Page 18 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
“That doesn’t add up. Admit it, you drugged me, and you brought me here to test me. Now you?—”
“Shut up!” Charon and I yell in unison. I gently request that my friend return to his obligations.
Before my friend leaves, he insists I promise I’ll handle this fast—no loose ends.
Eyes trained on the human, I oblige.
The corner of my mouth quirks up when he, too, massages the back of his neck, mimicking my earlier gesture… Odd, unless he’s mimicking me…
Nah, no mortal would dare, right?
I discard the thought until my gut tells me that something else is at play here, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. His eyes become unfocused for a mere second. I’m surprised I caught it. His face brightens with a lazy, almost seductive smile.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Charon declares, amusement evident in his tone, as his stare bounces between the human and me.
WTF?
Is he privy to something I’m not? What am I missing here? It bothers me since I tend to be perceptive.
Despite the lulling waves of the River Styx, the presence of the human is messing with my head, and now isn’t the time to question my smartass friend.
Granted, some would refer to the waves as churning and restless, as if tormented souls stirred beneath the surface, but they have a soothing effect on me. So, I decide to play it cool. “Thanks. I’ll get back here as soon as I can.”
“Sure…” He pauses. “Take good care of our little human first.” I can’t decipher what prompted his sudden patronizing tone.
Théodore Cassel is losing his shit, and I have to take responsibility. I wish I could soothe the panic radiating from him. I know it’s a lot to take in, and I’m relieved that Charon doesn’t stick around.
Nathan’s uncanny detachment rattled me—made sense later, when he confessed he was steeped in myths and legends—and swore by every word. Because of his in-between state, I couldn’t alter what he saw, but I wasn’t worried. For all I know, once cured, Nathan might attribute the hallucinations to his addiction.
Unfortunately,MonsieurCassel stands on the other side of the spectrum, alive and kicking.
I look back at him, taking his hands in mine. Staring at our laced fingers, my heart races. WTF?
“Look, Théodore, you need to relax and trust me on this, okay?” I don’t give him the opportunity to form an opinion. He has no reason to do as I say. Still, when I attempt to withdraw myfingers from his, he squeezes my hands without a word. I let him, ignoring how my blood boils in my veins. “I’m gonna bring us back, but first, you and I need to have a little talk about your… petty theft. You’ll return the obol of your own free will. If I steal it back from you, it’ll trigger the wrath of a slew of Greek gods.”I’ll hunt down every loophole to stop this from ever repeating. “And last but not least, to avoid consequences, I’ll wipe your memory clean of this realm.”
Théodore’s gaze softens. “Nobody calls me Théodore,” he whispers. My brows knit; did I hear him wrong earlier? “People call me Théo.” I shake my head. Of all the things he could have said, I sure wasn’t expecting that. What’s his deal? He shrugs, then spits, “I steal things, that’s what I do… and I like shiny objects, sue me!”
“Do you realize,Théo,” I emphasize, “that it could have gotten you killed?” Then, I hear myself say, “I can’t allow it.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, he breaks our contact, returns the golden coin, and winces. My heart constricts at the loss of his warmth.
“Did you say you’re gonna erase my memory? I mean, I’ve seen plenty of weird shit around here, but I’ll keep your secrets. I’m trained to anyway.”
“Huh?” Yes, sometimes, I’m eloquent like that.
“You told me your unlikely truth, here’s mine: Bad people hire me to pull off heists for beautiful things. I get paid a shit ton of money because I’m damn good at my job. I’m talented, efficient, and discreet.”
“So, you’re saying someone paid you to steal my obol? How did you know I had it?”
He doesn’t answer me right away. His gaze drifts to my hand, where the coin rolls between my fingers with practiced ease.
After a beat, he smirks and shakes his head, voice rough. “No one hired me forthatjob. But the coin’s size, the weight in your pocket—something about it screamed ‘worth stealing.’ I had to figure out what it was, you know…” He shrugs. “But I promise I’ll behave from now on, Zag.” I grin at the nickname this time, pocketing the obol, so he zeroes in on me rather than the forbidden fruit that caused all the trouble. We lock eyes, and I shiver at the nonplussed expression I see in them.
But what baffles me the most is my own reaction. Why does my body answer him before I do? Why does my skin prickle where he touched me? Why does every instinct say release, but I’m holding on?
Apparently oblivious to it, Théo admits in a pleading voice, “I shouldn’t have stolen your coin. It was beyond my control. I’m sorry. Please leave my memory intact… Pleeease, I want to remember this fucked-up reality… or surreality!” He jokes, then winces. “But most of all, I can’t have any missing pieces... Maybe you know this already…” He trails off, swallows hard, and carries on. “Don’t recall if Greek gods are mind readers or not—but either way, don’t mess with my memory… please. I can’t risk it jinxing anything.”
He fidgets, nerves taking over, so he rambles. I don’t interrupt. It’s cute.
