Mystic Ink

MYSTIC INK

CASEY WYATT

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

MYSTIC INK

Copyright©2012

CASEY WYATT

Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the priority written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.  The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-072-4

ISBN-10: 1-61935-072-6

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

To Lisa, Lisa, and Brandon, my number one fans.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, I have to thank my awesome friends and first readers Lisa G. and Lisa S. for their unwavering loyalty and honesty.  To Jane and Paula: you are the best critique partners in the world. Without your comments, motivation, and encouragement, this book would not be complete.

To Debby Gilbert and the awesome staff at Soul Mate Publishing–thank you for your support and guidance.

Many thanks to my friends in Other Worldly Words – Lisa, Betsy, Bill, Laura, and Brandon for their patience during book chats (I skipped reading a lot of books so I could write this one!).

To my friends in the CT RWA–you are the best, most supportive group in the world, and I am privileged to be in your company!

To the 7 Scribes: Jamie, Katy, J, Viv, Susannah, and PJ–you all keep me sane and grounded. I am eternally grateful.

And to my sons and husband–thanks for letting me write in peace and quiet.

Chapter 1

“For Zeus’ sake. Not another one!” Nix stood in the alley, garbage bag in hand, shaking her head with disbelief. A pair of work boots, toes up, peeked out from behind the dumpster, like a construction worker version of the Wicked Witch of the East.

“Not again!” Basil, her parrot, squawked loudly from his perch. The wide open side door, leading into her tattoo shop—Mystic Ink—gave the pesky bird a view of the alley outside.

“Shut up, stupid bird!” Nix yelled back. She gingerly nudged the boots with her toe. “Come on, Mister, please don’t be dead.” She pushed harder. When the man didn’t wake up and apologize for rudely passing out by her shop, she kicked the solid metal container and swore. There was no use denying it, she had another dead body in her alley. She peered behind the dumpster, studying the mortal: Pasty flesh, eyes staring sightless into space, soul departed.

Yup. Dead as a doornail. A sultry summer breeze drifted by, carrying the sickening sweet scent of decay mixed with salt water from the nearby Mystic River. She wrinkled her nose. The heat wasn’t doing the corpse any favors either. The wind reversed. Cinnamon and warm dough from the bakery next door wiped away the stench.

“Shut up! Holy shit! Another body!” Basil screeched so loud, the whole neighborhood could probably hear him. “Time to call, Charon.”

Nix pitched the trash into the dumpster and stomped back into the building. She really shouldn’t be surprised. A gate to the Underworld resided at the end of the alley. Yeah,
the
Underworld,
where Hades ruled over his souls like a dragon hording a stash of gold. Normally, it was only the souls of the dead that drifted by and not the actual bodies.

“Basil, you’re really not helping the situation.” Her bird watched as she paced the shop for a moment, then stopped. Three corpses in a week was more than a coincidence. She drummed her fingers on the receptionist’s desk.

As far as she knew, nothing like this had ever happened to her Uncle Memphis, previous owner of Mystic Ink. After he’d disappeared, she had assumed full ownership of the business, the parking lot next door, Basil, and two employees. Along with the shop came the guardianship of the Underworld Gate. Since Nix wasn’t a mortal, she could handle the job. There wasn’t much to it—just let the dead souls pass through. But the dead bodies . . . they were something new.

A police siren, shrill and insistent, grabbed her attention. She shot a dark look at Basil when he imitated the noise. His high-pitched parrot voice was equally annoying. When the cruiser arrived, Basil stopped and belted out, “Here comes the Fuzz!”

“Great. Just great.” She wouldn’t have time now to call Charon before the mortals got involved. Again. Last time, Charon had bitched her out for letting the police take the body. As if she could have stopped them without throwing more suspicion on herself. She’d snapped back at Charon that if Hades didn’t like it, he could come and clean his own mess.

“Uh, oh. Officer Dickface,” Basil announced.

