She glanced back. "Yes. My papou's the one next to me."
Theo. Ash smiled at his old friend. Theo had been only seven years old when he'd been blinded during a World War II attack on his village that had killed his whole family. Ash had been the one who'd brought the child to America where he could start a new life and be safe. He'd been watching over Theo ever since.
So it wasn't that Tory had anything to do with him, it was the fact she was tied to Theo and to Arik who was married to Geary. Arik had once been a Greek god of sleep. Those connections to Tory explained so much.
Ash relaxed immediately. "You've got a great looking family."
She smiled. "Typical Greek. There's a million relatives, but then with a name like Acheron, I'm sure you know all about it." She cocked her head as if she thought of something. "You know, my grandfather has a dear friend named Acheron."
"Really?"
"Yeah, they met in Greece and came to America together. But that was a long time ago." She went back to the kitchen and pulled open a drawer that held small brown packets of coffee and tea. Pulling one out, she started her Flavia coffee pot, then pointed to the kitchen table where she had a bunch of books, maps and notes littered.
Ash made his way over to it and was impressed by it. She'd been a very busy woman.
"Cop a seat," she said, pulling her mug out before she opened the door to her fridge.
Ash widened his eyes at the sight of her extremely organized refrigerator. The shelves were lined with neatly stacked clear plastic containers that had white labels with their contents carefully catalogued. "Got enough Rubbermaid there?"
"I have a little problem with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Ignore it." She grabbed a container from the B section. Seriously.
"That's really beyond slightly OCD. You've got a major problem, don't you?"
"Shut up, sit down and read."
With the exception of his demon Simi, no one since his rebirth as a god had ever been so dismissive with him. "Please?"
"You need something?"
He cocked a brow at her. "You to be polite to me, Ms. I Own The World—Now Do What I Say You Pathetic Pleb."
She scoffed at him. "You don't strike me as the kind of guy who takes orders anyway."
"Yes, but a simple please goes a long way. I'm the one doing you a favor here."
She set her container of baklava on the table. "Fine. Please sit down, shut up and read."
Ash lifted his hands up in surrender. Honestly he should be appalled by her treatment of him and yet he was strangely amused by her. Shrugging his backpack off, he sat down and pulled Ryssa's journal over to him. "What do you want to know?"
"You claim you can read it. Read it."
Tory sipped her coffee while she watched him and noted that his long legs barely fit beneath her table.
He turned to a random page and then started speaking in what had to be the most beautiful and fluent pronunciation of ancient Greek she'd ever heard. She could only recognize random words, but the ease with which he read and the inflections in his voice led her to believe he might actually be telling the truth about understanding the words.
"Could you try that in English?"
He didn't even pause. "It's raining today. I don't know why the sound of it bothers me so, but it always has. Before it began storming, I went to see Styxx out in the covered atrium. He was with Father as usual and the two of them were learning war tactics. Even at eleven, Styxx shows a lot of promise to be a leader and warrior of great renown. I couldn't be prouder of my brother. His blond hair has grown lighter this summer since he's spent so much time outdoors. I tried to get him—"
"Stop," she interrupted. "You're really translating that, aren't you?"
He looked perplexed by her question. "Is that not what you wanted?"
Tory didn't even know how to respond to his question. Yes, it was what she'd wanted more than anything. But no one knew this language.
Except a Goth, punk alcoholic frat boy with a stud in his nose . . . and a body made for sin.
How in the world was this possible?
"Where did you learn Greek?" she asked.
"In Greece."
She couldn't accept that. "No, ancient Greek. Who taught this to you?"
"I grew up with it."
"You're lying. I know you're lying. No one on this planet speaks ancient Greek the way you do. I've consulted experts all over the world and not one of them could do what you just did."
He shrugged nonchalantly as if her concerns were nothing. "What do you want me to say?"
She shook her head, not really sure herself. "I want you to tell me how you know ancient Greek like that."
"My family spoke it and I learned it from the cradle. In many ways, it was my native tongue."