“Unharmed.” He nodded.
“Why Mormo?”
Morpheus shrugged, but his casual act didn’t fool her in the slightest. “He’s so organized. So on top of things. My administration could use some work.” He paused. “Zeus has been on my ass about not getting everything done I’m supposed to. A total fabrication. I think Aries has been filling his head with nonsense, but then Perseus, that dick, sided with him. And now I’m in a little spot of trouble.”
She snorted. “I knew there was a reason you’ve been hanging around here so much lately.” The past few years, the god of dreams had been found cruising through her speakeasy, heading out to any number of realms when normally he’d spend his time off in Olympus.
“Please, Hecate. I just need a decade or two to let the old man cool off. I was thinking of visiting the Titans for a bit, but they’re not too happy with me either.”
She couldn’t help grinning. “What did you do to them?”
“Nothing.”
“Morpheus.”
“Well, Iapetus is always bragging about having created mankind, which is suspect on so many levels I won’t even get into. So maybe I encouraged his brother to?—”
“Which one?”
“Cronos.”
Hecate sighed. “Not smart.”
“Cronos gets pissy so easily. It wasn’t hard to encourage him to kill his brother. I mean, he did slice off his own father’s genitals.”
She cringed, recalling how most of the Titans had actually been conceived.
Morpheus continued, “I think Iapetus was half convinced he could restore some version of him and his siblings to power over Zeus and his lot.”
“So you ‘maybe’ started a new civil war between the Greek gods and the Titans.”
“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”
She laughed, unable to help herself. “Sure, fine. If you find Selene and Ambrogio for me, you can have Mormo forone yearafter this is all done. But you can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want. I mean it, Morpheus. Mormo isn’tlikea son to me. Heisa son to me. You will not harm him. Or else.” She let him see the danger she often banked behind her kinder personas.
Mother, maiden, and crone had nothing on the badass witch goddess circling in wait to exact vengeance on anyone who threatened anyone she loved.
He swallowed. “Right. Sure. I swear. Mormo likes me, Hecate. He just thinks he doesn’t.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
The charming god of dreams proceeded to flatter her shamelessly, bent to kiss her on the cheek, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
“Show off.” She waved her hand to dissipate the cloying scent of possibilities and hope and ordered herself a drink. “Make it a good one, Catherine.”
The dead flapper smiled. “Always for you, Hecate. What are you in the mood for? Sweet? Bitter? Deadly?”
“Surprise me.” Before Hecate could accept her beverage, a curious trio approached. A troublesome god, his unfamiliar companion, and She Who Walks Between Worlds—the giant battle cat that seemed to have adopted Onvyr and taken to visiting Hecate’s home whenever she wanted.
The cat pretended not to know her, so Hecate returned the favor. But the god was another matter.
Tall, with flowing flaxen hair, twinkling, mismatched eyes of blue and gold, and a broad, bronzed chest that would do Thor proud, Loki shook his head. “You overstep your bounds, witch. We need to talk.”
The stranger beside him didn’t speak, though she did roll her eyes, schooling her expression when he shot her a quick look. The female felt powerful but not divine. And not mortal either. Odd.
She wore a sword at her hip. Black trousers, a light-colored sleeveless tunic, and black boots finished the outfit. Tribal tattoos encircled her defined arms. Her bruised knuckles and a scar from her collarbone up her neck attested to someone who knew battle firsthand.
But it was her eyes that fascinated Hecate. They turned a white so bright Hecate had to glance away.
