Funkin' Weird: The Record, #5

By Winnie Winkle

Down is up, lore is lie, and when the titans aren't busy boinkin' they're getting buzzed. It's shading weird around here.

 

What's really cookin' my logistical noodle is the immortals. They're dying. Not the most accurate branding, right? I've got a handful of puzzle pieces that don't fit, and a sense of doom that won't quit.

 

What happens when an immortal dies? I wish I knew. As the Keeper, I'm trying to hold the magical and human worlds aligned. I've got a symbiotic book, a partner, and dumb luck. The upheaval in Olympus is tinder for a witch war. My lover's a god who thinks gaming the system is fine, my bestie is a witch ready to toss the Olympians out on their butts, and I've got to save a new magical race that can't find their behinds with both hands and a flashlight. 

 

Then the real deal showed up ready to burn the world to the ground. I'm screwed, and it's only Wednesday.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Winnie Winkle
• Release date: Jul 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985961010

Winnie Winkle

Winnie Winkle is a fabulous Central Florida broad who swills bourbon, likes dogs and cats, and practices yoga, but not with any degree of grace. Supporting live local music is a pretty big deal to Winnie, so if you pass a gravestone that admonishes, 'Go see the band and hit the tip jar', it's probably hers. But, since she's not dead yet, she'll keep penning fun stuff to rock your reading chair. Winnie has lived in Florida for 30 years and splits her time between South Daytona Shores and the Mount Dora area. She prefers writing beach-side as much as she can because, if we’re baring our souls here, the ocean is a mighty muse and there’s only so much that coffee can do. Winnie writes humorous fiction with a new series, "The Record" releasing three titles in 2021 )Boogie Beach, Slat Shaken, Speedo Down). She also released a literary fiction, "To Walk in the World: Twin Tales of Inception in 2021. Winnie also writes (6 books so far)  paranormal and sci-fi romances for the series "The Worlds or Magic, New Mexico".

Book preview

Prologue

Hush little baby don’t say a word, Mama’s going to burn you a brand new world.

Chapter One

T hat makes zero sense. I blinked at Athena, kneeling in a command performance for one, taking place at actual freaking Olympus, a first for me.

Often, the history books got the story right. I stared at blinding white marble with white marble accents.

Monochromatic design at an ethereal level.

Athena’s toga blended; she resembled disembodied legs and arms attached to a pair of no nonsense lavender eyes surrounded by honey blond, waist-length hair.

Yet I assure you, Keeper, they are no longer here, and not functioning in their agreed intermediary roles.

But they’re TITANS. Kinda hard to lose. A single gigantor with an attitude seemed possible, but twelve? At once? And not one place on Earth noticed anything amiss?

An eyebrow arched over an irritated expression.

Dammit, Patra. Stop assuming you know stuff.

Please accept my apologies, goddess. How many are missing?

Four. Two liaise for humanity, one for Olympus, and one works with the magicals. Oceanus and Theia. Hyperion. Tethys.

Did they explain why they left? Were old grievances rising?

"You’re asking me if there’s discord between Titans and Olympians? Athena’s smooth face crinkled in amusement. Oh, Keeper. How you manage…"

Yeah, I know. My longevity puzzles damn near everyone. What I meant was whether any new wrinkles cropped up and caused problems. Or, I held her gaze, is this a byproduct of the great turning?

Athena smoothed her toga. She was the only Olympian who continued to wear one and, with her expanded duties, seeing her garbed in tradition was an odd comfort. A lot changed after the Pixies forced the tip, and based on Athena’s expression, I’m not the only one thinking that particular disruption continues to be a pain. I waited, watching her parse and decide what was pertinent to share with a mere human.

If so, it’s an unusual development, she began. But we stand beyond the first turning since their release from confinement. I cannot say if the old measures still hold the full truth.

So pre-Tartarus imprisonment, no effect. While stuck in the void, nada. Now? Could be uncharted. A topic to dive into the record, ask questions, and see what knowledge my misty friends shook onto the pages.

