Chapter 13

Irode hard and fast to the Castle. To Addison's dismay, I sequestered myself in my bedroom to spend the next couple hours practicing what I'd say to my parents.

I'm your daughter.

I miss you.

I love bacon, pizza, and cold beer on a hot night. No, that sounded more like a dating profile.

Was I loved?

Do I make you proud?

And the most important question—Who murdered you?

A knock on the door interrupted me. "Are you going to talk to yourself all day?" Addison complained.

"I'm rehearsing."

"Do you want to role play? I'm good at that."

I opened the door an inch. "I'd rather have privacy. Can you try to be good at that instead?"

Her mouth formed a pout. "I'm bored. Let me help you."

"Too late. I'm done now. I need to brush my hair and teeth, and it's time to go." My voice box was far calmer than my other organs.

"I'm going with you," Addison announced. "Where are you going this time?"

"Nowhere." I retreated into the bathroom to brush, followed by Addison.

"They made you another offer, didn't they? Let me guess—he said there were no strings attached to it. Just a gesture of goodwill from the good guys."

I pivoted to face her. "He may have used similar words."

"You're too complacent. This is clearly a trap."

"They're not the only ones with tricks up their sleeves. If they make a move, so will I."

As I rinsed my mouth, I felt an enticing sizzle down my spine that prompted me to spit the water all over the sink and mirror.

Addison snort-laughed. "No wonder you need ghosts to clean up after you. You're a hot mess."

I glared at her as I headed downstairs to greet Kane.

I stepped onto the front porch and closed the door behind me to avoid eavesdroppers. Claude sat on a white wicker rocking chair at the far end of the porch.

When did I get a rocking chair?

"Are you ready?" Kane's voice interrupted my confusion.

I shifted my attention back to the demon. "I was planning to go alone."

Kane clasped my hands. I'd grown so accustomed to his touch that my mind barely registered him, despite my lowered defenses. It was noteworthy progress. I felt—dare I say it—optimistic about our future. For my future. First time for everything.

"I think we should drive separately," I said. "I want to go in alone."

"I promise to lurk in the background unless something seems amiss."

"Do we need a safe word?"

His mouth quirked. "With me? I highly advise it."

A light tapping sound drew my attention to the floorboards. Claude's hand crawled across them to tug the hem of my jeans.

"What is it?" I asked.

Claude pointed to me and then Kane. It wasn't a bad idea. The revenant would be harder to spot. He could keep an eye on me and report back to Kane if necessary.

I looked at the demon. "Make it a threesome."

Kane cut a glance at the hand. "Under different circumstances, I might find the offer tempting."

"Claude will accompany me. If anything goes pear-shaped, he'll let you know. Do you know sign language?"

"I don't need to. If I see a hand scurrying toward me, I'll find you." He looked at the revenant. "Isn't that right, Claude?"

The fingers moved up and down in unison.

I squeezed Kane's hands before releasing them. "Okay then. Let's go, team."

"No fair!" Addison's voice echoed against the glass of the window. So much for avoiding eavesdroppers.

"You'll only put yourself in danger by coming with me," I insisted.

She yanked open the door. "What if they're luring you to the city so they can send an extraction team here for me? Did you think of that?" She crossed her arms in a triumphant gesture.

"If they intended to storm the Castle to reach you, they would've done so already, with or without my presence."

She squinted at me, torn as to whether to trust my instincts. "What makes you so sure?"

"Mathis. He's playing the long game."

Addison's features warred with reality. She knew I was right—and if I wasn't, I had Gunther and Camryn posted within shouting distance of the Castle. If there was a problem, the mages were authorized to act, within guild rules, of course.

"Will you bring me back a shawarma from the place I like on Park Avenue?"

"If I survive the meeting, yes."

She clapped her hands and shut the door.

I rode my motorcycle with Claude in my pocket. Kane followed a reasonable distance behind us in his sleek sports car. The revenant maintained a white-knuckle grip on the edge of the pocket as I pushed the speedometer higher. The closer I was to the appointed meeting place, the more my anxiety spiked—and not because of the potential trap. If Mathis was telling the truth, I was about to meet my parents, arguably for the first time since I didn't really remember them. More than anything, I remembered the feeling of their absence and spent the rest of my life enduring a parental-shaped hole in my heart.

I joined the highway and sped toward the tunnel into New York City. Leave it to The Corporation to lure me into the city that never sleeps at the witching hour. Traffic was light, though, which meant I was able to find street parking a block away from my destination. Kane parked behind me.

I stared at the sagging structure. "It's a church." I checked the address again. "This is definitely the place." Broken stained-glass windows. A door hanging off its hinges. It looked like no one had worshipped here in decades. How had the building not been demolished by now?

"This is the saddest church I've ever seen," Kane said.

I turned toward him. "Does this mean you can't enter if I need help?"

"What makes you think that?"

"You're a demonic prince of hell. Won't you burst into flames?"

