Chapter Twenty

“I know everyone is so busy with Halloween preparations—” Simeon didn’t get to finish his apology.

Emmy stopped in her tracks behind the vampire, staring at a dozen people moving frantically through the shop despite the sign reading closed.

“Oh, you’re here. Thank goodness!”

“Ulp!” Emily found herself pulled into a bear hug by a petite redhead with a very pregnant middle that smacked her in the chest. “Hi?”

“Emily Van Helsing, this is Tessa Roscommon, an uncommonly powerful witch.” Mr. Minegold introduced them with a grave smile.

“And my best friend is a vampire’s wife, and she’s carrying his baby. Jakob told us about the curse, or the deal, whatever you call it.” Tessa’s eyes immediately overflowed. “Sorry. I’m trying not to get emotional.”

“Thank God you’re going to help.”

Emily tried not to jump as a bluish-gray being walked across the shop to shake her hand, tentacles propelling him. “Kraken?” she muttered under her breath, smiling uneasily.

“Distant descendant of Poseidon. Jakob asked me to come just in case I could offer some inside knowledge. I know I can’t, but when someone’s in trouble, we show up.”

Emily found herself whirled between the dozen people, some who looked perfectly human, some who did not. She recognized many of them from her job at the grocery store, but now they were all rummaging through herbs and crystals, pulling spellbooks and scrolls from shelves and spreading them on the table.

But they all stopped to talk to her and thank her and Simeon.

Thanking me. Like I’m a hero.

Her whole life, she had been trained to be a hero and never, ever felt like one.

Maybe because to feel like a hero, you have to feel like you’re accomplishing something good, and if the person training you to slay demons never says “good job,” you start to believe that even your successes are failures.

“Why are they thanking me?” Emily murmured into Simeon’s ear.

“Because you’re trying to save their friends and families. Jakob, Jesse, Sophie, little J.J., and the baby Sophie’s carrying. Robbie and the baby Charlotte’s carrying. And me. I’m newer here than the rest, but the people seem to take us supernatural sorts under their wings.”

“Can’t I go with you?” Mr. Minegold suddenly demanded, the usually calm, dapper vampire running a distraught hand through his hair.

“No, mate, we’ll—”

Mr. Minegold entered their huddle, voice a ragged hiss. “I gave my life for the first time to save my wife and children. These are my children now.” He made a sweeping gesture to the people behind him. “I could help on the front lines.”

“If we need backup, we’ll ring you. I swear. But I think this is a stealth mission,” Simeon soothed, jaw working. “You need to stay here and keep all the vamps and their families safe. Maybe see if there’s a way to cloak what you are, so that if I fail—”

“You’re not going to fail if you can get Hades to bring you something,” Calder the Kraken suddenly called out, tentacles rippling across the floor with a swishing slap as he hurried over. “There’s something mortals can take to protect against earthly memory tampering. Water from the Lethe.”

“The what?” Emily demanded.

“It’s one of the four rivers in the Underworld. Drinking from it makes you forget, but it’s not fun to swallow—burns like fire. But if we have some, we can use it in this potion, and it’ll protect you from any memory tampering.”

Simeon removed the phone from his pocket. “That’s a damn good start. But what about immortals? Can we give some to Seph? And yours truly?” He tapped his chest.

“I can magnify the strength of any potion with the coven’s help,” Tessa spoke up. “It should work on immortals... but I don’t know about gods, honestly.”

“Well. One way to find out.” Simeon looked at her. “Should we call Milly or Zag? Or the boss man?”

“Call Zag. I think he’ll get it done fast without bothering his dad—plus he’ll know stuff.”

“It’ll be great if we can get Seph’s memory back, even for a few minutes. Should help to get her out of there—once we find her. Which is going to be hard enough to do. If they’ve looked for a thousand years—”

“They haven’t had the entire Pine Ridge coven try to scry her.” Madge shuffled forward with a large marble mortar and pestle in her hand. “If we know the city and have something of hers, we might at least get you in the right part of the city. Between us, there’s a lot of power. Tessa Roscommon is one of the most powerful witches I’ve ever seen or heard of. Alban is one of the Wymark warlocks—generations of power behind him. We have a collection of offerings we can make that’ll increase our collective spellcasting power—blood of a vampire, scale of a kraken, tooth of a werewolf... all those things help.” Madge smirked for a minute, arms crossed. “When people look for power, they sometimes forget to ask the nice guys.”

