Goddess for Hire (11 page)

THE FIRST THING I DID
was retrieve my sword from the car.

Tomorrow I was going sheath shopping.

I envisioned black leather with a few silver bells, like the ones the Kathak dancers wore, added to the strap.

It was all about accessorizing.

Then I called the Goddess Within for like the 223rd time that day—although I did love doing it outside. Just so I could see my trademark lightning flash across the sky.

Shazam! There it went.

By the time I returned to the lobby, it was empty. Intermission had ended.

Seeing me, the guard smiled.

Then his eyes fell on the sword.

He reached for the gun in his holster. “Hold on right there!”

The guy was packing a bit much for an Indian dance concert.

Even though it had proved less than reliable, I hit him with the Goddess Gaze. “Let me through…just be cool, man…relax.”

Confucius could not have said it better.

A drowsy smile spread over his face. “Relax.” He slumped back against the wall, slowly slid to the floor, and fell asleep.

Huh.

Time to wonder why it happened later. Maybe I'd curl up with a copy of
Metaphysics for Dummies
or something.

Yanking open the door, I stepped through.

 

The scariest thing backstage was the way the fluorescent lighting mixed with the brown shag carpeting.

I had a nose for wickedness and followed it down the hall. The sounds of pounding feet and music accompanied my footsteps.

The Green Room was empty. So were the dressing rooms. That left only one more place to look.

Would malevolence be waiting in the wings?

Pushing the door open quietly, I stepped into the darkened interior.

Two female dancers slipped offstage, shot me a curious look, and began whispering in a corner. I recognized them as playing two of Krishna's gopis.

Wrongness wrapped around me.

It wasn't coming from the women. I went to the curtain and peered through at the remaining performers on stage.

Nothing.

This was Stanley Kubrick confusing.

“What the hell's going on?” I murmured.

“Shh!” One of the dancers put her finger to her lips.

“Sorry.”

“Shh!” the other said.

With the “Shh Sisters” shooting me dirty looks, I inspected every inch of the area, trying to determine the source of malevolence. My search was penetrated by periodic and sharp shh-ing.

Finally, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and centered myself.

“Shh!”

Oh come on!

Ignoring everything around me, I tried to focus. A lifelong fan of sugar and high-action Hollywood block-busters, I was the Queen of Distraction, but I forced myself to concentrate.

The image came to me with Kodak clarity.

Right above my head was a system of pipes…

And one of them was leaking.

Gas had accumulated in the ceiling. And just to make things extra exciting, an electrical short circuit was on the way.

I had to get everyone out.

Thanks to the efficient Universe, there was still time.

I opened my eyes.

Malevolence. But not a person. I didn't know I could sense stuff like that. I guess I could now function as a
sort of disaster early-warning system for things like gas leaks, earthquakes, the release of a Tom Arnold movie…

The two dancers were watching me suspiciously.

“We need to stop the show!” I ran back to the curtain and peered out. How was I going to warn everyone without causing a panic?

One of the dancers grabbed my arm. “Who sent you? Which troupe?”

“What?” She may as well have been speaking HuTu for all I understood. I pulled away and stepped back from the curtain. “Listen, we need to get everyone out. There's a—”

Her foot shot out faster than you could say “impending explosion” and connected with my abdomen. I fell back, still managing to hold on to my sword.

Taking up a graceful stance, the two dancers faced me and waited.

Dancers.

Hence the incredible leg muscles.

With considerably less grace, I stood and decided not to waste time with the Goddess Gaze. It hadn't worked on gun-wielding Gwennie, and I highly doubted it would work on them.

Don't ask me why.

Maybe I'd skip
Metaphysics for Dummies
and go straight to
Metaphysics for Morons
.

Anyway, I didn't want to risk another Kathak kick to my solar plexus.

Time to use my outside voice, as well as my sword.

Grasping the ruby handle, I swung in a warning arc. “Don't mess with me, girls, you won't like the results.”

“Our troupe has waited years for an American tour,” one of the Shh Sisters said. “We won't let you spoil it.”

I stared at them in shock. “There's a gas leak, you dumb shits!”

“Big deal.” She sniffed. “Half the concert halls in India have gas leaks.”

Okay, enough time wasted. I lunged. Both dancers kicked out together. I stepped aside, protecting my stomach, but it was my right hand they were after. Together their feet came in contact, forcing my hand back, nearly causing me to brain myself with my own weapon. I let go, and the sword went skidding across the floor.

