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Halo of Stars - Cin and Gui (Book 3): Delta Underground Operatives, page 1
HALO OF STARS
DELTA UNDERGROUND OPERATIVES
CIN & GUI
BOOK THREE
N.A. GROTEPAS
Halo of Stars
Cin & Gui: Book 3
Delta Underground Operatives
Copyright © 2024 by N.A Grotepas
v2.12.24
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Book Cover: JoY Design Studio
Format: Crimson Sun Graphics
CONTENTS
The Authors of DUO
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
More DUO Titles
Acknowledgments
For my soulmate
THE AUTHORS OF DUO
Sarah Noffke
Jamie Davis
Kimbra Swain
N. A. Grotepas
Kat Healy
Scott Walker
Jenn Mitchell
S. W. Clarke
Mel Todd
Ben Zackheim
INTRODUCTION
The agents of Delta Underground Operatives have one critical mission: Keep magic secret. Humans are not ready to know that the creatures from their dreams are real. They’re even less prepared to fight the monsters from their nightmares.
When the gods were killed, Alder Shaw — the sole surviving demigod — established DUO to protect the status quo, solve the mystery of the gods’ fates, and safeguard the Puddle, the last reservoir of divine magic. Aided by twin witches Maven and Moxie, Shaw paired up beings of magic who resonated with each other. In tandem with the Puddle, these individuals now enjoy access to a second set of abilities, making them tough to beat.
These beings are the agents of DUO.
Following are the case files of DUO agents:
ACCESS RESTRICTED
File Codename: Halo of Stars
Agents: Cin & Gui
All information is for Your Eyes Only
CHAPTER ONE
CIN
Bastet thought my lap was fair game when I sat cross legged on the floor to meditate.
With my eyes closed, sinking deep within to sort my stuff, I did my best to ignore the furry lump curled up and purring in my lap.
Nothing ever got sorted. Not truly. What I usually did was try not to fall asleep. It was frustrating when that happened because I really had a lot to sort.
I didn’t even want to think about all the shit I needed to sort, which defeated the purpose of what I was trying to do right from the outset. Why sit in half lotus and torture myself if I wasn’t going to actually do any sorting?
I took a deep breath and counted backwards from fifteen. When I get to zero, I will be in alpha brainwaves.
This countdown method was a technique Audrey had taught me years ago to help me manage the grief of losing certain people. I didn’t use it back then because I was stubborn. I was finally accepting that maybe I needed to er, sort myself. Maybe I was an adult after all, and if not wise, then at least somewhat enlightened.
*laughs to self*
5…4…3…2…1…0
Alright… here we are. In this nice, very nice, meditative state. I am floating inside myself. I am so relaxed. Mmmm. This is so nice.
“It’s best that a new day begins…shedding the fantasy…oh if it’s over…let me go love…”
I’m not singing that song… probably his best song.
I don’t even like Michael McDonald. Malcolm likes him. Well, all right, I admit he’s kind of good. Soulful. Maybe I do like him. What’s the point in lying to myself? Yes. I accept it. I like Michael McDonald, for Pete’s sake.
You’re avoiding thinking about the things you need to process.
That’s true, I am.
This is the Socratic method, in your thoughts.
I know. It works, don’t explain it to me. I’m very OK with the process, now that it’s started.
So listen, no one else will save you and unless you want very expensive therapy, you can’t just avoid all this shit.
I know, that’s why I’m here, to go over it and to feel it in my amygdala again, to feel the pain and the fear and then to talk myself through it. That’s what I heard processing is from a licensed neuropsychologist once and it sounds right.
So you saw what? An angel get his head chopped off?
Yes.
Sounds horrible. But you didn’t love him, did you?
No, but I don’t think that has anything to do with it. He’d just kissed me. Then he tried to kill me. I didn’t hate the guy, and though no one deserves to get their head chopped off, it was all very nightmarish, if you must know. Pursued romantically and then tricked by someone you started to allow into your life.
Go on. What did you feel, then? Tell me about it.
I wanted to cry but I didn’t. There wasn’t time for it, so I vomited instead. I was also relieved, because then it meant he wouldn’t come after me again. Running from someone who’s kissed you like that… well, it’s kind of a nightmare. It is the thing that nightmares are made of—the lie of safety. The breach of trust. It’s haunting.
And you feel…?
Guilty, for being relieved that he was killed.
I can see how that would arouse guilt.
I was also glad that it was out of Gui’s hands. He wanted to save Julius. That’s his nature. But… I wanted Gui to feel so protective of me, to feel so outraged about what Julius had done that Gui judged him unworthy to live. Those feelings make me feel guilty too—that I wanted something like that, for someone else to look out for me. For a man to be stronger than me and then to do something to protect me with his strength.