“But how do we fight a god? How do I do that? I’m a good tracker and a good hunter—I think.” Emily bit her lower lip.

“You are!” Simeon said staunchly. “I know, first hand.”

“But how do you fight a god?”

Mr. Minegold raised one white hand with clever, slender fingers, his enthusiasm to share his knowledge clear even in a dire situation. Emmy remembered Simeon said he’d been a teacher. A violinist, and he still played. A Holocaust survivor, a war hero...

He used his powers for good. Something her father said a vampire could never, ever do.

“In mythology, gods could be injured, just like mortals. They just healed quicker and could not truly die. They might be banished out of a corporeal existence for a while, but they didn’t die. Demigods, now... Well, we’re not dealing with that. Mnemosyne is a Titaness, and Zeus is a god. Zeus’ weakness is—”

“Women!”

Emily jumped as the entire room answered.

Minegold nodded, a bitter smile on his lips. “And Mnemosyne’s weakness is Zeus.”

“That, and the corruption of human memories, I imagine.” Calder raised a hand. “Gods don’t die, but they fade in and out of power and even existence. Zeus is still well-known, and his power center has shifted, right?”

“ All the gods have shifted west, leaving Greece behind,” Simeon spoke up. “We’ve got Van Helsing a slinky little dress to tempt His Creepiness.”

This was where she should speak. Should explain how she was useful. Most would assume that Simeon should do the work of battling a god. He was the one with supernatural strength, not her—but she’d been the one fighting—and winning—against monsters since she was old enough not to be considered a complete liability. “It’s easy to mortally wound a man if he believes he’s in control. I packed all of my knives. I have iron blades, and I think that ought to work the best since gods and fae seem more susceptible to those. When he’s close, in the right position, I’ll go for eyes and arteries. Hard and messy if I have to. Calder, would that work?”

“Eyes and arteries would work, at least for a little while,” Calder said, bluish skin suddenly paling. He looked sick but determined. “He’ll have a supply of ambrosia near him—all sensible gods do. They can eat human food, but it doesn’t sustain them. If Zeus is badly injured, he’ll immediately go for ambrosia.”

“We won’t let him get it, then,” Simeon said. He sat on the edge of one round table and looked around the assembled company. “What d’you reckon, folks? Is he the type to keep it in a flask? Some special protein powder?”

“We could ask Hera. She’d know,” Emily said, instantly shaking her head to veto her own suggestion. “But that would tip her off. This whole mess is so tricky because using the powers of the gods would probably cause waves in the mythological community. Is that even the right word?” she asked, looking at Calder.

“It’s close enough. You’re probably right.”

“But warlocks and witches, and old vampires who loved to read? No one as powerful as Zeus will think a little human woman and her vampire knight will dare approach them.” Minegold gently patted her back, then turned her to face him. “You are going into a battle that’s not even yours to fight, to save the ones you barely know.”

Emily nodded, throat suddenly tight as the unblinking blue eyes seared into her, and his smile twitched, a tremble in one corner. “I’m—”

“We are grateful. I am grateful. I’m proud of you no matter what happens,” he whispered, folding her into a hug.

For a moment, her throat felt like it would explode, too tight, too full of pain to keep existing and breathing. Her father, even on his deathbed, had not bothered to hug her goodbye, but spent his last moments lecturing and berating her about her “preparedness” and her “duty.”

“Erm. Let me see if Zag’ll pop up here for a minute to strategize with us. Sounds like we’ve got a few fronts, troops. Memory protecting potion, anything that’ll protect Van Helsing and me from attacks—physical or otherwise, finding Seph or Mnemosyne, and finding a way to mess with the Titaness by messing with her followers since their devotion is the only thing keeping her on the mortal plane.” Simeon ticked off items on his fingers, and the rabble and commotion broke out again.

“He was a fancy secretary, back in the day. He’s surprisingly organized.” Emily managed to say in a strained voice, blinking up at Mr. Minegold, who was still smiling down at her.

He nodded, stroking a tender finger over her cheek. “You’re doing your best. That’s never failure, my dear.” His eyes slid to the mass of Pine Ridge residents behind her. “Are you afraid of the battle—or afraid of losing him?”

“The second one.”

