TITLE: Jake, Son of Zeus
When the idea of giving up his immortality first came to the front of Jake's mind, it seemed to have been waiting there his whole life, just behind M.A.S.H. reruns and the words to The Brady Bunch theme song.
It meant that he could have romantic nights uninterrupted by self-important jinn.
He could go home knowing he would never again find pixies in his daughter's swing set or trickets in his shoes.
He could be mortal, free.
But not yet.
Now, Jake was standing stiffly between two tall rows of bookcases, breathing bubble-gum scented air. He looked down the empty aisle.
He was probably about to die, but he shifted his stack of books to his other arm and walked to the end of the shelves anyway.
He tried to hum a Christmas carol, hoping that the sound would keep him calm. He used to drive Rachel crazy with Christmas carols, and he'd stamped out that habit so long ago that he couldn't bring a single tune to mind.
No one was there.
Jake turned back, knowing what would be waiting with dark eyes and perfect peach skin between the two walls of books. He could feel the thrumming anxiety in his chest that meant the other world was near.
Thirty years of running and hiding from them had taught him that running and hiding worked only half the time. The other half, you were possessed or electrocuted or shoeless until help came.