Misty's Mayhem Page 6

  “Looks like Johnson-man-tool can swim,” Thornycraft pointed out with a laugh.

  “It certainly does,” I replied, wondering how angry he’d be when he hit the shore.

  Whatever. I was just getting started.

  6

  Cupid

  “Son of a bitch,” I roared as I flew through the air and hit the waves with a solid crash.

  The dolphin I’d been riding nodded its head in regret, burst out a few whistles and clicks and swam away.

  What a fucking day. First, I get fired and now I get thrown from one of my favorite forms of transportation. Today was a day of shitty firsts for me.

  Shaking my head, I simply grinned and watched my ride dive beneath the waves. It hadn’t been the dolphin’s fault. Nope, another force was in charge at the moment.

  “Well played, Mermaid,” I whispered as I turned my attention to the beach and began to swim toward it.

  It was abundantly clear that my Mermaid was still displeased with me, if my ungraceful water landing was anything to go by. It was probably unwise to have ridden the dolphin anyway. Cupid was very well known for riding dolphins. I didn’t want to overplay my hand just yet.

  Treading water about a hundred yards out, I stared at the breathtaking vision on the beach. My damned heart started to beat an erratic rhythm in my chest as I watched her do some impressive jumping jacks and lunges. My guess was that she was warming up to do me some damage. I suppose I’d earned it, but I much rather release our tension with some carnal exercise. However, my Mermaid wasn’t alone.

  No—definitely not alone. And if my eyes weren’t deceiving me, she was standing with a very rare species of immortal dressed as a Pirate. A species I’d assumed to be extinct. Never assume… makes an ass out of you or me… I’d honestly thought they’d all gone back to their own plane of existence never to return, but clearly I was incorrect. Rumor had it that Pirate Doug had befriended them, but I hadn’t believed it to be true. As Pirate Doug was completely out of his indisputably dim mind, it shouldn’t surprise me.

  Interesting.

  Whatever. If demons were indeed coming, the immortal on the beach could come in handy. It was shaping up to be a fascinating few days.

  The grin on Misty’s face was delightfully rude and made my submerged JMT stand at attention. Her green eyes flashed and sparkled in the sun. And her body? Her body simply defied description—absolutely perfect. Gods, she was gorgeous. Turnabout was fair play and I was ready to play.

  “Help,” I shouted as I let my large frame sink beneath the waves. “Can’t swim,” I lied right before I went under.

  Of course, I could swim. I was a freakin’ demigod. I could hold my breath for a damned month, but my Mermaid didn’t know that nifty fact.

  “Shit bells and seashells,” I heard her shriek. I watched from under the water as she dashed into the ocean. Her legs morphed into a shimmering and powerful emerald green tail. The Mermaid’s magic was mesmerizing. Misty swam towards me like a torpedo shot out of a submarine. My stomach flipped with the odd sensation of fucking butterflies again. I must be hungry—no other explanation for it.

  “You are the worst decision I’ve ever made,” Misty bitched as she dragged me through the water and onto shore. “I need my freakin’ head examined. I really have to stop boinking nards.”

  I was dumped unceremoniously on the sand and I could feel two sets of eyes peering at me. Holding my breath, I kept my eyes closed. Playing dead had never been so fun.

  “What in chicken of the sea am I supposed to do with him now?” Misty demanded as she gently brushed my wet hair from my face. “Is he dead?”

  “Nay, but mebbe ye should give him a little mouth to mouth resuscitation just to be safe.”

  I was liking the Pirate. A lot. My Mermaid’s scent was intoxicating. It was all I could do to stay motionless.

  “Absolutely not,” Misty hissed. “If I kiss him, I own him and I don’t want him.”

  Ahhhh, so that was why my Mermaid had never kissed me in a half century. The caveat was that her kiss wouldn’t work on me as I was demigod. I’d definitely be setting that little misunderstanding straight very soon.

  “Alrighty then, me suggestion would be to zap his arse till the cod faced tar stain wakes up and then zap the green gilled sea rat again til he leaves.”

  And now I didn’t like the Pirate quite as much.

  “That seems kind of harsh—not that the nard hole doesn’t deserve it, but…”

  “But what, little hooker?” the Pirate asked. “Methought ye didn’t like Johnson-man-tool.”