“You are an incredible warrior. That’s why Simeon asked you for help—that, and the fact that if this was his last week on earth, he would want to spend it with you.”

She blinked, and to her horror, tears splashed out, not just one or two, but a stream. Her tear ducts had always had a dam of harsh words and fear built across them, but the dam had taken too many hits lately. The thing was broken.

I don’t even know how to cry. No sobs. No breathing in and out. Nothing like you see in the movies. Just all the water in the world suddenly coming out of my eyes—and my nose is wet.

“Oh, mój serec , my heart, don’t cry. You are doing your best. Everyone knows it. We love you for it.” The older vampire rubbed her arms briskly before pulling her against his chest and rocking her side to side.

His chest was silent, and his body was cool against hers, even in layers of tweedy jackets with elbow patches and a turtleneck.

But it feels like warmth, coming from the inside out. Like with Simeon—his is a different kind of heat, but he doesn’t need to be human to make me feel it.

“I will go with you, Emily. Would that help?” Mr. Minegold whispered sincerely.

“No. No, you stay here and protect people for me,” she stepped back, squeezing his hands.

“Just call me if you need me. I will be there. Simeon will look after you. You should always hunt in a pack, yes?” He stroked her hair once, still with that same brave, encouraging smile that radiated...

What is that?

Pride? Love? Confidence?

All of it.

And he’ll be there for me if I need him.

Oh, God... This vampire that I’ve known for less than a year is a better dad than my father ever was. My own father never told me he was proud of me. Or that he’d come to rescue me. He did sometimes, but it was always with an air of supreme disappointment and anger that I’d failed.

Well, I’m not going to fail these people.

More of a family than I ever had, to hell with the “Van Helsing family code” and “family mission” and “family honor.”

“Zagreus incoming!” Simeon said loudly, too loudly, coming up behind her. “Steady on, Van Helsing.” He gave her a bracing pat on the arm, but when she left Minegold’s side, she sank easily into his.

“You all right? What’d he say?” Simeon looked at her with concern.

“In five minutes, he said all the things I wished my father had ever told me. Just once.”

“He’s like that.” Simeon sighed. “Kinda like the father I wish I’d had.”

She arched her eyebrows, a tiny chuckle escaping her. “We can bond over Daddy Issues, even a couple centuries apart?”

“Sounds like. Ooh, that’ll be him.”

Madge’s fiancé, Reynaldo, suddenly let out a yelp and a whole torrent of Spanish, hopping away from a glowing portal in the middle of the room. Flames and sulfur surrounded the dark-haired young god as he stepped out.

“Should have warned us you were coming straight from work,” Simeon said, coughing as a wave of smoke filled the room.

“Straight from Tartarus, I’m afraid—getting some inside info and then bribing people not to say anything about it.” Zagreus brushed off his hands.

They were red, with golden streaks.

Emily blanched. That rusty red—she knew that shade intimately. Blood. Blood that soaks into your skin and leaves it rusty red no matter how many times you scrub, waiting until a layer of skin replaces it. And the gold?

Wasn’t the blood of the gods called ichor... and didn’t some myths say it was golden?

“How long since I called in your time?” Simeon asked softly as Hades’ son pulled off a soot-blackened steel helmet.

“Huh? Oh, a few hours to me, a few seconds to you, right?” Zag wiped his hands on his tunic, catching Emily’s eye. “It’s for my mother,” he said simply. “Nothing can stop me from helping you find her—not when we’re this close.”

“Peachy, mate. Pull up a chair.” Simeon gestured to the crowded table, where things were starting to look less cluttered and more systematic.

“Okay, but I can’t stay long.” He pulled out a heavy gold jar from under the short cape he wore that hung from his shoulders, pinned by epaulets of bones and silver. “Water, from Lethe. That’s the first gift.”

“What’s the second?” Emily asked.

“Information.” Zag smiled.

Simeon looked at his notes. His days as a secretary had come in handy, he thought with a rueful smirk.

“The Lotus Room, on Mirage Street. Could they be more obvious?” He folded the paper again. “We have to burn this when we get there. Maybe before. Can you remember all this stuff?”

Emily sat next to him in the car, eyes squeezed shut for a second—and then her mouth opened and words flew out. “We both have to drink Lethe’s Nectar before we head for the place.” Emily glanced nervously at the car’s interior to make sure the H Drive wasn’t engaged.

