“Argos,speak.”
I reared back in my chair waiting for Argos to start waxing poetic about something, but she merelybarked.
“Thank God,” Imuttered.
Portia laughed merrily. “She cannot actually speak, but she understands everything. As I’m sure you’ve foundout.”
“This is really Odysseus’dog?”
“Quite,” Portia said. “He was resurrected a few days after his death, though we were forced to pass his soul into a femalebody.”
I marveled at Margo. Well...Argos. The legend behind the dog was sad and borderline cruel, as most things having to do with mythology were. Argos was Odysseus’ faithful companion. When he returned home after being gone for twenty long years, Odysseus was forced to be in disguise. His dog was the only one who recognized him and greeted him with a wag of his tail because he was too old and weak to get up. Odysseus was unable to pet his faithful dog for fear of revealing his identity, and Argos passed away shortly after. It was one of the stories that always made me thesaddest.
“This is amazing.” I stared at Portia. “But why give her tome?”
“Because you hold great sway over both life and death. You have not yet fully explored your powers. Argos was given to you for protection, for all is still not well. But he was also given to you as a companion.” She smiled gently. “I believe the two men in your life like pets,no?”
Hank’s eyebrows went up. “Two?”
Portia made a tsking noise. “Surely you don’t think Lucien is foolish enough to ignore the beauty and wit of the woman sitting right in front ofme?”
Hank’s face said that was exactly what he’dthought.
“Surely if you grow too comfortable and think you’ve already won with minimal effort, you deserve to lose the game, yes?” Portiaasked.
Hank’s face turned thunderous. Anger was evident in his posture and the way he clenched his fists open andclosed.
I stared wide-eyed at Portia. “Um. I’m not sure that’s what we’re here to talkabout?”
“We aren’t, but some things still need to be said,dear.”
Portia moved over to my couch, carrying my hot chocolate withher.
“Am I still allowed to call her Margo?” I asked, gesturing to the floppy puppy still sitting there still asstone.
“Of course. She is a girl now, afterall.”
“Will she age?” It would be pretty weird having a puppyforever.
“Of course. But it won’t be typical. She will be young for a very, very long time. The magic that now sustains her is different. She was raised by a powerful necromancer, but she has my magic aswell.”
I studied her, almost bursting with the need to ask her what she was but remembering Hank’s reaction last time Idid.
She winked as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. “I’m sure Hank filled you in on what Isaid.”
Hank was still standing there glowering and I wasn’t sure how to make him feelbetter.
Inodded.
“Your magic is disruptive to the veil,Helen.”
When I opened my mouth to protest, she held her hand up. “I’m not saying it’s bad. No magic is innately bad. It’s only bad when wielded by the user who has nefarious purposes. But this recent client you took on asked too much of you and you let your heart get in theway.”
“Did Dolores die because ofme?”
Portia gave me a sad smile. “Let me try to ease your conscience. Dolores’ deathwasa result of you drawing her long-dead son through theveil.”
I closed my eyes and took a breath. If that was easing my conscience, she was terrible atit.
