Page 152 of Cherish

It’s just one of the many reasons I’ve got a soft spot for the time wizard. He always,alwayscomes through for us.

And unlike with Hudson, I totally understand why he prefers to be vague and mysterious. He explained to me once back at the Witch Court that the future can always change. The more he’s able to not influence it, the better he can see it—and help when I need it most.

I send my own thumbs-up in reply, then head back down to the gardens we saw earlier. If we have to waste a few hours here, I might as well satisfy my curiosity about the rest of the muses—and everything else the Curator’s got going on in this garden.

It turns out it was worth the trip, because Calliope is dressed like a slam poet on a stage. Baggy pants, crop top, backward baseball cap on her head, and journal in her hands as she leans into a microphone. Melpemone is dressed like the Phantom fromPhantom of the Opera, and Erato’s sitting at a laptop, hair piled in a messy bun as she cranks out what I’m pretty sure is a romance novel, based on the words on the computer screen.

This god may be as persnickety as all the other gods I’ve met, but she’s way fucking cooler.

I spend a few minutes looking for Kleo—my other favorite muse and one I thought would have a special place of honor here—but she’s nowhere to be found.

After checking my phone to see if Hudson has texted—big surprise, he hasn’t—I turn back to explore the rest of the garden. As I walk, I’m struck again by how amazing this place really is.

The fact that the Curator has managed to hide all this in plain sight at the ruins of the Serapeum is really badass. But more than that, the fact that she thought to do all this to begin with is incredible.

Besides the flowers and the trees—varieties from all over the world that somehow still flourish here, in one of the hottest climates on earth—the gardens are filled with numerous other whimsical surprises.

Painted birdcages filled with flowers.

Paths lined with multicolored gemstones.

Fairy-tale birdbaths that attract gorgeous birds of more species than I can name.

Elaborate windchimes in the shape of fantastical creatures.

And art—so much art throughout the whole garden. From a wall of hieroglyphics to ancient Roman statuary to gorgeous stained-glass sculptures resting on the surface of a koi pond. Everywhere I look, there’s something else amazing to see.

As I walk through a series of circular arbors, I can’t help thinking that Hudson would love this place. Not just the art but the sense of the absurd. He’s totally the type to appreciate the trio of colorful painted frogs peeking out from under a flowering bush or the way the wind whistling through a series of oddly shaped hoops sounds like a song.

Maybe if we have time later, I can bring him down and see what his favorite things are.

In the meantime, I should head back up and move our clothes to the dryer. I have no doubt some of the others need to do laundry as badly as I did.

But as I turn and pass through a series of circular arbors for what I know is the second time, I can’t help but notice a statue of the muse of history sitting at an ornate desk in front of a rainbow glass globe, scribbling away in a giant book. I stand and stare at her for several seconds, because I just passed through here. And while I noticed the giant globe—even walked up to it to see my reflection in it—I didn’t notice Kleo at all.

She must have been there—statues don’t exactly move around under their own power—but somehow, I missed her. I guess I was just too busy thinking about Hudson and the Vampire Court and the Circle to notice.

As I pass by the koi pond a few minutes later—also for the second time—I can’t help but see something else I missed. Flint, sitting on the stone ledge that borders the pond, staring deep into the water as if looking hard enough will somehow reveal to him the secrets of the universe.

Or maybe just himself.

Either way, he looks like he could use a friend.

“Hey, what are you up to?” I ask as I walk up to him. “Besides doing your best Narcissus impression?”

“Definitely not in love with my reflection,” he answers with a snort. “Though it might be easier if I was.”

“Easier?” I lift my brows in curiosity.

“Aw, come on, Grace.” Flint’s usual grin is tinged with a sadness that it’s impossible to ignore. “You know what it’s like to love a Vega.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Everything inside me goes watchful as I ask, “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re down here alone in this damn garden, too.” He scooches over, then pats the stone ledge next to him. “Sit down and tell Uncle Flint all about it.”

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