Haunting Hephaestus (Gods of Olympus Book 9) Page 2

  The door opened, and the old-fashioned bell above it chimed. “That would mean she’d actually have to leave her house,” Janice said, breezing in and blowing Destiny a kiss.

  “Or this gallery.” Fiona shut the door behind her and flipped the sign to closed.

  “Beverly, escape while you can,” Destiny said with a stage whisper. “You don’t want to find yourself in the middle of this battle.”

  “Thanks.” Beverly grabbed her purse and truck keys from beneath the counter. “But even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

  “Et tu…” Destiny put a hand over her heart and staggered back two dramatic steps as Beverly scurried out of the store. Turning her attention to her friends, she couldn’t help but smile. The three of them were an unlikely crew, but Destiny wouldn’t trade them for the world. “Hey now,” she said, studying them, “don’t you two look lovely?”

  “This old thing?” Janice struck a pose complete with pouty selfie fish lips.

  “A really good band is at the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar. Join us.” Fiona tilted her head and her eyes softened.

  Both Fiona and Janice were knockouts, but Fiona was the one who caught people off guard. One look at her and some tended to reach the worst of conclusions. Jackson, Wyoming was a ski town, and the part of the west that celebrated rugged individualism. The locals were cool and tended to judge folks on who they were, not what they looked like. So Destiny had never felt uncomfortable, despite being one of the few African-Americans in town. The locals may not have understood Fiona’s tattoos and multiple piercings, but they’d accepted her because she was good people. Though the same couldn’t be said about all of the outsiders.

  Unfortunately, Fiona was also pushy. “I don’t have anything to wear and—”

  “Good thing I brought a couple of outfits.” Fiona shrugged. “Next objection.”

  “I know I must seem pathetic.” She recalled Beverly’s giddiness. Overall, Destiny loved her life and believed in creating her own joy. There, in the place she had least expected to, she’d made a home, even a small ragtag family. So in the giant scheme of things, her life was better than okay. She had the gallery, which the owner promised to lease to her until she could afford to buy it. But most importantly, she’d finally saved enough for a hefty down payment on her dream home.

  “We just want you to be happy,” Fiona of the big heart and bright tats piped in.

  “You two are the absolute best, but you do realize I don’t need a man to happy?”

  “How about a woman? I met a really nice—” Janice said.

  “Is she cute?” Destiny interrupted, her lashes batting like butterflies.

  The trio burst into a fit of giggles. Oh yes, she loved her imperfect life.

  When she finally stopped snorting, Fiona sobered. And as usual, cut right to the heart of the matter. “You can’t let one asshole scare you away from dating. Get back on that horse.”

  “I hate horses.” And the world seemed to be full of assholes, but that was a conversation for another night and a nice bottle of booze.

  “You don’t hate horses, you’re afraid. If you won’t go on a date, at least come out to the ranch. I’ll teach you to ride.” In addition to being the world’s best friend, Fiona was the chef at the Double R, a five-star dude ranch that cost guests what many locals earned in a month.

  “Do you have horses with short legs?” Destiny said before dissolving into another giggling fit.

  “You’re weird,” Fiona said.

  “I prefer quirky, thank you.” The day and her off-kilter emotions called for a nice bottle of Cab. “I’m going to pass. I’m exhausted.” Destiny grabbed her shawl from the shelf behind the counter. “Plus, I have things to do at home.”

  “I guess that vibrator’s working out for you. Did you name it Vulcan?” Janice asked, eyes wide with fake innocence.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” No reason to tell them that’s exactly what she’d done. And oh, the fun she and Vulcan had in the shower, and in the—

  “We’re going to a party tomorrow night if you’d like to join us. But stand us up for brunch Sunday and you’re dead to me.” Fiona scowled, or rather tried to.

  “I wouldn’t miss brunch for the world.” A germ of an idea began to form. It was past time to open herself up to possibilities. Why not now? She wasn’t ready for full commitment, but hey, why not? “Who knows, I may surprise you tomorrow. Where and when?”

