Page 11 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
Of course. Thanks for asking.
Sorry I forgot to text you sooner.
The plane got delayed, and it slipped my mind.
Noé
Yeah. Saw your flight info online.
Théo
Stalker much?
Noé
Always <3 Enjoy the Oregon rain.
Who knows? This trip might change your life. Miss you. TTYL
I grin,realizing that Noé sometimes gets me better than I get myself—and I like that a lot.
Théo
Miss you 2, man. Will keep you posted.
Sliding my phone back into my jacket pocket, I sigh at the very moment that the elevator operator opens the heavy and intricately designed wrought iron inner gate. He’s everything I’d imagined from the surroundings. Clean-shaven. Grey hair. Black and white tailored uniform. His overall demeanor channels vibes from a classical movie when he greets me oh so politely.
I snatch my luggage and step in. My eyes roam the cabin, lined with dark tiles in geometric patterns. I’m twenty-six and no expert, but my curious mind—and a long-standing habit of falling down historical rabbit holes—leads me to peg it as peak Jazz Age opulence. How the owner managed to renovate it while preserving the faint, almost ghostly patina—one that hints at decades of stories—is beyond me.
It’s a sluggish ride up. Doesn’t matter. The smooth glide and polished finish suggest a careful restoration. But whatever drives the thing underneath still carries the weight of its age.
Goosebumps prickle my skin, raising the hairs on my arms. It isn't the chill, but a foolish, excited energy buzzing beneath the surface. The air crackles with an unspoken promise.
Noé’s right. I feel it, too.
This premonition.
Chapter Five
PARADISE CITY
Zagreus
A few weeks ago in New York
Fingers intertwined, I stretch my arms above my head and yawn. “It’s good to be back,” I murmur, although my position isn’t ideal.
Intruding on an NDE isn’t my style, but it’s not like I have a choice. Rose, Nathan’s twenty-something friend, is squeezing his lifeless body. Or so she thinks. She’s not yet privy to the crucial “N” in hisnear-death experience.
My heart thumps inside my chest.
These moments are always disorienting. Invisible and omniscient, I hover just outside of time—an observer hitching a ride through another person’s out-of-body experience.
I once tried to explain it to Charon. I compared it to that scene in the movieGhost,when Patrick Swayze realizes he’s dead and stares down at his own body in disbelief. That’s what this is. Except I’m clinging to Nathan Price’s hand. The famouscalligrapher ’s floating in his own limbo, but can’t escape. Not on my watch.
See, when I saw Nathan, I thought Eros was screwing with me—sending temptation in the form of a painfully attractive human to test my willpower. I mean, look at the guy. Ultra-pale skin, sharp cheekbones, lips too full for his own good. Snow White with a bad attitude. I was convinced that my pent-up lust was doing the talking.
Typical Eros. Claims he’s an expert in all things love and insists everyone has a soulmate waiting somewhere. Hecate warned me he had me in his sights—says he’s trying to fix my “aching heart.” What he refuses to understand is that gods don’thavesouls. So, soulmates? That’s a mortal concept.