Have you noticed changes with the remaining eight who continue to liaise and pass information between the worlds?

From my vantage point, the overall sense is of happiness. Getting out of Tartarus, having a meaningful role in the Creation, that was smart Keeper. You impressed me and many others with that stunt.

Thank you. What do you suggest I do? Does anyone know where they're hanging?

Oh, you brought them through and assigned the roles, Keeper. This is your party. I’m informing you that as far as one of our liaisons to Olympus is concerned, Hyperion is MIA.

Crud.

It’s fortunate my dental work is original issue because as I swung into The Boogie to check on Charlie and order booze, the television over the bar stopped me in my tracks, jaw flapping.

This is Sandy Ortega with Channel Six, reporting from Titusville, where an unnamed giant woman is dancing naked in the Indian River near Kennedy Space Center. NASA officials report that due to the disruption, they scrubbed today’s launch. Onlookers expecting to cheer a lift-off got far more than bargained for as this, uh, enormous lady continues gyrating and singing, while sending substantial waves over sea walls and soaking the crowd.

A blink. Gigantic, very curvy, and buck naked, she was a body designed to stay in motion, if Newton knew anything about the lack of inertia. Based on the bounce, I was inclined to believe him. The sunburnt Titusville audience was hollering and chugging beers while cops shrugged. No kidding, officers; this spectacle was way beyond their pay scale.

Regulars, with a few tourists salted in, packed The Boogie’s bar stools, glasses raised and cheering the world’s largest exotic dancer. I read the room, catching a few magical grins interspersed with the rest. Which, I had to admit, was cool.

I added a fish ale tap to the human side and kept magical wines on hand. Nothing fancy, but it fostered small inroads. After hundreds of centuries of ignorance, humans and magicals lived aware of one another. I watched a surfer chat up a witch and grinned. Witches enjoy hotties. He was in for an excellent evening.

Charlie, I guess I’m headed to Titusville.

He burst out laughing. Send Parker; he’d enjoy it more.

Maybe next time.

Parker is my number two. We both keep and chronicle the line between the real and magical worlds with the help of the record, a symbiont book. Plus, we manage a decent library and occasionally step into a shit ton of luck. I hit my office at a trot, laid a palm on the wall to open the door to the magical bar, and slipped inside, eyeing the crowd. A trio of wolves lounged in seats toward the back. Four bears and a few fairies laughed together on the near side. Parker passed a bottle of wine to a couple of elegant Parisian witches visiting for a week, and at the far end, Dionysis. Perfect.

If you’d be amenable to a few questions, Lord Di, you’ll drink free tonight.

Aqua eyes twinkled under a mop of red curls the color of Di’s nose. You speak my language, Keeper. Ask away.

Any idea who’s dancing in the river south of here? I have my suspicions.

Of course I know. She’s cutting quite the, well, not a rug, but doing a number on the river bottom, stirring up old wrecks.

A snort and I crossed my arms.

Pish, Patra. Learn to relax. Your overgrown hippie, as you suspect, is Theia. She’s embracing her inner peace and love, ready to boogie and share it with the world.

NASA loved it, I’m sure.

Ah, you don’t know everything, Keeper. Ever consider this delay might let them find something they missed yesterday?

I collected my jaw again, closed my mouth, and passed him a fresh drink.

Based on my chat with Athena, I need to talk to her. Do you think she’d entertain that?

Oh, you’d have a better chance if you asked if you could join the dance. Free spirit, no rules. If it feels good, do it. You get the drift.

So opening with why did she ditch her liaison job…?

Total non-starter. Dionysis tapped the bar, and I topped him off with a flourish. Di could drink. This conversation might make a dent in tonight’s till, but if I got the facts, it’s money well spent. Gods weren’t easy marks, but occasionally they threw me a few crumbs.

A bold gambit beats a stupid one, so I asked the key question I wanted answered. Where are the other three missing titans?

Oceanus is slithering up on various private islands and scaring the crap out of the super rich. A snarky laugh filled The Boogey. He wants an island for himself, but if I was a betting man, oh wait, Di wiped a twinkling eye with a grin, my money’d be on the fact that he’s enjoying his little shopping spree. It’s not every day a thousand foot serpent shows up on your powder perfect beach and suns his tummy.