  “We’re meeting at Janice’s at nine for cocktails and planning to leave around ten or eleven.”

  “That late?” Maybe she needed training wheels rather than jumping in blind with these two.

  “So we’ll see you at my place at nine?” Janice asked.

  “No promises, but a definite maybe.”

  “Hey, I’ll take it.” Janice hugged her. “Be careful.”

  Destiny tightened her embrace then stepped back. “I dropped the cash off earlier. No bank for me tonight.”

  “It’s not the cash we worry about,” Fiona said, giving Destiny two air kisses and a quick hug.

  Destiny smiled. She couldn’t help herself. Yes, her friends were freaking annoying, overprotective, and pushy, but they loved her. A woman couldn’t ask for more than that. Plus, more than almost everyone else in Destiny’s life, they knew her. Well, as much as she’d allow anyone to. Which was another reason she understood Vulcan.

  She flipped off the overhead lights and locked the top deadbolt while fantasizing about the book and a glass of wine in her immediate future. Perhaps tonight called for something stronger.

  Each night, she’d fall asleep easily, but she awoke tired and nervous. And the dreams. She couldn’t seem to get a grip on them. As soon as she opened her eyes, the images dissipated like smoke, only the emotions remained—regret and deep sadness.

  Destiny glanced around the store, looking over her shoulder as she dimmed lamps. Unlike some in Jackson, she held no magic, only the ability to sense it. Hence the curiosity portion of her shop. It all started with her estate sale obsession. Discovering forgotten or overlooked masterpieces gave her not only a thrill, but extra cash in her pocket. Only Destiny found more than paintings. She encountered magical items as benign as a jewel encrusted Kali Ring rumored to bring the wearer good fortune, to the sinister lamp holding a Jinn. That Jinn in the wrong hands could wreak the worst kind of havoc. So much that Destiny didn’t even trust herself. After locking the Jinn away in her bank’s safety deposit box, she sought out items to sell and others to hide.

  Currently the shelves held a flask of smells, which would hold any scent the owner wished, a pair of oil lamps that never needed refilling, and a ring which allegedly helped the owner find their true love.

  Which brought her thoughts right back to Vulcan. While he may be scary to many, the man was gifted with his hands. Too bad the only way she’d experienced that gift was through his magnificent work. Destiny caressed the orange vase, whose uneven edges and intense color palette reminded her of a flame. “One more call then I’m done.”

  She snorted and pulled her cellphone from her skirt pocket. “Yeah right. Like I wouldn’t find an excuse to call Mr. Tall Dark and Dangerous.” Still chuckling, she dialed his number and leaned against the front of her desk, unsure of whether she’d rather get his voicemail or the man himself.

  Seriously, she ran one of the most successful galleries in Jackson. Artists vied to have their work displayed in her space. And Destiny helped find homes for their pieces across the globe. For her, conversation came as easily with dignitaries and celebrities as they did with ranchers and oil tycoons. So why couldn’t she string together a complete sentence with one tattooed mechanic?

  “You got me, what do you want?” Vulcan’s message ordered just before the beep.

  She could think of a few things she’d like to do with… Get it together, Destiny.

  “Vulcan, hey. This is Destiny. I sold the orange vase. Told you it wouldn’t last long. Anyway, they wanted to know if you could make t
wo more. They’ll be out of the—”

  The jingle of the bell above the door stopped her, making her body jerk and her heart quicken.

  “I could have sworn I locked that.” She walked cautiously out of her office, instantly regretting not grabbing her .38 revolver. Just because the only crime in Jackson was the occasional bar fight or alcohol related incident, that didn’t mean she didn’t take precautions.

  “Hello?” Destiny hit the switch just outside her office door, illuminating the store in harsh fluorescent light.

  She didn’t see anyone, but still she spoke. “Sorry, we’re closed.”

  Silence.

  When she reached the door, Destiny gave it a tug. Locked. Weird. Coming from a woman fully aware that the man she’d just called hung out with a pack of werewolves, calling what had just occurred “weird” said a lot.

