Earth Bound: A Hidden Novella Read online

  Meghan slammed the truck door and headed toward the long rows of vegetables, noting that it had recently been watered. She glanced around. A few rows down, the church's pastor worked with his wife, weeding around zucchini plants. A few lots down, a young couple thinned carrots. She waved at the pastor and his wife and made her way toward the younger couple. She didn't recognize them, and she knew everyone who came to help with the gardens.

  "Hi," she called out as she approached. They both stood, and the woman brushed her hands over her already-grimy jeans.

  "Hi," the man said. Both of them were blond, thin, and looked like they were in need of a few good meals. "I hope this is okay," he began, nervously, and Meghan smiled.

  "You're here working. Take whatever you need. There are tomatoes, zucchini, and cucumbers over there that are ready to harvest," she said, pointing to several sprawling rows across the empty street. "And beans. We are about to be buried in beans, so if you like them, grab all you want. Herbs, lettuce, peppers. The strawberry plants are still producing, too."

  They both stared at her, and Meghan hid a smile. It was a common reaction. People heard about the tiny community farm, that you'd get all the veggies you could possibly want if you just came and put in a little work. Usually, they didn't come until they were truly desperate. It was hard for some to admit that they needed help, even harder for some to believe they'd actually get it if they asked. Meghan did a quick bit of mental arithmetic. With these new additions, the farm was now keeping twenty-seven families in fruits and vegetables. She'd have to make sure to put in some work that night.

  "Do you have kids?" Meghan asked as she bent and started thinning a row of carrots. They both crouched as well, resuming what they'd been doing when she'd approached.

  "Yes. We have two," the woman said. "We were fine, until the factory we worked for shut down. I always had a feeling that both of us working for the same place would come back to bite us."

  The man nodded.

  "We heard about this place when we first lost our jobs, but we were okay. Then, our unemployment ran out, and we still don't have jobs," the woman said.

  "Not for lack of trying," the man grumbled, and Meghan watched as the woman reached across the row and ran her hand gently over the man's jaw, an automatic, comfortable, intimate gesture that made something in Meghan ache, just a little. And if her thoughts immediately turned to the breathtaking dark-eyed man she'd met at work that day, well, that was her little secret, wasn't it? The fact that she knew damn well she'd never have anything like that in her life didn't have to mean she didn't daydream about it.

  Daydreams were safe. It was acting on those dreams, trying to capture happiness, that was dangerous.

  Meghan looked away, tried to shake herself back to the present.

  "Well, you're welcome to come and work whenever you want. Take what you need. Tell anyone else who needs it about this place," she said. "I only ask that you follow the same rules as everyone else who comes here: keep quiet about it unless you find someone who needs it. Never take more than you can use. And put in a little bit of time helping out when you come to harvest."

  "We will definitely do that. Thank you so much," the woman said, and Meghan smiled at her. "I heard about this place from another woman at the grocery store. We were both counting out our pennies, trying to get a few things," she said, shaking her head. "And she saw the carrots and stuff in my cart and told me about you, that I could come here and get help. I didn't really believe her."

  "Well, I'm glad you came. Feel free to bring your kids if you want. They'll probably like the berry patch," Meghan said, and they both laughed, promising that they would. Meghan excused herself, chatted with a few other people. It was a usual afternoon; she could generally count on three or four of her families showing up to harvest and work every day.

  Three years, and the little farm had expanded from one empty lot to seven. The other three households on her block were her co-conspirators in keeping the farm up and running, and the church was her partner in getting the word out to those who needed it.

  If everything in those lots grew a little bigger, a little faster, a little more delicious than they did anywhere else, well, that was just good luck.

  Meghan smiled, then went back to work, working and talking until nightfall.

  Once the moon was high in the sky and she knew she wouldn't see any more helpers arriving, Meghan started walking between the rows. She made a dinner of string beans, tiny tomatoes that she popped in her mouth as she walked between the rows. As she did, she let herself feel her magic surrounding her. Earth magic. Some witches could destroy an enemy with a blast of energy or fire. Some could put up strong shields to protect themselves and those they loved. Some could bewitch a person, and have them do their bidding.