Blerg. That fiasco sounded like it was fixin’ to plop on my plate.

Hyperion, Dionysis continued, draining half his drink, is hanging out with Chaos. They’re old friends. Hyp craves order, while Chaos is all about the show. The chaotic cosmos has an otherworldly order, and those two dig on that action.

If that’s the case, Hyp just became my lowest priority. He and Waldo can nerd out without interference for the immediate future.

And my last supersized MIA?

Tethys? I’m surprised she’s not here, Keeper. Ol’ Teth is busting loose. Ain’t no mid-life crisis, Dionysis accepted the fresh drink and inhaled a slug, like a Titan sized, I’ve had enough of these brats and your shit, so I’m living large, one.

Well, she had over 6,000 kids, so I kinda got her point.

Tethys instigated the idea to bail. She’s D O N E done with the whole thing. Theia wants to embrace a blue sky, happy love-child life, and Hyp has rigidity so far up his ass he sucks at liaising. Oceanus is decent at splitting differences, but you parceled out most of the ocean jobs to others, and he’s a nudist, so letting him live on an island somewhere isn’t the worst solution. Which will also work for Tethys, who’s as interested in his overworked dick as she is in drinking Cyclop piss.

So a hundred percent attitude?

No argument from me. Dionysis burped and beamed. I’m feeling good, Keeper. Thanks for the chat and the pours.

Di tapped his head and faded. He could have stayed the entire night, and cost me a pile of gold, so color me surprised. And grateful. Also suspicious.

He’s playing this and enjoying the game. He’s holding back. I can feel it.

Chapter Two

Fists crammed into the small of my back, I leaned and stared, along with what felt like half of Florida, at Theia’s bounding boobage. I tried a wave, but nothing was penetrating her zone of happiness. I’m not being sarcastic; a sense of deep, unbridled joy blew off her skin in waves.

She needs this as much as humans need air.

Di’s words winged around my brain, and I shrugged. Any fear of embarrassment or impropriety hit the beach twenty years ago. What I’ve seen in this crazy job would fill fifty books that I’d never live to write. If busting a move captured her attention, then I’m shaking my ass.

Not my weirdest intercession, trust me.

After a few mesmerizing moments of watching her booty sway above the collecting boats bobbing on her dance floor, I caught her groove.

One, two, grind, bump, shimmy, shimmy, boom. Close enough.

Nothing ventured, right? I jumped onto the seawall and started bumpin’ to the tune in my head, hoping she’d see or sense me before her tidal wave sluiced me into the schools of jumping mullets at the seawall’s base. The aura blasting off Theia was incredible, and I stopped thinking about anything except having a fine time. Sweat poured from my neck and collarbone, soaking the front of my tank top, and the waves took care of my shorts. I was one good breaker from a wet tee shirt contest. Theia obliged.

Whoosh!

Hoards of mullets splashed, tails flapping against my legs, as a fish filled wall of water shot across the seawall into the crowd. Water doesn’t hang around, and the tidal force sucked back to sea as I tumbled, trying to jam my feet against the slick concrete.

Water holds a heavier relationship to gravity than I do, but the undesired splashdown never came. Instead, I slapped like an ungainly fish onto Theia’s palm.

You came to dance with me, Keeper! That’s so totally fucking cool! Big lips squanched on the top of my head, covering my ears. She flattened her hand, creating my new dancefloor, and started to boogie. I rolled, did a downward dog, and popped up, gyrating to nothing but her humming and having a damn good time. Theia walk-danced up river, heading toward New Smyrna Beach, as humans honked their horns, raising beers and hollering. A few police boats followed, bounding in the swells. The energy between Theia and me connected, and her aura glowed. For not having a plan, the result wasn’t too freaking shabby.

To date, my focus lay on the four titans assigned to liaise for humanity. Theia was one of them, so we shared a kernel of a relationship.

