“Never mind, Sephe. I’ve brought it out for you.”
Claire had no idea who the woman handing Persephone her knitting bag might be. Running over the remaining goddesses in her head offered no clues. Pleasant looking, in the sensible clothes favored by elderly English birdwatchers, she reminded Claire of a retired teacher pulled back into duty and near the end of her rope.
As though aware of Claire’s dilemma, she walked over and held out her hand. “Hello. You must be our host. I’m Amphitrite.”
Her palm was damp and felt slightly scaly. “Pleased to meet you.”
“She’s Poseidon’s wife,” Persephone caroled. “Unless you’re into those boring old classics, you’ve probably never heard of her.”
“Shape-shifter’s daughter,” Hera sniffed in classical Greek.
“Hera.” Persephone danced toward her, diamond earrings catching the light from the street lamp. “The eerperkay nunderstandsay reekgay.”
Hera stared at the Queen of the Dead. “You are pathetic,” she said after a moment.
“Who’s pathetic?” Poseidon’s gray hair and beard flowed in soft ripples over his greenish-gray tweed suit. He blinked owlishly around at the gathered company through green-tinted glasses, waiting for an answer. “Well?” he said after a moment.
Amphitrite took his hand and led him away from the van, murmuring into his ear.
“Well, of course she is,” Poseidon snorted. “Inbreeding, don’t you know.”
“Excuse me?” Knees up around his ears, Hades squatted by the pigeon’s body. “This bird is dead.”
Claire saw acute embarrassment in Hermes’ eyes as he sagged back against the van’s side and she hastily hid a smile, remembering that these relics weren’t only his responsibility—they were also his relatives.
Next in the open door was a man with a short buzz of steel-gray hair over his ears, a broad, tanned face with an old scar puckering one cheek, and the stocky rectangular build of someone who’d spent a lifetime doing hard physical labor. He swung forward on a pair of canes—Claire assumed they were aluminum until she heard the sound they made as they hit the concrete sidewalk. Steel. Uncapped—and swung himself out after them. “Dytie,” he bellowed over a broad shoulder, “are you coming?”
“No darlin’, just breathing hard,” laughed a voice from the dark interior of the van.
The assembled company sighed, unified in resignation.
Aphrodite? Claire mouthed at Hermes. He nodded. Which made the man with the canes Hephaestus.
The goddess of love had filled out a bit since the old days. The hair was still a mass of ebony curls, piled high, and the eyes were still violet under lashes so long they cast shadows on the curve of pale cheeks although the cheeks had more curves than they once did and the tiny point of the goddess’ chin nestled in a soft bed of rounded flesh. Although tightly bound into an approximation of her old shape, it was obvious that within the reinforced Lycra Aphrodite’s body had returned to its fertility goddess roots.
Men could get lost in that cleavage, Claire thought. Come to think of it, men have.
“Hermes, darling, it’s a lovely little hotel I can’t wait to see the inside.”
“You can’t wait to see the inside of a hotel?” Hera rolled her eyes. “What a surprise.”
“Bitch.”
“Slut.”
Sighing deeply, Hermes indicated that Claire should lead the way. Feeling a little like the pied piper, she started up the stairs.
The retired Olympians followed.
“Hades dear, do leave the pigeon where it is.”
Claire had no idea how Hermes did it, but he managed to get them all into their rooms by seven-twenty with the promise that their luggage would follow immediately. Since Dean was still cooking, Claire went back outside to help.
“Small pocket in the space-time continuum,” Hermes explained as her jaw dropped at the growing pile of suitcases, trunks, and garment bags covering the sidewalk. “Aphrodite travels with more clothing than Ginger took on that three-hour cruise, Hera uses her own bed linens, Persephone has more jewelry than the British royal family, and Poseidon always packs a couple dozen extra towels.”
“It’ll take forever to get all this stuff upstairs.”
“Not hardly.” He grinned. “After all, quick delivery is my middle name. If you’d be so kind as to keep an eye open for the neighbors…”
Since the only neighbor likely to be watching seemed to have deserted her post, Claire gave the all clear. Hair lifted off her forearms as Hermes twisted the possibilities and the luggage disappeared.
“Still a few perks left,” he said with quiet satisfaction. “Thanks for your help. I’ll just run the van around to the parking lot.”
Wondering how much help she could’ve been, Claire went back inside.
“So,” Austin asked from the countertop. “What are you going to tell Dean?”
“About what?”
“The ex-athletes he’s expecting.”
“Do you think he can handle the truth?”
The cat paused to wash a back leg. “Better that you tell him than he finds out the hard way. And if that lot’s staying here so they can be themselves, he will find out.” Peering at the floor, one paw braced against the side of the counter, he glanced up at Claire. “You know, a really nice person would lift me off here and keep me from straining old bones.”
Claire scooped him into her arms and headed for the kitchen. “Hades killed a pigeon just by looking at it. I suppose Dean should be warned.”
“You suppose? He should?” Austin snorted. “If you’re tired of having him around, wouldn’t it be easier just to fire him?”
“I am not tired of having him around. I’m just not looking forward to explaining something he has no frame of reference for. You have to admit that not many kids get a classical education these days.”
“You want him to get a classical education? Wait’ll Aphrodite gets a look at him.”
When they got to the dining room, they found Hermes leaning over the counter inhaling appreciatively. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said as they approached, “but I’ve introduced myself to Dean and explained a bit of the situation.”
“Really?” The counter was covered in food, so Claire set
