Page 17 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
I suppress a chuckle at his cluelessness, but don’t correct him. “Well, you’re here now,” I mutter between gritted teeth.
We approach the embankment, keeping our distance from the crowd.
A familiar figure steps out of his boat, arms crossed and smirking while glancing at the queue. I’m always amazed at how fast Charon is; I never asked how, but I’m guessing his friendship with Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft, serves him well. As for me, I do my best to avoid asking for favors from anyone.
“Zag,” he draws out my name, slow and smug. “What’s this? Another stray? You were supposed to settle the case, not extend it!”
“Not now, Char’, please,” I bark, though the bite’s gone. His tone’s all bait.
“Oh, come on,” he says, tilting his head to look the very alive stranger up and down. “Who’s the wide-eyed wonder?”
“No one,” I say in a tone devoid of emotion, although the man triggers some useless ones that I’m not ready to explore. I can’t deny that the stranger’s hot or that our elevator encounter amused me. But what attracts me the most is the boldness of his theft.
“Wrong! I’m Théodore,” he interjects, his tone sharp. “Théodore Cassel. Who do you thinkyouare?” he taunts. “Any of you gonna explain, or do I have to guess where thehellI am. Hearing you crack jokes while pretending this is all very normal isn’t helping.”
Charon raises his eyebrows at me, clearly delighted by Théodore’s choice of words. “Fiery. I like him… Théodore… Hum… Interesting… Are you aware of the meaning of your first name, sir?” Before Théodore gets a chance to reply, my friend provides, “Gift of God… Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?”
“Ha-ha!” I roll my eyes so far back that I wonder if they’ll get stuck that way. A smile creeps in all the same—the pop reference clicks. On top of her songs, I adored Alanis Morissette—one of my 1990s icons—portraying God inDogma. I love keeping my people up-to-date with the human trends that I notice whenever I walk the Earth. That’s why I wear this stylish outfit.
“You sure you don’t want to hold on to this one?” Charon quips.
I’m about to reply, but a sting flares at the back of my neck.
Ouch!
Wincing at both the jab and the remark, I rub the tender spot. Before I can say more, the intruder’s outrage snaps me back.
“What?” Théodore roars, glaring at Charon while drumming his foot on the sand. The muted thud adds an impromptu rhythm to the conversation. “What are you two talking about?” He scrubs a well-manicured hand down his face. I make out fragments of what he mutters under his breath—“not happening…” and a flicker of defiance beneath it.
When he steadies himself, his glare turns murderous as it travels between Charon and me.
His hesitation to appraise the full extent of the situation is clear in his tone. “Is this some kind of prank? Is someone trying to test me?” His mouth hangs open, cheeks flushing back to life. Charon’s proximity—that puts humans on edge.
“Ignore him.” My command gets Théodore’s full attention, and I begin pacing to calm my frayed nerves. “Listen”—I say while I watch Charon approach—“because of your little… stunt, you’ve landed yourself in a world you can’t understand, and I’m notasking you to. I know damn well you’re not ready for this conversation.”
Théodore stares at me, left brow spiking up. “What are you talking about? Who even are you, Zag?”
Did I hear him right?
I stop dead in my tracks and turn to face him, my expression as serious as I can manage. “That’sPrinceZagreus, son of Hades, to you.” I point at Charon and introduce him. “He’s the ferryman. And this—all of this—is my world. And I’m sorry to inform you that you’re not welcome in it… yet.”
The poor guy scrutinizes me, undoubtedly thinking that I’ve lost my mind. I don’t blame him. But we’re here now, and there’s no going back. Not yet, anyway.
“You’re telling me you guys are Greek gods.” Hooray, he got it! “Like mythical creatures?” he inquires with contempt. “Riiight…”
I gesture with my arm. “What do you think this is, moron?”
My jaw hardens into a hard line. My fists ball, knuckles whitening, tension coiled so tight it threatens to snap.
Oops, I’m handling this all wrong. Keep your cool, Zag!
My eyes burn as the words slam out before I can hold them back. “Look, we’re here becauseyoustole the obol!”—he’ll get the CliffsNotes version, which sends him back to gawking—“I always keep it in my pocket for work purposes.” I don’t elaborate on how the elevator can venture here when a soul is ready. I’ve said too much, but I can’t stop. “Without one, nobody can stumble into this realm...” I pause for effect and add, “Dead or alive!”
Of course, Charon coughs. Eyebrow up, I shoot him a sideways glance. “Enough,” I warn him, knowing full well that he’s thinking about Nathan, our own Schrödinger human, who’s back where he belongs.
Soon, Théodore will be, too.
Charon zips it, and I sigh in satisfaction until the human speaks again, raising his voice.
