Page 18 of Hex You

“Night, Mag.” Hunter grinned at her.

“Night, H. Thanks for bringing me home,” Mercy said.

“Always.”

“I love you, Hunter.”

Hunter paused as she was closing her door. “I love you, too, Mag.”

Feeling a lot lighter, Mercy showed Khenti to his room—and began a long explanation about toilets and showers and electric light switches…

SIX

Being a goddess went beyond the physical. No matter what tricks Hunter Goode had up her sleeve or which bastard of a god she had by her side, she would never win. Getting rid of a goddess wasn’t that easy. And getting rid of Amphitrite would be even more difficult.

The great goddess of the sea was without a body, in this realm at least, but a form was the least important aspect of her being. After all, she had cloaked herself from most mortals, hiding in the dew on the grass or the sweat on their skin. Yes, some of her powers would be missed. Filling spongey lungs with the salty waters of the ocean or hurling a hydrant of seawater with the flick of her wrist had been fun, but this type of war suited her better. This type of war separated mere witches from the goddesses they would always strive to be.

Amphitrite drifted over Goodeville—nothing more than salt and humidity, an exhale of breath. At least, in form. In actuality, she was a burbling ocean trench, spilling lava, spewing toxins, the beginning of something far more deadly.

Over the centuries, her targets may have changed, but her missionremained the same: revenge. In this year, in this realm, Hunter Goode was the perfect mark.

For now, Amphitrite would watch and wait. She was good at this part: planning, calculating, being still before a strike. Sailors had called itthe calm before the storm,but it had never been a storm. It had always been a goddess.

Included in her long list of strengths was cunning—an additional reason having a body meant nothing at all. Amphitrite had already put another piece in play in the witch’s short game of life, and it was one the insolent mortal would never see coming.

Make that two things…

Had she lips, she would have smirked.

Amphitrite drifted above the creek that encircled the town of Goodeville and through the boughs of swaying junipers until she came to a large building with a mighty stadium. It was there she found him, the spawn of the Christian, god-fearing woman Amphitrite had already made her own.

He jogged from one end of a large lawn of well-tended grass to the other, passing peers who exercised and joked with the ease of naïve mortals.

So moldable. So weak.

Amphitrite floated to Jax as he ran laps around the field, hate wafting from her in gusts of salt-tinged air.

“Tell me your troubles, boy, and I’ll tell you who’s to blame.”

Jax brushed the sweat from his forehead and licked the salt from his lips.

“Boy!”Amphitrite’s shout was a hiss of steam that Jax batted away like a gnat.

Anger flared within the goddess. The mortal had ignored her. More than that, he hadn’t heard her words at all. Was it her? Had that witch stolen her power after all?

Impossible!

She hovered above Jax, an invisible storm cloud churning with fury, as his pace slowed. He pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at the illuminated screen, his steady jog veering from the gravel path and onto the grass.

No, the problem wasn’t with her. It was him. His head was too full of compassion for the witch.

Distracted, Jax crashed into another mortal. The ball he’d been about to throw fell to the grass with athud.

“Hey, man! What the hell?”

Amphitrite swelled with genius. Within Goodeville, Hunter had more enemies than friends.

Jax brushed his hand through his sweat-streaked hair. “Sorry, dude. Kylie…” He held up his phone as evidence. “You know how it is.”