Immortally Ever After (11 page)

Meanwhile, we could get Galen and Leta to make their escape.

It would be a clean break, like ripping off a bandage.

Horace planted himself outside, near the main message board, where he had a straight shot at the visiting officers’ tent.

“Let’s keep what you find between you and me,” I said, as he scanned the bulletin board, which was jam-packed with official notices from HQ detailing correct and committee-approved ways to sheath a sword, avoid hell vents, and chew gum while walking.

Too many people knew our little secret. There was Jeffe, who couldn’t bluff to save his life. Holly. I wasn’t so worried about her. Horace, who was starting to panic.

We were losing control and putting more people in danger.

I gave one final glance back at Horace before heading south toward a maze of low-slung tents that made up the officers’ housing.

My hutch was dark when I made it back home. Rodger was snoring. Marius was on shift.

I reached for the door and about had a heart attack when Marc stepped out of the shadows.

“Petra.” He grabbed my arm as my hand flew to my chest and I ended up slammed against him. “It’s only me.”

“Oh, God.” I stepped back, shaking, relieved it was him and not the death squad. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to recover. “I’m sorry for what you saw back in Recovery.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. I’d never in a million years imagined Marc would walk in.

He stood ramrod straight, a muscle in his jaw worrying. “He’s the one you fell for when you thought I was dead.”

I had no idea how to explain it to Marc of all people. This was so wrong. I’d hurt him in a way I could never make right.

His eyes hardened. “I thought he was gone.”

My throat felt thick. “So did I.”

He reached for me, then pulled back, having come to a conclusion that neither one of us wanted to think about.

He cleared his throat. “So this is really it.”

“Yes,” I said, feeling the weight of the distance between us. I hated this emotional no-man’s-land, but I had to live in it. The frustration, the guilt, we had to endure it and pull through it or else we’d never come out on the other side.

“I’m tired, Marc. I’m tired of all of this.” I tried to explain, willed him to understand. “It’s like pieces of me keep getting chipped out or torn away. I can’t do this anymore.”

But Marc wouldn’t let it go. Couldn’t. “What do you want, Petra? Do you want him?”

“I want to feel whole again.” The sad thing was, I didn’t think I’d ever get any of it back. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. So am I,” he said. Then he walked away.

chapter nine

The next afternoon, things got worse. I’d done my rounds, and I still hadn’t heard from Galen. We were alive—so far—when Horace accosted me on my way home.

“Have you heard anything?” he asked, his wings beating up a dust storm.

“No.” I stopped, bringing a hand to my eyes. “You?”

The sprite shook his head, setting off a cascade of glitter. “I couldn’t get Shirley alone.”

I’d never seen him this nervous.

“You weren’t at mail call today,” he said, as if it were a personal fault of mine.

I started walking again. “I never go to mail call.” My father had been the only one on Earth who knew I was down here, and with him gone, well, let’s just say I didn’t get many care packages.

The sprite’s forehead furrowed. “I picked this up for you,” he said, holding out what looked to be a shoe box wrapped in brown paper. “They’d had it for a week,” he added. That’s when I noticed the Greek writing on the side.

Oh, no. “What’s that?” An express delivery from the oracle?

Here’s your knife, I hope it doesn’t kill you this time.

I took a step back, then another. “No flipping way. You know what that is?”

He frowned. “It’s your mail. It’s heavy and I’m not going to carry it around for you all day.”

On closer look, it didn’t have a mailing label or postage marks and I really didn’t want to touch it. If I laid so much as a finger on it, it would be mine.

The air between us seemed to hum, as if the thing were calling for me.

“Fine,” I said, hefting it from him. It would probably follow me anyway, like it had all of the other times I’d been given the bronze dagger.

Darned if the package wasn’t vibrating.

“See if I do you a favor next time,” Horace muttered as he flew away.

Too many of these favors and I’d be done for. Okay, well, the least I could do was get this thing home.

It was less than a two-minute walk, but it might as well have been in another world. The box was heavy. I tore the end off the brown paper wrapping. The container inside was made of earthenware or some kind of stone. I couldn’t tell. I slung it under my arm, making sure to keep a decent grip on it. No telling what the oracle or the Fates or whoever was pulling my strings would do if I broke their precious box. It’s not like the prophecy had told me what to do with the thing.

