole time telling myself that this was what I wanted.

As we walked, more cylinder shaped lights lit up above us, and I could now see that formal dining chairs, settees and delicate end tables, grouped into sitting areas, filled the previously darkened area of the room. The sitting areas were arranged to form a path that we followed to flat, wide steps which led to a stage.

Not a stage, I realized as Hades pulled me closer, a dais with a large bench shaped throne in its center. The throne- made of gold, with a plush cranberry cushion in the seat, giant carved lion paws as the front legs and screaming crows stretched out in flight as the arms- was equally beautiful and intimidating.

Hades pushed me past the stairs leading up to his throne and behind a tapestry into a hidden alcove. "What are you up to?" he asked, jerking me around to face him and pushing me against the wall.

I heard the snap before I felt the pain that went with it, radiating from just above my elbow. Hades squeezed the bone I had just felt him break. I guess for emphasis.

"Answer me. What are you up to?"

I squeezed my eyes shut against tears and pain. "Have mercy on Sebastian. Give him another punishment, one not so cruel. He's crackers, but he's been loyal to you for centuries. He deserves better. He's suffered enough."

"He's so loyal he planned to destroy me and take my place," Hades growled, squeezing my injured arm again.

The pain was dizzying but I kept my eyes closed and focused on the words I wanted to say. "He's so loyal he helped you break the law against mortals' free will and gave you four souls that shouldn't be yours."

"No one cares about four old men."

"Maybe not the old men themselves, but they would care about the Law of Free Will you broke and your use of the River of Lethe to do it. Even if that didn't pique Peter's interest, I bet you bringing Amelia, a practicing Christian, back to life would. Are you supposed to have that kind of power?"

Hades let go of my arm. There was a second of blessed relief before he wrapped his hand around my throat and slammed my head into the wall. It hadn't been two hours since Sebastian had done the same thing, and yet, the explosion of pain was not any more tolerable. If anything, it was worse.

My vision blurred, Hades' face going in and out of focus. Then, as if he knew of my comparison and wanted to prove himself the better, he wrapped his other hand around my throat, so both of his hands were circling my neck. His fingers tapped lightly at the top of my spine while his hands squeezed, and he slowly pushed his thumbs into my windpipe.

"Do you feel that honey? I'm going to crush your larynx first, so I don't have to hear your whiny voice anymore, then I'll work on your trachea, closing off any air," he said, as he moved his right thumb down and pushed.

I gasped for breath, using my unbroken arm to grab for his hands, arms, anything to make him stop. Then he stopped, "But not yet," he said smiling, "I have to finish telling you my plan. Now where was I?" He ran his thumbs lightly down the column of my throat as he talked. His touch burned.

"Oh yes, lastly I'm going to snap your neck and rip out your spinal cord. But not to worry, because those damn pubescent Fates made you immortal, so you'll survive," he laughed, licking the shell of my ear, "and we'll be able to play some more."

I wished he would just get on with it and let me die, or at least as close as I would come to it. Instead, he put more pressure on my throat, cutting off my airway again. This time I didn't panic, I relaxed into it, and for a second I thought I would pass out, but he moved his thumb again, allowing the sweet, burning air into my lungs.

He kissed my cheek. "You are such a little fool, thinking you could blackmail me. Amelia was dead only seconds, her soul hadn't even left her body, who's to say I gave her life back and it wasn't her own will to live that brought her back? There is no proof otherwise, and as far as using the River of Lethe and brainwashing, easily explained as fanciful ideas from Sebastian's broken mind, because again, there is no proof. You see, we had a fire at the Georgia Ambros Plant." He smiled, running his thumb up my neck and across my bottom lip. "Fortunately, no one was injured, and the only damage was limited to our new formula of Goddess Greek Yogurt. It's a loss in revenue, but sometimes bad things happen."

"Asshole," I said on a strangled breath, but he didn't hear me.

"What darling? Are you begging? If you can manage it again, maybe I'll let Carl have you, he's gentler with his playmates than I am." He brushed hair out of my face. "Go ahead, and let me hear you beg one more time before I finish taking your voice."

For a long second I actually thought of pleading with him, the pain was so much and it was all there was. The pain and Hades' coaxing voice- it became everything. "Oh, God," I wheezed.

"I didn't hear you, sugar?" Hades whispered in my ear. "Come on now, Myra, you can do better than that. I'm not a hard man to please, but I do expect a little effort."

"Asshole," I said, feeling tears of relief stream down my face because I didn't cave in, and Hades, hearing me this time, would surely finish breaking my neck, causing me to lose consciousness.

He was almost done. I was almost gone. Almost...

"Oh, no you don't, you little bitch," Hades' voice swam around me as I felt his hands let go and then warmth spread through my throat, healing the damage he had made.

