Chapter Seven
There was something definitely wrong, and from the sounds of it, the plumbing had finally given up its reason for existence.
Sobek stood on Rudy’s front porch, alerted by what sounded like a small waterfall cascading through the walls, and knocked on the door, hard.
When no one answered immediately, he tried the door - unlocked, naturally, because Rudy had the survival instincts of a particularly trusting duckling - and let himself in.
“Rudy?” Sobek tried not to yell. He didn’t want to startle his mate.
“I know, I know.” Rudy’s voice echoed from somewhere upstairs, edged with panic. “I’m trying to fix it.”
Water poured down the staircase in a steady stream. Rose sat halfway up, splashing her hands in the impromptu indoor river with delighted giggles. Jack hovered near the top landing, eyes wide and worried, while Timothy stood frozen at the bottom, scales visible along his forearms.
Sobek’s crocodile side immediately cataloged threats: water damage to the structure, electrical hazards if it reached outlets, distress in his mate and hatchlings. He scooped Timothy up with one arm - the scales vanished the moment Sobek touched him - and pointed at Rose.
“Kitchen. Now.”
Rose’s lower lip jutted out. “But the waterfall…”
“Kitchen.”
She scrambled down the stairs, surprisingly obedient. Jack followed without being told, though his gaze kept darting back toward the bathroom where frantic splashing and creative cursing continued.
Sobek deposited Timothy at the kitchen table next to his siblings. “Stay here, please. Let me help Rudy.”
Three heads nodded in unison and Sobek had to trust they’d stay out of harm’s way. He needed to find where the water was coming from.
The upstairs bathroom resembled a disaster zone.
Water sprayed from beneath the sink in high-pressure arcs, soaking everything within a six-foot radius.
Rudy knelt in the flood, both hands clamped around a pipe that seemed to be spouting new holes every second, his hair was plastered to his forehead, and his T-shirt was clinging to his frame in ways that made Sobek’s crocodile side extremely interested despite the crisis.
“The shut-off valve is stuck,” Rudy said through gritted teeth. “I can’t…it won’t…” His hands slipped, and water sprayed directly into his face. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”
Sobek could fix the problem with a thought. One tiny pulse of power and every pipe in the house would work perfectly for the next century. But Rudy was right there, soaking wet and gorgeous and absolutely not leaving him alone long enough to use obvious magic.
Think like a mortal. What would a mortal do?
“Let go of the pipe.”
“If I let go, the entire bathroom will flood even faster.”
“Rudy. Let go.”
Those blue eyes flashed with something between relief and exasperation, but Rudy released his death grip and scrambled backward.
Sobek took his place, wrapping both hands around the pipe.
Being so close to the problem, he could feel the source - a corroded joint that had finally given up, threads stripped, and the seal was completely shot.
“Where’s your main water shut-off?” Sobek asked.
“Basement. But the valve is…”
“Stuck. Yes.” Sobek stood, water cascading off his clothes. “Stay here. Keep pressure on that pipe as best you can.”
“Wait, you can’t just…”
But Sobek was already moving, taking the stairs two at a time. In the kitchen, three small faces tracked his progress.
“Is Rudy okay?” Jack asked, fur beginning to sprout along his jawline.
“He’s fine. Take deep breaths and please stay where you are.”
The basement was cluttered with boxes, Christmas decorations, and what seemed to be an ambitious graveyard of fitness equipment.
Sobek located the main shut-off valve behind a stack of paint cans and gripped it.
The valve didn’t budge. Years of rust had essentially welded it in place, and a mortal would need tools, WD-40, possibly divine intervention… Which I have, but cannot use.
Sobek pulled out his phone and clicked on the Paulie app. Typing quickly, because he didn’t want to be overheard, he asked, How do I unstick a rusted shut-off valve without magic when my mate is upstairs drowning, and I need to prove I’m useful?
The app chimed immediately, Paulie’s voice emerging from the speaker with suspicious cheerfulness.
“Sobek, Lord of the Crocodiles, what an interesting request. To answer your question: apply penetrating oil, wait fifteen minutes, and then use a pipe wrench with steady pressure. Alternatively, hit it with a hammer and hope for the best.”
“I don’t have fifteen minutes,” Sobek hissed.
“Then I suggest the hammer method. There’s usually one near a water heater. Oh, and Lord Sobek? Trying to court a human without using magic is hilarious. The almighty Zeus asked me to pass on a message next time you called, thanking you for the entertainment.”
Zeus was too damn cocky sometimes. Just because he’d embraced technology and set up the Zeus Network and the Paulie app, it was as if he now used them to keep an eye on what every other god in existence was doing. “How comforting.”
