Dogs and Goddesses Read online

  “Thank you,” she said, and went into her office, ignoring him when he called after her, “Wait a minute, what bas-relief?” She’d drag him down there later when she had time.

  Three students were waiting in her office, two asking for extensions and one complaining of writer’s block, but when they left, they were planning on getting things done, and two of them said they liked her hair.

  What’s with my hair? she thought, and went down to the faculty restroom to look in the mirror. Her hair seemed longer now, curling around her ears instead of close-cropped, and the gray was shot with white. She looked closer at the streaks. Almost blue-white. It would have been disturbing if it hadn’t looked so much better than it usually did. Maybe being a goddess meant you got good hair. With any luck, it would work on her skin, too.

  She went back to the office and picked up the finished handouts and walked up the flight of stone steps to her classroom, where her students seemed dumbfounded to find her focused and summing up on time, not caught by the hour bell. She taught her second class with equal efficiency, and then she went to the coffeehouse to paint.

  And during all of it, while people finished things when she told them to, helpless to resist, she wondered, What’s the price going to be for all of this? What the hell is Kammani up to?

  And what is Sam doing with her?

  ELEVEN

  When Shar got to the coffeehouse, she stopped to consider the big blank white wall she’d painted to the left of the door. They’d talked about what they were going to do with it, but now as she stared at it, she could see figures there, three of them, and a sky, and…

  “I’m going to do a mural on that wall,” she told Abby, who was filling the cookie case.

  “Cool.” Abby closed the sliding glass door just as Daisy came out with her laptop.

  “You know, we could make this place hugely successful,” Daisy said, sitting down at a table next to where Shar was working. “I accidentally charged some people two bucks for a cookie on Friday and they paid it. And they’ve been lining up every morning since then.”

  Abby took the other seat, brushing powdered sugar off her hands. “I’m out of cookies by eight every morning. If this keeps up, I’m going to need help.”

  Shar picked up the thick cylinder of charcoal she’d bought on her second trip to Mr. Casey’s. I want those three goddesses on here, she thought, seeing them float on the wall before her still. And the outside of the coffeehouse behind them. And behind that I want an amber sunrise that starts on the left and then turns into the heat of day with a cinnamon sky and then ends in a blue night sky. I want suns and flowers and stars.

  And a frieze with dogs. Lots of dogs.

  And I want Sam.

  No, not Sam.

  Daisy frowned at the figures on her laptop. “It’s a shame we can’t hire more bakers, but you know, not many goddesses are looking for work.”

  “There’s Gen and Bun,” Abby said. “I don’t know that fertility and birth cookies are a good idea, but maybe they’d be … inspirational.…”

  “Shar?” Daisy said.

  “I’m listening,” Shar lied, and began to draw, big sweeps of the charcoal on the white primer, tracing the goddesses that floated there, clear as day, the contrast between the charcoal and white startling, the lines rough and crumbly as they curved and scraped and made her breathe faster, and her spirit lifted as she drew because it was the right thing to do, this picture, this wall, this coffeehouse, these people.…

  She leaned against the wall until the spasm passed, while behind her, Daisy outlined the plan for the coffeehouse: a website, a logo, a signature drink, souvenir mugs, T-shirts, the works.

  “Sounds good to me,” Abby said. “Maybe I can figure out Kammani’s tonic recipe, too.”

  Shar kept drawing. “That might be good. If we could figure out what was in it that kicks up our powers without having to get it from Kammani…”

  Abby nodded. “I’ve found Granny B’s notebooks, and it was clear she was trying to figure it out herself. I’m not sure how she even knew about temple tonic, but I’m guessing there must be some sort of racial memory going on. Anyway, the stuff would sell like crazy, so I’m all for making this place a real business. There’s only one problem. Who’s going to pay for the logo design, that stuff?”

  Shar waved that away. “I have money. If you design the website, I know an art prof I can pay to get the logo done. But those butter cookies, as good as they are, aren’t just cookies, and neither is that tonic. We’re messing with forces we don’t understand and—”

  “And there’s a line from every bad horror movie ever made,” Daisy said. “What’s to understand?”

  “Kammani,” Shar said. “She did a mind meld on Abby, remember? And there’s Sam, working with her.” And Noah. She stopped drawing and looked at them both. “I don’t think we should go to the class tonight.”

  “You don’t trust Sam?” Abby said. “He seems really nice.”

  “He is really nice,” Shar said, trying not to think of him holding Milton as they watched movies, or of the earnestness with which he asked questions about The Big Lebowski, or of the surprising sweetness he could exhibit in everyday things. He wasn’t a complicated man, but he was a good man. Except…” But he’s working with Kammani. That does not inspire confidence.”

  “So is Noah,” Daisy pointed out. “We trust him.”

  Shar put her eyes back on the wall. “I think I’m ready to paint now.”

  “We trust Noah,” Daisy said firmly. “Don’t we, Shar?”

  “Where’s Sam?” Abby said.

  “Home with the dogs.” Or out hooking up. The bastard.

  “Shar?” Daisy said.

  “I mean on the wall,” Abby said, coming to stand beside Shar.

  Shar blinked. “He doesn’t belong on the wall. This is our wall.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Abby said. “But it’s your mural. I have to make more cookies. It’s okay with me if we don’t go to class tonight. I’ll work on the tonic recipe.” And she went back into the kitchen while Daisy looked at Shar speculatively.

  “It’s your wall, but you don’t want your guy on there.”

  “He’s not my guy,” Shar said, trying to keep her voice light. She drew a line on the wall and the charcoal snapped under the pressure.

  “Shar Summer, you’ve got some springs inside that are wound way too tight,” Daisy said. “When they pop, you’re gonna take somebody’s eye out.”

  “I’m not as trusting as you,” Shar said miserably. She’d been so happy, dazzled by the paint and the punch and Sam. And then reality had returned. “I don’t know about Noah because I don’t know Noah, but Sam … Sam is Kammani’s right-hand man. Besides, Sam’s slept with at least a dozen women since he got here. He has a hard time remembering their names, but he has no trouble getting their phone numbers. I’d just get lost in the crowd.”

  “Your god is a manwhore?” Daisy speculated for a moment. “Well. That’s some chewy delicious irony for you.”

  Shar dropped the charcoal and picked up her paintbrush. “Other than that, he’s a good guy. Who’s working for a goddess who may want to eat our brains.”

  “That’s Mina,” Daisy said. “Kammani probably just wants our fresh, beating hearts. Another good reason not to go to the class tonight.”

  Shar thought about Sam’s heart in the wall of her bedroom and shuddered. Then she thought about Sam in her bedroom and shuddered again, imagining him reaching for her.

  Deep slow breaths.

  “Shar?” Daisy said, and Shar said, “It’s okay, I’m on top of it,” and began the underpainting, laying in the shadows and the contouring in browns and creams until the mural looked ominous, brooding.

  “You really need to lighten up,” Daisy said over her lap-top.

  An hour later, all the underpainting was in and Shar was ready to do the hard part.

  Sky first, she thought, and painted in an amber sunrise streaked wit