“She totally is,” Krystian counters.
“Enough of this.” Zaid moves to step between us all, effortlessly garnering our attention. “Do we have a plan? We can’t just barge into Aphrodite’s apartment and demand she tell us what she knows about Thea. For all we know, she had a part to play in it.”
“We need to hide Thea,” Rafe murmurs, contemplative.
“Wait…hide me? Like, put a blanket over my head?” I ask.
Everett stares at me like I’m dumb, which…fair.
“I’ll put a glamour on you, love,” Krystian says. “I won’t be able to hold it for long—at least, not one powerful enough to hide you from a goddess—but it should last for an hour or so. She won’t be able to hear or see you.”
Trepidation claws down my spine. “I won’t, like, fade away, will I?”
“No, sweetheart,” Zaid assures me quickly. “You’ll still be here. We’ll still be able to see and hear you. She just won’t be able to.”
“But shewillbe able to touch you, so make sure you’re not standing in her way,” Krystian adds.
“And then what?” Everett folds his arms over his chest and scowls. “We ask about Thea?”
“We pretend that we heard some new gossip about a reaper held hostage by Hades,” Zaid corrects. “You know Aphrodite won’t be able to resist.”
The guys all nod, and a solemn aura permeates the air.
We’re doing this.
We’re actually doing this.
We’re going to meet with a goddess, and hopefully, get some answers.
If not…
Well, I don’t want to think about that.
I won't fade away again.
I refuse.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EVERETT
I’m not surprised Aphrodite chose to set up camp in a swanky, upscale apartment complex in downtown New York City.
The lobby shimmers like the inside of a champagne flute—tall ceilings wrapped in velvet gray and gilded with brushed brass trim that catches the early morning light. A chandelier of fractured crystal spirals down from above, suspended in midair. At the far end, a concierge desk—minimalist marble and matte black steel—stands abandoned, a collection of brochures on its surface.
Potted fiddle-leaf figs flank the lounge area, which holds a collection of leather armchairs, glass tables, and a stone fireplace. The scent of sandalwood and oranges drifts through the air, and jazz music blares from hidden speakers.
There’s not a single fucking person to be seen.
Not one.
Rumor has it Aphrodite bought the entire building, kicked out all of the tenants, and turned the rooms into sex dungeons.
“So…the Goddess of Beauty,” Thea begins as we move to the elevator.
According to Krystian, the glamour is already in place, making her invisible to anyone who isn’t us. Unfortunately, she’s still able to talk.
And talk she does.