“You’re safe, Em. You can say words.”

“I do feel somewhat safer.” The vampire hunter’s hand played over the little iron pendant that was hidden under her neckline.

He patted his, too. “Protective charms activated. Should we synchronize our watches?”

“I just want to go. I want to get this over with. Too many people know.” Emily rubbed her arms and looked back toward the magic shop. “Trust no one. Dad’s top ten playlist.”

“Ah, well. He never met the folks in Pine Ridge. He wouldn’t have liked it here, where you can trust lots of people, where you’ll find someone to help more often than someone to hurt. Too many illusions to shatter. He would have killed someone’s wife and mother, all stake-happy, and realized that sometimes the monster is the human and the hero is the ‘bad guy.’ Come on. We can go get some joint therapy after Halloween, all right? My treat.”

“Oh, well, since you’re buying, I’m in,” Emily chuckled.

He loved that he could make her laugh, even while they were about to embark on the final leg of their journey. “I get to be with my girl,” he said suddenly, grabbing her hand and locking his fingers through hers. “And take you to Vegas. We might finish this quest early—”

“Why do you say things like that?” Emily smacked his leg with her free hand. “He didn’t mean it, God. Hades. Whoever’s in charge.”

“Fine, fine. Even if we finish just on time, we’re in Vegas. I can spoil you with Hades’ card—or even my own money if I’m feeling magnanimous. Around you, I always am.”

“Spoil me by coming back alive and coming home with me,” Emily said, her voice suddenly soft and body so still he thought she was somehow talking without breathing.

“Yeah. All right. That too. Now... Run the plays, Huntress.”

“Drink Lethe’s Nectar. Make sure protective charms remain on. Iron weapons at the ready. Go to The Lotus Room and find the one they call Circe. Your turn.”

“She loves a disreputable man. I come in and ask her to make my wife forget my affair, get myself an audience with one pissed off witch-priestess who just can’t wait to turn a bloke into bacon, according to Zag’s informant.”

“Okay, but before you can feature on the breakfast menu, what do you do?” Emily prodded.

Simeon patted the little black case between them. “Lethe’s Dust. Sprinkle it on her, blow it in the faces of her acolytes, put in the ruddy ventilation system if I have to. You’ll be waiting outside with Hades’ phone in your hot little hand, and you will not come in. You’re a mortal. You have to breathe in. I don’t.”

“This Circe—she’s an incarnation of some ancient goddess, but she’s not the real thing, right?”

“Right. She’s mortal, or she wouldn’t be worshiping a Titan. She’ll be breathing it in or passing out—and then I’ll just poof a little on her. Once Mnemosyne loses touch with her followers—and her source of staying power on this plane, she’ll be weak and distracted. She might even come to the club, looking for answers.”

“If she doesn’t, we at least have a good idea where to find her, thanks to this.” Emily spun a crystal vial with a glowing purple strand in it. “Who did he say this was from again? Cronus?”

“Coeus. The Titan of intellect and the axis of heaven. Zeus really doesn’t like him.”

“And godly DNA works like that?”

“No,” Simeon came to a stop at the sign that thanked visitors for stopping by Pine Ridge. “Zag says six Titans are in Tartarus, one—the one Zeus swallowed up—is missing and hasn’t reformed yet, two are in other places in the underworld, one’s up in the astral plane playing at being a constellation, and two are out in the mortal world. Mnemosyne is the only one likely to be in Vegas, flaunting herself since she can boggle minds and has Big Daddy Dirtbag’s protection for the time being. The scrying crystal works to pick up a Titan since they all have the same auric resonance—whatever the hell that means.” He looked back over his shoulder. “I could drive back to the store. Ask Tess and Farrah to go over this bit again?”

“No,” Emily shook her head firmly. “I know they understand it. This guides us to a Titan—and the only Titan in Vegas has to be Mnemosyne. We’ll find her, either through her followers or this scrying crystal. You have Seph’s?”

Simeon held up a vial with a pomegranate-colored thread swirling slowly inside. Unlike its companion, it didn’t glow, its color flat and muted. “Mnemosyne’s power will slip, that’s for sure. But it’s a gamble whether or not she’ll be more afraid of fading off this mortal realm or letting down her lover. If she uses her energy to support herself, she’ll have to shunt some power away from cloaking Seph and keeping her disoriented. Seph’s thread ought to light up and help us find her—at least the general area. If we get close, it’ll give off a fiery flash of heat and light to alert us, then just stay glowing and pulsing if we’re in the right area. The worst thing would be to see it brighten and then grow dark. That means we’ve lost her, one way or another.”

