“Damn it yourself, Boone,” I whisper back as I push to sitting. “You scared me. What are you doing here?”
He stares at me from where he’s now crouched beside my bed. “Me?” He shakes his head. “What about you? Hades, Lyra? Seriously? The god has a three-headed demon dog as a damned pet.”
“Really? Because I thought he was the god of sweetness and light,” I grumble.
Boone glares. “What, exactly, did you get yourself into?”
“A fuck-ton of trouble. How did you know I was here?”
“The lights are on in Hades’ only Overworld home,” he says dryly. “The entire world knows.” And Boone’s a master thief for a reason, even in a building that’s off-limits. For very good reason, it turns out.
“Fine.” Having this argument with him while I’m sitting up in bed in silky PJs is ridiculous. “Regardless, you shouldn’t be here. Why are you, anyway?”
He sobers at that. “To help, if I can.”
I rear back as disbelief ricochets through me. Twelve years, we’ve known each other—ever since he came to our den when I was eleven. Counting earlier today, this is the second time he’s wanted to help me. Ever.
He has no idea what I’ll be doing. How’s he going to help?
Boone drops onto the other side of the bed and whisper-groans. “Oh, wow. This is amazing.”
The mattresses in the den aren’t exactly comfy. “Functional” is a kind word for what they are.
He thumps a duffel bag on the bed, not between us but in front of him. Then he proceeds to open it and pull out various items. The first few are clothes.
“You touched my things?” The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. “How’d you get into my room?”
“Felix,” he says.
Swallowing my questions, I watch as he keeps pulling my clothes out of the bag. He probably emptied my drawers. I can’t decide if I’m more embarrassed that he dug through my stuff or about to float away on a happy cloud. Because he’s here. For me.
My logical brain takes over, tamping down on the giddiness. At least I don’t have to rely on the gods’ dubious sense of appropriate fashion.
Next, he pulls out…
“A tactical vest?”
“I didn’t know what you’d be doing. I brought anything I could think of.” He shrugs. “I figured you could at least wear this, even under your clothes if you have to, and stash a weapon or two in it for self-defense.”
My eyes sting, and I blink rapidly as I tentatively take it from his grasp. “Um…okay.”
“I’ve already prepped it with some things.”
I raise my eyebrows at him, then start rummaging through the zippered pockets and pouches to find tools common to our trade are tucked neatly away—wire twine, wire cutters, bolt cutters, a small screwdriver with several interchangeable heads, and even a small torch for cutting metal.
The thing is, I don’t know what I’m facing, either, but given the little Hades described, a thief’s tools might come in handy. They certainly can’t hurt.
I get to the last pocket, a deep, vinyl-lined one on the back, but this time I drop what I pull out to the bed on a gasp. I stare at the gleaming gold-and-silver weapon lying there.
My relic.
21
This Is Real
Every pledge who graduates to master thief magically receives a relic. We believe the gifts are from Hermes for use in our trade. It is the only thing of significant value that we never have to steal or surrender to pad the Order’s pockets.
However, as a clerk, I didn’t technically graduate. There was no ceremony. No relic should have come to me.
But this axe showed up on my bed one day.
Silver with golden markings, it has a gold handle, the end wrapped in turquoise leather. A circle with a symbol of Zeus’ head stamped on it divides the larger blade from a smaller one on the backside that’s shaped more like a tip of a spear.
I assumed one of the other pledges was playing a mean trick, trying to get me caught with a relic that wasn’t mine, but every time I returned it to the coffers, it magically returned to me. No one—I mean absolutely no one—knows I have it.
“What is that?” I try to play naive. The relic looks like an ordinary handle to a weapon or tool, if only the handle remained, and I turn it this way and that as though trying to figure out what it is.
Boone rolls his eyes. “I’ve known about this for the past few years,” he says.
And never turned me in to Felix? I eye him sideways. “How?”
“I saw you practicing in the weapons range one night when I was late returning from a score gone sideways,” he says.
Oh.
Well…
