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From what little I’d learned, Ahone was a standoffish kind of god, and my experience with him had borne that out. Sure, he’d sent his messenger to me after the curse was broken, warning me not to align myself with Okeus, and then right before the ceremony at the inn to tell me that Daddy was my sacrifice. And Ahone had possessed enough balls to show up and take Daddy’s manitou, but I hadn’t heard from him since. He told me I could bear his mark, and then the bastard had taken off without bothering to tell me what that was. Okeus and his merry band of baddies were much more faithful.
I opened the door a crack. “What is it?” A white owl sat on my porch railing. It would have resembled a real bird if I couldn’t see through it.
“Your time is running out.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. Maybe if I knew Ahone’s mark, I could do something to protect myself. Collin says he doesn’t know it.”
“Your father knew.”
My chest tightened. “But my father’s dead.”
“He left his legacy to you.”
What was he talking about? Then I realized. “His notes? I can’t find them! If Ahone wants me so badly, why won’t he show me what it is?”
“All warriors must be tested. You are on a journey.”
“Is this what this is?A test?Shutting the damn gate and sacrificing my father wasn’t enough proof of my loyalty?”
The owl remained silent. I didn’t need an answer. I already knew.
“Let’s say I discover this magical mark and I get it tattooed on my back. What does it mean? I’m not stupid enough to believe there’s no price.”
“You forfeit your soul to Ahone.”
My chest heaved as I tried to control the tidal wave of emotion washing over me. Sell my soul to one god or let the other torture me. Not that it mattered.
“How long do I have?”
“Two days. Maybe three.” The owl faded.
I still had at least two days to find the mark. Maybe the professor at Pembroke could help. All the more reason to make an appointment to see her.
I couldn’t go back to sleep so I washed my body off with a washrag. I would have given anything to take a shower, but I was desperate to keep my mark for as long as possible. I did a little housekeeping before walking to the inn at around six fifteen.
Myra was surprised to see me when I walked into the kitchen, but she seemed happy to have me there. When she looked up from stirring her breakfast casserole and got a better look at me, though, the smile fell off her face. “You need more sleep, Ellie. You can’t keep going on this way.”
I suppressed a yawn. “I know.”
“I have some sleeping pills my doctor prescribed me after your father died. You can take one of those tonight.”
I was tempted. I hadn’t slept more than three consecutive hours in weeks. “Thanks, Myra. I’ll think about it.”
“What are you doing here this early?”
“I’ve been up a while, and I figured you could use the help. Did the new guests get settled in all right?”
She poured the egg and sausage mixture into two baking dishes. “Yes, and thank you for cleaning up the rooms. The flowers were a lovely touch.”
“That was Claire’s idea.” But thinking about the rooms reminded me of the stain I’d found in my old room. “Myra, did Daddy ever talk about Momma’s murder?”
She froze for a second, her eyes wide, but then recovered enough to put the casseroles in the oven. “That caught me off guard.”
“I’m sorry.”
Shaking her head, she put the bowl in the sink and turned on the water. “No, there’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s just that no one has mentioned her death in ages.”
I sat on a bar stool at the counter. “So did he ever talk about it?”
