Aphrodite's War (22 page)

“What’s up?”
“Is Poetry with you? Have you seen her?” Hope turned to dread.

“No, I haven’t.” He gripped his shinai and began a search of her
miniscule apartment, scanning the bathroom as he spoke. Splintered
glass crunched beneath his feet. Purple dots spelling the word ‘slut’
painted the wall. This was getting a little too familiar for his liking, only
this time a statuesque blonde trailed behind him instead of a pint-sized
Mediterranean. “I’m at her place right now and…” Should he apprise
Jenny of the situation? No. That would freak her out.

“She didn’t show up for work. She never does that, Adrian. She never
misses a shift without calling.”

Adrian’s already sensitive bowels squirmed. “I’ll look into it.” He
skirted past the gore to the bedroom. “It’ll be alright.” He almost added I
promise, but he didn’t buy it himself. He hung up before he could say
anything incriminating.

He stared at the empty bed, the rumpled covers. Adrian placed his
hand on them. No body heat. She’d been here, he smelled her body odor.
How long since she’d left?

“She is not here.” Aphrodite arrived beside him.
“No shit.”
“I mean she is nowhere,” Aphrodite said. “This place is complete void
of her presence. I cannot sense her at all.”
Adrian’s pulse throbbed in his neck, heat rose to his cheeks. “I’m
calling 911.” He punched the nine but Aphrodite stayed his hand.

“We do not have time.”
“What do you mean we don’t have time?”
“Poetry needs our help now. The sooner we find her, the better.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Adrian asked. “We have to call
the police.”

“What will you tell them? Will they believe you are not responsible
for this?” Aphrodite gestured to the broken corpses behind them. “Two
men lay dead and your lover is missing.”

She was right. They’d question him. Bring him down to the station
and interrogate him for hours. Long, exhaustive, pointless hours. Even if
Adrian told the truth, it would make the situation worse. He couldn’t win.

“Besides, we have no need of them. You have me.” She pointed to his
neck. “And that.”

She snapped her fingers and the torque warmed his throat.
“Think of Poetry.” Her whisper coaxed Adrian to dream.

The metal vibrated. He knew if he could see it, the neckpiece would
be glowing like it did at his condo.
Magick again. This had better work.

Adrian fixed Poetry’s face in his mind. Her drowsy brown eyes and
blue bangs drifted through his thoughts. When she smiled, her white
teeth stood in contrast with her flawless tan skin. The rhinestone on her
cheek winked.

“It works,” Aphrodite said, and Adrian glanced to his left. The
goddess had orange reflections in her pupils, matching the stones he
wore. “Think harder,” she said.

He closed his eyes and imagined the tattoos down her shoulders and
arms; foliage, hibiscus, and satyrs shone in pink, yellow, brown, and
green. He could almost feel her skin beneath his fingertips, like silk
scented with musk and sex.

The air chilled, oxygen vacuumed from the room with a concussive
THUNK.
Adrian cried out as his ears popped. His eyelids snapped opened to a
creamy blur. He covered his face with his hands, trying to get a bearing.

“Aphrodite.” The hissing voice penetrated Adrian’s ears, despite the
ringing. “I sensed you tampering with my spells. This will not be
permitted any longer.”

Adrian risked a glance and gaped.

A lanky woman with long snowy hair and icy eyes stood before him
wearing furs that sparsely covered her breasts and legs. She held a
massive broadsword. She was massive. He craned his neck to gawk at
her snarling face.

He shivered from the bitter cold she emitted. And from fear. She
looked every bit the Valkyrie. He peered at Aphrodite. She’d gone pale.

“Freya,” she said. What could make a goddess quake like that?
Judging by the terror this woman caused, he guessed her to be another
deity of some kind, but more powerful.

“I swear I did not know the stones were yours.” Aphrodite, cowering,
took a step back.

“Who else would they belong to?” Freya raised her sword arm,
pointing the tip of her weapon at Aphrodite’s face. “You came to me for
amber.” She jerked the end in front of Adrian’s neck. His heart stuttered.
“That is amber. My amber.”

“You refused me. It is true I sent Hephaestus to speak with you, but I
have not heard from him. How was I to know he succeeded where I
failed?”

Freya stared Aphrodite down. Clouds of vapor passed from their
mouths in the frigid chill. Long moments crawled. Adrian wondered if
there was a safe way to squeeze past the dresser and out the door while
the women had forgotten his existence.