Kane pressed his lips together, as though he couldn't decide whether to be amused or disappointed by my ignorance. "There's no barrier to entry. If I'm needed, I'll be there, especially this one. I highly doubt any deity claims ownership of it. Too embarrassing."

I looked down at Claude. "How about you?"

The revenant's nod was reassuring. Backup was still in place.

I scooped up Claude and tucked the hand into my jacket pocket. His fingers peeked out and I tapped them, encouraging the revenant to remain hidden.

"Wish me luck," I said.

Kane winked. "You don't need luck when you have me."

As much as I wanted to mock his arrogance, I had to admit his words had their desired effect of easing my nerves.

I turned and walked along the darkened sidewalk to the entrance of the church.

The closer I drew, the more the air crackled with supernatural energy. The church seemed to be the source—or whatever awaited me inside.

My anxiety flared at the thought.

The door creaked as I opened it, adding to the charged air. The interior was nearly pitch-dark, except for the streetlight that beamed through the stained-glass window and illuminated the broken altar.

"Mathis?" There seemed to be no sign of anyone, but it was too dark to be sure.

No one answered. Maybe I had the wrong location. I expected to see Mathis, along with the deity involved. I also expected a magical net to fall from the ceiling to capture me, but looking up, I saw no sign of a trap.

What I did see was an envelope on the altar, positioned between two unlit candles. I approached it for a better look. There was only one word written on the front.

Lorelei.

I opened the envelope and withdrew a postcard, along with a match. Light them, the card read.

I struck the match and lit the two candles. Their light gave rise to shadows on the wall. Shapes formed from the darkness, stretching into two well-defined silhouettes.

I stared at the wall, unable to breathe. Trap or not, I was fully invested in the outcome.

The church's interior disappeared. I was no longer standing in a place I recognized. Inside my pocket, I felt Claude shudder. Terrific. Even the revenant was scared.

Had I been spirited away to an undisclosed location? So much for Kane's close proximity.

Stained-glass windows were replaced by wallpaper, a design of small blue cornflowers. A nearby shelf displayed country-style knickknacks—a saltshaker in the form of a hen and a pepper shaker in the shape of a cockerel.

My heart skipped a beat. I knew this room, although I couldn't tell you when and where I'd seen it.

The silhouettes gained flesh and features. Two faces stared back at me, at once familiar and yet entirely strange. His tousled brown hair. Her intelligent grey eyes. Distant memories merged with photographs. My throat grew thick.

"Mom?" I croaked. "Dad?"

Although they didn't speak, I felt their jumble of emotions. Confusion, elation, sorrow, and something else. A feeling that seemed out of place during a reunion with the child you left behind.

Fear.

Did they know what I was? Did I frighten them?

I extended a hand, wondering whether they'd be solid, or apparitions like Ray and Nana Pratt. Warmth spread through me as my arms passed through my mother's body. Despite the lack of contact, I felt like I was in her embrace, as though our two parallel planes were converging.

I tried my father next with the same result. Claude climbed out of my pocket and came to rest on my shoulder.

"This is my friend, Claude," I told them. "He's a revenant."

Neither parent seemed shocked to see a dismembered, disfigured hand seated on my shoulder. There were many explanations, including the obvious one—that once you're dead, you have access to all the secrets of the universe; therefore, a creepy-crawly hand was nothing to write home about.

"I'm so happy to see you both. I was really hoping we'd be able to have a conversation."

They both smiled, albeit with sadness in their eyes. They seemed to know my efforts were in vain. I could communicate with ghosts. Why couldn't these two communicate with me?

I cleared my throat. "I command you to speak to me." I felt absurd, demanding that my parents speak to me. Their mouths opened and closed. No sound came out.

"Whichever deity they used for this ought to have their license revoked," I grumbled.

My mother's eyes rounded at the mention of a deity. I looked at her. "You know who I am?"

She nodded and reached for my hand. A second attempt at physical contact. I concentrated on the details of her skin, her five slender fingers, the lines across her knuckles. I poured every ounce of focus into making contact.

Our hands passed through each other again, two ghosts in transit. I looked up as my parents faded to nothing.

"No!"

The cornflower design was stripped away and replaced by rocky walls covered in sparkling crystals.

My parents were gone, and I had no idea where I was.

The cavern was surprisingly bright. I turned in search of my parents, hoping against the odds they'd been transported along with me. Instead, I spotted two elaborate chairs.

Not chairs. Thrones.

The throne on the left bore the symbol of a cockerel, and the throne on the right bore the design of a hen.

Pops had taught me enough mythology to recognize my new location. I was in the Greek underworld in the throne room of Hades and Persephone.

But why?

Melinoe was their daughter, but I, Lorelei Clay, was the daughter of the people in the cornflower-covered room. Dana Frost and James Clay.

Maybe the signals got crossed and the spell, or whatever was fueling this reunion, was confused by my goddess status. Whatever the reason, I didn't have time to waste in the underworld. I was here to see my parents again.