Nice.

So an hour of swordplay on the beach and I wasn't Olympic fencing material. Surprise, surprise.

Weaponless, I contemplated my options.

I'd have to rely on my wits.

I was seriously screwed.

The gopis came at me with another flurry of kicks, which I managed to avoid by running backward like a total dork until I had my back to the wall.

What I needed was pizzazz.

Pure shock and awe.

I centered myself, connected with the warmth, and visualized a familiar fierce wind.

It began with a tickle on the back of my neck.

The breath of a baby breeze.

And then came the roar of its full-grown mother.

Tempest-force gales had chairs, props, and bottles of water flying. The two dancers watched wide-eyed and struggled to gain hold of something. Too late. They fell and were blown onto the stage.

That took care of them.

Feet spread for support; I threw out my arms. “Stop!”

The wind continued to blow.

“Stop! I command—” I lost my balance, fell, and was blown out with the others.

The wind died down and disappeared.

Really nice.

All the dancers were staring at me. The audience was silent.

A voice erupted from the darkness. “Maya! What Are You Doing?”

Mom.

And she was speaking in capital letters.

In the front row a little boy began to cry.

What chain of events, starting from my birth, had led me to be in this position? Facedown on the stage in front of a bewildered audience.

Especially when everyone knew I hated Kathak.

Though now—

I hated destiny more.

THE LAST CAR
had finally left.

My announcement of needing to clear the auditorium because of a gas leak had not been met with panic. Instead, people had shuffled out, grumbling, and demanding their money back. I made a quick call from the lobby phone, since cell phones were traceable, and the appearance of the police, firefighters, and SouthCal Gas Corp. had audience members moving a tad faster.

I didn't wait around after the police arrived. Grabbing my sword, I hightailed it to a secluded vantage point, where I'd wait until the leak had been fixed and everyone safely removed from the premises.

My cell phone rang as flocks of people spilled out into the parking lot.

“How did you know about the gas leak?” my mom demanded.

“I have a sensitive nose.”

“Since when? You can't tell the difference between curry powder and talcum powder.”

I turned my phone off after that.

One good thing had come out of all this—well, besides all the innocent lives being saved—my abrupt appearance onstage made my previous abrupt disappearances seem positively explainable.

As the last of the fire trucks rumbled away, I headed back to my car. I wasn't worried about someone giving my description to the police. Black hair, brown eyes, tan skin—described about 99 percent of the audience members tonight.

Of course if the words “Aphrodite-like” or “Salma-Hayek-esque” were thrown in—I'd be spotted at fifty yards.

I highly doubted anyone would remember my name from my mom's freaked outburst. If they did, I'd handle it when the time came.

Careening out of the parking lot, I had no intention of going home. I'd keep to the plans I'd made before the concert.

Patrolling time.

Maya Mehra. Goddess of Destruction and Early-Warning Systems.

Not too shabby.

THE NEXT FEW DAYS
took on a routine.

I fought malevolence, avoided my parents, exchanged witty and insulting repartee with Tahir, avoided my parents, consumed mass quantities of Starbucks, avoided my parents, and slept.

This was seriously taking on the drudgery of a job except for one thing.

I wasn't getting paid.

Yeah, there was a lot of variety. Never knowing what form malevolence would take proved interesting. And I wasn't confined to a generic cubicle, spending most of my time in the car driving around. And as a miraculously fast healer, I didn't need expensive health insurance. Of course there was also the added excitement that came from being the target of a fanatic Kali-hater.

Sniper shots as I came out of Starbucks, numerous attempts to run me over, mysterious ticking packages left on the hood of my car…I would have actually started
fearing for my life if it weren't so obvious the man who wanted me dead had trained extensively in the Inspector Clouseau School of Bumbling Assassins.

I mean seriously, I'd heard the package ticking a mile away. And even if I hadn't, the gigantic red bow on top was probably visible from space.

But with all of the above taking up my time…

I never ever got to go shopping!

So coming downstairs late Sunday morning, I wasn't in the most Prozac-y of moods.

I'd spent Saturday night stopping a mugging, stopping a psychotic stalker, stopping a blind date gone bad, and stopping a drive-by shooting. I also stopped a teenager from pushing his grandmother out of the second-story window because she wouldn't give him any more money.

