“Where’d the trumpet fanfare come from?” Dean murmured into Claire’s ear.
Claire shrugged, an answer to both the question and the gentle lapping of warm breath against her neck.
Striding into the room like a small-town politician, Zeus clapped shoulders and paid effusive compliments as he circled the table. The recipients looked sulky, senile, or indifferent, depending on temperament and number of functioning brain cells. Finally settling into his seat at the head of the table, he lifted his sherry glass of prune nectar and tossed it back.
With the meal officially begun, everyone began buttering buns and helping themselves to salad.
“Stupid, irritating ritual,” Hephaestus muttered as Claire set his plate in front of him.
“If it makes him happy,” Hermes cautioned.
“What’s he going to do to me if he’s unhappy, run over me with that domestic hunk of junk you’re driving?” The God of the Forge smiled tightly and answered himself. “Not unless he wants to trust to secular mechanics the next time it breaks down.”
“It’s so pleasant to be ourselves,” Amphitrite said quickly as Zeus frowned down the table. “But shouldn’t you be eating with us, Keeper?”
Claire had already been over this with Dean. “As guests of the hotel, you’re my responsibility. Besides, Dean did all the cooking.”
“And it looks like a lovely meal. I find men who cook so…” Aphrodite’s pause dripped with innuendo. “…intriguing.”
“You find men who breathe intriguing,” Hera muttered.
“Harpy.”.
“Flotsam.”
“More nectar?” Claire asked.
“I thought dinner went well,” Austin observed, climbing onto Claire’s lap. “Everyone survived.”
“You have salmon on your breath.”
He licked his whiskers. “And your point is?”
“Pick it up. Put it down. She drops a stitch in that infernal knitting and I must pick it up for her. If I were not already dead, that woman would drive me to chop off my own head.” Jacques collapsed weightlessly down on the sofa beside Claire. “I thought that you should know, His Majesty, the Lord of the Dead, is downstairs talking to Hell and Her majesty wants him to come to bed. She is getting—How do you say?—impatient?”
“…them to sit down and they did, but what they didn’t know was that I’d shown them to the Chair of Forgetfulness and they couldn’t get up again because uh, they, uh…Who was I talking about?”
THESEUS AND PIRITHOUS.
“I was?”
YES.
“Oh. They weren’t the ones with the pomegranate seeds?”
NO.
“Are you sure? There was something about pomegranate seeds.”
THE LADY PERSEPHONE ATE SEVEN POMEGRANATE SEEDS AND HAD TO REMAIN WITH YOU IN TARTARUS FOR PART OF THE YEAR.
“No, that wasn’t it.”
YES, IT WAS.
Hades’ voice brightened. “Do you know my wife?”
Listening at the top of the stairs, Claire was tempted to leave Hades right where he was. Another hour or two of conversation and Hell would seal itself. Unfortunately, there was an impatient goddess in room two. Fortunately, it took very little to convince Hades, who’d forgotten where he was, to return to her.
KEEPER?
Almost to the door, herding the Lord of the Dead up the stairs in front of her, Claire paused. “What?”
IF WE WERE CAPABLE OF GRATITUDE…
“I didn’t do it for you.”
NEVERTHELESS.
Backed up against the dishwasher, the goddess of love so close he could see her image in the reflection of his glasses in her eyes, Dean had no easy out. The room started to spin, beads of sweat formed along his spine, and he knew that in a moment he’d do something he’d be embarrassed about for the rest of his life. He wasn’t entirely sure what that was likely to be, but it certainly appeared that Aphrodite had a very good idea. Taking a deep breath, he dropped his shoulder, faked right, and moved left.
Fortunately, Aphrodite’s corseting insured that her reach impeded her grasp.
Distance helped. With the length of the kitchen between them, he began to regain his equilibrium although his jeans were still uncomfortably tight “The decaf’s in the pot on the counter there, ma’am. Help yourself.”
Tipping her cleavage forward, the goddess smiled. “You going to sweeten it for me, sugar?”
He pushed the sugar bowl toward her.
Her fingers lingered on his as she picked it up, and her expression segued from seductive to delighted. “Why, you’re just a big old…”
“Dytie!” Even from the second floor landing, Hephaestus’ voice carried. “Are you bothering that boy?”
“Why, yes, I do believe I am.”
“Well, stop it and come to bed!”
To Dean’s relief, she picked up her cup and turned to go, tossing a provocative, “Pleasant dreams, honeycake,” in his general direction. He had an uncomfortable feeling it wasn’t merely a suggestion.
Coming back downstairs from returning Hades to his wife, Claire stepped aside to let Aphrodite pass.
“You know, Keeper,” the goddess said, leaning close, “that boy of yours is a treasure.”
“Dean’s not mine.”
“Sure he is. Or he could be if you gave him a little bitsy bit of encouragement.”
“Encouragement?”
“You’re right.” She patted Claire on the shoulder with one plump hand. “He won’t understand subtle. Kick his feet out from under him and beat him to the floor.”
“Dytie! You coming?”
“Not yet darlin’, and don’t you start without me.” Adding a quiet “You remember what I said,” she sashayed on past and Claire descended the rest of the way to the lobby.
Hearing noises in the kitchen, she hurried down the hall. It could be a god getting a late night snack, but on the other hand, it could also be a god attempting a senile manifestation of ancient eldritch powers with catastrophic results. The odds were about equal.
“Oh. It’s you.”
Dean closed the dishwasher and straightened. “I couldn’t sleep without putting the dishes away.”
“Kick his feet out from under him and beat him to the floor.”
“Boss? You okay?”
She blinked and started breathing again. “Sorry. Just thinking of something Aphrodite said.”
His ears turned scarlet.
“That boy of yours is a treasure.”
“Are you okay? She didn’t…well, you know.”
To her surprise, his blush faded. “Would you care?” he asked, meeting her gaze.
“Of course I’d care. While you’re under this roof, you’re my responsibility and she’s…well, she’s a little overpowering. You wouldn’t have much choice. Any