“I don’t think I could stand that. I’ve lost people before, but...” Emily stopped.

“I know.” He could imagine. Her mother. Her father, useless at the job as he was. Victims she didn’t get to in time, those killed long before she even knew of her quarries. His girl still carried guilt that shouldn't belong to her.

Like the proper bloody hero she is, not the sulky little demon flexing his fangs like yours truly.

And if this fails... She loses Seph for that family.

Loses me. Minegold. The family she’s just starting to realize she has in Pine Ridge, all of us “monsters” who love her.

“You know, Zag got that piece of hair from his mother’s throne. He said Hades doesn’t let anyone touch that throne. He’s keeping it safe for her, just waiting for her to sit beside him again. I feel like any second now, Hade is going to pop up and demand that we put that strand of hair back—and now it’s been charmed and it won’t be the right color. He’s going to be pissed, isn’t he?”

They froze, waiting, but nothing happened. The strand stayed in its vial. Hades, pissed or otherwise, remained absent.

“All right, best keep going over everything before we leave the town. If we’ve got any questions, better to ask them now.

“Right. That’s phase one.” Emily nodded.

“If we can get Seph without Zeus sticking his nose in, perfect. If not...” Simeon flexed his fingers on the wheel. We dangle her like bait. We dress her up and let her attract every lecherous perv in the city while she haunts Mnemsoyne’s area, hoping for clues to Seph’s whereabouts.

“Phase Two? Or should that be One-and-a-Half?”

“Very funny, Huntress.”

“That nickname... I don’t hate it, but how the hell am I going to live up to it? Maybe I can face Zeus if he finds us, but the hard part will be hurting him enough . At least Zag told us that the gods are weaker when they force themselves into a corporeal form. They can’t access some of their more devastating powers unless they go ethereal, and that means blowing his cover. As long as he’s down here, I have a little advantage.”

Simeon stared at her. “He can’t resist a stunning woman. We have two advantages. Three—I bet Zeus thinks after this long avoiding detection that he can’t be caught.”

“Especially not caught by one of the pretty women he intends to catch. I’m good at being bait.” Emily shifted in her seat, long legs crossing to show off her calves.

What I wouldn’t give to be sliding between those legs right now, Simeon thought hungrily.

“You know, my dad told me it was such an easy way to trap a vamp. To play the helpless pretty girl and then turn on them. It was kind of satisfying to watch the look of horror on their faces before they turned to ashes at my feet.”

“You should terrify me, Van Helsing. Instead... I don’t know. Something’s wrong with me. I’ve always been attracted to your spark.” Simeon let out a long, cold breath, leaning near her. Her pounding pulse jumped in her neck, mesmerizing him. “I love you because you’re so unique, Huntress. I know you could kill me, but you don’t...”

She leaned toward him, too, eyes slowly closing. “I could say the same thing about you.”

“I love the softness inside of you and the badass you can be. Emily Van Helsing... I’m in love with all of you.”

“I—”

“I just wanted to tell you in case something goes wrong in Vegas and you forget. Or I forget. No, I could never forget that. I love every inch of you, all the powers you have, all the graces you show. Gods have fought Zeus. Titans. Warriors of old. But I’d put all my money on you, love.”

She stared at him for a long moment before crashing her lips onto his.

This kiss was nothing innocent, nothing sweet, in spite of the words he’d just spoken. Her fingers dug into his chest, claws into his skin as her tongue plundered.

He couldn’t help it. Lust and bloodlust went together, a messy adrenaline cocktail fused with danger and desire. He unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for her hips, fangs bursting into his mouth and through her lip.

And she didn’t stop kissing him.

“Say it,” he hissed, licking scarlet from her pale peach kiss.

“I love you.” She reached behind her as she slid her way into his lap, smacking the H Drive. “Take us to a deserted, dark corner of Vegas where no one will disturb us,” she rasped.

The car spun, dizzying and disorienting, but not more intoxicating than her blood and the feel of her thighs crashing over his.

Only belatedly did he stop and think about whether or not Hades would fry whatever was left of his immortal soul for having sex in his car.