  What the fuck did he just call me? It took everything I had not to laugh or punch him in the head.

  “I don’t. He’s all kinds of awful and he…” Misty insisted and then gasped with dismay. “Great smelly balls of seaweed on fire, Poseidon’s coming! Help me cover Johnson-man-tool in sand. NOW.”

  And that’s when I was buried alive. Playing dead had never been so fucking stupid. However, I didn’t want the inebriated God of the Sea to know I was here either. I kept my eyes shut and my mouth closed.

  “Can he breathe under there?” Misty whispered.

  “Do ye care?”

  “Thornycraft, just because he’s an assmonkey and stole from a fat assed, porky butt demigod who wants me dead doesn’t mean I want to suffocate him. I’d far rather beat the living stuffing out of him while he’s awake enough to know who’s kicking his ass. I have ethics. You feel me?”

  “Aye,” Thornycraft said. “Ye are a true warrior, swimmin’ hooker. Would ye like me to sit on the Johnson-man-tool mound just in case the frigate dodgin’ riff-raff wakes up? I can stab him with me cutlass if he moves.”

  “Good plan,” she whispered as I heard Poseidon draw nearer. “Just don’t kill him. I get to do that. And keep a healthy distance from his jewels.”

  “Aye,” the Pirate said with a chuckle. “I’ll steer clear of the salt crusted scallywag’s tallywhacker.”

  Vowing not to move so I didn’t get stabbed by a Pirate was doable. With Poseidon now entering the picture, things were going to get interesting. Staying still might be more difficult than I’d hoped. Thankfully I’d heal quickly from a stab wound and it was nice to know that Misty wanted to spare my Johnson and the boys.

  “Misty! Or should I say… Cupid,” Poseidon shouted with glee. “I have your weapons. Nice sandcastle—little misshapen, awkward, and pathetic, but nice.”

  Damn it, could the old coot see me? Impossible. Misty and her pet Pirate had done a thorough job of burying me alive.

  “Awesome,” Misty muttered with disgust and piled some more sand on top of me. “With all due respect and a tad of total disrespect, I really think you’ve got the wrong gal for the job. I mean, shouldn’t you hire someone much shorter and rounder?”

  “Not following,” Poseidon said.

  “You know,” Misty explained with what I could only assume was an eye roll if the tone of her voice was anything to go by. “Cupid is a fat assed little turd baby with curly hair and dimply thighs. I’m just not the right type.”

  Poseidon’s belly laugh made me want to rise from the sand and headbutt him, but that wasn’t exactly in the plans for the day. Plus, I still held out hope the diaper-wearing dumbass was unaware of my presence. Not to mention, I wasn’t in the mood to be stabbed by a sword.

  “And where did you hear Cupid was a fat assed infant?” Poseidon inquired, still laughing.

  “Everyone knows that,” Misty said.

  “Actually, you’re incorrect,” the God of the Sea informed her.

  Thank Zeus someone was finally going to stand up for me. I was slightly surprised it was Poseidon, but grateful all the same. My ego couldn’t take much more of this demeaning shit.

  “Not only is the teeny tiny bastard obese, he’s knock-kneed and has horrifying breath,” Poseidon shared. “Only three teeth in his mouth and he talks like a girl. Also his ego is so enormous even Dora can’t explore it.”

  Poseidon was
so fucking dead when I was able to show my face again.

  “Are you serious?” Misty gasped out.

  “No. I’m Poseidon.”

  “No. I meant about Cupid’s looks—and ego.”

  “Deadly serious about those,” Poseidon confirmed, clearly enjoying himself. “Cupid is so rotund that when Zeus said ‘Let there be light’ he had to ask Cupid to move out of the way.”

  “Umm… okay. How did he do his job if he’s so blubbery?” Misty asked.

  “He didn’t. And that’s why you’re going to do it,” Poseidon said.

  “But…”

  “No buts,” the Sea God bellowed. “You are wearing the enchantment. It won’t come off your skin. No one but Cupid himself could have put it there.”

  “Duuuuude,” Misty said with a laugh. “Trust me, if I saw a ginormo double-wide baby, I would know it. Cupid did not cover me in his magic.”

  “Really?” Poseidon inquired with great interest. “Then who did?”