Bastard, I thought, but I must have also said it out loud because Hades laughed. "That's right, love. I couldn't let you leave all the fun, now could I?"

My vision cleared, and I couldn't hold back my smile.

"That's a nice smile, Myra, but I'm not done."

"Body guard," I whispered hoarsely, still smiling, because I couldn't stop.

"What?"

"Ca... Carrie..."

"Carrie?"

A deep thunderous growl had Hades quickly turning around. The tapestry must have caught on something and not closed completely around us, and that was why, over Hades' shoulder, I could clearly see Carrie in all her glory, stepping on and crushing all the fancy furniture as she stalked towards us.

She was giant, she was- don't tell her I said so, grotesque- and scary as hell. All three of her Rottweiler-ish, car-sized heads were turned to Hades, lips pulled back, quivering as she growled, revealing blackened, razor sharp teeth that dripped drool, pooling on everything she passed.

"Carrie, sweetie, what are you thinking?" Hades asked, stepping forward and pushing the tapestry back in place, hiding me.

As soon as it shut, it opened again.

"She probably thinks, mistakenly of course, that you were going to hurt your chosen Champion. It is her job to protect your Champion, is it not?" Peter asked, as he finished folding the tapestry back behind a large hook in the wall, still looking up at Carrie. "She is amazing, isn't she?" he added, as if she was a rarity, which, I guess she was.

I nodded my head. It hurt. I saw stars and decided it would be best if I didn't try to move anymore. Good plan I told myself.

Peter stopped staring at Carrie and looked at Hades. "Do you think, if you moved away from Myra, Cerberus might realize you intend no harm?" he asked.

Hades moved. Riley silently filled in the space he left, putting his arm around my waist and holding me to his side. I could see Zeus, Sebastian, and Barty, now standing to my left, on the other side of Hades but clear of Carrie's intended path as she slowly stalked towards us.

"Now, Carrie, darling. You don't want to get yourself worked up, you know how much you regret it when you lose your temper," Hades said, taking another step away from me.

Carrie lunged forward, each of her gargantuan jaws snapping.

"Maybe, if she didn't smell the blood seeping from the back of Myra's skull..." Peter suggested.

Hades stepped back, ignored Riley and laid his hand against my throat, collar bone, shoulder, around my back, up my spine, and finally, to cradle the back of my head. Everywhere he touched felt warm and tingling and... quiet. All that pain had a voice in my head that Hades' touch had silenced, leaving only the dull throbbing in my arm when he walked away.

"Now see, Carrie, no harm done. Myra and I were just working out some details about her training. Nothing's going to happen to Myra, pet," Hades said, gesturing to me and Riley.

Zeus walked up to Hades' side, looking up at Carrie. "Hades would never do anything to hurt his Champion, Carrie honey. Would you, brother?" Zeus asked.

"No, of course not. I'd never in any way try to harm my Champion. It's all just a big misunderstanding."

Riley moved us forward, out of the alcove. I looked down at Carrie's giant claws, I could see a touch of pink on the tips. It made me smile.

Zeus was still talking, "Hades would never hurt her, he promises. Don't you brother?"

Hades stared at Zeus for a second, giving him a hate filled glare, then he smiled and turned to Carrie. "Of course, I promise. I will not harm my Champion in any way," he said.

Carrie whined and then sat back on her haunches, where she shrank into a three headed dog about the size of a small horse and, with another whine and a tilt of her head, she trotted daintily around the broken furniture, back through the door into her office.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, as always, it has been interesting," said Peter. "Zeus, Hades, Riley, Bartholomew," he said, shaking all of their hands, as he said their names. "Thank you for your help." He turned to Sebastian, who was looking healthier now. "Sebastian, thank you again. I'll take good care of Joshua, I promise."

"Thank you," Sebastian whispered in a hollow voice. Sebastian might look well, but he still had a very long way to go until he was really okay.

Zeus called Sebastian, Barty and Riley over to where Hades was brooding on his throne. Peter watched them walk off before he turned to me. I offered the hand of my uninjured arm, but Peter took my other hand, turned it palm up, and placed both of his hands around mine. I gasped a little, more from surprise than pain.

Peter smiled at the sound, sliding his right hand up my arm, his fingers lightly caressing my wrist, around my elbow and up under my shirt sleeve to my shoulder. Normally I would have called him a letch, and a few other choice words, keys to heaven holder or not, but I could feel my bones knitting back together at his touch.

"Thank you," I said.

He nodded. "I'm so glad I got to see you again, Myra."

"You don't seem angry that you didn't capture Sebastian before Riley did," I blurted out, a little unnerved that he was still touching me.

His eyes widened. "Well, why would I be? Sebastian wasn't my assignment, Joshua was, and I have him exactly where he needs to be."

"Would you really have let Mrs. Crowell get sliced up?"