There’s nothing wrong with these admissions. Feelings are feelings. Besides, is it wrong to admit weakness, to be weak, to want protection? No. The answer to that is no.
Thank you. Yes. And Gui is beautiful. He’s unlike me in many ways. He is kindness and I am, well, murderous feelings. I want to destroy the things that hurt people. Gui wants to save them.
You are different, yes, but also… similar. Do you see the ways you’re similar?
Not really. There’s no way for him to understand me. There is no way for me to understand him. He makes me want to be better, but… he also makes me feel inadequate. For Gui to be with me, he would be settling.
These feelings will pass. You’ve blocked yourself from Gui. He’s blocked you from him. You both felt too much pain where you intersected.
Whatever this voice was implying with that idea almost pulled me out of the meditation. I intersect with Gui? I wasn’t sure what that meant. And how were we blocking each other from each other?
I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. That sounds like nonsense. You’re supposed to be me.
I paused. I looked for the source of the idea, of the voice. Was it me? I was still getting used to the sensation of multiple internal voices that represented different aspects of my psyche.
Who is this? Is this me? Talking to me?
Open the connection, Cin. Let him in, open your heart, and you will see how similar you are.
Socratic method my ass. Someone else has hijacked this brainwave. Get off this frequency. This isn’t a free-for-all CB radio party. This is my brain and you’re not welcome.
Let him in, Cin. Clear the blockage. The more you both open up to each other, the more gorgeous your partnership will be.
I don’t know who you are, but you’re nuts.
I opened my eyes, feeling chills roll over my body repeatedly like… I don’t know. Like someone had opened a window and a cold wind was kissing my skin.
“What’s wrong?” Bastet asked, looking up at me. “You’re not done yet, are you? I just got comfortable.”
“Alright, cat, but I had to end that session. It got too weird,” I said in a hushed voice.
She climbed out of my lap and I got up to make some tea. Was that normal? I’d only just started meditating two months ago and hadn’t yet had such a vivid experience of an internal conversation going off on its own tangent. I’d been planning to also practice some focusing and visualization skills during the meditation, but…
As I filled the kettle with water and put it on the burner, I fidgeted with my lip and glanced around the room suspiciously. What if I was going crazy? Would I know I was going crazy? Would there be signs of it?
“Why do you have crazy eyes rig
My familiar asking me about crazy eyes was probably the final straw. In what stack, though? The stack of straw about my sanity or the final straw that she was too smart, too humanized, and I’d done a horrible thing in enchanting her in the first place?
She was mine. We were each other’s.
“No reason,” I said, giving her a soft smile. “Who told you about crazy eyes? You’re learning too fast.” If I started admitting that I felt crazy, people—including cats—would start believing me. It was settled: the only way to combat crazy was to never show a single crack in your facade. I mean, in your face. Calling it a facade implied that it was an act and that I was crazy. But it wasn’t an act and I wasn’t crazy.
Bastet blinked and settled on her haunches. She’d climbed onto the table to indicate that she was ready for dinner.
I wasn’t ready to give her food. The kettle was whistling, so I grabbed the tin of Harney and Sons tea and pulled a beautiful, shimmering sachet out. Cinnamon spice wafted from the tin and spread through the room, sending a wisp of comfort up my arms and into my heart.
“Time for dinner, Cin,” Bastet said, licking her paw, then staring pointedly at me with her golden orbs.
Those lantern eyes did me in.
I grabbed a can of her food so she could see I was on it, but instead of opening it and feeding her right away, I poured boiling water over the tea sachet.
“Dinner’s coming, little girl,” I said. Outside the wind began to howl against the window. Thunder clapped and a spray of rain clattered against the pane of glass over the green sofa. The afghan draped across the back of the couch immediately began calling my name. Cin, it said. Ciiiiiiin. Wouldn’t it be so nice to curl up beneath me? Have a drink of tea and read a book?
Yes, it would. Imagining blankets tempting me with comfort was probably not a good sign.
“I hate thunder,” Bastet said, jumping down and trotting into my room.
“Hey, where you going, cat? Dinner!” I called toward my bedroom.
“I changed my mind. I’m not hungry,” her diminutive voice answered, barely audible over another clap of thunder.
I put the kettle down, opened the can of her food, and dished it onto the plate.
While my tea steeped, I went into the bedroom. Bastet’s head was buried between the pillows on my bed. As I got closer, she wiggled deeper into the space between the pillows.
“Come on, cat. I’ll protect you from the thunder.”
“You can’t,” her muffled voice said. “I’ll always be able to hear it.”
“Well, thankfully, it’s just a reaction of light. There’s nothing it can do to you.”