  Some were intimately in tune with the earth and nature. Plants in their vicinity grew better; animals lived almost impossibly long lives. Most didn't realize they had any power at all, simply chalking it up to good luck and hard work. They grew prize-winning tomatoes or dahlias, and everyone wanted to know their secrets.

  And some had the power to coax nature into doing their bidding.

  As Meghan walked between the rows, she focused her energy, occasionally waved a hand. She felt her skin grow damp with perspiration, the familiar buzzing sensation of power surging within her. As she passed, tomatoes ripened, blossoms turned to fruit. Beanstalks snaked ever higher and heads of lettuce formed where loose bunches of leaves had barely begun. Squashes formed and strawberries plumped.

  When a stray dog appeared, snarling, Meghan barely gave it a thought, using a wave of her hand to send it away.

  When she'd finished the final row, Meghan crumbled to the ground, feeling as if she'd just run a marathon. She rolled onto her back between rows of sweet corn and looked up at the clear, starry sky.

  I really should get up and go in, she thought to herself. She knew she wouldn't bother. As comfortable as her bed was, it was nothing compared to the comfort of being in contact with the Earth. She laid there, and stared up at the stars, and let herself remember the smile of a god she'd likely never see again.

  Heph walked into the loft. It was quiet, and the ever-present aroma of coffee permeated the air. The team had begun putting furniture and unnecessary items into storage, preparing for their eventual move. He knew it grated on his friends, especially Nain, to have to leave what had been their headquarters for so long. But Molly had managed to piss off someone so terrifying that she was unwilling to take chances with the lives of her friends and allies. So, move, they would, and hopefully someday they'd be able to move back.

  Molly, Nain, and Brennan were sitting, exhausted, on the only remaining sofa in the living room, watching the end of the Tigers game.

  Heph approached the end of the couch where Molly sat.

  "Shove over," he said, and Molly smiled up at him and pressed herself closer to Nain. Nain shoved Brennan over a bit, and they made room for Heph to squeeze in between Molly and the end of the couch.

  "How'd it go?" he asked Molly. She rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

  "Okay. We managed to end it before the rogue vamps could cause much trouble. Rayna took over from there. How about you?"

  "Good. We got the lights back on in Palmer Woods. And then a couple of weres showed up looking for trouble."

  "Did they find it?" Molly asked, grinning up at him.

  "What do you think, queenie?" he asked, and Molly patted his knee in approval.

  "I could fall asleep right here," she said. Heph glanced down the sofa. Molly's head rested on his shoulder, but her hand was clasped in her husband's, whose head rested on the back of the sofa. Brennan sat at the other end of the couch, head back, eyes closed.

  "We should have kept at least one more couch," Brennan said. Heph noticed that all three of his friends were still dressed in the clothes they'd battled in, bloody and torn. Up close, he could see that the edges of Molly's shirt and pants were singed, which meant
she'd been using her fire abilities again.

  "Nah, this is perfect. I'm probably the envy of just about every woman in the city, surrounded by this much manliness," Molly said. Nain snorted and Brennan just shook his head.

  "There's fanfic out there about things like this," Heph said, grinning. "But more x-rated, of course."

  "I regret ever mentioning Tumblr to you," Brennan muttered. "It's on there, I'm guessing?"

  "Fuck yeah. There's this person on there who has a whole series up about how the Angel really just has us all around for our bodies, which she uses at her pleasure," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

  Molly laughed, her features completely transformed from her usual deadly serious expression. Heph grinned.

  "Are you serious?" Nain asked, looking over the top of Molly's head at him.

  "Yeah. I think we've all been seen together enough that people realize the Angel isn't alone," he said, shrugging.

  "Good," Brennan said. Then he shook his head. "I mean, not about the fanfic thing. I'm trying to pretend you didn't just tell us about that."

  Molly laughed again.

  "You know you're gonna be looking it up the second you go up to your room," Nain said.

  "Like you won't be," Brennan muttered.

