Page 29 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
For example, nowadays, people text rather than call, which I regret because it’s a pleasure to hear Théo’s husky voice. It’s always laced with a hint ofje ne sais quoi, expressing some kind of irritation. As if he’s been interrupted, and it’s bothering him. The other day, Simon called him out on it and claimed that it’s because of his French heritage. How dare he make assumptions aboutmyThéo!
“Zagreus—” Nathan acknowledges me, but one word is enough to put me on high alert; calling’s a first.
Cutting him off, I pace closer to the railing and adjust the right earbud. “What’s the matter? You text, never call.”
“Well, hello to you, too, my friend.” His teasing tone eases my sudden alarm, but there’s something off in it as well.
“Right, hello… Sorry, you know I suck at… um…”—I lower my voice to prevent attracting attention—“… human interactions.” My statement earns me a throaty chuckle. “Seriously, though, what’s up? I’m glad you called—I was about to reach out myself. But since you never call, I’m guessing now’s probably not the best time to ask for a favor.” As I say the words, it hits me—Nathan’s creativity is my rock, my only chance to keep Hidden Shadows to myself and protect my favorite con artist from himself. Two birds, one stone. I tuck away the idea for later. “What have you been up to? You’re spiraling?” I halt. “Again?”
Nathan’s trip to the Underworld had been a blessing for him. Suddenly, he embraced his desire to live and fight his struggles. With that, we built a long-distance friendship, strengthened by daily updates on “the situation” back East. The only check-ins he missed were due to his rehab center policy. Even miles apart, staying connected to monitor the potential witchcraftdisturbance and to support him was one reason I got a phone in the first place.
Things haven’t been smooth between him and his friend, Rose, but he’s kept a level head. So, he checked himself into rehab—only I was aware. Overcoming a years-long addiction takes guts and grit, and he shared every win and setback with me throughout the process.
“I’m not. Thanks for the vote of confidence!” he shoots back, sharp and defensive. “Something’s…” he stammers, a crack in his usual composure. “It’s… well, something’s off. Like when we met. You get it, right?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yeah. Rose?”
A pause. A second of static. Of panic? “Kinda… I haven’t seen her in a while. Because of the fallout we had and my… issues, I made myself scarce, but something’s going on…” I hear a loud, exhausted sigh, then his words rush out. “Listen, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I can sense it. Maybe it’s my visit to your place that strengthened my awareness of the bizarre…”
A chill settles over me. When Rose brought Nathan back, the powers she unleashed threatened the balance between good and evil. I’m well-aware it’s been teetering for a while, but she has a bigger role in the grand scheme of things. That’s also why Nathan is watching her and updating me. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m telling you, there’s something coming. Something bigger. Something bad …”
I glance towards the ocean, where seagulls settle on a boulder as I gather my thoughts. “How can I help?”
“Rose’s not the villain here… She’s been working to master her craft, but something’s at play. She’s at her boyfriend’s house in Provincetown. I talked to him, and he confirmed some of my suspicions. While I was gone, some serious shit went down in our group of friends. I’m on my way there.” Oh, he’s in the car! He must have me on speaker. No wonder it felt off, and the urgency in his tone proves calling was better than texting. “I should check on them, see if I can help. I was wondering… In case we’re outnumbered or need backup…” He trails off, so I urge him to continue. If I’m expected to pull something off, I’d rather find out now. “You’ve got…peopledown there, right? I’m worried we’re up against something ancient—real evil. So, with your network, maybe you can lend some support. Isn’t that why your father sent you along?”
I clear my throat. “He did, but it’s not that simple. I can’t unleash the damned to fight whatever’s loose on Earth—especially if we have no clue what we’re up against.” I narrow my eyes as if he can see me. “This isn’t some game where you snap your fingers and a team of meatheads shows up to save the day. These are—were—people, Nathan.” I press the word, unsure of his understanding of the afterlife. “They’re lost souls. Condemned.”
“Didn’t you say you were the god of redemption and rebirth?”
“I wish it was that simple.” Despite his snark, I manage to rein in the simmering bite in my tone. “Not every soul is fit for either. When magic’s involved, caution is key.”
“Doomed souls? Why bring those back? Why not send souls that haven’t crossed the River Styx? They could serve as preternatural backups if we need them. And once humankind is safe, their memory could be erased, so they rejoin their fate in the Underworld.” He sighs, and I can hear his frustrationbleeding through. “I’m not asking for a miracle, Zagreus. I’m asking for a lifeline—in case we have no other choice.”
I run a hand through my hair, the weight of his words settling in my chest. “Alright,” I say after a beat. I’m impressed with how his drug-free brain works, which only emphasizes his melodramatic request.
Thank gods, he doesn’t witness my eyes rolling!
Assessing the situation is indeed my responsibility here. “Listen, I don’t doubt your instincts, but I need evidence; otherwise, my father will go ballistic. You might be getting all worked up for nothing.”
On the other end of the line, Nathan whispers something between clenched teeth, then grumbles. I don’t care enough to ask him to repeat himself. He will if he finds it useful.
Rubbing my stubbled chin between my thumb and index finger, I have an epiphany. “Or you might have a point. Like I said, witchcraft involves caution, and I know exactly the right person for the job. Here’s how it’s gonna work: I’m going to go back to see my father. I have to give him an update anyway, but I’ll talk to my best friend, Hecate, and ask her to come back with me.” I lower my voice again, covering my mouth with my crooked hand. Everyone around me is minding their own business, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. “She’s the goddess of witchcraft, magic, and crossroads. If there’s someone who can help out in this situation, that’s her. She has the ability to control spirits.”
“Okay, great. I don’t need the specifics. Remember, we agreed wiping my memory might not be a good thing? Well, I don’t want to jinx things and have some of your friends come after me for knowing too much.” He sounds marginally calmer, buttension lurks beneath. “Do your thing; I trust you. Protect my brain. It’s damaged enough, so no need to fuck it up further, right?”
I bark out a hearty laugh at the conclusion of his monologue. “Right… I see your point, man. Chillax!”
Does anyone use that expression anymore, or was it from before I returned home in the 90s? He doesn’t call me out on it, so it must be right.
“I promise I’ll behave. No shortcuts. No side deals. No shenanigans… I’ll wait for your instructions before I make a move. Thanks for doing this.”
“Don’t thank me just yet. We have to figure out what’s going on before my father can give his blessing. I won’t act unless he approves. Too much is at stake when the Underworld gets involved… It’s… complicated.”
I hear brakes and muffled voices, so I wait. Then he says, “You ever think about that?” His voice is a whisper now. “The balance between good and evil?”
“All the time,” I admit, my tone softening. “It’s the hardest part of my job, and quitting isn’t an option. It’s what haunts me most nights.”
