Mercy has three of the four paintings. We aren’t too worried about the first one—I uncursed it, and wherever it is, it’s harmless. She’ll destroy the others. Afterward, she’ll spend some quality time with Rosa, and then she’ll get in touch and my training will begin. At least one good thing came of this whole mess—I’ve proven my worth, and there will be no more tests, just lessons and mentorship.

  Connolly and I are back in Unstable. Temporarily. The hotel is booked for tonight, and he’s promised a five-course meal in bed. I’m not quite sure what constitutes a five-course meal—multiple desserts, I’m hoping—but I’m not going to argue.

  First, though, I want to explain everything to my sisters in person. I also need to check on my shop. I’d closed early for a “personal emergency” yesterday, and Hope hadn’t been able to open until this afternoon, having work of her own in the morning. I feel terrible having the shop closed that long. Connolly understands that I need to touch base—with my sisters and my shop—before I can truly relax, and if that involves a round-trip to Unstable, so be it. I kinda love him for that.

  I kinda love him for a lot of things, and I’m pretty sure there’s no “kinda” about it. I’ll put a pin in that. My curse means we’ll never rush things, and that’s good. We have time to do this right, and I’m going to do that.

  I manage to get to the shop just before closing. As much as I wanted to go home, I left the yacht soaking wet and wearing yesterday’s clothes. Connolly’s place was on the way, so we stopped in and set my clothes on a quick wash cycle. We may also have found other things to do while we were waiting, because even a “quick wash cycle” takes a while, and Connolly is nothing if not efficient in his use of time.

  It’s Thursday night, and the shop closes at seven, earlier than it will on the weekend. We walk in at 6:45 with a special delivery for Hope—her favorite Boston sushi. Yes, Boston is not exactly known for its sushi, but compared to what you can get in Unstable, it’s phenomenal.

  I’m walking in when I see the mirror. It’s uncursed now, but for a split second, I freeze, terrified of not seeing my reflection. Earlier, I thought that meant I was afraid of fading from the lives of others. Now I realize it’s that, but more, too. I struggle to see myself clearly. I’m constantly comparing myself to others—Ani, Hope, Connolly, Theodora—and feeling small and invisible. Feeling “not enough.” That was my biggest flaw, reflected back at me. Feeling invisible compared to others. I need to work on that, and I will.

  I push that aside and continue in before Connolly notices my pause. Then I stop again and stare . . . as a half-dozen pairs of eyes stare back at me. Seven, if you count the black cat poised, gargoyle-like, among the dolls.

  “Uh, Hope . . .” I say.

  She’s at the counter with a customer and waves that she’ll be with me in a moment. Connolly walks over to the prominent display of dolls.

  “Seems someone took advantage of your absence,” he says.

  “I was away twenty-four hours. Where the hell did she get all these so quickly?”

  “Language,” Hope trills as she walks and moves a doll into an empty place. “You were gone twenty-nine hours. A few are from my collection. The remainder I’ve been keeping in storage, waiting for the right moment.”

  “The moment when I was out of the shop and fighting for my life against the king of the gods?”

  “Oh, please.” She rolls her eyes. “You weren’t fighting for your life the entire time. You were shacking up in a cozy little roadside motel with this one.”

  “We didn’t sleep together,” I say, just to see that knowing grin fall from her face. Also, there was no actual sleeping involved.

  “What?” she says.

  “Is it just me?” Connolly says. “Or are those dolls really creepy?”

  “That’s the point,” Hope says proudly.

  “Are they supposed to look like they’re watching me?”

  “Yep. Isn’t it cool?”

  Connolly shakes his head. I give Ellie a pat and then hand Hope her sushi bag.

  “So you two aren’t . . .?” she says.

  “Together?” I say. “Of course we are.”

  She exhales. “Good. I thought—”

  “We’re together right now. We’ve been together all day. Most of yesterday, too,”

  “Except for the part where my father kidnapped you,” Connolly says.

  “Right. But then you rescued me.”

  “That’s very romantic,” Hope says. “So, then you two . . .?”

  “Actually, I believe Leon rescued you,” Connolly says. “Was that romantic?”

  “Not a bit.”

  Hope clears her throat loudly. “Are you or aren’t you?”

  “Aren’t,” I say. “We aren’t staying long. Sorry.”

