I can’t tell you about him. I’ll just say he had a bit of supernatural protection that kept him safe. When I was approached about the job, Gaia wanted me to be muse of the Internet.”
“The whole Internet?”
“Exactly. I told her it was impossible. Rather than do a half-assed job, I just flat-out refused.”
Amber took a sip of tea. “I can’t say I blame you.”
“Well, I hadn’t anticipated my husband giving up his immortality, but he begged Mother Nature to take it away. He refused to go on living for centuries after my death. While he was human, I had to worry about everything! His job fighting fires. His commute. Heck, he could have gotten the flu or slipped in the bathtub and drowned. It was intolerable, especially knowing I could change it.
“Finally, Gaia and I were able to come to a compromise. I would become the muse of email only. Drake took back his immortality when I received mine.” She looked down at her baby bump. “At least we were able to conceive while we were both human, so that much was worth the stress.”
Amber tried to sort it out. “So, it was more stressful being human?”
“Absolutely,” Bliss said.
“And your job?”
“I’m a greeting card designer,” Bliss said. “I still enjoy that, but when I get a psychic 911 that someone is about to send an obnoxious email, I can just excuse myself for a moment if there are humans around—run to the bathroom, then pop in behind the idiot and whisper, ‘You don’t want to send that yet.’ As soon as he or she decides to reword or just hit Delete, my job is done and I can go home.”
“But with all the email and all the, pardon me, idiots in the world, aren’t you flat-out busy all the time?”
Bliss laughed. “Brandee said I’d like you.” She shook her head and sipped her tea. “It’s not as bad as you’d think.”
“What about those who hit the Send button before you can stop them, or do it despite your best efforts?”
Bliss shrugged. “It happens. Then they learn from the consequences of their own actions. If a person is determined to self-destruct, they’ll find a way. No one can save everyone , especially from themselves.”
“Hmmm…” Amber had been thinking that failure wasn’t an option. But all that seemed to be required was her best effort. If that weren’t enough, it wouldn’t be her fault.
At that moment Gaia appeared in a chair that had been vacant a moment before. Everyone in the restaurant was frozen and silent.
Bliss muttered, “Uh-oh…”
Gaia rose and didn’t stop until she hovered a few inches above the floor. “Muse of email, are you out of your mind?”
“Uh…no. I may have made a tiny mistake, but I’m not insa—”
“Oh?” Gaia roared. “Tiny? Is that what you call it when you violate my number one edict?”
Amber hadn’t seen this side of the goddess, and her hand shook as she raised it. “Um… May I ask a question?”
Gaia paused, then said, “You’re right. You need to know what that rule is so you don’t accidentally screw up—unlike this one who knows better.” She pointed to Bliss with her thumb.
Can she read my mind? Now Amber was shaking visibly.
Gaia glared at Bliss. “Paranormals are not to reveal the paranormal world to humans without my permission. That means discussing supernatural business in public places. Conclude your business immediately and find a more appropriate place to meet.”
The goddess disappeared, and normal conversation resumed among the relaxed tearoom patrons.
“Let’s go.” Bliss rose.
“Don’t we have to pay for our order?”
“My best friend is the manager. She says my money is no good here.” Bliss grinned.
Amber couldn’t believe Bliss was grinning so soon after being chewed out by the most powerful being on earth. She herself was still reeling from the encounter.
“I think I know all I need to at this point,” Amber said as they wound their way to the front door. I like the idea of saying no, and I