Nix winced at the nickname her assistant, Jason Argos, had given the policeman. She wished Jason would be more careful about what he said around the bird. Basil repeated everything. The more embarrassing, the more he said it. She had no clue how Basil knew what irritated her the most, but he did.

“Basil, cut it out. That’s Officer Dinsdale.” Nix always suspected Basil was more than a parrot but was still trying to prove it. Uncle Memphis had a penchant for the weird, and it wouldn’t surprise her if Basil was something otherworldly. “Let’s hope the man didn’t hear you.” Before the parrot could say anything else, Nix covered his cage to quiet him down. So what if it was only seven-fifteen in the morning and she had just removed the overnight cover for the day. “Remember, if I get arrested, there won’t be anyone to feed you or scratch your ratty feathers.” Hopefully that would shut him up.

Nix went out to the alley to intercept the policeman, firmly shutting the heavy metal door and effectively muffling any chatter from Basil. The officer perked up when he saw her, his eyes automatically fixing on her breasts. It wasn’t really his fault. Mortals couldn’t help their attraction. He didn’t know that she was a Nereid—a Sea Nymph. One of the fifty daughters of Nereus, the Old Man of the Sea, Nix had inherited the natural beauty and sex appeal of her race.

Since she had taken over the shop a few weeks earlier, she had dyed her naturally blond hair to black and had thrown in a few bright red streaks for good measure. She thought it would help her look the part of a tattoo artist and dim the attention to her body. So far, it didn’t seem to be working.

“Ms. Eudora Nixon. Why am I not surprised you have another body?” Officer Dinsdale approached, his hand casually resting on the butt of his handgun. Connecticut’s finest in action.

“Nix. My name is Nix, Officer Dinsdale.” She tried to contain her annoyance. She hated the name Eudora and preferred her middle name, Nix, instead. The surname Nixon was fabricated so she could blend in with the mortal world.

“Yes, you have mentioned it,” he paused, “a few times. I should know since I have been here on three calls now. What have we got today?” Not waiting for an invitation, he headed straight over to the dumpster and peered around the side.

Nix piped in, for form’s sake, “I haven’t gone back there. Or touched anything. This is how I found him.”

“I wonder. What is so interesting about your dumpster, that men keep dying back there?” He sighed again, gripped the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder and radioed for an ambulance. He flipped open his notebook. “Did you know the deceased?”

“No.”

“Was he a customer?”

Nix gaped at him. Which part of “no” did this man not understand?

“No, Officer. He was not one of my customers,” she clipped out.

“At approximately what time did you find the body?” he asked.

Nix resisted the urge to sigh. This was going to be a long morning. “A little before seven a.m.”

Pen poised over his pad, Dinsdale looked up when no more details were forthcoming. “Ms. Nixon, please don’t make me have to pull information out of you.”

As if. Nix could bench press the mortal, but she kept her mouth shut and continued providing details. The interview had concluded when an ambulance pulled up to the end of the alley. No lights and no sirens since there was no rescue involved.

The low rumble of a motorcycle engine cut through the air.

Nix tensed. The motorcycle meant her handler, Calder Quinne, had arrived. Like her morning wasn’t crappy enough.

Officer Dinsdale, conferring with the ambulance driver, didn’t give Calder a second look as he passed by them. The mortal policeman and Calder had already exchanged official credentials when the last body was found. Dinsdale was under the impression Calder was a CIA operative. The mortal had no idea that Calder was really an agent for The Delian League—a top secret organization comprised of Gods from various world religions. The League oversaw the supernatural world, ensuring they stayed under humanity’s radar.

Calder approached with two Styrofoam cups from the bakery next door. Nix tried not to gape at his sculpted physique, displayed by a form-fitting gray T-shirt and perfectly worn blue jeans. For the past two weeks, she had acted like a sappy admirer every time he had arrived. He was a Demigod—Son of Ares. No big deal. His face, framed by cropped black hair, was really no more beautiful than other Demigods. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

She scowled. He was a male, and probably a jerk, like her ex-boyfriend Nathaniel Adonis. Besides, Calder Quinne was unwelcome. She didn’t need a handler. An overgrown baby sitter disguised as an evaluator. How could her father do this to her? Didn’t Nereus trust her?

