Page 9 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
“Or interference. Charon here,”—my thumb points at my friend, who’s back to welcoming more souls. Good. Bad. Average people—“says witchcraft was involved. Our guess is that magic brought you here, not your death wish.”
He makes a tsk noise, bows his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Tension bleeding into motion—he paces. “Rose wouldn’t pull off something like this, would she? Nah, she…” He trails off. “But she was the only person with me.”
He pauses, then screams at the top of his lungs—at no one in particular. He couldn’t care less about the crowd’s attention; in fact, he rolls his eyes at it. “What the fuck’s going on?” he shouts, looking around again.
Sort the mess first, worry about his scapegoat later. She must be his new girlfriend, not that I care. I’ll learn about her soon enough.
“But most of all, what now? You send me back?”
“Yeah, I have to,” I admit, eyeing him—not with desire, more like you’d watch a loose wire. “I’m going back with you. I need answers about how the hell you ended up here.” What I don’t say: I’ll wipe his memory before we travel to the aforementioned bathroom. One of the few tricks I can pull off—and with his half-baked status, it might blow up in my face.
“Protective chaperone?” He smirks.
“Insurance. My father doesn’t like messes, especially not human or magical ones.”
“And what about you? What’s in it foryou,aside from pleasing daddy dearest?”
The question catches me off guard. He has some balls for a mortal. What’s in it forme? Escape my father’s claws. Savor Earth’s novelties after such a long absence. Investigate thisBeetlejuiceor rather Rose phenomenon that managed to put Nathan in my path.
“That’s none of your concern. All you need to know,” I say, “is that I don’t like being blindsided. And neither of us like questions without answers.”
He exhales, almost a laugh. “You’re kind of intense.” We both glance back at Charon, who’s resumed his silent post at the ferry. Business as usual. Except it’s not. Not today. “Just a quick heads up before you send me back, though.” There’s a thread ofmockery in his voice. What the fuck? And then my suspicions are confirmed. “You realize it’s not the 1980s anymore, right?”
Is he for real?
“If my outfit is your sole issue, then there’s hope! Be glad that you’re on my good side.”
His lips twitch into a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Save it,” I mutter. “You’ll be someone else’s problem by the end of this. But the glitch goes first.”
Pronto.
Chapter Four
HUMAN
Théo
“Please tell me the weather will improve soon.” I beg the older bald guy at the reception desk. Simon, according to his name tag.
I could have downloaded a weather app, but I refuse. I despise anything predictive built by modern tech. I’m a player by nature and much prefer stepping into the unknown than having my life dictated. That said, landing in rainy Oregon wasn’t my idea of a warm welcome. I figured I should be friendly with the staff—they’ll be seeing a lot of me over the next few months. Gone is my introverted true self, replaced by the charming persona I created when I embraced my line of work.
“It sure will, sir. It’s one of the perks of being in a coastal town. The weather can quickly change.” The guest behind me chuckles at that. Simon flashes us a satisfied smile, and his amused gaze follows the person as they walk up to the now available desk to my right. Then he adds for my benefit, “I guarantee it’ll improve after lunch.”
My stomach growls, reminding me that I should have eaten breakfast on the plane. Although I flew business class, which offers decent options, airplane food doesn’t sit well with my delicate stomach.
“Sorry.” I wince, embarrassed.
He smiles at me, politely refraining from commenting on my rebellious body.
I extend my left arm to grab the narrow rectangular form he just handed me along with a pen.
The Renversé Hotel isn’t the pompous palace I was expecting. It has a certain flair. Among other things, Volkoff said it’s apparently known as the place where princes from otherworldly kingdoms enjoy staying to lead a mundane life, far away from their usual duties. I couldn’t care less about royalty or celebrities, but I find it ironic that we have the same goal in mind: flying under the radar.
Granted, I’d been warned—it mixes a retro way of conducting business with an otherwise modern vibe. Sounded right up my alley. I wasn’t expecting a printed form about food allergies, though. As someone with a nut allergy, I do appreciate the extra caution.
My brainless college boyfriend thought it was hilarious. Kept saying it sucked—me being gayandallergic to nuts? Comedy gold, apparently. That is, until he watched me go into full-blown anaphylaxis at Mont Saint-Michel, where we were spending the weekend.