  “Sorry about that. Anyway, the buyer took off to Yosemite and won’t return to town until next—” A wave of malevolence stopped Destiny, washing over her so strongly, she grew nauseous. There was someone—or something—in the store, and just because she couldn’t see it didn’t make it less real.

  Okay. She had no idea what the hell Vulcan was, other than hot, but she sensed immense power in him. If anyone could help her right now…

  Destiny swallowed, and walked to the glass case, eyeing items to determine what she could use as a weapon against an enemy she couldn’t see.

  She was so screwed.

  Until she remembered the phone she still clutched in her hand. “Vulcan, sweetheart,” she said, putting an extra bit of sexy in her voice. Vulcan would probably think she’d gone off the deep end, but Destiny went with it. She walked into her office, and locked the door behind her. “Sorry about that,” she whispered, “but could you come to the gallery? I um… I don’t see anyone, but something is really wrong.” She disconnected the call and mumbled a silent prayer. “Okay,” she whispered while looking around the windowless room. “I can either sit in here all night and wait for a rescue, call the police—who couldn’t help her—or take her chances and become the neighborhood ghostbuster.

  Destiny opened the door and rushed through the store. While that greasy feeling of impending danger had dissipated, she still wished she knew an exorcist.

  Chapter 3

  Other than sex, a good run with the Jackson pack was the only thing that relaxed Vulcan these days. And tonight’s run had been hard, fast, and long. Just what he’d needed. Since his spread covered two hundred prime acres, the pack always ran and hunted in relative safety.

  Behind the sprawling two-story building lovingly known as The Den, was a large grass field which led into the woods that had only been cleared of undergrowth to prevent fires and provide wood for winter. Which meant many of the old growth trees were well over three hundred years old. And perfect for hunting.

  The larger than usual group walked out of the woods and returned to their scattered piles of discarded clothes. People laughed and joked as they slid into their clothes, but not civility. No, tonight would be filled with drinking, fighting, and plenty of sex.

  Vulcan grabbed his clothes off the ground and dressed while he watched with horrified amusement at Oshun’s outrageous flirting. Poor Leandro was no match for the goddess.

  “I haven’t had that much fun in ages.” Oshun zipped up her tight leather vest, presenting her boobs in a way nudity didn’t.

  “Mi sol, you haven’t been hanging with the right people.” Leandro shook the grass off his jeans before pulling them up, then grinned at Oshun’s whimper of protest.

  “Oshun.” Vulcan pinched the bridge of his nose. Her ability to complicate matters had to be her superpower. “Have you forgotten shifter protocol?”

  “I plan to see a whole lot more of Leandro, so there’s no reason I shouldn’t check out the goods now.” She turned to the alpha in question and frowned. “Wolf, if you find that offensive, I apologize.”

  “That’s a first,” Vulcan muttered.

  “Oh, I will show you all that I have.” Leandro grabbed his black t-shirt from the ground, and leisurely regarded Oshun from the tips of her painted toes to her closely cropped hair. Once he stood upright, he bit down on his lip before giving her a cocky smile. “And then some.”

  Cai, a stocky man a couple shades lighter than Oshun, jogged from the other side of the field, then paused silently beside Leandro. After witnessing a few seconds of the heated but silent exchange between the alpha and his guest, the male wisely retreated a step. “Alpha.”

  “Yes,” Leandro answered, his gaze lingering on Oshun for another heartbeat before he turned to his second in command. “What’s up?”

  “It’s time.”

  “Thanks, Cai.” Leandro turned to Oshun. “Make yourself comfortable. Just be here when I get back.”

  “I don’t do well taking orders—outside of bed.”

  “I’ll keep that under advisement, beautiful.” Leandro winked, then turned and tended to pack business.

  “Whew,” Oshun fanned herself. “That man is all kinds of hot.”

  “If you say so,” Vulcan said as they walked toward the clubhouse. He couldn’t take anymore of her lusting over Leandro. Next thing you know, she’d be asking Vulcan to rate the man’s ass. Not going to happen. She may be his best friend, but every relationship had limits. “How long are you staying?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “Until you no longer need me to have your back. Or I get bored. Whichever comes first.”