It was mid-afternoon, and not a lot of people were out. Johnny Cash music filtered over from the enlisted tents. I’d bet anything it was the mechanics. Lazio had always said he wanted a boy named Sue. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t get a date.

I took the shortcut through the maze of officers’ tents, all the way to the edge of the tar pits to my new place.

Rodger was visible through the mesh windows. He sat on his cot, bent over a notebook, no doubt writing one of his endless letters to his wife.

I didn’t bother knocking. “Honey, I’m home!”

Rodger slammed the notebook closed and shoved it under his pillow. “Jesus!” His eyes were wild and his auburn hair was in serious need of a brush.

“What? You didn’t smell me coming?” I ducked around an
I BRAKE FOR WOOKIES
shirt drying on the laundry line. “I thought werewolves were supposed to know these kinds of things.”

Rodger crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “You think I want to smell any more than I have to around this place?”

Touché. “What’s in the notebook?”

“Nothing.” He gave an exaggerated shrug.

“You’re blushing.” Oh, this was just too good.

His whole face went even redder. “It’s just a letter for Mary Ann.”

Yes, well, that wasn’t enough to get all hot and bothered … unless. “Is it a dirty letter?”

The tips of his ears flared bright red and he started to cough.

“Well done.” I didn’t know he had it in him.

I walked over to the door-turned-desk that Rodger and Marius had set up between their cots. He had a half-dozen delivery boxes stacked on top, along with other assorted junk. “It looks like you made mail call.”

Rodger had brought back a crap-ton of sci-fi geekdom from his time on leave, but now he’d gotten even more stuff.

He had boxes stacked shoulder high next to the front door.

There was Captain Kirk, Spock, Bones, red shirt guys, yellow shirt guys, aliens, the K-7 space station, a
Romulan-Bird-of-Prey
(I know because it said so on the box). “Must be a bitch not having shelves anymore.”

“Just”—he clenched his fists—“be careful.”

“Says the man who kept swamp creatures in his footlocker.”

He snorted. “At least I resisted the urge to smuggle a few home.”

“Is that true?” I asked.

He gave a half grin. “As far as you know.”

I held up my mystery package. “Look what Horace just gave me.”

Rodger glanced over his shoulder at the box, still mostly wrapped in brown paper. “Okay.”

“It’s freaking me out.” Even if it was the knife, it’s not like I knew what to do with it. Yet. Of course, I’m sure whatever it was would be dangerous and horrible.

Rodger cocked his head. “Why?”

That was the trick. I couldn’t tell him. Rodger didn’t know the real reason the bronze dagger had followed me around all those months before. And he didn’t know anything about me seeing the dead. It was the way I was going to keep it, for his safety and mine.

So I settled on the obvious. “Who sends a stone box? And look at the scrollwork.” Or writing, or whatever it was.

Rodger and I tore the rest of the paper off. “Ahh…” he said, studying it top to bottom. “Ancient Sumerian. And look.” He pointed to a weird-looking owl/eagle creature. “It’s cursed.”

I bolted upright. “Really?”

“Nah. It could be Klingon for all I know.”

“Don’t do that,” I said, taking the box from him.

“Why?” He grinned. “You should have seen the look on your face.”

The box had a simple latch. It shouldn’t be too hard to open. “Don’t look,” I said, forcing him to give me some space. An enchanted dagger is hard to explain.

“Go for it, Pandora.”

I moved to Marius’s side of the room. No sense letting an ancient Sumerian curse loose all over Rodger’s shrine to the seventh fleet.

“Is he in here?” I asked, taking a seat on Marius’s footlocker. Last I heard, the vampire was in the middle of renovating his lair. Word had it he was adding a game room.

“Who knows?” Rodger shrugged.

“Right.” I ran a finger over the scrollwork and said a quick prayer that the alabaster box didn’t eat me alive. The delicate gold latch did nothing to soothe my anxiety. Sometimes, the more harmless something looked, the worse it could bite.

“You want me to do it?” Rodger asked.

“No,” I said quickly. I could do this. I knew what was inside.

I took a deep breath, held it, and opened the latch.