"Why do you ask? You hate the old woman."

I shrugged. "I was just trying to discern more about your character."

Peter laughed. "I'm going for mysterious, so I don't think I'll answer you. But, if you don't mind, can I leave you with a parting thought until the next time we meet?"

"Sure," I said, not feeling sure at all. Peter made me nervous.

"Have faith. You've never been alone, nor will you ever be. And, though The Fates may have plans for you, they're not the only ones."

"You make it sound like your boss is looking out for me."

"And if he was?"

"How is that possible? I believe in the Greek gods. They're my belief."

"Yet, in your time of need, who, exactly, did you call on?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, trying to tug my hand out of his.

He held my hand tighter. "Would you believe, I get that a lot?"

"And that statement helps me, how?"

"Just remember, spiritual beliefs can encompass many ideas and theologies, don't close yourself off to the possibilities, or those who care."

"But I'm one of Hades' Assassins. I'm immortal. It's kind of a done deal."

Peter smiled. Taking a second to glance over at Riley and Barty, he said, "Nothing is a done deal. Often, things are not as they first seem." He lightly kissed the top of my hand, finally letting go. "Until we meet again," he said and walked away, toward Carrie's office door.

I stared at the empty doorway until Carrie herself came through, walking a straight line to me. "Myra," she said, hugging me tight. "Are you alright, honey? I am so sorry it took me so long, this skirt is such a bitch to get off. I thought I'd never be able to wiggle out of it."

"Oh, Carrie," I cried, hugging her. "How can I ever thank you? You saved me."

"Honey, what are you ruining your complexion for? Like I told you, we girls have got to stick together."

"But you went furry for me, and I know you don't like to."

"Myra, don't be silly. It's true I do not like to go canine, but every once in a while, you've just got to let your inner bitch out, you know what I mean?" She winked.

I nodded.

She pulled out her gold hanky, wiping the tears from my face. "I'll be right back. I've got to go give Zeus a hug. He thinks I'm his, gets upset if I don't say hello."

I watched her strut toward Zeus, who was still speaking with Hades, Riley and Barty.

Sebastian tapped my shoulder. I jumped.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's okay, I'm a little jumpy." Sebastian just stared, so I continued babbling. "I heard what Peter said, sounds like Joshua's in good hands."

"Yes. I was able to explain everything to Peter. He seemed to understand."

"That's good."

Sebastian leaned closer. "Hades just told me he's making me his personal assistant. He says he was never going to go through with sending me to Tartarus. He said it was all a show for Peter."

I looked at the nasty burned skin on Sebastian's chest. "Hades sure knows how to put on a show," I said.

Sebastian looked down at his chest. "It doesn't hurt much."

He leaned forward, and I jumped back.

He gave me a small smile. "Thank you, Myra."

I tried to smile back. "You're welcome."

"I'm going to be okay," he said. "I'll make it up to you, you'll see," he added, just before he walked back to Hades' side.

I didn't want to chance another run-in with Hades, so I followed the path of rubble back to Carrie's office. It didn't take long before Carrie joined me. We drank espressos and ate honey buns until Riley and Barty interrupted our discussion on laser hair removal. Carrie was wondering if I thought the hair removal would carry over into transformation. What we disagreed on was whether a giant three headed dog was any less scary because it was hairless.

Barty and Riley helped me practice breathing before we shifted home, but it didn't matter, my body had already been through so much I didn't even have a muscle spasm.

Barty left shortly after stealing the rest of my newspaper stash, saying he'd see me Friday, allowing me one day's rest for committing an act of colossal stupidity.

I waved goodbye to him with my middle finger and headed for the shower. After letting all the hot water run out and getting an angry phone call from Mrs. Crowell about it -she did not remember a thing, no rental discount for me-I put on a pair of cotton pajamas and headed for the kitchen.

I stood frozen. Riley was sitting at my kitchen table with his bedding and duffel bag piled on the table in front of him.

"So, I guess you'll be leaving now that Sebastian is no longer a concern," I said, sounding bitchy because I was scared.

"I have no reason to stay," he said.

My chest began to hurt. He had said he loved me. "I guess it will be a relief not to have to sleep on the floor anymore."

"I like sleeping on the floor. It is good for my back."

The tightness in my chest eased a little.

"Oh. Do you sleep on the floor at your place?"

"I don't have a place. I make a pallet in Hades' hall."

"The lounge/family room? Yeah, that place looked pretty comfy." I held my breath, trying to keep the hurt away.

"I've always thought it too soft. And the air is dry, bad for my sinuses."

I took a deep breath of relief and smiled. My heart ached, for an entirely different reason. "Georgia is never dry."

Riley smiled back at me. "You would never get soft, luxurious fabrics and pillows, would you?"

