Dakota holstered her weapon.
“What the fuck is going on here?” I asked. “Your door is open and you look like a man who has lost everything to a gambling addiction. You even have your feet on the coffee table, which I’m pretty sure—and you’ve told me this at least a thousand times—the good book says is a sin.”
“Someone broke into the apartment,” Xander said, sipping his scotch.
“What?” I asked, glancing around. Despite his disheveled appearance, everything else seemed sparkling clean and in place. “When, tomorrow?”
“Probably earlier, when you were gone and left the door open.”
“Are you serious?” I asked. “Probably earlier, when it was convenient to be my fault. What about after Dakota and I left? You were still here. Maybe you didn’t lock up when you left for work. Why’s this shit always have to be my fault?”
Because it usually was. Because leaving the door wide open was a pretty solid reason to suspect a break-in timeframe. Because Xander is more responsible than a type-A mom who only cares about what people think of her. I moved into the kitchen, knowing my anger stemmed from Dakota and Melanie and the fact that the entire issue had to be put on the back burner for the next five minutes. If Xander looked how he looked that bad, the burglar must have stolen something pretty important or dangerous.
“If it makes you feel better,” I said, “Dakota has a crush on you. For some godforsaken, misguided reason, she even thinks you’re cuter than me.”
“It’s true,” she said, loud enough for me to hear from the other room. “Joey’s chin is a little too weak, just like he’s a little too skinny for me. I enjoy a man who I know can handle me when I need to be handled.”
I nearly spilled the scotch I’d poured for the two of us. Xander didn’t respond. After filling both glasses, I returned to the living room, handing Dakota her drink and asking Xander if he wanted more. He shook his head.
“Good,” I said, “more for me.” I drank a finger and surveyed the apartment once more. “How do you know someone broke in? Everything seems… fine.”
“The tetradrachms are gone, along with the chalice. Whoever stole them knew how to find them, which means they know where we are.”
Shit, I thought.
“Tetradrachms?” Dakota asked, her inquisitive nature taking over.
“The thirty silver coins that Judas accepted when he betrayed Jesus.”
“Fuck me,” I said, finishing my scotch in one go and running my fingers through my hair. “Dakota received—and ignored—about seventy-seven calls from Tacet. Apparently—and I promise you this isn’t my fault, though you’ll think of a way to blame me—Mel’s body went missing.”
Xander, slouching in the couch, shot straight up. “What?” He furrowed his brow, looking super-duper cute as his little mind worked out the puzzle. “These have to be related incidents, right?”
“No duh,” I said, glancing at Dakota and scoffing. “Genius over here, am I right?”
“Whatever Medea had planned that night with Melanie, we must have stopped it,” Xander said. “My guess is that someone new has taken up her mantle. It can’t be Hecate, since the Nephil can’t directly interfere with mortal lives. But it’s most likely another one of her followers.”
“Obviously,” I said. “But what concerns me is why they need the coins and the chalice? Why Mel’s body?”
After a moment of silence, Dakota cleared her throat. “I don’t know how or even if this helps, but after investigating Medea’s house, I found a single letter hidden in her nightstand drawer.”
My simmering anger bubbled back up. “You’re secrets are really starting to—”
Xander touched my arm, silencing me. “She was up-front with us, Joe. She said she had information and would provide it tonight. Let’s hear her out.”
Dakota nodded at Xander. “It’s the only evidence I managed to collect from the scene that points us toward the supernatural. I don’t have the letter on me, but it said something along the lines of, ‘Gladas still refused my love after I made him a Demi and issued the Scylla curse upon the woman.’ It was signed by Circe.” She hesitated for a second, allowing us time to consider the note. “I don’t know who Gladas or Circe are, but I know two things. One, a Demi can only be created when a Nephil drains half of their powers and offers them to a mortal. Often, in literature, they’re known as demigods—half-human, half-god. However, in order for it to work, the Nephil has to weaken themselves permanently. Whoever Circe is, she loved this Gladas enough to sacrifice her immortality and powers for him… or her.”
“Have you ever heard of that?” I asked Xander.
“I have, though only in myth. No Nephil is stupid enough to drain their power and offer it to a mortal.”
“The second thing I know about that note,” Dakota said, “is the Scylla curse. It creates a water-monster out of a woman, called a Scylla. The woman must feast on human flesh once very two weeks, otherwise she’ll turn into a monster permanently.”
Again, the room fell into silence. I thought about the day’s events—our search in the field for evidence of a missing boy or cult activity, our run-in with the robed apparition before we left, Tacet’s relentless calls about Mel’s body disappearing, and the theft of the Tetradrachms and Holy Chalice. Coincidences happened, that was true. But not like this. Everything connected, and it all led back to Hecate. We just needed to figure out how.
5
“Don’t make me, Mom,” I said the next morning, lying on the sofa and shoving a pillow