  I start to walk past Connolly. He grabs me around the waist, and I lean in and kiss him,

  “Yes!” Hope says, yanking out her phone.

  I quickstep away from Connolly.

  “Hey!” Hope says. “I need photo evidence for Rian.”

  “Photo evidence of what?” I say, and then kiss Connolly again, too fast for her to snap a photo.

  I crook a finger, and Connolly follows me to the store room door. We zip inside, and I shut it before Hope can catch up. Then I lean against the door, hands around his neck.

  “You’re together!” Hope calls through the door. “I know you are.”

  “Yep,” I call back. “We’re together in the storeroom. Maybe we’re making out. Maybe we’re finding proper antiques to replace those godawful dolls.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “Don’t I dare make out with Aiden?” I pull him to me. “Too late!”

  He laughs against my lips, and then he kisses me, and I decide maybe, just maybe, I have never been luckier in my life.

  Goddess of Summer Love

  In case you missed it, there’s a Cursed Luck novella set between Cursed Luck and High Jinx.

  It’s Memorial Day weekend in Unstable, and Kennedy has invited Aiden and Rian. She’s also invited Vanessa, who narrates the story. There’s nothing Vanessa likes more than matchmaking, and the three Bennett sisters are ripe for her skills.

  Goddess of Summer Love is available now as part of an anthology, Hex on the Beach, also containing novellas by Jeaniene Frost and Melissa Marr. It will also be available as a standalone novella January 4, 2022.

  Turn the page to read the first chapter!

  Goddess of Summer Love

  I do not know how I became the goddess of love. Oh, I understand the “goddess” part. I am immortal, and I possess certain powers, and in ancient Greece, “deity” was the only language they had to describe us. We were lucky to be born in that world. A monotheistic culture has far different words for such a thing, as Denny—Dionysus—discovered when he had a little too much too drink in Inquisition-era Spain and started showing off his powers. Marius—Ares—had to ride to his big brother’s rescue, roping me into it because Athene decided a little pyre-burning might teach Denny to hold his liquor. Yes, Athene still goes by Athene, and dear Lord do not spell it Athena. She once snuck a chisel into the British Museum to fix a statue.

  No, I understand why the appellation of goddess. It’s the “love” part I’ve never quite fathomed. Goddess of beauty, yes, and that is no show of ego. I know how I look, and if Fate had given me some say in the matter, I would have denied that particular gift. I suppose “love” arises from that. What else is a beautiful woman good for?

  My powers have nothing to do with love. Or sex, though I am very fond of it, and rather good at it, as one might certainly hope to be after three thousand years of practice. No, I lack any powers of love or sex or fertility, and yet one can even find twenty-first century sects that worship me in hopes of receiving those blessings.

  I have no dominion there, and so after centuries of confusion, I did the only thing I could. I slammed down my banner and claimed the territory for myself. Aphrodite aka Venus aka Vanessa. Patron deity of lovers. Matchmaker extraordinaire.

  And I am about to do what I do best.

  Marius arrives to the soft blip of the security panel as he lets himself in. He doesn’t call for me. Doesn’t ask where I am. He strides straight through to my dressing room as if by homing beacon. We have been friends since we were children, lovers since we were adults, and even if we are currently “on a break”—as we have been too many times to count—he is first in my life, and I am in his. As he says, “Venus and Mars, planets with the entire earth between them sometimes, but still always within each other’s sight.”

  He doesn’t say hello. We are far past pleasantries. He walks in, and I don’t turn from the mirror, but I do watch him enter through it. I will never be past that.

  Marius looks in his forties. We all do. Our immortality took hold as we passed our youth and settled into early middle age, which is a very comfortable place to inhabit. He is handsome, of course. Athletic, of course. Confident and self-possessed. He is Ares, after all. God of War. But every statue leaves out the best of him. The easy-going charm and the kindness. Most of all, the kindness.

  He walks up behind me, looking at me in the mirror. Dark blond hair curls over his forehead. Beard stubble signifies he is taking the long weekend off. Chinos, a golf-shirt and loafers.

  “You’re look very corporate,” I say.

  “Don’t worry. I have my Hawaiian shirt in the car.” He catches my look and grins, showing perfect teeth. “Hawaiian shirt. Deck shorts. Sandals. With socks of course. Memorial Day appropriate attire.”

  “I love the corporate look,” I say.

