Page 34 of Edge of Stars

I’m spared a long wait for the answer. As soon as Poseidon strides into view, I appreciate the fact that we’ve met before—though I likely would’ve spotted him fine without the acquaintance. With water beneath him instead of land, the god comes fully into his own as a deity to be respected. His stature is taller, his exposed arms mightier, his hair more like an aquatic rock god’s. Since he’s kept the shell-enhanced beard but ditched the surfer togs for a barely there blue toga, the effect is enhanced by double digits.

But the most notable change comes from the way he moves. His steps, broad and bold, are no longer aided by his ornate cane. The staff has now become what it should be: the trident that rests casually in his right hand.

For now.

Casual is a fluid term under these circumstances, even for Po. There’s nothing relaxed about the fire hose stare he aims at Hecate. He doesn’t flinch even when Zeus sidles forward, a caustic greeting already twitching at his mouth.

“Took you long enough.”

Po snorts. “I require a lot of lubricant.”

My father shrugs. “Guess that’s necessary, when one has to rely on gills for foreplay and a spiny dick for the finale.”

Only the air’s tension stops me from an audible groan. So that’s where my crap humor timing comes from.

Reg endorses the point with an intentional smirk while finally sauntering down the stairs, not exactly how I thought the aha moment was going to happen. But nothing about this day is what I expected—especially as Hecate strides back over. On the way, she waves a hand of fresh command at Hermes. At once, the shape shifter clamps his cuff tighter around Kara.

My teeth grind. My nostrils flare.

If I leave this place without killing that shrew, that’ll be the real magic.

“Took him too long,” she amends to Z’s quip. “As we can all very well see. Though it’s lovely you’ve prepared so well for the holiday boat parades, Majesty Poseidon. Shooting for the first-prize ribbon?”

A Mick Jagger smirk rolls out of my uncle. “Ahhh, Hecate. Always ready with the silky charm. But also as always, you’re missing the point.”

The goddess quirks a brow. “Which is?”

“That winning the game is about what you don’t see.”

As soon as he stresses the contraction, the sea king efficiently twirls his trident. Before his second spin is finished, a new figure emerges on the aquacraft’s deck. The guy has a rugged but waggish face, reminding me so much of the morally gray bastard from The Walking Dead that I expect the barbed bat to emerge any second. But I don’t think the character’s tentacles, growing in place of Gentry’s legs, possess pockets. I also don’t think he’d want to be bothered, since his mere appearance has sent Hecate into borderline apoplexy.

“Awww, Hecate darlin’.” He savors her anxiety with roguish delight. “You did miss me.”

There’s no filter on her vicious seethe. “As much as I’d miss a hemorrhoid, Proteus darling.”

“Ow. And all this time, I thought I was your favorite shapeshifter.”

“Careful, old man. Be very caref—”

“Enough!”

Z’s demand rivals the new clap of thunder for which I’m undoubtedly responsible. Another unwanted apple-doesn’t-fall-far moment, though I’m ready to own this one. If Papa Bear’s protective streak snaps everyone back into line, especially Hecate and her extortion threats, I’m all for it.

“This entire day has become a boil on everyone’s ass.” He swings around, impaling Hecate with a glare. “And it’s going to cease. Now.”

“Now there’s a lockstep I can spark to.”

Po’s verbal thumbs-up comes with a close emulation of the motion, though it deserves respect in its own right. There’s a new energy around the sea king, and I like it. A lot. The grizzled surfer has given way to a commanding god with phosphorescent power in his eyes—intensity that pushes across his protean’s face too.

But the pulses don’t stop there for Proteus. The light spreads, zapping down through the thick veins of the shifter’s torso and arms. It’s easy to know that because the shifter’s bloodstream begins to glow with it—and then gains new texture as it goes.

But there’s more.

Proteus’s veins aren’t just filled with iridescent power. Inside those fast-flowing streams, shapes begin to take form.

He’s got miniature sharks in his blood.

Kara gasps. Hecate spits out something vicious in Greek. She lifts a hand, curling her fingers into a fresh claw. Between the digits, we can all view her intent now too. In those spaces, there are whole galaxies of orange, gold, silver, and purple.