She slowed, then halted and opened her eyes to exactly what she’d imagined when she’d overheard the description of this area of the city. Darkness had completely pressed in, and streetlamps every ten yards illuminated the dreary cobblestone road. The shops here were run-down, their glass fronts dingy, some missing lettering that had been stenciled on far too long ago. Most were already closed. A trash can was overturned on one sidewalk, leaking garbage and day-old food. A trio of grubby young who looked like they hadn’t seen a bath in days and who couldn’t possibly be more than ten rifled through its contents.
She avoided the bar to her right, walking quickly past the open door. Rowdy shouts drifted her way, followed by a female’s laughter and chairs scraping the wooden floor. Ignoring what sounded like a party inside, she made for the lone shop on the corner of the barren street. The one marked HELIOS.
Light burned at the back of the store. Though the sign out front said CLOSED, Isadora placed her hand on the door handle and pushed.
The scents of incense and herbs used in ancient ceremonies burned her nose. Candles flickered here and there on tabletops and from a chandelier over a counter near the far wall. Tables covered in a variety of colorful fabrics held polished stones, dried flowers and herbs, crystals and beads. And throughout the entire space, human trinkets were scattered like gold dust in a flowing river.
A four-inch replica of the Statue of Liberty, a cell phone, a book called Twilight. Women’s heeled boots, a shirt with the word Abercrombie emblazoned across the front. Everywhere you looked you could find something not of this world. And everywhere you looked, you were drawn deeper into the store.
Isadora slid the hood off her head and glanced around the cluttered shelves, the busy displays. My gods. He’s been smuggling human relics back for years. Part of her wasn’t sure how the Council turned a blind eye and didn’t shut this place down. Another part smiled because its existence was exactly what she’d hoped to find.
She took a step farther into the room and bumped into a table. A picture frame teetered, then clattered to the table with a clank.
“We’re closed,” a voice called from the back room.
Carefully, she replaced the frame on the table. And swallowed in the silence that followed.
She’d never been good at blackmail, and she’d already played this card once. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to use it. But she needed him now—maybe more than she had then.
Footsteps echoed behind the far wall. She stayed where she was and waited. And hoped she hadn’t interrupted him in one of his…moods.
Sound ceased. Though she’d heard his steps, he didn’t come through the dark and open door at the end of the long room. Where was he? She squinted to see clearer.
“How did you escape your playpen, Isa?”
Isadora jerked at the rough voice behind her, whipped around and tipped her head back to look up at Orpheus.
Her pulse pounded under his glowing green gaze, but she held her ground. He stood as tall as the Argonauts, was as big and brawny and just as menacing, with his rugged features and broad shoulders. But that’s where the similarities ended. While the Argonauts were dangerous in their own right, Orpheus was downright disturbing. The way he could poof through walls wasn’t normal, and when his eyes flashed green in that daemon way, as they were doing now, they made Isadora want to run screaming for the hills.
She slapped a hand against her chest. “Gods, Orpheus, you scared me.”
“I should,” he said without humor. “Right now, Isa, you’re on my turf. You would be wise to be very scared.”
She didn’t move. He was waiting for her to tuck tail and run. He wanted her to be afraid. And she was. The half of him that was daemon—which he wasn’t hiding from her now—was unpredictable. But instead of giving in to the fear, she clung to the vision she’d had of him before she’d lost her powers. To the one that had pushed her here tonight. To the one of him saving her.
He edged closer until she felt his hot breath on her skin. “Haven’t you heard the rumors? Daemons eat virgins for supper.” When she didn’t answer, he reached out and fingered her newly shorn hair. “This, I like. Don’t tell me the king banished you from his playground because you cut your hair, and a sinner is the only one you can turn to now.”
The amusement in his voice brought her chin up. Fear and ridicule, that’s how he worked. That’s how he’d always worked, but she wasn’t going to fall for it. “Don’t flatter yourself. And don’t get your hopes up. My father is sicker than a dog. In mere weeks you’ll be bowing down and pledging your allegiance to your new queen.”
“Don’t count on it, virgin. I pledge my allegiance to no one.” He let go of her hair, walked past her and around the shop’s counter.
She turned, her gaze following his fluid movements. To the average person, he looked like everyone else: an Ar-golean, albeit a big one. But he wasn’t. He was what everyone feared and hated most. “How about to the one person who knows your secret?”
He glared at her over his shoulder. And those eyes, which had slowly faded to black when he’d touched her hair, flashed green all over again. “You would be wise not to threaten me, Isa. I guarantee you won’t enjoy the consequences.”
She lifted her chin again. Screw him. She’d been through much worse than he could dole out. She’d tangled with a god and lived to tell about it. “I need your help, Orpheus.”
He frowned. “I should have destroyed that damn invisibility cloak as soon as we left Olympus.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He braced both massive hands on the counter that ran along the wall and leaned back. “Do tell then, what could you possibly want from me? I’m all ears.”
“I need…” She hesitated, because even to her this sounded stupid. “I need you to teach me.”
“Teach you what?” A bored expression raced across his features.
“To fight.”
He scoffed.
“I’m stronger than I look.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“I want to learn.” He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “There are factions that do not want to see me rule and will do whatever it takes to undermine my authority. Weakness is not an option for me. You will teach me to fight so that when the time comes—and it will—the first person who challenges my rule will realize I’m not just a patsy.”
He glanced away with a “yeah, right” look. But he didn’t say no, and she took that as a subtle yes. Anything that undermined the Council or the Argonauts pleased him, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his brain, imagining her taking down Lucian, the head of the Council, with her blade.
The image nearly made her smile before she remembered death wasn’t always the answer. “I also want you to teach me something else.”
“Lara Croft fighting tactics aren’t enough?”
Lara Croft? She shook off the question. Pulled the slip of paper from inside her cloak and set it on the counter in front of him. “I want you to teach me about this.”
He went still as glass, and for a split second, those eyes flashed green again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” she said slowly. “I’m not clueless, Orpheus. I’ve done my research. The omega symbol was the marking of the prophecy. These hatch markings here…” She pointed to the wings around the omega, the ones found in the first symbol of the translation of the Horae and on her skin. “They mean something else.”