  “Umm… Wait,” she stuttered. “Actually, maybe he did it when I was sleeping or doing yoga or sleepwalking doing yoga. Some of those poses make me light-headed and disoriented and umm… drunk—totally wasted. And when you’re asleep, it’s all a shitshow. Thornycraft can vouch for that.”

  “Aye. Yoga makes the swimmin’ hooker very drunk. Especially when me comrade, Bonar licks his nards—very flexible. But Misty doesn’t lick her nards,” Thornycraft added quickly and somewhat hysterically. “The little hooker doesn’t have a tallywhacker… because she’s a lassie… who swims.”

  Right,” Misty said, thankfully cutting her buddy Thornycraft off. “You know me, I can be distracted really easily—so, so, so easily. I might have missed him. I mean, the little fucker has to be kind of crafty and stealthy. Right? He had the job for thousands of years before he got fired. I was definitely preoccupied when the flabby fucker dropped some magic on me.”

  Was she covering for me?

  Why was she risking her life with the asshole God of the Sea to keep me safe?

  My Mermaid was convinced I’d stolen Cupid’s magic and refused to return it. But why would she and her sidekick defend me? It felt strange for someone to have my back. Although I had to admit, the term flabby fucker stung a bit. There wasn’t an ounce of flab on me.

  “I see,” Poseidon said in a calculated tone. “I call bullshit on that little story, but since it’s my son’s wedding week and you’re the Mermaid of Honor, I’ll let it go. However, there is more to this tail—pun intended.”

  “Nope,” Misty said. “No more. Give me those arrows and crossbow so I can start shooting shit.”

  “I’d suggest you stick with humans. Shit would be wildly unappreciative of your efforts,” Poseidon advised in complete seriousness.

  “The hooker was using a finger of speech,” Thornycraft volunteered.

  Sweet Zeus on a Zamboni—did all these people risk their lives for each other by lying? Amazing.

  “Don’t you mean figure of speech?” Poseidon inquired sounding confused.

  “Umm, seeing as my buddy is missing a few digits—not to mention brain cells—I’m pretty sure he’s just playing with the phrase. Right, Thornycraft?”

  “Nay,” he replied.

  “Okaaaaay then,” Misty said hastily. “On that grammatically incorrect note, I’m gonna just get started with my new horrifying job and keep my eye out for beefy Cupid when he comes gunning for my ass.”

  “Excellent,” Poseidon bellowed and dumped an enormous load of sand over my prone body. “And if I may say so, that’s a lovely sand castle you’ve built and now it’s nicer. Looks like love will keep that one together.”

  “What’s love got to do with it?” Misty demanded.

  Shit, the old coot was testing her. Come on, Misty. Kick his drunk ass.

  Wait. Why did I want to help her keep my job? I wanted my damned job back. Didn’t I?

  “Is it a castle or a love shack?” Poseidon inquired.

  “It’s a fucking pile of sand. It’s not a shack or a battlefield or a bug or endless or a rock and it don’t cost a thing. Love bites. The only things I love are my sisters, rainy nights and I’m getting really fond of Thornycraft,” Misty snapped.

  “Thank ye. The sentiment is returned. Yar like me violent foul-mouthed little sister,” Thornycraft announced.

  “You’re going to slay this job, Mermaid,” Poseidon said with a bellow of delighted laughter.

  “Or get slayed doing it,” she muttered.

  “I must go to my questionably intelligent son now. One, I need a cocktail and the boy has outstanding rum. And two, Pirate Doug is working on the agenda for his bachelor’s party. His friend Pirate Chronus wants a Waterworld movie marathon. I’m voting for naked charades,” the God of the Sea announced grandly. “And one of these days you will tell me why you are so frightened of love, my child. It makes my slightly inebriated heart sad.”

  Shockingly it made me sad as well. What the hell was happening to me?

  “I’m not scared of love at all,” Misty corrected the God of the Sea. “I just think it’s for fools.”

  “According to my tone deaf karaoke buddy, William Shakespeare… A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.”

  Shit. Apollo had been right. The world really was ending…

  Poseidon was making sense.

  7

  Misty

  “Dig him up,” I said, getting frantic. “I really hope he didn’t bite it.”

