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“Pardon me?”
Her insertion is well-timed, arresting me from vocalizing the profanities streaking through my brain. “Sorry,” I finally mutter. “I thought she’d left town.”
“Hmm. No. Why would she have?”
“I thought she mentioned it the other night, that’s all,” I supply with astonishing calm, considering my thoughts have done nothing but stomp on the instinctual gas pedal. But what the hell was I thinking? That Erin simplypoofedherself to nonexistence?
She was so much more than she pretended to be on the earthly realm. The redhead with the gleaming eyes that missed nothing was actually Megaera from Olympus. A Fury. Worst of all, a messenger for Hera. But after she disappeared last night, I assumed she’d simply turned to dust before our eyes. End of story.
Idiot.
I’m a tenuredliteratureprofessor and didn’t consider that the Furies are famously strongest in dust form. If myth proves true, as it repeatedly has since the moment Kara walked into my world, it would be completely reasonable for Erin to jump on that spiritual fast train between Olympus and the underworld. She’d be unbound to any physical form. Free from all mortal boundaries.
Which means she’d be able to come back whenever or wherever she pleases.
Like showing up at McCarthy’s front door during moments in which the woman needed her the most. Which is exactly what McCarthy starts relaying, gushing about Erin’s dedication and tirelessness. Somehow, I’m able to keep listening. I maintain my charade of normalcy—whatever that means anymore—inserting all the right sounds of active listening until a long tone breaks in on the line.
“I’m so sorry, Professor Kane. That’s another call for me, and I have to take it.”
“Of course. Go ahead. I’ll be in touch again soon.”
Maybe sooner than I was anticipating.
Air erupts from my nostrils with the force of blast jets. Instead of fire and rocket fuel, I’m spewing with confusion and apprehension. But I’m sure as hell not going to sit around and wallow in it. Not when there’s something I can do about it.
But my emotions have jumped ahead of me.
Before I’m done lurching out of the truck, clouds collide with the canyon’s converging winds. There’s a sky-wide swirl of purple and green, so pretty it might be worthy of a snapshot—in other circumstances. But these are inspired by something more ominous. A few things, to be exact. One after the other, I send new thunderclaps into the clouds. The booms strengthen like approaching bombs, louder and louder, but I refuse to feel guilty about the celestial stomping. Zeus was never there to help Mom deal with my childhood temper tantrums. But these have purpose. Maybe now is the big guy’s chance to make up for lost time.
A furious crackle splits the air. It fissures my truck’s front windshield before whipping the hair back from my face, but I don’t relent my stance. If the god of all gods thinks his fireworks will wilt me, he’s never been a ten-year-old on the receiving end of Nancy Kane’sI’m not mad, I’m disappointedspeech.
“This had better be important.” Dark-orange smoke slowly dies from the edges of his hair.
I still don’t bend, confronting his more-than-annoyed countenance with a determined one of my own.
“Oh yeah? What’d I interrupt? Cocktail hour at the Labyrinth again?”
He hauls in air through his nostrils. “Even the gods don’t have time for debauchery right now. I’m still cleaning up my brother’s mess, same as almost everyone in Los Angeles. Thankfully I can do so in peace now that he’s busy preparing for Persephone’s return. Hopefully he’s ceased this ridiculous fixation on losing Kara.”
While I’m glad to hear his finishing sentence, the rest of the statement has me arching a brow. “If the city is safe from his wrath, isn’t your work here done?”
“Setting everything back to normal just isn’t possible in a day or two. Or sometimes, twothousand,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. At the end of the motion, he yanks free the leather tie that’s replaced his boater hat. “If humans could learn generosity and humility from playtime and parties instead of hardships, it would be easier for all the gods to advocate for them. Because they don’t, generally, it falls on me to address the other important damage your uncle has dealt.”
The reminder that Hades is my blood has me cringing. “What important damage?”
“The spiritual damage is perhaps the worst of all,” he explains. “Helping mankind rebuild itself is about more than the wreckage they clear and the structures they repair. There are shattered souls and broken hearts across the city.”
I frown. “You can’t undo that, even with two thousand days.”
“You’re right.” He jogs up his head while rolling and squaring his shoulders. “But I can mobilize the gods who can—a task you’ve pulled me from. If you don’t mind, I’ll be thankful for the chance to dive back in, unless I should keep expecting your atmospheric ding-dongs every ten seconds.”
I move forward, copying his motions with an ease that’s jarring. But getting to my point is more vital than stressing over that.
“Megaera isn’t gone.”
His features widen. “Oh?”
“After she vanished last night…she didn’t go back to Olympus.”
