Dogs and Goddesses Read online

  “Did your mom know?” Abby asked Shar.

  “Oh, yes,” Shar said. “I remember her arguing with my grandmother, saying, ‘She’s never coming.’ I think…”

  She tried to remember her mother, what she’d been like aside from the default “my mother,” and all she could remember was Sharon bent over her research. “I think my grandmother kept her under her thumb, kept her trained as a priestess because she thought Kammani was coming back at any minute.”

  “And your grandmother learned that from her mother,” Abby said.

  “No,” Shar said. “My grandmother was Sharrat. She was one of the original seven.”

  “Whoa.” Daisy put her glass down, empty, and reached for another little bottle. “So you actually knew the real deal.”

  “Yes,” Shar said, thinking of her flintlike grandmother. She’d had a kind of terrible beauty, even into her nineties, all cheekbones and dark eyes, driven by impatience and fury. “Be glad you missed out on knowing your ancestor.”

  “I think Granny liked her mother.” Abby looked around the kitchen. “Her mom started this coffeehouse back in 1925 when the college was built and then gave it to Granny. I think Abi-simti was okay.”

  “Who cares?” Daisy put her empty glass on the table again. “That’s history and this is now.” She poked her finger into the basket. “Where the hell did all the rum boozles go?”

  Shar pulled the basket over and found her another Bacardi. “We care,” she told Daisy as she handed it to her. “We have to know what they were doing then, because it’ll help us figure out what Kammani is doing now. Especially if Abby can make the tonic. I have a feeling being able to see those power colors is going to be helpful, but not helpful enough for me to drink anything else Kammani brews.”

  “Well, Humusi must have been a real go-getter,” Daisy said. “All I know about her is that she married a pal of John Summer’s, made sure he made a fortune in construction, and then swanked around in that big yellow house down the street. My grandmother inherited all their money and lost it somehow, and let me tell you, Peg is not happy about that.”

  “Peg?” Shar said.

  “My mother of the sudden allergies,” Daisy said, and knocked back another hit of Bacardi and aspartame.

  “What does she do for a living?” Shar said, trying to put the pieces together.

  “She outlived my father.” Daisy picked up one of the empty little bottles. “You think Bea was trying to make tonic, Abby, and your grandmother was trying to keep the history, Shar, and the Worthams have obviously stayed big on death. Vera sold vitamins, and I bet she inherited that from her mom. It’s like—what do they call those agents who live normally for years until they’re activated? Sleepers?”

  “I think that’s right,” Shar said. “I think they were supposed to wait for Kammani and she never came.”

  Daisy sat back, and Shar could see she was more relaxed now. Actually, she was loose as all hell now.

  Or maybe that’s me, she thought, and finished her second drink.

  Daisy put her empty little bottle down on the table. “Well, she’s here now and we have to do something about it, because I am not going to watch you guys die, and nobody’s touching Gen and Bun, either.” Daisy held out her hand for the basket. “Mina I can spare. Give me another boozle.”

  Abby looked through the basket and tossed Daisy another Bacardi, which she almost missed, and then handed Shar another vodka. “More orange juice?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Shar said, feeling a little echoey. Abby brought back the juice and Shar squinted up at her. “Are you okay? You’re really quiet.”

  “I’m all right,” Abby said, not meeting her eyes. “So I’ll keep looking for anything from Abi-simti here, especially the tonic recipe.”

  “What’s wrong?” Shar said, the booze slowing her down enough that she was noticing things now. “Did something happen?”

  “You know who you could ask?” Abby said. “Sam.”

  “Talk about an easy nut to crack,” Daisy said. “It’s up to you now, Shar. Drag that boy’s ass to bed and screw the information out of him.”

  “Daisy!” Shar said.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Daisy said. “We need inside information, and you want him so bad, you vibrate with it. Plus, he’s totally into you. Three birds, one bone.”

  “He’s into everybody,” Shar snapped. “Manwhore, remember?”

  “Yes, but you’d be doing it for us,” Daisy said, leaning forward.

  “Like a sacrifice,” Abby said. “Just go throw yourself on his horned altar.…”

  Daisy giggled, a real little-girl giggle, and Shar bit her lip so she wouldn’t giggle, too.

  “Very funny,” she said, picking up her glass again. “Unfortunately, Sam’s altar is a little crowded—”

  “Not after he sleeps with you.” Daisy sat back, smug with her drink. “You have a Glittery HooHa.”

  THIRTEEN

  Shar choked on her screwdriver, and Abby put her cup down and said, “She has what?”

  “You never heard of the Glittery HooHa?” Daisy straightened. “Oh, this is gonna be good. You guys know movies, but I…” She thumped herself on the chest. “. . . I know soap operas.”

  “Uh-huh,” Shar said, reaching for another boozle. She didn’t care about soap operas, but since Sam wasn’t on one and Daisy was no longer near tears over Vera, it was a damn good topic.

  “There is a certain kind of heroine on soap operas,” Daisy said. “She is always blond, always beautiful, and always stupid beyond the telling of it.”

  Abby snorted over her hot chocolate and Shar relaxed. Daisy was okay. Abby was getting better. And Sam was still with Kammani. Two for three, she thought. Not bad.

  “And yet,” Daisy said, “there is a man. We’ll call him … Hero. Hero is handsome, he is strong…”Daisy cocked a drunken eyebrow at Shar—“. . . he is godlike…”

  “Watch it,” Shar said, and knocked back more juice and booze.

  “. . . and he stays by her side and loves her through thick and thin. He opens the door to the microwave she’s trapped herself in; he disentangles her hair from the curling iron; he saves a puppy from a Dumpster for her—”

  “That kinda sounds like Sam,” Abby said, her voice wistful, and Shar looked at her and thought, Something bad happened to Abby, and felt angry. Abby should have only good things. They all should have only good things, not that damn temple and death and—

  Daisy talked on, oblivious in her rum haze. “And why does Hero not care how breathtakingly stupid his girl is? It’s the power of the Glittery HooHa.” Daisy slammed her glass on the table. “A woman with a hooha as glittery as this girl merely needs to walk around as glitter falls from her netherparts, leaving a trail for Our Hero to follow. And once he finds her, it only takes one dip in the Glittery HooHa to snare him forever.” Daisy raised her glass. “For yea, no matter how many hoohas he might see, never will there be one as glittery as hers.…”

  “What are you talking about?” Shar said.

  “Your hooha,” Daisy said, lowering her glass. “It glitters. For Sam.”

  “Oh,” Abby said wisely. “Of course.”

  Shar looked at her. “Of course? Of course?”

  “That’s why Sam won’t look at other women after he sleeps with you,” Abby said. “You have glitter. Blue glitter, probably.”

  “Yep,” Daisy said, raising her glass to Abby. “Abby gets it. And Sam’s gonna get it, too. One dip and he’s done.” She waggled her fingers in the general direction of the door. “Now go jump that puppy.”

  Shar looked at the ceiling. “The puppy’s a god working for a goddess who plans to take over the world using us as her minions. And you want me to get naked with him.”

  Daisy leaned forward and tried to put her chin in her hand as her elbow slipped on the tabletop. “That’s the whole point. Once he dips, he’ll be yours. He’ll switch sides. He can’t help it.”

  “ ’Cause your hooha glitters,�€