Deep Water (2 page)

Delphinus gave an
easy kick, sliding free of the cave. “With your permission, lord, I’ll go up to
the surface and breathe for a bit,” he said.

Poseidon narrowed
his eyes at the dolphin. “You know you can breathe water perfectly well when
you’re with me.”

“Yes, lord, but I
really think I should go up. You know.” Delphinus twitched his head at
Amphitrite. “Away for a while?”

The drachma
dropped. “Oh. Yes, you’re dismissed.”

Delphinus shot
towards the surface, muttering something about not being able to put sandals on
without help. Poseidon grinned at his old friend’s wake, then turned back to
the Nereid.

“So,” he said. “I
believe I need to go see your father and ask for your hand.”

“That would be a
good idea.” Amphitrite slid into his arms, pulling him close. Her breasts were
a delightful weight against his chest, and his cock twitched at the thought of caressing
them. “Just so you know, I’m not averse to a quick wedding. We already had
things planned for you and Thetis, after all.”

“Good to know. And
afterwards?”

She kissed him,
setting off that lovely soaring passion again. “Afterwards, I’m all yours.
There is one thing, however.”

“What?”

“The Oracle also said
that we would have a third mate, and that it would be the end and beginning of
happiness for us.” A small wrinkle formed between her brows. “I’m not sure what
that means, but it doesn’t sound good.”

“The Fates rarely
send good news, I’ve noticed,” Poseidon said, kissing the wrinkle away. “We’ll
deal with it when we find her.”

“Or him.”

“Or him,” Poseidon
said indulgently. “In the meantime, however, we have a wedding to plan.”

“And a wedding
night to enjoy.” Amphitrite gazed up at him, love and need in her eyes. “And
afterwards?”

“Afterwards, we
spend our lives in wedded bliss.” He kissed her again, savoring everything
promised by her lips. “After all, we’re fated mates. How could we not be happy
together?”

Chapter
One

Three gods sat in a tidy cottage kitchen,
sharing a bottle of rather fine wine.

This wasn't unusual for that particular
kitchen. With mid-afternoon sunlight playing on copper pots and aged wooden
cabinets, the room radiated a certain cheerful homeliness that could make even
a divine being feel welcome. And if pressed, Poseidon (God of the Sea,
Earth-Shaker, Lord of Horses, et al.) was willing to admit that he felt
surprisingly comfortable in his sons' oh-so-mortal dwelling.

He definitely appreciated the vintage of
wine he was about to receive. Admiring the play of sunlight on garnet liquid,
he nodded his satisfaction when the glass was half full.

The god across from him stopped pouring,
putting the bottle back on the table. Poseidon found the simple act entertaining.
After millennia of being served by
daimons
, the invisible spirits of the air that tended the
gods of Olympus, he wasn’t used to corporeal hands doing something as mundane
as pouring him a glass of wine.

Especially when those hands belonged to
Ian West, the new
Atlantian
God.
And, by an incredible concatenation of events that even I find hard to
believe, my son-in-law.

He sipped the wine, enjoying the rich,
earthy taste of an excellent Merlot. “From your wine cellar, I take it?” he
said to the other occupant of the table.

The sea demigod Bythos nodded. “I thought
it would help, considering what we’re here to discuss,” he said.

“Mm.” Poseidon’s pleasure in the day
receded. “I take it you have new information about the cause of Thetis’s
madness?”

“We do,” Bythos said. “Nick was able to
study her venom in more detail while he was being held in her lair.”

Dr. Nick Gardiner was a friend of Ian’s
and a specialist in emergency medicine. Fleeing Chicago after a bad breakup
with a psychotic ex-lover, Nick barely had time to unpack before he had become
the Bearer of the Rod of Asclepius, discovered that he was the fated mate of
two handsome mermen, and been kidnapped by Thetis and forced to study her
venom. “He said it contained some kind of nanotechnology,” Bythos continued. “That’s—”

“I know what nanotechnology is,” Poseidon
said absently. “That
is
a surprise.
But it does explain how she’s been able to turn various creatures into
monsters. Do we know how she obtained it in the first place?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Bythos said. “Nick
wasn’t able to analyze it in any real depth.”

Ian gave his mate a defensive look. “Well,
you can’t blame Nick for that. He had to do everything through Pythia and the
Rod. It’s not like he had access to a lab.”

“I’m not blaming him, beloved,” Bythos
said reassuringly. “Frankly, I’m just glad he got out of there alive.”

“Unlike Claire,” Ian muttered. “Dammit, I
wish I could’ve helped her.”