“Good morning, Nix. I hope I remembered how you like your morning coffee.” He grinned, flashing perfectly white teeth. She tried to ignore his voice, a smooth and captivating baritone rumble that poured over her senses like satin. “Black, one sugar and a dash of cinnamon.”

Damn, he was charming, too. And that was her coffee order of choice... With a mental head slap, she reminded herself to keep her distance. “I’ve already had my coffee today.”

Calder shrugged. “No problem. I’ll just leave it in the backroom for you in case you change your mind.” He entered the shop using the alley door that led directly into the storage room/employee break area.

Basil called, “Here comes Mr. Dreamy.”

Nix cringed. She had never said anything like that—out loud.

Officer Dinsdale returned and issued the standard,
we’ll call you if we have more questions,
message before departing with the ambulance.

“Damn. Did I miss all the fun?”

“Jason! I thought I asked you not to sneak up on me.” Nix planted a hand on her chest, as if that could slow her racing heart.

“Sorry, boss.” Jason attempted a sheepish look, but wasn’t very convincing. His blue eyes sparkled with merriment. Jason, also a Demigod, was descended from a long line of Heroes. Skull-trimmed blond hair, copious tattoos, and body piercings made him appear menacing, but in reality, he was a sweet guy and an accomplished artist. Technically, he was still an apprentice, but there was no reason for it. He did superb work and already had a strong client list. He could start his own shop if he really wanted. Nix planned on officially promoting him, if things ever calmed down long enough.

“I’ll start prepping for the day’s customers. Hey, did Cal arrive yet? He promised to have a hot chili eating contest with me later.”

Jason and Cal had hit it off after about two minutes. Nix suspected that Jason was relieved to have another male around. She didn’t want to think that Cal might really be a nice guy. Nope. Didn’t want to go there.

“Yeah, he’s here.” Nix tried to keep her voice light and even. Jason didn’t need to know about the resentment building inside her at the whole babysitting situation.

“Awesome.” He went inside, closing the door behind him. Lights in the main shop blazed to life, throwing pale light through the side windows into the dim alleyway.

Nix muttered, “I’m a Destroyer, damn it. I don’t need Cal hanging around. So what if one of my sisters went insane after her tour of duty ended. That’s not going to happen to me.” She stopped, yanked open the side door, and quickly retreated inside before anyone caught her talking to herself.

For the past two weeks, Cal had tried his best not to crowd Nix. He knew she resented his presence, but it couldn’t be helped. Nereus was right to be concerned—a Destroyer’s power was vast and hard to contain. When one of Nix’s sisters had lost control, it had sent every member of The Delian League High Council, at least the ones with two brain cells to rub together, into a justified panic. Properly armed, a Destroyer could be a God killer.

“Don’t you have anything better to do besides watch dog me?” Nix stepped in from the alley. The heavy door slammed behind her with a metallic clang. A perfect echo of her grouchy attitude.

“I can’t complain. There are worse jobs.” Cal folded his arms and leaned against the kitchenette counter. The coffee pot was gurgling and pumping out its fragrant brew. Normally, Mary Swain, the receptionist made the coffee, but she hadn’t arrived yet and Cal needed something to do.

“I don’t need you hanging around. I’m fine. It’s been over two weeks since I gave up the Destroyer’s Mantle.” Nix gave him her back and rummaged through a box marked “sterile pads.” When she bent down, her blue T-shirt rode up her back, giving him an enjoyable glimpse of her tan flesh and nicely curved ass. His fingers twitched at the memories: the feel of her soft curves, the taste of her skin.