The top of the box flew open and flames shot out. “Holy hell!” I dropped it on the ground and both of us scrambled out of the way as it hissed and spun, shooting fire and sparks. It bounced off the iron stove and skidded in front of Rodger’s cot.

Bang!

It exploded in a shower of hot glittering pieces.

I gripped Rodger’s arm, my heart beating wildly, as we stared at a charred black cylinder amid the smoking rubble. I froze as a flame zipped across the spiral wick. There was no time to move, no time to run. Panic seized me and time slowed down.

It was a bomb. I’d unleashed a bomb on my friend. Rodger grabbed me, we clung together, and
bam
!

I slammed my eyes closed, waiting for the fire and the pain, and … nothing happened.

Swallowing hard, I looked down. A pink bear had popped out of the cylinder.

The air held the tang of sulfur and gunpowder.

I held fistfuls of Rodger’s scrub shirt and blinked a couple of times. “What the fuck?”

“One more second and I would have needed new underwear,” Rodger said, peeling me off his arm.

“You have any water?”

“No.”

We waited for a second before venturing forward. I toed through the wreckage. The box had broken into little hearts. Anatomically correct ones, with mini aortic valves sticking out the top.

“Who the hell…?” I squatted down to take a second, then a third look at the pink teddy bear. No way was I touching it. The smiling bear held a lacy baby shower invitation, complete with bottles and a stork, and written in dried blood.

Rodger crouched next to me. “Looks like it’s a girl.”

I didn’t get it. I was so sure this would be the knife. “I don’t know anyone who’s having a baby.”

Rodger plucked the card from the bear and flipped it open. “Aww … it’s from Medusa.”

My jaw slackened. “The gorgon?” Sure, I was giving her prenatal care, but, “I don’t really know her.” Only that she had a temper and lived on an island surrounded by a poisonous lake. “I’m her doctor, not her gal pal.”

Rodger shrugged, handing me the card. “Maybe she doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

Had he met the woman? “Of course she doesn’t. She’s the serpent-goddess, executioner of men, scourge of Kisthene’s plain…”

Bottles and skulls

stone heroes and more,

let’s shower the baby

with gifts galore!

Please come to a baby shower for

Medusa, serpent-goddess, executioner of men,

scourge of Kisthene’s plain,

on Sunday, March 5th, at noon.

Isle of Wrath and Pain,

Western edge of the world.

*If you encounter the Bottomless Pit of the Furies, you’ve gone too far.*

Rodger plucked the RSVP card from the mess, grabbed a pen out of his pocket, and checked the “yes” box for me.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you out of the house. I’ll take this to mail call tomorrow.”

He had to be nuts. “I’m not going to Medusa’s baby shower. I don’t even know how to get to the Isle of Wrath and Pain.”

He held up a little yellow piece of paper. “It says here she’s sending you transport.”

I didn’t like that one bit. “I don’t want any winged monkeys.”

“That’s the Wizard of Oz. You know—the shit that’s not real.”

Fair enough. Still, “What is she sending?”

“Who knows?” He stuffed the RSVP card in his pocket. “I’d go with you, but no boys allowed.”

“This isn’t funny.” Not that I thought Medusa would kill me. She needed me to deliver the baby. But come on—the dagger was still out there. I was surprised it hadn’t turned up in my pocket yet. Or on my table in the middle of surgery.

I didn’t have time for hearts and flowers and … babies.

Once the knife started following me, it was impossible to lose it. And anyone who saw me with a bronze dagger might start putting two and two together.

There might be goddesses at the shower. I really didn’t want to have to endure eternal punishment over a party and a power and a knife I couldn’t control.

Gods. I sat down on Marius’s cot. What if I were talking to an investigator and the dagger showed up?

I would be done. Finished.

Rodger dug around in his footlocker and pulled out a warm can of Dr Pepper. I didn’t know how he could stand to drink those things. “That would have been good to put out the fire.”

“What fire?” He shrugged, popping the tab. “You know what you should get Medusa? You should get her one of those baby wipes warmers. Or a Diaper Genie!”

“I don’t even want to know what those are.” I sighed. Knowing my luck, she’d want a real genie. It didn’t look like there was any way to get out of this thing. “I suppose onesies would be out of the question.” Based on the last ultrasound, the little gal had quite a snake’s tail.