“I did nothing more than charm the metal she used for the jewelry,”
Aphrodite said. “I sought to inspire.”
Adrian’s shallow breathing cut through the silence, but not the
tension. He’d give almost anything for something to break the stalemate.

“Meow?”
Amir?

Adrian released a frozen breath and gratefully braced for a cat bite on
his ankles.

The black fuzz ball appeared from behind the bed but, instead of
streaking to attack Adrian’s socks, Amir paused to observe the ivoryhaired giantess.

“Meeeeew!” Amir raised his tiny paws. He wanted this polar
nightmare to pick him up? Crazy cat.

“Hello, little one.” The transformation from frosty titan to melting
angel happened so fast Adrian thought another woman must have taken
Freya’s place when he blinked. Even Aphrodite seemed to calm, her
shoulders easing down as her rival’s anger dissipated.

Freya sheathed her sword and knelt to retrieve the kitten with an open
palm. Amir climbed on and settled in.

“Amir? That is your name? What a perfect name for a handsome
prince.” Freya straightened, bringing a handful of cat to her serene face.
Amir purred and pawed at her nose.
Adrian leaned into Aphrodite’s ear. “She can talk to cats?”

Aphrodite stared sideways daggers at him. “Yes, she communes with
cats. Your lack of knowledge astounds me.”
He shirked the rebuke, but until today Adrian didn’t believe gods and
goddesses existed. Why would he bother studying fantasy?
Across from him, the white deity teased the black cat under his chin.
Amir addressed her with a series of meows and grrrlling sounds.
“What does he say?” Adrian asked.

“The poor boy is frightened. He has been hiding in that corner for
over an hour.” She tossed her head to the cupboard behind her. “Freya
will not let anyone hurt you, sweet prince.”

“Enough,” Aphrodite said, just when Adrian thought he’d need a shot
of insulin. “I like you better when you are not so soft.” Her scoff of
disgust amazed Adrian. Aphrodite had overcome her fear of Freya
apparently. “Ask the feline if he knows the whereabouts of his human.”

Freya stroked Amir’s head. “Where is your mistress, little one?”
Amir let out a plaintive meow. Freya responded by cuddling him to
her breast and petting him while making soothing clucking noises.

“Poor little prince.”
“What did he say?” Adrian asked.

“She is lost,” Freya said. “Someone stole his mommy.” Mommy.
Amir must be worried sick.
Adrian gave his head a shake. Amir the cat. Worried sick. This day
went from bad to screwed-the-hell-up and it was only getting worse.
“Who?” Aphrodite asked. Adrian felt as hopeful and wound up as she
sounded. “Did he witness the kidnapping?”

“Meow.”
“He sounds sincere.”
“He is,” Freya said. “Amir recognized the villain who took her.”

“Well?” Adrian tried not to be so impatient, but while these immortals
chatted Poetry could be dying. “Who is it?”
“Meowrr-rowr!”
“The forge-god.” Freya’s tone went cold. Her slate grey eyes became
slivers of ice. “Smells like sweat, metal, and smoke.”
Aphrodite sucked in her breath, placing a delicate hand over her
mouth. “That son of a demon hoarde.”
“What?” Adrian threw his hands in the air. “Who the hell is the forgegod?”
Both women favored him with a glare. “Hephaestus,” they said in
unison.
“New Worlders…” Freya said with a disgruntled snort.
“Hephaestus is her mentor and landlord.” Aphrodite spread her hands
over her head. “He owns this building.”
“I thought that was some guy named Hugh.”
“Same man,” Aphrodite said. “You expected him to use his true
identity?”

Adrian shrugged. He had to admit, he would change his name too if
he had to run around with a mouthful of a moniker like ‘Hephaestus’.
How do you even spell that?

Aphrodite buried her face in her hands. “This is a disaster.”
“Why?” Adrian asked. “If we know who has her, then we can figure
out where he took her and-“
“It is not that simple. I cannot feel him or her. They could be
anywhere.”

“I have a suspicion,” Freya said. She examined a bracelet on her
wrist, twisting her hand back and forth, making the gems twinkle like
unspoiled snow. “Hephaestus gave me this.”

Aphrodite’s lip curled over long, glistening teeth, marring her beauty
even as her eyes flashed from green to yellow. “So he gave you a
bauble.” Distain dripped from her lips. “Everyone is aware of how you
obtain your trinkets. What do I care?”

“You will.” A grin crept up her smug face. “But not because I slept
with your husband.” She returned Amir to the floor and caressed her
sparkling diamonds as Aphrodite glared.