Sobek found the hammer, returned to the valve, and positioned himself carefully. One hit, precisely calculated for maximum force without breaking the valve stem…The valve turned. Water pressure throughout the house died immediately and upstairs, the waterfall sounds ceased.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Rudy’s voice carried down. “Whatever you did, it worked.”
Sobek climbed back upstairs where Rudy still knelt in the flooded bathroom, soaked completely through, looking simultaneously exhausted and relieved.
“The main’s off,” Sobek said. “But you’ll need a plumber to fix the pipe properly.”
“Do you know how much plumbers charge on weekends?” Rudy slumped against the bathtub. “I’d have to sell a kidney. Maybe two.”
Sobek’s crocodile side bristled at the thought of his mate doing without, struggling, going into debt for basic necessities. Mine. My mate must be provided for.
“I can fix it.”
Rudy’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “You know plumbing?”
“I can learn.” Sobek pulled out his phone again, ignoring Rudy’s confused expression. “What’s broken?”
“The compression fitting under the sink completely stripped. The whole assembly needs replacing, and I don’t even know what size… Are you googling ‘how to fix a pipe’?”
“YouTube, actually.”
Rudy laughed. “You’re serious.”
“Your options are trust me to figure this out, pay a plumber’s weekend rates, or live without running water until at least Monday, possibly longer.”
“When you put it that way...” Rudy hauled himself upright, wringing out his shirt with limited success. “Okay. Let’s see what YouTube has to say about my disaster pipes.”
/~/~/~/~/
Twenty minutes later, Sobek had watched three plumbing tutorials, ordered parts through the Paulie app for immediate delivery - because Zeus’s magic could at least handle shipping - and was attempting to dry out the bathroom while Rudy corralled the children.
“No, Rose, you cannot drink the sink water.”
“But it’s right there.”
“It’s contaminated with rust and possibly the souls of damned pipes. Kitchen. Go.”
Small feet thundered down the stairs. Sobek squeezed excess water from the bathmat, hyperaware of Rudy hovering in the doorway.
“You really don’t have to do this,” Rudy said quietly. “I can figure something out. Call someone during the week when rates are better.”
“I want to help.”
“Yeah, but…” Rudy gestured vaguely at the destruction. “This is a whole thing. You’ve already done so much, and I realized earlier we hadn’t even gotten to the exchange phone number stage, so that I could properly thank you, or like, coordinate disaster management.”
Something warm spread through Sobek’s chest at the implication that Rudy wanted his number, wanted sustained contact beyond random visits. He recited the digits, watching Rudy tap them into his phone with wet fingers.
“There,” Rudy said, sending a test message that made Sobek’s phone chime. “Now I can bother you properly. Fair warning, I text like I talk. Which is to say, a lot, and mostly nonsense.”
“I look forward to it.”
Rudy’s cheeks flushed pink, which Sobek guessed had nothing to do with exertion, but might have had something to do with the way Sobek’s voice had dropped half an octave without permission.
His crocodile side was being particularly unhelpful today, focused entirely on the wet T-shirt situation and how much he wanted to wrap around their mate and never let go.
A crash from downstairs shattered the moment.
“I do hope that’s not my one good lamp.” Rudy bolted for the stairs.
Sobek followed, arriving in the kitchen to find Jack standing rigid in the center of the room, breathing hard.
Fur covered both his arms up to the elbows, and his eyes held a wild, frightened edge.
Rose and Timothy huddled behind the overturned kitchen chair - the source of the crash - watching their brother with worried expressions.
“Jack?” Rudy was still in the living room. “Buddy, it’s okay. Whatever happened…”
“I didn’t mean to.” Jack’s voice broke. “The chair just fell, and I got scared and…” He stared at his fur-covered arms with growing horror.
Sobek acted on instinct, stepping between the kitchen door and Jack and crouching to the boy’s eye level. “Jack. Look at me.”
The pup’s gaze snapped to his.
“You’re safe. Your family is safe. Nothing bad is happening.” Sobek kept his voice low, steady, the same tone he’d use with a spooked hatchling. “This is normal. This is fine. Take a breath.”
“But Rudy will see…”
“Rudy’s right behind me, distracted by the lamp situation. Breathe, Jack. In for four counts.”
Jack sucked in air, chest heaving.
“Hold for four.”
The pup held it, eyes locked on Sobek’s.
“Out for four. Good. Again.”
Behind him, Rudy’s voice drifted closer. “Is everyone okay? Nothing’s broken?”
“Everyone’s fine,” Sobek called back without turning. “Jack got startled when the chair fell. We’re just calming down.”