  “I thought you might. And I see we’re still trying to pick an outfit.”

  His gaze moves to the clothing hanging from every surface of the room.

  “You do realize it’s a small-town festival, right, Vess? Not a black-tie affair.”

  “I would prefer a black-tie affair. Then I would know exactly what to wear. This requires subtlety. Kennedy invited us as her guests, to celebrate the opening of her new shop, and I need to blend. Blend.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  I shoot him a glare.

  He tilts his head. “Wait. Did you say Kennedy invited us? Pretty sure you invited us. In fact, I’m pretty sure the whole opening-gala weekend was your idea. You played fairy godmother, getting her new shop ready in time, everything moved from Boston to take advantage of the long weekend crowds, and oh, why don’t we make a grand opening of it, invite Aiden for the weekend, yes, what a lovely idea that has absolutely nothing to do with matchmaking.” He looks at me. “Please, please tell me it has nothing to do with matchmaking.”

  “It is the perfect weekend to open her shop. The start of the summer season in a tourist town. The timing was tight, so I helped make it happen.”

  He motions sprinkling fairy dust.

  “I am old,” I say. “Excruciatingly old, and entitled to my whims and notions. I had a notion to help Kennedy, in partial payment for all the help she gave us.”

  “I noticed you dodged the matchmaking question.”

  “Kennedy and Aiden make a perfect couple. They just need a nudge.”

  He sighs and lowers himself into a chair. “They’ve only known each other for two weeks.”

  “And at this rate, it’ll be two years before either makes a move. I am accelerating the schedule. They’re mortal, after all. They don’t have the luxury of time. However, that is far from the only reason we’re going to Unstable. I do want to help with the grand opening, and I do have other plans. Other work to do.”

  His eyes narrow. “Other matchmaking?”

  “Jonathan and Ani.”

  He groans.

  “What?” I say. “You complain that I haven’t given Kennedy and Aiden time. Jonathan and Ani have been friends since childhood. They have had time. Now they need help.”

  “Also Rian and Hope, I presume?” he says, naming Aiden’s brother and Kennedy’s younger sister.

  I snatch up a dress from a chair. “Certainly not. They don’t suit, and I have every intention of making sure that particular match doesn’t happen. She’s a child. He’s the emotional equivalent of one.”

  “She’s twenty. He’s a twenty-four year old in need of some maturity, but I see promise there.”

  “Of course you do, because he’s your hundred-times-great-grandson. If you want promise, you have Aiden. Rian needs a swift kick in the rear.” I pull on the dress. “Thankfully, he is out of the country, so that is one less problem to worry about.”

  I slap on my accessories, turn and strike a pose. I’m wearing an unflattering brown sundress and equally unflattering glasses with my hair pinned up.

  “What do you think?” I say.

  “Sexy librarian. I like it.”

  I scowl and switch to a pencil skirt and linen blazer, leaving the glasses and hair.

  “Hot for teacher?” he says.

  A hard glare, and I try outfit number three, a linen pantsuit.

  “Mmm, speaking of corporate.” He waggles his brows. “Can I be the misbehaving new hire, lady boss?”

  I sigh and slump into the other chair. He riffles through one of my closets and pulls out a simple but elegant sundress. Then he removes my glasses, sets them aside and unpins my hair before handing me the dress.

  “Be yourself, Vess. No one expects anything else.” He pauses. “If you do want to change up anything, may I make a suggestion?”

  “Please.”

  “Don’t play matchmaker this weekend.”

  “I am the goddess of love,” I say. “This is what I do. I have a plan. They are all very keen on mysteries, so I have one to bring them closer together.”

  He winces. “Please don’t tell me you’ve invented a fake mystery for them to solve.”

  “Of course not. They aren’t children. I’m bringing them an actual local mystery . . . with a few extra clues.”

  “Clues you planted?”

  “Red herrings. Just a sprinkle.”

  “Here’s a thought. Give them the mystery, minus the fake clues, and skip the matchmaking. They’re all adults. Let them work it out, if it’s meant to be.”

  He catches my expression and throws up his hands. “I tried. No one can say I did not try.”

  I kiss his cheek. “You did. It was a lovely effort, and I appreciate it so much that I will let you be my plus-one at the weddings.”

  He sighs, deeper, and returns to his chair.

 

 

  Kelley Armstrong, High Jinx

 

 

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