Bythos reached out, covering Ian’s hand
with his own. “There’s no guarantee you could have saved her,” he said. “From
what Nick said, the venom was much farther advanced in her than it had been in
me.”

The smaller god shook his head. “I know.
But I still feel bad.”

Poseidon leaned back as he listened, long
fingers toying with his wine glass. Thetis’s latest move in their ongoing
battle had been to go beyond the mutated mermaids known as ilkothelloi and use
her nanotech-laden venom to create more powerful minions that would be just as
savage but maintain their original intelligence. To that end, Thetis had bitten
and poisoned a minor sea goddess named Claire, intending to turn the resulting
monster into a leader of her army.

But the brave goddess had defied Thetis,
choosing to end her life and return her divine spirit to Gaia. While Claire’s
death was a setback in the Mad Nereid’s plans, Poseidon had no delusions that
it would dissuade Thetis from her course of revenge.

“We need to obtain a sample of this venom
as soon as possible,” he said. “Ideally from an ilkothella. It won’t be as
powerful as Thetis’s venom, but it should carry the same nanotech.”

“Yes, except that the ilkothella has to be
captured alive,” Bythos reminded him. “They turn into sludge when they’re
killed.”

“I’m aware of that. At the moment Aphros
and his tritons are the most experienced with the creatures,” Poseidon said.
“I’ll have him set a squad on capturing one. Where would you and Nick wish to
study it?”

The demigod frowned in thought. “The cove
would be the best place, but the protective geas would kill an ilkothella as
soon as it came in. I’ll see about setting up some kind of holding pen outside
the cove entrance.”

Ian grimaced. “Do we need to keep it alive
once we have the sample? What if it breaks loose?”

Poseidon remembered that a human town lay
close to the cove. During summer, its residents would undoubtedly be spending
time in the warm waters of the Atlantic, providing a veritable buffet for an
ilkothella. “We make sure it doesn’t break loose. I have no wish for mortals to
become aware of the
ilkothelloi’s
existence. They
tend to be panicky enough as it is.”

“Plus there’s the whole dying horribly
thing,” Ian muttered. His own ascension to godhood had taken place after an
ilkothella had bitten him, almost killing him with its venom. Gaia had chosen
to spare Ian’s life by granting him divinity, but Poseidon knew the former
mortal still looked on the ilkothelloi with revulsion.

Someone knocked at the back door. It opened,
and a smiling brunette’s face appeared in the gap. “Darlings, are you home? I—”

She froze, her expression changing to a bland
mask when she saw Poseidon. “Oh. I’ll come back later—”

“That’s not necessary, Amphitrite.” Poseidon
got to his feet, arranging his own features into something he hoped was
pleasant. “Aphros isn’t here, but if you wish to speak to Bythos I can step out
for a moment.”

Her smile was perfunctory. “Thank you, but
that’s not necessary.”

Inside, Poseidon sighed. The formality between
them was second nature by now. It was something he regretted, but had become
resigned to over the past seven thousand years.

Once, of course, there had no formality
whatsoever between them. Once they’d been passionately in love, inseparable,
destined mates despite their lack of
agapetos
marks. Amphitrite had ridden with him in his chariot and fought alongside him
during the
Titanomachy
, the ten-year battle that
overthrew the Titans and crowned the Olympian Gods as rulers of the
Mediterranean. She had been Poseidon’s glorious, brilliant, beautiful consort.

Now my estranged
consort
,
he reminded himself.
But still beautiful
as ever.

Amphitrite glanced at their son now, her
expression gentling. “I just wanted to ask
Aph
about
a recipe,” she said. “Liam wants to try making something called cassoulet.
Apparently it’s Nick’s favorite dish.”

“
Aph
is having a
tactical meeting with his tritons,” Bythos said, crossing to his mother and
kissing her cheek. “He should be back in a few hours. I can have him call you,
if you like.”

“Thank you, darling, that would be fine. I
won’t interrupt you any longer. Gentlemen.” She nodded at Ian and Poseidon.

Poseidon nodded back stiffly, unsure of
what to say. Bythos glanced between then, then cleared his throat. “Why don’t I
walk you out, Mother? I need to have a word with Aidan anyway.”

As quickly as was polite, Bythos escorted the
Nereid from the cottage. Poseidon waited until they were gone before dropping back
into his seat.

I curse both of
you for your betrayal. May you never find happiness
together.

His hands clenched at the memory, the
voice still so familiar after all these years.

“You all right?”

Belatedly Poseidon remembered he wasn’t
alone. “I beg your pardon?” he said, frost in his tone.