I laid down on the bed beside her, propping my head against a pillow. I rested my hand on her back. She was purring, but it was the kind of purring a cat does to comfort itself, like its mother did when it was a kitten.
She stayed buried as the storm rumbled on. It had been a few days since Audrey looked into a crystal ball and told me what she saw coming my way—three revelations and a dark path that would tax me, but would supposedly make me have gorgeous wings, as though I wanted wings. I didn’t want wings. And I didn’t want to be blindsided by some revelation about Athena knew what.
Outside my bedroom, the tea went cold and I thought for a while about the blanket out on the sofa, calling my name, and the book I wanted to be reading, and the tea I wished I was drinking.
I tried to ignore my curiosity about who the hell had been talking to me during my meditation, but I couldn’t. It was there.
Despite this and other things calling to me, I didn’t leave Bastet’s side.
“You need to get on that job,” Audrey said the next morning as I sauntered into the front part of the shop. She was already sitting at her typical roost. A couple technicians were in the very front of Books replacing the glass on the front door and the three large panes that had been shattered two weeks prior.
A cold breeze blew through the shop. I paused just inside the shop near the crystal balls. Halloween was only a week away, but there wasn’t a lick of fun holiday spirit around.
Not in my bones, anyway. All the joy of the best holiday of the year had been sucked away by the shadow wraith murdering some of Sheri and Jenn’s best friends.
Well, if not best friends, at least friends, or maybe just acquaintances. The memory of the Dumpster crushing them during the battle, the kiss Julius the creep had stolen, and the interruption of the fun Thriller flash mob seemed to somehow really drain Halloween of its fun obsession with the casual macabre.
I wasn’t one to get into Sheri’s typical “events” but all the death and mayhem had left a sour taste in my mouth.
“What job?” I asked absently, rubbing my arms and shivering. Bastet, who had followed me down from our apartment, jumped up onto the counter and began sauntering around with her tail held proud and tall.
“The book at the order’s headquarters.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. I needed my denim jacket, or a sweater. “I don’t think I’ll do it, Auds,” I said.
Malcolm stood up suddenly in the center of the space the cash counter surrounded.
“Jeez Louise. A little warning, demon,” I said, clutching my chest. He’d been sitting on the floor counting something on the shelf under the cash register.
“What are you talking about, Cin? Are you retiring?” The demon asked. He wore his Jean Luc Picard glamour, but I still called him demon. The technicians didn’t seem to notice.
Audrey wrapped her puffy shawl tighter around her shoulders. “We could use some coffee and someone talking sense into you. A few mishaps is no reason to stop doing your bread and butter. And I need that tome.”
“A few mishaps?” I let out a loud, hollow laugh as I approached the counter and began petting my cat.
“You’ve never been this bothered by death before, Cin,” Audrey observed, giving me a shrewd look.
“Those were vampires and demons,” I said automatically, then glanced at the technicians again who still didn’t notice the conversation. “Of course I didn’t care.”
“Well, death and battles and the like are just facts of life. They’re no reason to live in a shell,” Audrey said.
Malcolm walked around the counter and came to stand beside me, where he wrapped one arm around me. “Don’t let Audrey’s steel get to you. If what happened is still bothering you, that just means you’re human and you have a heart.”
“What are you saying, lover?” Audrey asked, tilting her chin down and shooting Malcolm a look over the top of her spectacles.
He didn’t let go of me while he gave Audrey a sweet smile. “The chill in your heart is one of the things I love most about you, lover,” he said.
“That’s more like it,” she said. “Now then, Cin. That book. Come over here. Come. Look at this.” She tapped the page of the tome she was currently studying.
Despite my irritation at her disapproval, my curiosity got the better of me. I patted Malcolm on the back, grateful for his support, then walked over to look at what Audrey wanted to show me.
“This here is referencing the book I need you to ‘recover.’”
I heard the quotes around recover.
It was a handdrawn sketch of a series of light rituals. There were three shapes that the wizard was meant to make in the air and the words they were meant to say at each direction. When performed, it would create a powerful protection spell that could be charged into a crystal, then worn and discharged when needed. In a battle, I guessed.
“There should be four shapes,” I said. “What’s the fourth?”
Audrey nodded. “Exactly. That’s what I hope to find in the grimoire I need you to get. I’ve tracked it down to the Library of the Qabalists. We should be grateful it’s not being stored in the stacks at Oxford or somewhere equally difficult to get to. You could use this one, Cin. It’s not coded just for witches or magicians, that means sorcerers can use it as well.”
“So? I can use lots of protection spells.”
“Cin,” Audrey said, shaking her head and looking at me with wonderment. “Didn’t you see this note here?” She touched a hand-scrawled group of letters in black ink.
“No, it’s written in Hebrew. I can’t read Hebrew.”
