You’d think a waiting room for an audience with the gods would be a little nicer.
But no, it’s just a waiting room. There are old copies of Cosmopolitan, Glamour, and Vogue littering a wobbly coffee table that has one leg shorter than the rest.
I’m guessing that the glam mags are courtesy of Brandee Jean, one member of the Triumvirate and former Wisconsin Beauty Queen. I’m willing to bet the unbalanced table might have also come from her old house. Edie was BJ’s mentor in the fight to replace Zeus, and she said that while BJ had expensive taste, she was a good old-fashioned girl at heart.
I just assumed that was Edie’s nice way of saying BJ is basic.
I haven’t seen BJ since she was elevated to god status, along with her part fae British boyfriend and Zahara, the harpy. The Triumvirate and their council have been incredibly busy trying to get humans on track with the idea of living side by side with supes. But apparently they’re learning that democracy takes time; even name-dropping Edie had only moved me up a few hours earlier in their appointment book, and the waiting room is packed.
Maybe Themis is right about the Triumvirate not being such a great idea, after all. I mean, Zeus was definitely a massive screw up who shouldn’t have had ultimate power, but at least decisions were made quickly. Fascist but fast.
I’ve been waiting half an hour, and the music in this room is killing me. It’s tuned into a station that keeps bouncing back and forth between top forty pop hits and country songs about lost loves, dead dogs, and parents in prison.
Prison.
I’m going to have to get back to UWR soon. Greg caught the tail end of Mac’s intake interview. Mostly by then Mac was musing aloud about how the belly button was the perfect-shaped object for consuming champagne.
“You called me down here for that?” Greg asked.
Instead of filling him in everything I now knew—none of it good—I simply smiled. “He’s an incubus. If you’re concerned about keeping Cassie’s attention away from guys who can travel above-ground, I thought you might want to pick up some tips.”
Greg frowned at that and then cleared his throat. “You may have a point. I’m just gonna go over some follow up questions with him.”
Maybe I should’ve just told Greg the truth. But I figured if I talked to the gods first, then I could tell Greg the bad news along with the good news of how we were gonna save everyone.
I mean why leave him hanging at UWR with nothing to do but worry? I’ve seen Greg’s anxiety ramp up so high that he spontaneously shifts into a bat and has to “fly it off.” I don’t want to know how much wing-flapping will be involved if he finds out what’s going on with Cassie and his friends.
I re-cross my legs, catching the attention of a guy wearing a Humans First t-shirt. He made a point when he came in to take a seat far away from the other supes waiting here with me—a minotaur with a bandage around one horn, a glitzy high-class vamp who is filing her fangs while she waits, and…a chicken-shifter. I knew they existed, but I hadn’t seen one in a long time, so when the little blonde next to me suddenly laid an egg and lost some feathers, I’d been a little taken aback.
Apparently the expression on my face was all the human needed to decide I was on Team Homo sapiens as well. He’d been trying to make eye contact with me since he got here, but I’ve been avoiding it. He clears his throat and seems like he might be about to try conversation, when the door to the waiting room opens and a harpy enters.
“Mavis?” she calls, scanning the room. Her eyes land on me as I stand. She smiles. “Oh, I know you. Cat-shifter, right? You work at UWR?”
“Yup,” I say, with a strained smile. “That’s me.”
The guy makes a weird nose in his throat when he realizes he was about to chat up a supe. I bend low as I walk past him and whisper meow right into his ear. He jumps.
“Brings a new meaning to cat-calling, am I right?” I ask, but he doesn’t have time to string together an answer before the harpy closes the door behind us.
We’re in a long marble hallway, much nicer than the waiting room I came from. The harpy notices my surprise.
“Brandee Jean wanted the humans who come to petition the Triumvirate to feel comfortable, as well as the supes,” she says. “So the process is half their world, half ours.”
“Got it,” I say, eyeing the harpy. “I’m sorry, you know me, but um, which clutch are you?”
“Eighth clutch, Minerva,” she says, holding out one taloned wing to shake. “I took a tour of UWR and we were briefly introduced. I don’t blame you for not remembering.”
“Wow, Zahara’s really been popping them out,” I say. But since she produces asexually and carries a clutch to term over a period of only a few days, I guess it’s easier than it sounds.
“Oh yes,” Minerva says. “Mother has been very busy reproducing. We’ve lost many sisters recently.”
