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“It may not come to that.”
“And if it does?”
“I am simply advising that you do not turn Marsden down outright. Listen to what he has to say and tell him you’ll think about it. Meanwhile, we’ll try again to reach a compromise with the Circle. If they can be brought to accept you as Pythia, even for the duration of the war, it would be enough. Once Apollo’s forces are defeated, we can deal with our internal troubles.”
“Fine.” God, this was actually becoming painful.
“We also need to determine how you are going to switch us back.”
“I’m working on that.” Please, please just shut up and leave.
“How? The salesman told you the effects are not reversible.”
“Our bodies weren’t changed, just swapped,” I snapped. “And I’ve had a little experience with that. Assuming I don’t get murdered by psychotic sadists masquerading as allies, I’ll come up with something.”
“Such as?”
“We’ll discuss it later.”
“I would prefer to discuss it now.”
“I wouldn’t!”
Something in my voice finally seemed to get through. “I suppose we won’t be talking while you’re in the shower,” he said, getting up.
“We will not.”
“Then I shall see you at breakfast. And remember, Marsden is not nearly as vague as he appears.”
“Yes, okay, whatever.”
He went to the door but paused with his hand on the knob, looking back at me with terribly amused eyes. “And lightly chilled is usually sufficient. I’d really rather you didn’t scald me with cold.”
I looked around for something to throw at him, but he’d already left. He really was dealing with this better than I was. Goddamnit.
Chapter Twenty-one
I waddled to the shower as soon as the coast was clear. I didn’t know how men managed with something taking up so much room down there. And what the hell kind of design left a person’s privates dangling loose in the air and changing sizes all the time?
The shock of freezing-cold, needle-fine spray against my chest made me yelp, but I stuck it out, shoulders hunched, determined. It pounded my head and neck and tattooed against my back, over the lines of thickened tissue just under the skin of Pritkin’s left shoulder. I’d never asked him what had marked him like that, when all other injuries just seemed to disappear.
And I guessed doing so now was out. I groaned. Even if I got us switched back, I was never going to live this down.
The water torture eventually helped with the whole thing-I-was-going-to-repress-with-a-vengeance, but the pull of wet body hair was still driving me nuts. I was addressing that when Billy popped back in. I ignored him, not wanting to add another cut to Pritkin’s collection, and for a long moment, he was uncharacteristically silent.
“Uh, Cass?” Billy finally said, sounded a little odd.”What are you doing?”
“I believe it’s called manscaping.”
“Why?”
“Because that is really, really disgusting,” I said, pointing up and down wildly at all the hair on Pritkin’s left leg. His right looked better. It was even kind of shapely, now that you could actually see it.
“You, uh, you don’t think he might be a little . . . upset . . . about—”
“Oh, who are we kidding?” I paused to concentrate on the knee. That part was always tricky. “I don’t know how to put him back, Billy. No clue. We could be stuck like this for days, weeks, months even—”
“I can get him back,” Billy offered.