“When Hephaestus presented me with this prize, he told me of the
Cadomin mines in the north where he obtained these as lumps of coal.”
Aphrodite extended her hand to touch it but Freya pulled away, wagging
a finger in Aphrodite’s glowering face. “I should think that if he were to
abduct someone, where better to hide them than in abandoned caves?”

The room quieted as Aphrodite appeared to consider this information.
Her brows knit and color returned to her cheeks.
“He once preferred to make his home in the belly of the world,” she
said.
Adrian licked salt from his lips. They wasted precious minutes, yet he
couldn’t move.
“Why are you helping me?” Aphrodite asked. “You do not like me.
This is none of your concern.”
Freya placed a hand on her hip and cocked her head. “I am not doing
this for you. The young prince needs his human.”
She pointed at Amir, who gazed up at her with feline adoration,
blinking sleepily.
“And for the Norwegian.” She leered at Adrian, and he got butterflies
in his gut.
“Do you love your smithy?” she asked.
Adrian couldn’t speak. His words swelled in his throat until he
couldn’t express them without anguish. He nodded instead.
Freya tilted his face up to meet hers. “Enough to fight for her?”
“You will not face an addict this time, Adrian Olsen,” Aphrodite said.
“You challenge a god.”

Both deities stared, awaiting his decision with hushed patience.
Adrian had never felt so alone as he did now. Once he’d been content to
live like that, a permanent bachelor. Now the idea of existing without
Poetry tightened his chest. The thought of her languishing in a bleak
prison of rock twanged every fiber of his being.

What choice did he have?

“I’ll do what I have to.” He still had his shinai and the conviction to
use it. Time to put his Kendo skills to work. “I’m going to bring her
home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Both goddesses appeared pleased with Adrian.
“Spoken like a faithful lover,” Aphrodite said.

“And a true warrior.” Freya nodded her satisfaction. “But you will not
get very far with that pathetic stick.”

She tapped the shinai with her sword. The bamboo flared blue, like a
light saber, and began to burn. Adrian caught the hitch in his throat,
anticipating disaster but instead of the insubstantial weight of ashes, the
weapon grew heavier. A white glow enveloped the dinginess, heating the
small bedroom and warping the linoleum. It dispersed as quickly as it
had come.

A clock ticked in the kitchen, counting heartbeats. For long moments
Adrian saw only green spots in his vision. No one spoke as he hefted not
bamboo, but steel.

Giddiness in his gut threatened to unleash stunned laughter. Instead,
he ran his tongue inside his stale-tasting mouth before he spoke. “It’s
beautiful.”

Freya crinkled her sharp nose. “What manner of sword is that?”
“It is a skinny thing,” Aphrodite said, sharing Freya’s obvious
concern. “How will you fight with it?”

“It’s a Japanese katana,” Adrian said. “The shinai is used to represent
it, and kendokka are trained to wield it.” He took two strides to his right
and tested the blade. “It’s a weapon of grace and precision.”

Adrian went into kamae--feet parallel, right before left, and balanced
forward on the balls of his feet. He placed his hands on the hilt in the
proper grip, right hand above left, and centered himself.

He gauged the cracked ceiling. Three meters; just enough space to
swing. Adrian began with shomen-suburi, slicing straight down to his
would-be opponent’s cranium. He stepped back, taking the sword to near
horizontal above his head.

A few more strikes. “Ichi, ni, san, shi…”
“You count in Japanese?” Freya asked.

“It’s a Japanese sport,” Adrian said, returning to kamae position.
Time to try sayu-men.
He struck an imaginary motodatchi once again, aiming instead for a
man’s temples at a forty-five degree angle.
“Ichi, ni, san-“
“Are you going to do this all day?” Aphrodite asked, hands on hips.
“Or are you ready to rescue the woman you love?”

Adrian twitched in embarrassment. “I guess I’d better get started.”
He hesitated. He had no sheath for his new katana, and no bogu.
No problem. He wanted to travel light anyway, all he needed was…
“Shit. I don’t have a car.”

Before despair could settle in Adrian’s heart, Aphrodite snapped her
fingers. A brief sunburst stung his eyes. He pried them open again to see
a pair of gold sandals in her hand.

Adrian yelped when they sprang to life, straining at the laces
Aphrodite held like leashes. A flutter echoed; the smell of disturbed dust
made him want to sneeze. The sound came from the shoes, and on closer
inspection he noticed metallic wings on the heels.

“Interesting,” Freya said. “Where did you get them?”