  His back was just fine, so she’d take off sooner rather than later. No way in hell did he plan to bring it up, but it was a good chance Oshun was there to escape that so-called mate of hers. Vulcan never understood their relationship, but he had his own problems.

  Vulcan pushed the door open and stepped aside for Oshun to enter. “Wait.” He stopped walking and stared at the nutcase of a goddess beside him. “I thought you didn’t do shifters.” He spotted Mandy at the bar. The smile tugging at the corners of her mouth faded when her gaze darted to Oshun.

  Pack members started drifting inside, and someone cranked the music up. Oh yeah, this was an AC/DC kind of night, and “Back in Black” painted his mood perfectly. He led Oshun to a seating area away from the speakers but with a view of the room.

  “We all have exceptions.” She plopped down on the leather couch. “This is comfy.” She slid her hands along the couch’s soft black leather, then looked up at him as if she’d just recalled his presence. “You know, like you with humans.”

  His phone rang, and the human in question just happened to be the one calling. Were he alone, he’d ignore the call and pop over to her gallery, or wherever she happened to be, and watch. She always tried to keep it professional to hide her attraction.

  Didn’t work, because he never failed to notice the quickening of her breath or the sweet scent of her arousal or the disappointment when he didn’t cross the line from client to something far more personal. And he’d heard the resignation in her voice earlier that they’d never be more than friendly.

  Apparently, he was doing a better job, since she believed he didn’t recognize her beauty and worth as a woman. Which couldn’t be further from the truth. He’d known her from the moment she was reborn. He’d recognized the parts of her that had nothing to do with Amina, and how she’d betrayed him, and everything to do with Destiny.

  Vulcan shoved the phone, and the reminder of his weakness, into his pocket.

  “Aren’t you going to answer that?” Oshun asked.

  “Nope,” he said, sitting next to her. Shit, the couch was comfortable. “So, tell me about this feeling of impending doom and gloom you need to protect me from,” he said as he leaned against the back of the couch and stretched his legs out, crossing his feet at the ankles.

  “It’s not clear, but I know it involves you. Plus, I would’ve come anyway. I miss your grumpy ass.”

  He ignored her last comment, because as much as he cared about the pack and the people in it, he missed
Oshun. Not that he’d tell her. “So where have you been raising hell?”

  “You know me. Here and there, hither and yon. I’ve been spending time rewarding the people who still worship me. There are so few of them these days.” She glanced at him. “Don’t you ever get… lonely or feel forgotten?”

  “Not really. There were only a few temples to worship the crippled, ugly god.” Owning the labels made them less painful—almost. Of all of Zeus and Hera’s offspring, only he was deemed so hideous as to be tossed from the heavens. Only he was ridiculed to the extent that images of his likeness were misshapen and ugly. So yeah, fuck all of them.

  “Don’t piss me off. Every time I think about how your parents and the rest of those assholes treated you, it makes me want to hunt one of your pantheon down and kick some ass.”

  “You’re cute when you’re getting wrathful.”

  “I’m always cute.” Oshun crossed her arms and glared. “And it sucks.”

  “Woman, when did you get so down?”

  “What?” She mimicked dry heaving. “Do me a favor, boo. Don’t ever say that again. You might want to stay away from calling people woke, too. Trust me when I tell you—it’s not a good look.”

  “That’s bullshit. You’re as old as me.”

  “Yes, we’re both old as dirt, but I have always been black. Whereas you have only done it for fun.”

  “You don’t have to be black.”

  She tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips. “Why would I want to be anything else?”

  “I…” he rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb, “have no idea.”

  “You are so adorable.” She reached for his face, but he caught her wrist.

  “If you pat my cheek like a toddler, you’ll regret it.”

  “Promise? Will you make it hurt?” Oshun batted her eyelashes and pulled her hand back.

  “Woman, you’re a menace. Go make that wolf’s life miserable.”

  “You know, that sounds like a good idea.” She stood and headed for the poor fool.