Chapter Twenty-Six

Poseidon called me shortly after he texted. I explained what was going on, and he invited us to his place to search for the next clue. He was surprisingly chipper about the whole thing, getting into the hunt like a kid looking for eggs on Easter. It took a lot to ruffle Donnie's feathers, but I thought someone stealing his prized possession might do the trick. Evidently not.

“So, you wanted to see where I kept the trident. Here it is,” Donnie said.

I was staring at the floor. The glass floor. Donnie wasn't big on privacy. Or maybe it didn't matter so much since his island palace went subterranean to the point where it came out underwater. Two walls and the floor were glass, giving a spectacular view of the ocean. All sorts of sea life swam by and crawled across the sand below us. And that “all sorts” included stuff you wouldn't see on Earth. Like seahorses that were actually part horse. They had a name . . . what was it?

“Vervain?”

“Hippocampi!” I exclaimed as I looked up, away from the one that was taking a nap on the seabed.

Re chuckled. “Yes, La-la, that's a hippocampi.”

“Aw, I love that you're stoked about them. I think they're pretty boss too.”

“Yeah, they're amazing.” I grinned. “What were you saying? ”

“I was saying that I keep my spear here,” Donnie said and pointed at one of the two walls that weren't glass.

I hurried over to him, past the collection of leather sofas set in a curve to face the clear walls. “Sorry, Donnie, it's been a long day.”

“Yeah, I get it. The shit that's been goin' down is bananas. I wish you had dealt me in sooner, but no biggie. You have your hands full. And I'm real sorry about Azrael. Them's the weeps. But he'll be all right, Vervain. You'll see. I mean, he's the Angel of Death, yo!”

“Thanks, Donnie.” I patted his buff arm as I stepped up beside him.

Poseidon was built like a swimmer—lean but big. And he was striking, with short white hair that contrasted sharply with his tan skin. Turquoise eyes popped against that golden-brown background as well, but it was hard to focus on them with his prominent cheekbones leading you down to his square jaw. Yeah, he was a looker. He was also a nice guy. Truly nice.

“So, it was right here?” I waved at the hooks on the wall. A collection of surfboards hung around the empty hooks, leaving the impression that their owner had grabbed one of them and gone surfing. But it wasn't a board that had hung there.

“Yup,” Donnie said. “I kept it in the center of my quiver. The place of honor.”

“Quiver?” Re asked.

“His collection of surfboards,” I said as I peered closer at the hooks. “Is this one turned the right way? It seems to be pointing in the wrong direction to hold the trident.”

Donnie leaned in to stare at the same hook. “You're right. It wouldn't hold the trident properly like that. It's totally wonk. Should be like this.” He turned the hook and it popped out of the wall. “What da?” He gaped at the tube that came with the hook. “I didn't make it like this.”

“Can I see that, Donnie?” I held out my hand.

He gave me the tube.

I twisted and pulled and pried until the end of the tube popped off. Tapping it on my palm, I retrieved the rolled-up paper inside. This time, there were words. A lot of words. A whole damn soliloquy.

“Congratulations, Godhunter!” I read. “You have found the final clue. All you have to do is solve this riddle, and you will win the game. All will be well, I promise.” I rolled my eyes.

“You're right, this guy is gnar. But he's busted now,” Donnie said. “Go on. What's the riddle? We'll unwind it in no time. I'm great at riddles.”

“It says, 'Hidden in plain sight, I have explored your woods and sampled your bounty. I lurk in your shadow, running with the wolves. I watch without being seen. Love hides and guards me. But it will reveal me as well. Come and find me, Vervain. I await you at the end of the game.'” I handed the paper to Re. “He's one of the people who's been helping us, that much is clear.”

“Running with the wolves,” Re said. “He must be masking himself as a Froekn.”

“That seems too obvi,” Donnie said. “This guy is tricky, right? He's not a wolf. He's running with them. Someone associated with the Froekn. Come on, let's have some coffee and percolate on this dodgy note while the beans percolate in the pot.”

Donnie headed for the stairs. I frowned at him for a second, then Re took my hand, and we followed the God of the Sea up, out of his submerged living room and into his kitchen. To percolate.