“Well, the devil isn’t quite the lord of death, either now,” Caleb said. “He’s simply the lord of the Underworld, the lord of the damned.”
“There’s still the fact that the myth preceded me by thousands of years. That marriage between Hades and Persephone happened a long time ago—if it ever happened at all.”
“Hmmm,” Oliver had that I-know-something-really-important-but-I-don’t-much-care tone of voice.
“What?” I asked.
Oliver shrugged and picked a nonexistent piece of lint off of his shirt. “What if the myth isn’t really a myth? What if it’s a prophecy?”
The thought made me pause. Another prophecy? But I already had one—and it was disturbing enough as is. Instead I said, “But the details are all wrong.” I mean, all the details.
“The details may not be what’s true. You may be what’s true,” Caleb said.
My eyes flicked to him. “So you also think the myth of Hades and Persephone might be a prophecy.”
He hesitated. “Maybe—it makes sense.”
I sat back on my heels and pondered that, my stomach plummeting. The devil was undoubtedly after me, and on Samhain Cecilia had called him Pluto, the Roman name for the god Hades. Could the man in the suit be both the devil and Hades?
“This shit may not be science,” Caleb added, “but that doesn’t mean you should ignore it.”
I looked between Caleb and Oliver. “So you think that I’m the devil’s Persephone, his consort, and what, these killers are running around, offing people in the devil’s name?” I tried to sound skeptical, but I didn’t pull it off. The devil liked to collect his due in flesh and souls.
“Yes, but not in just his name,” Caleb said. “They’re killing in your name, too.”
Right about now the breakfast I’d eaten earlier wasn’t sitting so well in my stomach. I put the back of my hand to my mouth.
It was one thing to think that the murders were to appease the devil. It was another to consider that people were being killed to appease me.
Oh God, if I was responsible for those deaths, how could I ration that my soul was worth the cost of those lives lost?
“Well, I’d say that all in all this is turning out to be a crappy Christmas,” Oliver said, interrupting my dark thoughts. He stood up. “I think this calls for a quest to find alcohol. Anyone want a drink?”
“Hell yes,” Caleb said.
When Oliver looked at me I said, “Don’t bother bringing me a glass. I’ll take the bottle straight.”
Oliver whistled. “We got a sailor in the room.”
Instead of responding, I covered my face with my hands, my shoulders beginning to shake. I was about to lose it.
I heard Oliver pause, then crouch down next to me. He gave me a tight squeeze and kissed my temple. “I’ll be right back with enough spirits to raise yours and make you forget,” Oliver said, pushing himself back to his feet. A minute later I could hear his footfalls get fainter as he moved away from the study.
Caleb and I sat quietly for several moments—together but apart—and then I heard him get up. He dropped down next to me and slung an arm over my shoulder.
“Hey,” he said, shaking me, “it’s going to be okay.”
“No it’s not.” I dropped my hands and took in a shaky breath of air.
The devil was coming for me again, and innocent lives were being lost because of it. And if the myth of Hades and Persephone was prophetic, then I should cast away my hope now. Because in that myth, Hades kidnapped Persephone and took her away to his kingdom to be his wife, his queen. He tricked her.
And it worked.
Chapter 22
By the time the sun was setting, Oliver, Caleb, and I had made good use of Andre’s liquor. We’d been playing pool for what seemed like hours in Andre’s game room. Who knew the king of vampires enjoyed these types of pastimes? Never would’ve guessed it.
I tipped back my drink, enjoying the way the spicy liquid burned going down. I quickly figured out that dark rum was my favorite liquor. And like I’d promised earlier, I was swigging it straight from the bottle. My worries were now fuzzy things.
“Hey, Jack Sparrow,” Caleb called, “it’s your turn.”
I eyed him as I took another gulp, then brought the bottle from my lips. Using the back of my hand, I wiped my mouth. “Sure thing,” I said, capping the bottle.
I tossed the drink onto a nearby couch and staggered over. I lurched to the right and grabbed the edge of the pool table for balance. Both boys were staring at me.
“What?” I asked a little too loudly. “Scared you’re going to lose this round? Should be.” I drew the words out. My skin flared and then settled. It’d been doing that now that the alcohol flowed through my system. And each time it did so, Caleb’s eyes flickered with interest.
As soon as my skin went back to normal, Caleb was shaking his head. “Shit, Gabrielle, I’m cutting you off. I can’t handle this glamour.” He walked over to the couch I’d thrown the bottle on, and grabbed the rum.
“Look who’s talking, chameeeeeleon,” I sang, my voice hitting several notes at once. For the last few hours Caleb’s features had flickered and changed as the alcohol coursed through him.
Caleb placed the bottle on a high shelf. I snorted at that and leaned back against the pool table. “I can just glamour you into getting that for me.”
“Do that, and I’ll report your ass,” he said, coming back to the game.
That shut me up.
“Fine. No more booze—for now.” I reached over to take the cue stick from Oliver’s glittering hand. I tugged, but he wouldn’t let it go. I guess he still hadn’t completely forgiven me for calling his iridescent wings “cute.”
“Majestic, sexy-as-hell, exquisite—those are all appropriate descriptions,” he had said. “Not cute. Puppies are cute. I. Am. Not. Cute.”
Now he said, “I’m not giving this to you until you ask nicely.”
Geez these boys were grouchy.