His long hair, as well as the suns, moons, stars, and flames tattooed along his dark hickory arms, are the same arresting color. “Welcome back. Labyrinth has missed you.”
“Honey, you know the drill.” Z removes his hat and shakes back the thick mop on his own head. “Cut the ‘Majesty’ nonsense if you know what’s good for you.”
The guy kicks up a bushy blond brow. “Understood. Wouldn’t want you to embarrass me in front of my newest customer.” He turns his focus to me, looking me over with unabashed curiosity. “Name’s Honey. What can I get you, buddy?”
I hesitate. “Honey?”
His barrel laugh confirms it before his words do. “Honey Bacchus. Proprietor of this fine establishment for three thousand years.” He offers me his hand. “And you are?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Z’s interjection is a command couched in gentility, though he has to realize that the man is already parsing the truth. “We’ll have two pints of Medusa’s Revenge.”
Honey dips his head and walks off to pour our brews while my thoughts battle to stick to the mold of my brain. My logic struggles to grasp the simple basics right now—like time and reality.
It’s official. I’ve had some crazy days in my life, but the top prize now goes to the last twenty-four hours. This little field trip, to the bar of all cocktail bars, has been the clincher.
“What is this place? Some sort of watering hole for the gods?”
Z smirks. “Something like that.”
As Honey brings us the beers, I entertain a small hope that the fragrant wheat liquid will, for once, soothe the edge on my nerves. But I’m not expanding those expectations. “Pleasantly buzzed” is a term in everyone else’s vocabulary, not mine. Apparently I can add “only human” and “merely mortal” to that list now too.
Am I any of those things anymore? Human? Mortal? Even a man?
Was I ever?
The most reliable source for my answers is sitting on the barstool next to mine, filling a long moment by grimacing at his beverage.
“What’s wrong?” I mutter.
“Not to sound like an entitled god on high, but under different circumstances, I’d have ordered some of Honey’s special nectar from the back.”
“So why didn’t you?”
He rubs his fingertips together, causing subtle sparks, but halts as quickly as he’s started. “As I said, different circumstances. Another time, I promise. As for now…I assume you want to remember this conversation.”
I snort softly. It’s not a full laugh but enough to convey the sentiment. “That’d be nice, considering the prologue you dropped back on the freeway.”
Z pushes his mug away. The free counter space gives him room to park his elbows and fold his hands. He’s well-practiced at the commanding pose, as if he’s had thousands of years perfecting it. “Maybe we should start with what you already know.”
“You mean next to nothing?” I copy his position, cradling my mug between my hands.
He sits with that for a few seconds. It doesn’t seem to surprise him, nor do I expect it to. “Has your mother told you anything about me, then?”
“Her story is that you met in Egypt while she was there doing humanitarian work. She didn’t realize she was pregnant with me until you’d both gone your separate ways, and she never saw you again.”
He makes a small snort of acknowledgment. “That’s almost true.”
“Almost? Okay… Which part?”
It spills from me more like a demand than a request. I don’t pause to apologize. The pressure in my senses is too intense. Under the painful sting of having to accept that Mom has been lying to me for nearly ten years, I yearn for the details she never gave me. Everything Z already knows.
My origins. My truth.
My identity.
“We did meet in Egypt.” He reaches out to wipe some dew off his mug thoughtfully. “It was one of those moments that’s incredibly brief but somehow lasts forever. A permanent imprint on a person’s soul.”
He glances over for a second, almost as if he needs my reassurance that he’s not sounding crazy. He doesn’t. I know that now, with just two seconds of remembering the moment I first touched Kara.
Not wanting to interrupt his reminiscing, I simply give him a silent nod, wordlessly urging him to continue.
“She’d just landed in Cairo days prior and had ventured out from the hotel she was staying at. Our paths crossed in the marketplace. Me being me, I asked her out for a drink the second I laid eyes on her. She was shy but accepted.” He winks with a crooked smirk. “I can