I chewed on my nail for a second, then gripped my wedding ring and turned the gold metal around my finger. The familiarity of it comforted me. “I don’t care which Nephil I have to kill,” I said, releasing the ring and grabbing the door handle. “If it means getting my girl back, I’ll take on all those Olympus bastards.”
I popped open the door and stepped into the rain before he could change my mind.
I scampered across the gravel driveway and up to my front door, which was closed. Not wanting to risk alerting my possible company, I skirted around the side, nearly slipping in the slick muck as I stepped off the cement. I bit back a curse that would have given away my location and tiptoed to the backyard. I had taken the liberty of cementing a patio area where I could drink my tequila sunrises—only while watching the sunset, of course.
Crouching below the back windows, I scuttled past the patio and to a hatch that led down to the basement beneath the master bedroom. That’s right, I built a basement under my trailer. One day, my shit will be on YouTube. I’ll open my faded front door wearing nothing but a robe and a pair of pink bunny slippers, holding a mimosa, and I’ll invite the camera crew into my trailer. They’ll ask me seventy-three questions.
As I worked the combination lock to the door and fantasized about my interview, footsteps slapped on the cement behind me. I reached within for my fire, then pivoted to face the threat.
Xander stood there, both his pistols drawn and pointed at the ground.
“What the hell are you sneaking up on me for?” I whispered, returning to the combination. The lock snapped a second later, and I looped it off the latch and then folded out the door. “You didn’t walk by the windows, did you?”
“I’m not an idiot,” Xander said.
“You had me fooled,” I muttered, stepping down the hatch, grabbing the interior handle to the door. “I’m going down to get a few things.” I winked at him. “Cue the getting-dressed montage.”
“What?” Xander asked, thick as lumber.
“Nothing,” I said. “Listen, the hatch doesn’t lock from the inside, so you’re not joining me.” I tossed him the lock. “After I shut the door, lock it, then move around to the front and wait for my signal. Enter the house that way. I’ll use the access point below my bedroom. When I’m ready to party, you’ll hear the music. You can join the fun then. We crystal?”
“As mud,” he said.
“Ha. All this action is making you funny, isn’t it? Bad look for you, though. Feels like you’re trying too hard. Stick to your fire and brimstone gig.”
I pulled the hatch shut over my head and descended the steps.
I reached the basement floor and removed my loner phone, activating the flashlight feature and shining it across the space. The light illuminated dusty boxes and old furniture. Navigating around all the stuff I couldn’t quite throw away, I reached the center of the room. I reached upward and pulled a thin string. A dull light burned across the bunker, casting enough of a glow for me to see without the cell phone’s assistance.
The place was mostly used as storage for shit I didn’t need but was too lazy to get rid of. A lot of workout equipment that I planned to use at the New Year. Boxes filled with Callie’s belongings—clothes and perfumes and things that I couldn’t convince myself to give up or throw away. One of her boxes lay open—probably from a drunk, nostalgic night—and I happened to peer inside it.
For a moment, I couldn’t do anything but stare at her old T-shirts. She loved college football, and most of her graphic shirts featured the logo of some collegiate program. Oregon Ducks attire filled most of this box—her favorite team, because they had the best jerseys. And that’s a real quote from her. She knew football inside and out, better than anyone I’d ever known. But she liked the Ducks—not for their play style or their recruits or because she was from Oregon—for their jerseys.
I grabbed a shirt from the box and held it to my face, inhaling deeply like a creeper. Her scent had faded, replaced with the stale stench of dust and mice droppings. I lowered the shirt and stared into the box. So much time had passed since my last visit to the basement. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine her perfume, but I couldn’t. Only the dust and the droppings and the dry wood reached my nose.
I cracked my neck and peeled my attention from her belongings. I didn’t have time to get lost in memories of her. When this was finished, I could come down here and drown in my sorrow all I wanted. For now, I had more pressing matters to attend.
Dropping the shirt and placing a hand on my back pocket, I felt the paper from Mel’s room crinkle. The tangibility allowed me to move away from Callie and focus on my daughter. I hustled to the corner of the basement and dug through a pile of old, ratted towels. Beneath them, I found a twenty-pound sledgehammer. I wiped my face.
If I picked it up, my life would change forever. It would represent a declaration of war against two Nephil—Hephaestus and Hecate. If I lifted that heavy hammer, I would be leaping back into my old life of hunting and fighting and killing. Even if I did save Mel, I would drag her into that world, into all that danger. Her adopted parents were dead. She would have nowhere to go this time.
I had vanished from Hephaestus once, and that