  "See what you started?" Molly said, glancing over at Heph, and he grinned. She raised her head, and a sly grin spread across her face. "So.... did you meet anyone interesting today, Hephaestus?" she asked.

  Heph looked toward Nain. "You have a big fuckin' mouth, demon."

  "Why is it a secret?" Molly asked.

  "Because it's nothing. I saw a woman, and I thought she was pretty. End of story," he said.

  "Why does it have to be the end?" Molly asked. "I know you. I've been around you almost constantly since I was trapped in the Nether. You've never even looked twice at a woman. And I can feel you right now, so don't try to tell me she didn't affect you."

  "Yeah, okay. She was pretty. Perfect, actually. I can appreciate that."

  "Nain said she was interested," she pressed.

  "Remind me to kick your ass later," Heph said to Nain.

  "Leave it alone, Molly," Brennan said, looking at the television.

  "Thank you," Heph told him, and he nodded. As much as he wanted to dislike the shifter for the way he'd hurt Molly, he couldn't actually work up a whole lot of rage toward him. He was obviously loyal to her, no matter what else had happened. And though Heph loved Molly and knew she belonged with her demon husband, he still couldn't help feeling sorry for the shifter, who'd had the love of the woman of his dreams and then had to stand by and watch her with someone else.

  Heph could relate. The only difference was that he'd come to despise the one he'd once wanted. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't end that way for Molly and Brennan.

  "I'm not trying to be a pain in the ass, Heph," Molly said, still looking up at him. "I just know you, and I know how rare that is. If she was worthy enough to earn a second glance from you, maybe she's worth getting to know."

  "Queenie, it's been a few hundred years. I'm horny, that's all. A cold shower and I'll be fine and she'll be forgotten. And I have no interest bringing anyone into my life in that way or any other right now."

  "Why not?"

  "Ours isn't the kind of life people should be brought into."

  "Shanti did it," she argued, reminding him of Shanti and her fiancee, Zero.

  "Zero is a warrior, and he's going to be turned eventually. That's different," Heph argued.

  "Fine. What was the other reason?" she asked.

  "History, I'm guessing," Brennan said from his end of the couch.

  "Yeah, history," Heph agreed, nodding. His gaze met Molly's. "My last relationship kind of soured me on the whole idea of 'happily ever after.' And I'm not saying that as some kind of oh, poor me bullshit," he said. "I'm saying it's just not worth the fucking trouble sometimes. I'm happier these past few months than I've been at any other time in my life, ever."

  "Aphrodite was a bitch," Molly muttered.

  Heph didn't answer. He noticed Molly watching him. "What?" he finally asked.

  She looked uncomfortable. "We've never really talked about it. I mean... she was still your wife when that all went down." He knew what she was talking about. Aphrodite's end.

  Heph sat back, remembering those last seconds, watching the goddess he was married to murder a good man, then watching Molly exact her revenge. He'd forced himself to watch Aphrodite's last moments. He'd witnessed the end of her stunning beauty, her cold heart. When it came down to it, he hadn't felt anything. Not loss, not anger. He hadn't even felt relief.

  He bumped his arm against Molly's in an attempt to reassure her. "I'm fine. It takes some getting used to, the idea that she's not here anymore. I'm not sorry she's gone. She deserved exactly what she got, queenie."

  She nodded, and he noticed the fact that her whole body seemed to relax. He should have talked to her about Aphrodite before this. He'd had no idea that she'd been stressing out about how he felt about it. He reached over and took Molly's free hand, squeezed it. She smiled.

  "So what I'm saying is that I'm better off without anyone in my life that way, not even some pretty, curvy little witch who made my heart pound in a way I didn't know it could. Too much bullshit in my past, and I don't even know what I'd do with a woman if I had her."

  "I think you could probably figure it out," Molly said, grinning.

  "And you could always read some of that fanfic for ideas if you needed them," Brennan said, grinning.

  "That's research, man. I'm just monitoring social media for signs of threats," Heph said, pretending at being insulted.