Titans are big; think enormous with a side of huge. Unlike Olympians, they can change their appearance, but size reduction doesn’t appear to be in their repertoire. It’s always a neck-strain level event to talk to them. But Theia liked people, which helped. She adored anyone into crystals, spiritualism, fringy interconnectedness, and all things hippie.

As an opening gift, I found a jewelry crafter in Cassadaga and ordered a custom made four hundred foot string of wooden, metal, and stone beads, tied into a necklace, and gave it to her. Instant karmic connection. She spent the afternoon ‘reading’ the stones, sharing their relationships with each other, the metals, and the woods, beaming with delight.

If you’d asked me which titans might bail on being the conduit for humans, Theia was the last one I’d pick. She, in her vernacular, dug the groove. She dance-waded through the river, out into the sea, and headed toward Ponce Inlet. I continued jamming out, keeping the faith. My car, still in Titusville, was a minor issue. A witch could pop me back to retrieve the Beetle.

Where are we going? I hollered as I spun around, busting an epic hip bump.

A deep laugh chortled. I’m taking you home, Keeper. And I believe it’s time for a nice, hydrating beverage.

Once the titans started showing up at The Boogey, Waldo (who brewed our alchemy), Parker, Chelsea, and I yanked the problem around over cocktails as the sun rose. A titan could drink every drip of the magical wine I normally stocked, a two-week supply, in a single night. Chels wasn’t a fan of The Boogey going sans wine for a day, let alone seven plus.

In the other scenario, we’d go a couple moons between titan chug fests, and storing dozens of dust gathering cases was unkind to The Boogey’s cash flow. Gods knew I ate enough bar tabs under normal circumstances. If a titan spaced a tab? Not good.

Glenna came to the rescue with top shelf quality magic. Again.

Here, Keeper, I tweaked a refillable spell to expand a pour’s volume and amplify the alcohol content. She passed me a box containing two special cups. Each heavy glass was etched with the faces of the twelve titans. The velvet lined box also held a handful of filled potion vials. If a titan drinks two titan-sized cocktails, they’ll be feeling fine, but two normal pours for titan will use The Boogey’s entire stock. Drip three drops of potion into the bottle of wine you plan to use; the potion handles the rest after it’s poured into the magic cups. That way, everybody can party.

Holy shit, Glenna.

The party went on, and everybody won, a rare solution. I didn’t care if Glenna ever paid for another drink.

Theia sloshed through the surf and headed onto the shore, plopping her backside in the sand and turning her face westward toward the sun with a beatific smile.

A fruit spritz? I called, sliding off her palm and landing on the beach.

Oh man, that sounds so refreshing. Yes!

I trotted up the staircase to the pier and jogged along the boards. Humans gaped at Theia. Families with small kids and nudity issues were stuffing crap into their cars at top speed, but others waved at the giant beach babe, and a few ambled up and chatted.

If I took a snapshot of how the Triune—AKA my effort to blend the worlds—was growing, this was as accurate as any.

Overall, better. Humanity was never monolithic in their approaches to change, let alone crafting a flipping new world order, but damned if plenty of them weren’t trying.

Pre-turn, the critical play meant getting the humans to move. Now they had a future; what remained fluid was the long-term stability of a myriad of magical entities and immortals. Easy peasy, right?

After we turned, how our lives worked changed for everyone. Triune. Three. Not one, and no laurel resting for Keepers. The job never fucking ends. I palmed in through the magical ship’s door and whipped behind the bar.

What’s that smell, Patra? Parker’s grin repeated on the three bears seated around him.

Yum, smells delicious. One bear inhaled and licked his chops. I’m hungry.

Parker slid a big bowl of anchovy crisps to the bears and sniffed again.

I got swamped by a school of mullets, I muttered, pulling one of Glenna’s special glasses, a prepared titan wine, a pile of fresh strawberries, and a muddle stick, making a juicy paste of fruit, topping with a generous pour of wine and a splash of seltzer. A quick shake and I headed to the large, square window, drink ready to pass.

Got you covered, Theia!

A