  I thought Poseidon would never freakin’ leave. The thought of Archer the assmonkey buried in the sand and suffocating terrified me. It was one thing to kill in self-defense—like I was going to have to do to the chunky, toothless, egomaniac Cupid. It was entirely another to accidentally off the idiot I’d been boinking even if he was a nardhole.

  “Call me crazy,” Thornycraft started.

  “Dude, Thornycraft is a perfectly good name. It’s way better than Crazy,” I told him as I pawed through the mounds of sand on top of Archer.

  “Ye didn’t let me finish me thought, little hooker,” Thornycraft said with a chuckle. “Methinks Poseidon knows that Johnson-man-tool is under the sandcastle.”

  “Poseidon doesn’t even know Johnson-man-tool. Why would he think someone he doesn’t know is in a shallow freakin’ grave?”

  “Me just has a feelin’. Me timbers were shivering,” he replied as he too began to dig.

  “Whatever,” I said. “He can’t know that Johnson-man-tool stole Cupid’s magic. If he did, I’m quite sure there would be a manhunt—or a Godhunt for him. I just need to convince the jackhole to return it.”

  “How are ye going to do that?”

  “The old fashioned way,” I muttered as an involuntary zing of excitement consumed me and my lady bits grew perky.

  “Yar gonna seduce Johnson-man-tool?” Thornycraft asked with disapproval in his tone.

  “Well… umm… I was. You have a better idea?” I asked feeling like an idiot with no morals.

  “Swimmin’ hooker,” he said, gently putting his semi-fingered hand over mine and halting my panicked digging. “Ye told me yerself that ye have only slept with Johnson-man-tool since ye met him fifty years ago. Aye?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, hoping at the very least Archer had a shit load of sand in his ears. I didn’t want him to know any of this.

  “Call me crazy… or Thornycraft if ye prefer, but as much as ye deny it, methinks ye like him. The rapscallion is a blundering bilge rat and don’t deserve ye. He told ye he wouldn’t return the enchantment to the bulbous hairy baby. I say, wake the pontoon splinter up, zap his unworthy arse, and let him go.”

  His words gave me pause. Thornycraft was correct. What in the Seven Seas had I been I thinking? Actually, it was my inner swimming hooker that was doing the thinking. I didn’t have time to deal with Archer even though having him here on Mystical Isle was every secret dream I had come true.

  Still… I needed to learn how to use the bow and
arrows so I could at least give Cupid a run for his money when he showed up. And show up, he would. The squat shit sounded like an egomaniacal, wildly unattractive freak show. There was no way he would let someone else have his job—fired or not. For better or worse, I was now Cupid. For someone who thought romantic love was a joke, I was definitely going to do a better job than the porcine doofus I was replacing.

  “You’re right. I have terrible taste in men,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Archer is a complication I can’t afford at the moment.”

  Thornycraft froze and stared at me with a strange expression on his face.

  “What?” I asked, starting to get uncomfortable. Was he still disappointed in me for planning to boink a traitor? I just told him I wasn’t going that route even though I still secretly wanted to.

  “I thought ye said the barrel bellied son of a sea cook’s name was Johnson-man-tool.”

  “Well, umm… it kind of is,” I stuttered as I felt the heat crawl up my neck. The unfortunate blush combined with my green hair and stupid red and silver dusting of sparkles guaranteed that I looked like a ridiculous Christmas shrub. “It’s the name of part of him,” I finished weakly.

  “The peg legged bow bungler’s name is Archer?” Thornycraft demanded with his eyes narrowed to slits.

  “Yes,” I said, getting a sinking feeling in my gut. “He said it was one of his names.”

  Thornycraft began to dig like a wild man on a mission. Sand flew everywhere and I stepped back to avoid being the second person to be buried alive today.

  “Me timbers are shivering again. Stand back, little hooker and get ready to fight fer yer life.”

  “Wait. What?” I shouted as Thornycraft began to growl and glow like a firework. “What are you doing?”

  “Johnson-man-tool has some explaining to do as soon as I kick his arse,” he snarled.

  And then it all became a blur. As Thornycraft dug Archer out from above, Archer dug himself out from below. The sandstorm was real and I could barely make out what the heck was happening. However, the landing of punches, swearing and loud grunts were unmistakable. The noise alone was going to bring out a crowd shortly, not to mention the sand was turning into a mini spitting tornado. I wasn’t sure if Thornycraft was causing it or if it was Archer.