She blows into her hands and then releases the air, some kind of harpy blessing.
“I’m sorry,” I say, and she nods.
“It’s our duty, but as we have quickly learned, the species taxed with enforcing the law has no friends.
I nod like I understand, but I honestly can’t get too far behind the cultural give and take of policing a world gone insane. Right now, I’ve got to focus on the fact that I’m about to tell the three gods in charge of keeping the pieces together that there’s something out there capable of throwing the entire puzzle in the trash.
And it’s got my sister.
“So let me get this straight,” Brandee Jean says, leaning forward in her seat. Her oversized crown tips forward with her and she has to lift a hand to straighten it. The crown isn’t meant as a display of her power, but rather BJ’s love of all things bling. “An incubus told you that Hermes had some sort of box—”
“No,” Alaric, her boyfriend and part of the trio of co-rulers, interrupts in his haughty British accent. “They called it a box, but it was in fact a jar.”
“Pandora’s box,” Zahara, the last of the Triumvirate, jumps into the conversation. They all have different powers that they inherited from Zeus and one of hers is super smarts. Unlike Brandee Jean, Zahara doesn’t have a crown. It would be easy to mistake her for one of her own children, except that Zahara doesn’t even have the harpy wings. Hers were burned off in an epic showdown with Hades. Luckily she can still fly without the wings; that’s yet another thing she inherited from Zeus. “Although Pandora’s box was always considered a myth.”
“Weren’t we all?” laughs Prisha, one of the advisors for the Triumvirate.
A wave of laughter goes through the room. I don’t join in.
“Look,” I interrupt. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a box or a jar or a pile of pancakes. The thing we need to focus on is the portal. He kidnapped Cassie and I have no idea why. I do know that a monster came out, killed one of Hermes’ friends, and then Edie and Val jumped in and disappeared. We need to figure out where the portal goes and get my sister back. Then we can punish Hermes.”
“They didn’t disappear,” Zahara corrects me gently.
“What?”
“Your sister, and her boyfriend. They went through the portal. Just like you did when you came here or when you go to work at UWR every day.”
I swear to gods, if they don’t stop this arrogant bullshit…
“Look,” I say, staring the Triumvirate down—which is really difficult because Zahara, like all harpies, is hard to look at. And Alaric is kind of hard not to look at. My eyes keep wanting to slide over him like melty pats of butter. Alaric inherited Zeus’s charm and virility, which means that everyone who sees him wants to bone him.
I decide to play it safe and focus on BJ.
“I can’t stress this enough,” I continue. “Please, think about what’s important here.”
“And what is that?” Zahara asks, crinkling her forehead in mock confusion. “Do you want us to focus on the portal, or on your sister? Or...” Her eyes go soft and kind, like she feels bad for saying this next part, but is determined to put all her cards on the table. “Or is it about Hermes? And how anything involving him seriously disrupts your equilibrium?”
“Why not just say ‘makes me crazy?’” I growl. “That’s what you’re thinking, right? Crazy Mavis with PTSD and daddy issues. What a mess she is.”
“It’s not like that,” BJ protests. “We wouldn’t give you so much power at UWR if we didn’t believe in your skills and judgement. It’s just obvious you’re upset and of course some of that is because you’re worried about Edie. But the rest…”
“I’m a multitasker. I can be worried about my sister, freaked out by reports of some weird new portal, and hate Hermes all at the same time,” I say, disliking the condescension. “You are all freaking gods. You can think about more than one thing at a time too, right?”
“Let’s all stay calm here,” Alaric says in this way like he means I should stay calm, but is being nice by pretending everyone else is also ready to lose their shit. He clears his throat and leans forward. “I think some clarification is needed—”
If he asks whether it was a jar or a box—
“All of this is based on the hearsay of an incubus, correct?”
“Yes,” I say. “Why would he lie? He doesn’t know who I am...he didn’t even know who Edie was. He just knew he saw a dragon and a vampire.”
“So, assuming he is telling the truth—” Zahara says.
“Big assumption,” Prisha adds.
“It may not even be Edie,” Zahara finishes.
“Yes, I’m sure it was a totally different one of a kind dragon shifter with a vampire partner,” I throw back at her.