Memories she no longer retained,
he reminded himself. Touching her now would earn him a slap. Or with Nix’s training, probable broken bones. Not that Cal would grope Nix without invitation. He had manners and was a gentleman. Gods or Demigods who raped unwilling mortals and Nymphs deserved to be punished.

“I think if I was going to go nuts, I would have done it by now.” She turned and tossed the box onto the counter, then swept her shoulder length hair off her neck and pinned it up with wooden sticks. Cal had seen Nix do this a dozen times already, but was always fascinated by the seemingly magical process that allowed two chopsticks to hold her hair in place.

“I know it’s all hush-hush about which sister went nuts. But I’m different from the others.” She dropped another container, labeled “Viricide,” onto the first box, where it balanced haphazardly. Cal reached out to steady the second, larger box before it crashed to the ground.

Gods, she was adorable when she was irate. Cal had known it would be hard to see Nix again but wanted the assignment anyway. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, he had maneuvered his way into getting it. A part of him hoped she would remember their earlier time together, even in some small way. But after two weeks, she still treated him like a total stranger.

After war camp ended, he and Nix frequently crossed paths at Delian League gatherings. True to form, she was the only Nereid who questioned her orders and asked pertinent questions. Unfortunately, given the nature of her duty, she never remembered any of those times.

When a Destroyer pulled on the Mantle, she lost her sense of self. After the proscribed term of duty ended, Nereus erased the Destroyer’s on the job memories to ensure her sanity. And it was a potent security measure. If one of his daughters was kidnapped, she couldn’t disclose any top-secret information.

“I’m sure they have my sister locked down in the Greek God’s version of the loony bin. I don’t have any of the signs. See?” Nix crossed her pale, blue eyes and made a goofy face.

“You shouldn’t joke about such things. Talus died when your sister lost control,” Cal said, surprised to hear the bitterness in his voice. Granted, it had only been a few months since the tragedy, but after centuries, it galled Cal that he still had to work to control his emotions. The death of his best friend and partner crushed him. Cal often wondered why he had been spared.

Their mission in Central America—to stop a rogue Troll terrorizing the local populace—had gone horribly wrong when their Destroyer lost control in a crowded marketplace. Talus had put himself between the Destroyer and a group of mortal children. Cal had been steering a family to safety when the Destroyer knocked Cal aside, then plunged her hand into Talus’ chest. Even an immortal can’t live long without a heart.

His hands heated. Flames attempted to burst through his palms as his emotions overrode his self-control. A Son of Ares, he could harness fire and bend it to his will. He took a deep breath, stilling the flames before they escaped. A light touch on his shoulder brought him back to the present.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I didn’t know.” Nix’s sentiment seemed genuine and for a moment her defiant
eat shit and die
attitude toward him lessened. “All I’m trying to say is . . . with her, it happened while she was wearing the Mantle.”

“Your father is not taking any chances. The policy stands for good reason. If you would like a new agent assigned, I’m sure your father would accommodate you. I hear Nate Adonis is free.”

It was a low blow, using her ex-boyfriend, but he really wanted to stay with her. He had to give Nix credit. She did a good job of not reacting to the name of her former lover. Adonis was a jerk who had publicly divulged the details of their brief love affair. Details Cal could have lived without knowing. The God community’s relative smallness meant that the gossip traveled quickly; whether it was true or not, didn’t matter. He knew his own relationship disaster, with a princess in the Amazon court, was still fodder for the rumor mill.

“I don’t have a problem with you personally.” Nix handed him a carton marked ‘black ink’. “If you’re going to hang around, you can at least be useful.” Nix left him standing there, box in hand. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he had a chance with her. Maybe she would remember him and their shared past.

He shook his head. He was a fool. Reclamation was always permanent. If he wanted Nix, he would have to win her heart, all over again.

The front door chimes tinkled. Then the musky scent of Satyr hit his nose.

“What the hell do you want?” He heard Nix say, anger clear in her tone.

Shit! Not good. Cal arrived in time to see her palming a watermelon-sized ball of water, ready to douse the Satyr standing in the shop.