Ian raised his hands. “Sorry, not trying to
pry. It’s just—look, I know you two have issues. If you want to talk or
something, just say so.” He suddenly looked sheepish and shrugged. “Or tell me
to fuck off, whatever.”

Poseidon considered the offer for a moment,
then imagined how his son-in-law was likely to respond to the story of his
gravest failing. It made him want to reach for his trident and destroy
something, preferably an island.

“I … thank you,” he said, sounding a bit
strangled. “But there is nothing on earth that can help.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say
anything as Bythos came back into the kitchen. “Father, there’s a triton in the
cove,” the demigod said. “He has a message for you from the Oracle.”

Poseidon sat up at that. The Oracle of the
Waters was one of the last surviving seers, the mouthpiece of the Fates
themselves. His messages were rare and could be cryptic at times, but they were
not to be ignored. “Why didn’t you bring him in?”

“There are humans on the beach launching a
boat,” Bythos said. “It would be rather noticeable if an armored man suddenly
walked out of the water. I told the triton to stay in the cove and wait for
you.”

“A boat?” Ian said, turning and peering
out the kitchen window. “That can’t be Nick’s. He doesn’t know how to sail.”

“I suspect Ms. Kuttner has finally managed
to rent out one of the other cottages,” Bythos said. “It was bound to happen at
some time. We’ll simply need to be more cautious moving in and out of the
water. Speaking of that…”

He reached into thin air and pulled out a
dusty bottle, handing it to Poseidon. “For the Oracle. He does appreciate his
tribute.”

Poseidon noted the bottle’s impressive vintage.
It was in Bythos’s nature to be generous, but their relationship was still
rocky enough to make the sea god wonder at such a gift. “He does at that. Thank
you, my son. This is—unexpected.”

A hesitant smile played over Bythos’s
lips. “Let’s just say I’m hoping for good news.”

“That would make a nice change, wouldn’t
it?” Poseidon agreed, getting to his feet. “Well, I’d best go see what he has
to say.”

He gave Bythos and Ian a brief nod, then
concentrated. The air molecules around his body shifted, refracting light and
making him effectively invisible to mortal eyes. That done, he left the cottage
and headed down to the beach. As Bythos had said, a crew of mortal laborers
were working at the boat launch, chatting to each other in Spanish as they eased
a sailboat into the calm water. The craft appeared to be old but
well-maintained, and small enough for one man to handle.

Poseidon tamped down a flicker of
irritation. Passing undetected among mortals was simple enough to do, but he’d
enjoyed the freedom of Olympic Cove and being able to move about without
disguising himself.
Oh, well. All good
things must come to an end, I suppose.

He stepped into the warm water, checking
the condition of the cove as he moved into its depths. The water was clean, the
creatures in it healthy and thriving, and the protective geas laid on it by
Bythos still held. No evil could enter to threaten his sons and their mate, or
their friends.

At least, not yet.

At the cove’s deep end was a sizable field
of fan-like coral, engineered by Bythos to filter out pollutants from seawater.
Next to the field stood an elegant chariot with two magnificent creatures
harnessed to it. In legend they were known as Skylla and Sthenios, the
hippocampoi
. This
translated to “sea horses”, but Skylla and Sthenios bore little resemblance to
the tiny sea creatures the modern world called by the same name. Instead,
Poseidon’s steeds possessed the head and front legs of a horse, with a
foam-colored coat and a golden mane and hooves. Their back ends were large,
powerful fish tails, giving them the ability to move swiftly through the
waters.

A triton in full battle armor floated a
wary distance from the chariot and seahorses. He snapped to attention at
Poseidon’s approach, dark grey porpoise tail flicking at the cove’s sandy
bottom. “My lord, I bear a message from the Oracle of the Waters,” he announced,
bowing his head. “He humbly requests your presence as soon as possible.”

Poseidon suppressed a snort. The Oracle he’d
known for centuries didn’t possess a humble bone in his body. “Did he tell you
what this was about?”

The triton shook his head. “No, lord. But
he did say that it was important, and that time was of the essence.”

“Understood. Dismissed.”

With another salute the triton swam off.
Poseidon turned to the steeds, checking their harness. Skylla tossed her mane,
nickering at her master. “Yes, I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take so
long,” he said. “But you’ll have a good long run now. How does that sound?”

Sthenios whinnied happily as Poseidon
climbed into the chariot, pushing the wine bottle into empty space and pulling
back a massive golden trident. He snugged the butt securely into a small depression
in the chariot’s bottom, wrapping the reins around his left wrist. “To the Cave
of the Oracle,” he ordered.