Claude scrambled along my arm and jumped to the throne. His index finger tapped the symbol of the hen.

"Thank you, but I figured it out already. That's the throne of Persephone, the queen of the underworld." Melinoe's original mother, not mine.

Claude's fingers spread in what appeared to be exasperation. He scurried to the other throne and smacked the cockerel.

"Yes, I see, Claude. The cockerel is Hades. The hen and the cockerel…" I stopped abruptly. The salt-and-pepper shakers in the first room. Those were also a hen and a cockerel.

I brushed aside the thought. Lots of people decorated their homes in a country style, with wooden signs advertising eggs for 25 cents and a display of ceramic chickens. It was likely a coincidence.

I surveyed the cavern for other evidence of my location. A lush rug lay beneath my feet. The design involved crocuses, violets, irises, lilies, larkspur, and roses. According to legend, these were the flowers Persephone had been gathering the day she was taken to the underworld by Hades for the first time.

Instinctively, my hand rose to touch the invisible mark on my forehead. A rose.

It had to be another coincidence. The rose was related to the beings that gave me the mark. Persephone wasn't the one responsible for hiding me. It was unlikely the goddess even knew of my existence.

I spotted a five-foot-tall urn on a pedestal and crossed the room for a closer look. The exterior was covered in depictions of famous figures. Paintings of Hades and Persephone sharing food and drink decorated the narrow top. Below them I recognized Minos thanks to his notable staff with the eagle top. Beside him were his fellow judges of the dead, Aiakos and Rhadamanthus. Aiakos wore a set of keys. The trio were sons of Zeus credited with establishing law and order in the mortal realm. Their father granted them demigod status in the underworld as a reward for their service.

I stared at the urn. Had Pops taught me about them? I couldn't recall a specific lesson, yet I knew them the way I knew that water was wet.

My palms grew slick with sweat.

It was Melinoe's knowledge, not mine, but that wasn't possible. Her past had always been inaccessible to me, as dormant as Mount Kilimanjaro. Only her powers made themselves known.

Around the urn's belly, more familiar figures were displayed. Orpheus and Eurydice. Heracles. Sisyphus. Hermes, whose job involved guiding souls to the underworld. My fingers instinctively reached out to touch the painting of the three-headed dog, Cerberus. Ferocious when necessary but otherwise an absolute sweetheart.

With shaking hands, I backed away from the urn.

I spun in a circle, searching for more … of what I wasn't sure. The cavern seemed eerily empty for the throne room of a Greek god and goddess. Where were its occupants?

The light was brighter here than in my childhood home, despite its location in the depths of the underworld. The crystals created a prism of colorful luminance.

Maybe my parents' shades had been sent here, but that made no sense. Frost and Clay weren't Greek names. As far as I knew, we had no Greek heritage apart from my connection to Melinoe.

A sharp whine cut through the quiet. I glanced at the shadows and saw movement. I didn't wait to see more. I turned and fled into a dark corridor. My feet moved swiftly and with confidence, even though I had no idea where I was going. The whining followed me into the corridor, echoing loudly in the narrower space.

My chest tightened as I ran faster. The sound of multiple footsteps echoed behind me. I saw light up ahead and sprinted toward it—a colorful prism in varying shapes and sizes.

I crossed the threshold and came to an abrupt halt. The colorful lights were the same stained-glass windows as before. I was back in the church where I'd started. Still dilapidated and empty.

I burst through the exit, my whole body trembling. I'd expected to feel emotional, but my physiological response was next level. I felt like someone had been playing Lucifer's Waltz on my heartstrings for the past hour. Once outside, it took me a solid five minutes to collect myself and only then did I walk with shaky steps toward my motorcycle.

Did Mathis know in advance what I would see? If not, had he been privy to my vision? I worried about The Corporation beating me to the punch and making sense of this before I had a chance to fully process. That was the likely reason for their ‘no strings attached' approach. They figured they'd gather intel about me, gain the upper hand, which meant Mathis wouldn't have known in advance. This was a trap, only not the kind I'd anticipated.

It was only when I was safe and seated on my motorcycle that I realized my cheeks were damp with tears. I dug through my pockets for a tissue and wiped them away. I felt oddly exposed, as though I'd been cracked open and examined. It seemed like the type of torture one might experience in a circle of hell. At least I had a contact who could confirm or deny.

Kane hurried toward me. "Lorelei?"

I shook my head, unable to speak. "I can't right now."

He slowed to a halt. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I need a little space to process." There'd be no shawarma. I hated to disappoint Addison, but I didn't want to engage in small talk with anybody, not even a cashier. I needed to be alone with my thoughts.

I looked at Claude. "Would you mind riding back with Kane?"

The revenant climbed onto my shoulder and jumped to Kane's.

"I'm here, whenever you want to talk," Kane said.

I mustered a smile. "I appreciate that."

My limbs felt as heavy as my heart. With great effort, I started my motorcycle and rode home.