I didn’t think she meant Roger. My husband took a step and I pointed a finger at him, freezing him as if that were a new power of mine.

“Go to . . . hell, Roger.” The word quivered on my lips, but I said it. His jaw dropped and I slammed the door behind me.

I strode out to the shiny black sports car, opened the door, pushed the junk off the seat and out onto the ground, and slid in. Key in ignition, I revved the engine, shifted into reverse, and hit the gas pedal. The tires peeled in the loose gravel, spitting rocks everywhere. The sound of pebbles hitting the sides of the car gave me a wicked sense of satisfaction. Spinning out onto the road, I shifted into gear and hit the gas again. From the side mirror, a rampant group of bull men chased down the road behind me. They gave up when I hit the on-ramp to the highway and opened the sports car up.

The car was light to the touch and responded quickly. It didn’t take long for me to recognize the direction I took. Vanilla and Honey was on the outskirts of downtown, close enough to get good traffic, but not so close that the rent was impossible.

Tears trickled down my cheeks as I thought about the last twenty-four hours, my life, the last few weeks, and the realization that nothing prior to my being sick had been what I’d thought. Nothing in my life had prepared me for what I’d gone through and what I’d learned about those people I thought were on my side. I sniffed several times. “What the heck happened to me?” Not that I expected an answer. So when I got one, to say I was surprised was an understatement.

“Well, this is what happens when you get mixed up with gods and goddesses. Or in your case, when your family gets mixed up.”

I jerked the car to the side of the road and threw it into park. Beside me in the passenger seat floated a mostly naked cherub who sported a pair of cream-colored wings and a barely-there loincloth made of pale-pink satin.

“Umm, excuse me?” I had to be seeing things. Naked cherubs didn’t just appear in the air. They were in frescoes and paintings, not real life. He tugged at his loincloth, scratching at his crotch.

“I said this is what your family gets. For meddling.”

I rubbed at my eyes. “Wait, are you . . . Cupid?”

“I am not!” He floated up to the ceiling of the car, his face pinking up to match his loincloth. “That miserable interloper has nothing on me.” The color in his face bled down his neck to his chest.

“Sorry, I’m not up on my mythological . . . deities.” I sniffed back the last of my tears. “Who are you, then, and why are you in my car?”

“Not really your car now, is it?” He grinned, and the red faded from his skin. “Name is Eros. But you can call me Ernie. I like it better. More new-age sounding.”

“Ernie. Okay, so . . .” Wrapping my brain around this newest addition to my life was a struggle. “What are you doing here, Ernie?”

“Well, the boss felt like a shit, being as he used to knock boots with your granny and all, and since it’s kind of his fault you ended up like you are, he wanted me to bring you a message and tell you to meet him at the club tonight and he’d tell you everything he could.” He drew in a deep breath, his chest swelling. That was a lot of words in a single sentence for such a little guy.

I narrowed my eyes. “So what you’re saying is my yaya gave Zeus what for and he’s trying to make nice now.”

Ernie grinned and gave me a big wink with one baby blue. “You betcha. I always liked Flora. She didn’t put up with the boss’s nonsense like the other priestesses. I don’t put up with it either.” He let out a sigh and floated to the seat. “Where are you going?”

“To my bakery,” I said without thinking. He lit up like a Christmas tree with ten times too many lights.

“I love sweets.”

I put a hand on the stick shift and then glanced at him, my mind working. I couldn’t afford to let the opportunity slide by, which meant I had to embrace the weirdness 100 percent.

“I’ll give you all the sweets you want . . . if you answer some questions for me.”

“Sure thing, toots.” Ernie settled into the seat and grinned up at me. “What do you want to know?”

I pulled back into traffic and picked through all the questions I had.

“Tell me about what I am.”

“Ahh. A Drakaina. Interesting choice of monster for Merlin to make you. I heard what you said to the Bull Boys; you’re right about the venom-versus-poison thing. Venom in the fangs, but you are not poisonous. Your venom will kill anyone, including heroes. Including gods and goddesses.” He shifted in his seat. “It’s why Zeus fell over trying to get back from you when you showed off your fangs.”

“You saw that?”

“I was sitting in the rafters eating my lunch. Got a good view of the whole encounter.”

I took the next off-ramp, clutched the steering wheel, and made myself ask the next question. “That’s not all being a Drakaina is, is it?”

“Nope. You’re a shifter. Should be able to turn into a giant snake. Big as a house. And you’re sensitive to vibrations and smells. You can see in the dark, and of course being something of a siren, you can seduce men and women right out of their clothes if you put your mind to it.”

Wonderful.

“Okay, what else have you got, beautiful?”

“Don’t call me that. I’m a monster.”

“A beautiful monster.” He grinned. “That’s got to count for something.”