“It does seem unlikely,” Brandee Jean agrees. I flash her a grateful look. “Which brings us back to whether or not the incubus is telling the truth…”
I sigh. “Regardless, Edie is gone. I can’t reach her. And it’s not like her to just disap—” I glance over at Zahara. “Leave without telling me. And Cassie would never stay away from Greg for that long without sending him ESPN mess—”
“Sorry,” I close my eyes, aware that I’m losing ground. “ESP messages. But she hasn’t been in touch, either. And we should be alarmed by that.” I open my eyes again, hoping that the gravity is getting through. “ESP messages can travel from anywhere, to anywhere. Where did Cassie go that she can’t send them anymore?”
Or—and I can’t believe this is just now occurring to me—maybe Cassie is dead.
A lump forms in my throat at the thought, and I see a flicker of concern on Zahara’s face as well. I know that Cassie helped keep the First Brood safe during the last battle to defeat Hades, so surely Mama Harpy is going to steer the Triumvirate in the right direction—going full-on Amber Alert on Edie and Cassie.
But BJ is the one to answer, pushing her crown back to the right place again. “I know you’re worried about your sister, Mavis. We all are.”
“It really does not feel like you are,” I mutter.
“But what we have to keep in mind is that Edie is a dragon. She’s a freaking demi-god.” Her eyes get wider when she says it, like she’s still surprised by this fact. “The truth is that I don’t think anything in this world can hurt her, or anyone who is with her. We know that Edie would protect Val and Cassie with her life, so how much trouble can they actually be in?”
Their argument is Edie is safe because nothing can harm her. There was a time when nothing could harm the gods either, but Zeus died and Hades was defeated. I can tell that argument won’t sway them, though. Or… maybe they don’t want to be reminded that they aren’t infallible.
“What about Cassie’s sudden silence?” I counter.
Zahara speaks again, but the concern that was there is gone. “We know that Cassie’s powers aren’t always…dependable. It’s entirely within the realm of possibility that her ESP went on the fritz.”
“Like my hair, oh my god,” BJ says, suddenly turning to Alaric. “You have no idea how many hot oil treatments I went through when I was just a human.”
“Just a human?” I ask, like her previous incarnation as a rocking-hot beauty queen was so godsdamn stressful for her.
“Speaking of humans,” Alaric says. “Have you succeeded with any societal re-introductions of paranormals? We all know your first attempt with Griff was...”
“A disaster!” Brandee Jean breaks in. “Oh my gods. It was like the Miss Holy Spirit of God competition thrown by the All Christians Assembly.” I settle back into my seat and take a drink of water. Once BJ gets going with a pageant story you just gotta wait it out.
“We all had to wear dresses long enough to cover our ankles ’cause they had some sort of modesty hang-up. Anyway, Marybeth Goolahilly decided to do her tumbling routine in the long dress ’cause they said her usual tights and leotard made her look like a harlot. It was going fine until during one of her cartwheels the dress flipped and went right over her head. That’s when we all found out Marybeth wasn’t wearing underwear. Even worse, with her head all covered she stumbled right off the stage and her girl bits ended up right in the face of Pastor Mike.”
“Yes,” I say, tightly. “That does indeed sound like a disaster. And I’m well aware what happened with Griff was too. We’re being extra careful before we try again, but it’s been difficult. We’re short-handed since Cassie disappeared and hasn’t been heard from.”
“Are you familiar with this Humans First movement?” Alaric goes on, ignoring my tone.
“Sadly, yes,” I say, remembering Mallory’s baby shower.
“We’ve got a petitioner in the waiting room who is concerned about the harpy high holiday gathering. He’s demanding electrified fences to keep them contained,” Alaric says. “It is unfortunate timing that they’re the same day. Both are expecting quite a high attendance. We’re worried about the rising anti-paranormal feeling among humans. It would really help if we could counter their narrative with a successful integration story to show UWR is actually working.”
I don’t know what to say. I can’t argue that it is working, because I have nothing to back it up. Nothing except some scratch marks where Kit managed to grab me across the table, that is.
“We’ve had some…troublesome intakes lately,” I admit. “Combined with Cassie’s absence and Greg’s distraction over her disappearance, hasn’t created the best working environment.”
“I stay in close contact with all my progeny, especially the ones who are mourning the loss of their fellow sisters. Several of them contacted me today, overjoyed with the capture of a baby vampire they’ve been tracking for over a year now,” Zahara says
“Kit,” I say, although I really don’t want to get into talking about him right now.