  He sat with them through the end of the Tigers game, enjoying trading insults with Nain and watching the way the coarse, generally assholish demon absolutely doted on Molly. When it was over, he stood up to head out to the house he'd recently claimed as his own. Molly hugged him good night, and he focused, rematerializing to his new home.

  He appeared on the front walk, looking up at the brick bungalow. It was his, legally and in every other way. He loved his friends, but living with them all of the time was enough to make him want to pull his hair out. He'd always appreciated solitude. And he wanted a forge. The only thing he missed about his home in the Aether was his workshop. So he'd acquired the house and the empty lots around it and the first thing he'd built was a large garage workshop. The house still looked like crap, front shutters hanging haphazardly, porch sloping at a precarious angle. But the house was dry and had a bed he could crash in. It was all he needed.

  He was lost in thought, thinking of that night's project, something Tisiphone had asked him to make. He was also focused on not thinking about the witch from the diner. So lost in thought was he that he didn't immediately notice the power signature that told him another immortal was nearby. When he did, he stopped short on his way to the back of the house.

  He groaned to himself, realizing who it was. He'd been expecting this.

  When Hephaestus walked around to the back of the house, sure enough, there was a being he hadn't seen in a few hundred years sitting on the Adirondack chair in the back yard. He was another typical immortal: blond hair, blue eyes. Perfect chiseled features and a physique that made women and more than a few men speechless with need. He had adapted to life in the mortal realm well, looking like he'd just stepped off of the cover of a magazine: dark blue jeans, a crisp white t-shirt.

  He had all of his mother's beauty. It was what he may or may not have inherited from his father that concerned Hephaestus most.

  "Hello, Eros. I was wondering when you'd stop by," Heph said, greeting Aphrodite's and Ares's son.

  Chapter Three

  Heph waited expectantly as Aphrodite and Ares' oldest son, Eros, looked him over. He tried to ignore the way his stomach turned, not out of fear, but out of pure nerves.

  After a moment, a smile crossed Eros' face and he stood up, unfolding his lithe body from the Adirondack chair he'd been waiting in. "
You're looking good, old friend," Eros said, grasping Heph's hand and shaking it.

  "You as well, my boy," Heph said, shaking Eros's hand. Never mind that the "boy" in question hadn't been a "boy" several thousand years. Then he pulled the younger immortal into a hug, and he received a warm embrace in return. "How are you, Eros?"

  Eros pulled away, then patted Hephaestus on the shoulder. "I was going to ask you the same thing," he said, a wry smile on his perfect face. He walked over to the low brick wall that surrounded the back patio at Heph's house. It was crumbling, like just about everything else, but solid enough if you knew which places to avoid. He sat on one of the sturdier areas, and Heph sat beside him.

  "I'm well," he said after a few moments. He glanced over at Eros to see him grinning.

  "Better than well, I'd say," Eros said, laughing. "You look happier than I've seen you in centuries." Then he sobered. "I'd like to believe that the loss of my mother isn't the reason you finally have joy in your life. But I know better."

  Heph patted Eros on the shoulder. "I am sorry about your mother, my boy. Even if she and I hated one another, I know you loved her."

  Eros shook his head. "I loved the idea of my mother. The reality was something else entirely."

  Heph nodded slowly, and he and Eros sat in silence for several long moments. Of all of Aphrodite's children, Heph liked Eros the most. He was steady, calm. It was as if Eros had gotten all of his mother's better qualities, and none of the bad. And as far as Eros' father... Heph saw little of that other than Ares' square jaw and brute strength.

  The same could not be said of Aphrodite's other children.

  As if he could sense Hephaestus' thoughts, Eros said. "Deimos and Phobos haven't been around?"

  "Not yet. I fully expect them to, eventually," Heph said.

  "You should. They want your head, my friend. They want to hurt you, and they want to watch you bleed. You and your Fury friend."

  Heph was silent. The clock had been ticking on Phobos and Deimos' retribution since the moment Molly had captured their father's black soul in a stone from the Nether. Heph himself had fashioned for Molly the armband she now wore. The stone added to her power, just as it imprisoned not just Ares, but also the souls of Dionysus and the spirit-daemon Strife.