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With clenched teeth, the king asked, “And which do I choose?”
“Both. And neither.”
Hades huffed. “That tells me nothing.”
“And yet it tells you everything,” she offered, all innocence.
“Get specific or you won’t earn an interaction with my mirror,” the male snapped.
“False! I’ve already earned it with specifics. Did I or did I not tell you how much you’d hate what I had to say?” She scratched her chin and looked to Rathbone. “Did I?”
“You did,” he said with a nod. How effortlessly she improved any situation.
“See?” She rubbed her hands together and faced Hades anew. “So go ahead and start the clock.”
Neeka blazed up the royal dais, her wings buzzing when she spied her own reflection. How did you summon a cursed goddess?
With time of the essence, Neeka knocked on the glass. “Siobhan. Yo. Get up here, girl.”
“Careful,” Hades snarled behind her. She watched his mouth in the glass. “Do that again, and I will remove your fist.”
“Don’t threaten her,” Rathbone snarled back, at the king’s side. The two males flanked her.
She looked good leading muscle. But this was a professional business meeting, not an audition for bodyguards. “Look,” she said to the girl in the mirror. “I’m on a clock here. Someone at some point in history told me to speak with you. I think you’re the solution to my problem. Are you?”
A wave descended over the glass, as if it had liquefied. Then another wave came. And another. Her brows knit together. Slowly she reached out. Contact. Her fingers sank—a clawed hand shot out to clasp onto her wrist and yank her through.
The throne room vanished and hazy smoke billowed in front of her. She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if she’d see Rathbone and Hades. If they could see her. No sign of the other world. Dang. What if she was stuck? Had she walked into a trap?
“Hello?” she called.
The vapor sucked together, producing a woman who appeared both modern and old-fashioned. Oh! Oh! She wasthewoman. A black beauty with long white hair in tangles. She wore a Victorian gown of jet, with a beaded corset and a flared skirt. Tattered threads hung from the wrist cuffs and hem.
“You’re late,” she admonished, red flickering inside her irises.
“And you’re Siobhan, Goddess of Many Futures?”
“I am.” She turned on her high heels and glanced over her shoulder, motioning Neeka to follow. “Come. You’ll understand when we reach our destination.”
As the goddess glided forward, eerily graceful, Neeka took note of her surroundings. Mother-of-pearl, everywhere. On the walls, the columns, and the floor. A galaxy of stars stretched overhead. The temple from the vision!
Fangs sharpening, claws elongating, she rushed after Siobhan—Um. The goddess stopped as a second female emerged from a thicker haze of smoke. Neeka swallowed a groan. Oh, yeah. She’d walked into a trap. But she didn’t backtrack. She was here, there was hope.
“Hello, Unwanted,” her mother said.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded. “The mirror is the only way in, and it’s guarded twenty-four seven by Hades.”
“Wrong. And right.” Her mother remained smug and irritating. “There are two mirrors. Hades has one, but someone else has the other...”
“And who is this someone else?” Azar? Had he not fired the treacherous Grenwich? Or was the mystery person paying her fee now?
“That isn’t information you’ll receive at this time.” Siobhan motioned to Grenwich. “Proceed. I don’t like having visitors. The sooner you finish the better.”
“I’m already done, and I’ve never been happier.” Grenwich unfolded a white cloth she held, revealing the final bones. “You’ve lost, Neeka, your suffering assured.”
Neeka winced. The word daggers cut deep, leaving gaping wounds. Rather than coddle the bleeders, as she’d done in the past, she strapped on big girl panties and forged ahead. “You should have run while you had the chance.”
A smiling Lore materialized at Grenwich’s side. “Why run when I’m here to take out the trash?”
