Chronicles Of The Keeper - Summon The Keeper Part 75

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 cla.s.sics, you've probably never heard of her."

"Shape-shifter's daughter," Hera sniffed in cla.s.sical Greek.

"Hera." Persephone danced toward her, diamond earrings catching the light from the street lamp. "The eerperkay nunder-standsay 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 gla.s.ses, 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 embarra.s.sment 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 a.s.sumed 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 a.s.sembled company sighed, unified in resignation.

Aphrodite? Claire mouthed at Hermes. He nodded. Which made the man with the canes Hephaestus.

The G.o.ddess of love had filled out a bit since the old days. The hair was still a ma.s.s 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 G.o.ddess' 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 G.o.ddess 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."

"b.i.t.c.h."

"s.l.u.t."

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 s.p.a.ce-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 cla.s.sical education these days."

"You want him to get a cla.s.sical 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 the cat down on the floor. He shot her an indignant look and stalked away. "Which bits?"

Recognizing her tone. Dean hurriedly turned from the stove. "Mr. Gruidae..."

"Please; Hermes."

"... explained that the guests aren't actually ex-athletes but from a place called Mount Olympus. In Greece."

"And this means to you?" Claire asked.

Dean sighed, clearly disappointed. "That none of them knew Fred Hayward. He was an old buddy of my granddad's who was on the Canadian hockey team at the Olympics in 1952. Great guy. He died in 1988 and I just, well, you know, wondered."

Claire exchanged a speaking glance with the messenger of the G.o.ds, picked up a stack of plates and began setting the table. "Dean, do the names Zeus and Hera mean anything to you?"

"Sure. I watch TV. I mean, they're kids' shows, but they're fun."

Hermes looked so distraught, Claire pushed him into a chair and attempted to convince Dean that there were distinct differences between television G.o.ds and real ones, even after retirement, and that if he didn't keep those differences in mind, it was going to be an interesting meal.

"So retired Olympians meant a bunch of old Greek G.o.ds? The real ones?"