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There’s a commotion in the arch way and Falcon races into the room, his mask off, followed by the icy blonde. I startle. She’s got a long blade in one hand, a wicked curve to it, and it gleams.
“Is she safe?” Falcon demands, stalking over to us. The blonde sheathes her blade, and that’s when I notice she has a scabbard at her hip, tucked behind the long tails of her modified tuxedo suit.
“I’m... I’m fine,” I say, feeling dazed, confused, and a little dizzy. That man disappeared. How? Magic? Was he a magician? A trick of the light? I glance around the room.
I’m not crazy.
I saw him disappear. Right in front of me, out from Hadrion’s grip, and turn to smoke.
My whole body is shivering. Hadrion has his hands on me, but my blood is frozen.
“She needs Elenora. That’ll make her feel better,” Falcon says, crouching down in front of me. “She’s in shock. We should get her upstairs.”
“Elenora?” My tongue is thick, clumsy, as Hadrion lifts me up in his arms like I weigh nothing, which I absolutely do not, and the blonde comes to me, putting a hand against my forehead.
“She’ll be fine, just a shock,” she says, eyes glittering. She’s still wearing her mask, and when she reaches back to pull it off to look at me better, I can’t help the shocked gasp.
She is beautiful, one of those rare women who is so stunning it’s almost painful to look at, but a scar cleaves her face in two, starting at her right brow, and slicing over the bridge of her nose. The skin of it is pale, almost white, as it ends under her left eye, deep into the cheek.
“Let’s be smart and not discuss what this means here,” she adds, ignoring my stares. “We’ve taken enough risks, you being foolish enough to show her off to the entire circle, and everyone beyond it.” Her words are harsh as she checks my temperature again with her hand. I close my eyes and feel Hadrion pull me close against him.
“Fine,” he grounds out, “but we’ll take the back stairs. If I’ve been foolish, that ends now.”
15
Katy
The rest of the night is a smoky blur and when I wake up, sunlight is sprawling over my bedcovers, and I’m dressed in a night-shirt.
Something to my right glistens, and I sit up with a startled gasp. In the corner of the room sits the blonde woman, her blade out and across her legs, as she watches me with relaxed care.
“Good afternoon,” she says, glancing out the window. “You’ve slept for an age.”
Her scar is there, I didn’t just imagine it, stark against her lightly tanned skin. Her long hair is braided over her shoulder, falling thickly over her chest, and she’s dressed in light denim, knee-high boots, and a closely cut button-down shirt of crisp white.
“Are you hungry?” She asks.
“I’m... sorry,” I croak, and she gets to her feet, going to my dresser. A crystal pitcher sits there, next to the small ivy, that seems to have doubled in size yet again, starting to crawl up the wall — I drag my eyes away just in time to see her pour me a glass of water and bring it to me. “I don’t remember your name,”I apologize, and she gives me a brief, warm smile. I take a deep drink of water, my throat feeling raw and hot.
“Shay,” she says, taking the glass back from me when I’m done. She lifts a robe off the end of the bed and passes it to me as I get up. My legs feel unsteady, and my dress from last night is hung up against the doors of the wardrobe, in all of its glorious splendor.
I slip on the robe and tie the belt tight.
“What... happened last night?” I ask her, and she raises an eyebrow.
“You were attacked,” she says, simply, bluntly, “by the defender of the underworld.”
“Like... the bouncer?” I ask, feeling like that’s not it at all, and when she laughs, a deep-in-the-belly of a sound, I flush.
“No, like the protector. The guardian. The gatekeeper. Whatever you wish to call him. The man you saw, he’s not a man at all, and he’s the only one to have survived the sundering.”
“The...” Okay, I’m completely lost, and I sit on the edge of the bed with a softwhump, staring up at her. She’s talking Greek, pretty much, although I have a sinking feeling in my stomach that she’s not crazy, and that every word she’s saying is the truth.
“His name, back then, was Cerberus. He protected the Underworld, and guarded his master, Hades...”
I frown.
“Like Greek-myth-Hades,” I say, and she nods slowly, looking at me like I’m a particularly slow human being who isn’t quite getting it.