The nice old lady rewarded me with a chocolate chip cookie.

My mood, however, took a significant swan dive from pissy to lethal, when I saw Nadia standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I said politely.

She smirked. “Looks like someone didn't sleep very well. The bags under your eyes wouldn't fit in an overhead compartment.”

My face was as smooth and firm as a liposuctioned bottom—a cucumber face mask had seen to that. “As a matter of fact I did have trouble sleeping. What's your excuse? You look positively haggard and fortyish.” Be
fore she could reply I noticed the suitcases piled near the door. “What's up with the luggage?”

Nadia shot me a creamy smile. “Didn't Tahir tell you? I found him the most gorgeous apartment in Santa Monica. Now he won't have to stay
here
.”

“You're a fast girl, aren't you?” Pun intended.

Nadia didn't get it. “One of my closest friends is in the biz. She pushed through the paperwork. The three of us went to Sky Bar last night to celebrate.”

It wasn't fair! They went to Sky Bar, and the highlight of my night was dunking a cookie in a glass of milk.

“You know that weird lightning trick you supposedly pulled the other night?” Nadia asked.

I tossed my hair—I did that a lot. “What about it?”

“I checked the weather report, and there were low clouds in some areas of the Southland. So it was just a coincidence.”

“Whatever you want to believe,” I said coolly. I had better things to do than convince her I was a goddess. Well, technically, I didn't really have anything to do, but that was beside the point. “Where's Tahir now?”

“The company's set him up with a rental car. As soon as he gets back we're off.”

As if waiting for his cue, Tahir came through the front door twirling a set of keys. He was wearing a soft brown V-neck sweater and tan slacks. He looked better than a hunk of Godiva chocolate.

“So you found a place?” I said, establishing my reign as the Duchess of Obvious.

Tahir smiled. “Thanks to Nadia.”

I felt an Ugh in my stomach. Not the Ugh of malevolence. More like the Ugh of nausea.

He rubbed his hands together. “Let's be off then. I want to get settled. Starting tomorrow I'm a working man.”

“Right.” Nadia picked up one of the suitcases and began dragging it toward the door.

“Umm, aren't you going to help her?” I asked him.

“She's doing fine.”

“Well, I guess it's good-bye then,” I said stiffly, and held out my hand.

Tahir ignored it and turned to Nadia. “Let me give you some help.”

She pushed a wisp of hair off her sweaty brow. “Thanks.”

“When you stack the luggage, make sure the heavier suitcases remain on the bottom.”

“Okay.” Huffing and puffing, she managed to open the door with her elbow and haul the suitcase outside.

Tahir returned to facing me. “It never would have worked out between us, you know.”

Where did
that
come from?

“What are you talking about?”

He continued as if he hadn't heard me. “I need someone who is proud of her cultural heritage, someone who respects her elders, someone who would make an excellent wife and mother.”

Before I could respond he pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

My first thought was—How very unexpected.

My second thought—How dare he!

My third thought—Wait until Nadia sees this!

Then brain activity ceased altogether.

I became pure sensation.

It was as if Cupid had shot an LSD-tipped arrow straight into my heart.

The softness of Tahir's sweater…the citrus scent of his cologne…each individual muscle in his arms flexing, as he pinned me to him…and his mouth…soft and controlling, velvety and firm.

I was the shy virginal heroine of a romance novel who suddenly turns wanton at the touch of the hero's mouth.

I was totally begging to be devoured.

Then just when I was hoping he'd use some tongue—

His lips moved to my ear, as his hands slid to my waist and squeezed. “Someone needs to go to the gym.”

The Duchess of Obvious had met the Duke of Mood Killers.

I jumped back. “You asshole!”

He grinned. “Much better than a handshake, wasn't it? No need to thank me.”

And he was gone.

I stood there for a few moments.

As much as it sickened me mentally, physically, and metaphysically—

I was going to miss the bastard.

 

I was looking through all the containers in the fridge, deciding what to warm up for lunch, when the phone rang.

I grabbed it and continued with my food-finding mission. “Hello?”

“Maya.” It was my mom, and she didn't sound happy. “Has Tahir left?”

“Yeah about twenty minutes ago.”

“Your father and I are at Dimple's. We need to talk.”

I promptly lost my appetite.