"Goodwill does not do luxurious anything."

"Can I stay, Myra?"

"Please."

Riley stood up, opening his arms, and I stepped inside, letting his warmth wrap around me.

"I was really scared," I said.

"I was scared. You were very brave- very dumb and careless and lucky, but very brave."

"Would you like to order dinner out and watch a movie?"

"With you, always."

### Chapter 28: A Few Kisses at the Door

Two weeks, one day later...

Knock, knock, knock. I delicately rapped my knuckles on Mrs. Crowell's door.

She swung it open with a scowl. "What are you doing home so early? Did you get fired?"

I smiled. "No, it's my last post planning day, and I finished up early. Here," I said, taking a box of snack cake rolls out of my bag and shoving it into her arms. "You're skinny ass is offensive, eat something."

I enjoyed her open-mouthed expression of shock for a few seconds before I turned on my heels and, pretending I had an ass like Carrie's, walked away, sashaying myself all the way up the stairs.

I truly felt good. Not only was I officially on summer break, but Barty had some big waxing emergency and gave me the evening off. I had a copy of Clash of the Titans, the original, in my bag for movie night and... Darn, Bo was leaning against my front door. And... Damn it, even with his arm in a sling he looked sexy as hell.

"How did you beat me home?"

Bo smiled. "Fast car."

"Why are you here?"

"You've been avoiding me."

Yep, and with great success too. Not that it was all that difficult with graduation ceremonies, sport awards dinners and teacher of the year assemblies. Bo was such a successful guy, everyone wanted his attention- except, apparently me.

"I'm glad you noticed," I said. "Listen, I've had some time to think, and I just don't think we should pursue this thing between us. You could do so much better than me, and face it, I'm really screwed up when it comes to men. I just found my uncle, and he brings with him a whole family of complications. I'll end up hurting you, and then you'll hate me. You need someone more like you, someone slimmer, who doesn't have a potty mouth. Someone who doesn't dislike people in general would probably be good."

"Are you finished?" he asked, moving away from my door, pulling his arm out of the sling and walking towards me.

I nodded. "Yeah."

He stepped closer, pulling me into a hug. It was hard not to notice the difference in the way my body reacted to Bo's hugs compared to Riley's. Riley's hugs made me feel warm and safe. Bo's hugs made me want to rip his clothes off and grab the squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup that was in the grocery bag I had just dropped at my feet.

"Bo?"

He loosened his hold on me and bent down a little, looking into my eyes. "First off, I desire you- round curvy Myra, who is socially inept," he kissed my cheek, "dislikes people," kissed my other cheek, "and cusses like a sailor," he finished, before kissing me on my mouth.

"But I'm messed up." Bo kissed my neck. "I hate men." He put his hands in my hair, ye gods, I love it when he puts his hands in my hair and kissed up my neck to my ear, where he nibbled. "I'm fat, getting fatter every day." He sucked on my bottom lip, and then kissed me on the mouth again.

When he pulled away, he still had one hand in my hair, his other hand,-wrapped in a cast- nudged my chin up so I was looking into his blue eyes.

"I love you," he whispered.

He loved me?

"I..I..."

Bo grinned. "You don't have to say anything. I don't want you to, not yet. Not until you feel it so much you have to give it words. I needed to tell you, and you needed to know. I'm not going anywhere, Myra. Crazy family, fat ass, or that ugly orange chair of yours- it doesn't matter. I'm not going anywhere," he said.

Okay, what the hell was I supposed to say to that?

"Do you want to come in?" I squeaked.

"No, I've got a coach's meeting. I'll see you on Monday."

"Monday? What about tomorrow, and Sunday?"

"Softball game, tomorrow. Visiting with my mom and sister on Sunday," he said, giving me a peck on the cheek and skipping down the stairs.

Dazed, I stepped into my apartment. As I turned to close the door, I felt the weight of Bo's words hit me. I leaned against the door and gently began banging my forehead in frustration. "What the hell?" I asked the door.

"Ahem." Someone- male, definitely male- cleared his throat from somewhere behind me.

I wondered if I could sneak back out the front door.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat louder.

I turned around. A very large, way too attractive man was grinning as he enthusiastically rocked back and forth in my favorite orange chair.

Damn.

"I really like this chair. Did you realize it rocks and swivels?" he asked.

"Of course I did. Why do you think I bought it? What pain in the ass god are you, anyway?" He was too perfect looking to be mortal.

He smiled a toothy grin. "I heard you were feisty, Myra Jane Collier. I'm Ares, God of War."

"What do you want?" I asked, not really wanting to know.

"You're going to help me."

I sighed. "Would you like a cake roll?"

###

I hope you enjoyed Myra's first adventure. If you would like to learn more about Myra please visit my website www.ellanorris.com

Happy Readiing!

Ella