“Yes, that’s the one that murdered so many of my children,” Zahara nods, an ugly look on her face. I could point out that if she doesn’t want her children killed then maybe she should stop sending them after the most dangerous and deadly supes on the planet. But I’ve been around enough to know that parents never want advice on how to raise their children.
“Ugh, he does sound bad,” Brandee Jean adds softly. She reaches a hand toward Alaric as if looking for emotional support. “I hate to say it, but if some of these can’t be reformed...what’s our next step? Keep them locked up for life?”
“Kill them,” Zahara says coldly. “It’s better than a life behind bars and below ground.”
“Some might disagree with you,” I can’t help but say. I may not have Cassie’s level of love and empathy, but the thought of killing supes just for giving into their natures doesn’t sit right with me.
Alaric nods. “Perhaps it’s time we move forward with assembling some sort of court that will decide the punishment for those deemed unreformable and who remain a danger to our guards while in lock-up.”
BJ sighs. “I didn’t think this goddess gig came with executioner as a skill set.”
“We have to make these hard decisions,” Zahara says. “That’s the job.” Her words are tough, but she rubs BJ’s shoulder as she says it. Clearly, the Triumvirate are close—even when they’re not all on the same page policy-wise.
Alaric looks to me. “Mavis, we’d appreciate your thoughts on worthy nominees for the court of judgment.”
I grimace. This is so far from the reason I came before them today. And that sounds like a thankless job, sitting in a cushy boardroom like this, debating over who lives and dies. I wouldn’t nominate my worst enemy. No one on this planet could possibly enjoy such a—
Suddenly, I realize there is one person who would actually love that job.
“Themis,” I say. “I know her scales broke after Zeus died, but I think they were mostly stagecraft anyway. She seems a bit at loose ends with Mount Olympus Academy closed down and I think she would be a voice of reason and…” I stop as the Triumvirate exchange glances. “What?”
“We’ve reached out to Themis,” BJ explains. “Athena did too. She even came and sat with us here one day. But she was…” BJ looks to Alaric for help.
“Erratic. Irrational. Easily upset. Prone to outbursts and long speeches about the golden bygone days of a better era.”
I frown. That doesn’t sound like Themis. Well, the speeches part does, but not the rest of it. Of course, I only saw her that one time and we talk on the phone now and then, but only briefly… Maybe those scales were more than just a cool prop.
“Could've been she was just having a bad day,” I say, with a shrug.
“Possible,” BJ says kindly. It doesn’t comfort me to have her placation.
“We’ll consider it,” Zahara says. “But in the meantime, what do you need? I can provide a fresh brood of guards in about…” She puts her hand to her forehead like she’s taking her temperature. “I’m currently ovulating, so 36 to 72 hours.”
I sigh. “I don’t need more harpies. I need…”
I fall silent, frustrated that they just don’t get it.
Some people suck. And that goes for supes too.
Nothing is going to convince that little fae/vamp crossbreed Shauna to be a good person. Same with Tigger, Griff, Mac, and a few others I can think of. Instead of trying to reform them, we should be finding ways to keep them secured, because if they all decided to team up, they could bust out of UWR and be out on the streets causing gods know what kind of chaos.
How am I supposed to be able to manage all of them without—
“Wait, what?” I ask, and Zahara patiently repeats herself.
“What do you need from us to help make UWR successful?”
But I’m not listening, because I don’t need to make UWR successful. I need to get my sister back, and I think I just accidentally came up with the answer about how to do that on my own, without the Triumvirate’s help—or blessing.
“I need time,” I say. “Give me time to assemble a list of necessities and I’ll get back to you.”
Alaric nods. “That seems reasonable. Thank you, Mavis, for all your hard work.”
“Absolutely,” I say. “And thank you for…”
Not being able to read my mind
“Being so attractive.”
It’s a stupid thing to say, but it makes for a great getaway.
BJ goes, “Awwww….” and reaches over to rub her blushing boyfriend’s bicep, while Zahara rolls her eyes and then seems to flex her thighs. I’m pretty sure she’s already cooking up another brood by the time I leave the room.
But UWR doesn’t need more guards. Quite the opposite.
Because I’m going to bust some prisoners out.