Krystian chuckles. “Only been here a few times in my life.” He studies the tiny house too, as if seeing it through fresh eyes. “We spend most of the time in the compound or on the road. But we wanted a few safe houses where we could get away from everything.”
“This place is safe, warded, and most importantly, hidden from Ares,” Everett says.
The guys’ suitcases—and my bag of supplies—are already here. Huh. I never even realized they were gone, though I suppose we didn’t travel with them to Aphrodite’s apartment.
“You guys are constantly busy, aren’t you?” I muse, moving my fingers over the mantel of the fireplace, surprised when they come back dust-free.
Either there’s a spell on the home keeping it clean or they hired someone to dust and vacuum while they’re away.
Krystian’s laugh is dark and humorless. “Our job is to take down monsters and wayward supes. We don’t get a lot of time off.”
“We don’t getanytime off,” Rafe corrects, already stalking down the hallway towards one of the rooms.
“Why don’t the gods have more teams working at once?” I ask, the question nagging at me. “If they’re worried about saving human lives, then wouldn’t it make sense to have a bunch of teams?”
Everett snorts like he finds my question cute and heads towards the kitchen.
Zaid smiles sadly. “Centuries ago, that used to be the case. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of teams working.”
“Then the higher powers got competitive,” Krystian fills in, a tight smile on his handsome face. “It became less about protecting the humans and more about one-upping each other.”
A painful ache erupts in my chest. “And you have no say in the matter? You can’t refuse or ask for help?”
“It’s not so bad,” Krystian says, trying to remain positive, though I can see the tension in his neck and shoulders. “The pay’s good.”
“It’s just not fair,” I insist.
Why should their entire existence revolve around hunting monsters and defending humans? Why does that burden need to fall on them and them alone?
“Life isn’t fair,” Everett calls from the kitchen, where he’s poring over the contents of the fridge. Someone must’ve filled it recently—or else the food was magicked to not go bad—becauseEverett grabs out a bag of tomatoes, some cheese, and a few other ingredients I can’t decipher. “I’m making spaghetti with homemade meat sauce.”
“Thank fuck. I’m starving.” Krystian dramatically grabs at his stomach, his tongue lolling.
Apparently, our conversation is over.
“Is there a bathroom I can use?” I question.
“Down the hall to the right,” Zaid says, pointing.
I thank him and then skip in the direction he indicated. Once I reach the door, I knock, just to make sure Rafe isn’t using it, before ducking inside.
It’s cute and tiny, everything colored in white and blue.
“Fuck, I have to pee,” I mutter, reaching for my jeans.
That’s one of the only things I hate about having a real body—excrements.
What’s the point of eating food if you're just going to get rid of it a few hours later?
My fingers snag on where I keep my dagger tucked snugly in the waistband of my pants. Only…I don’t feel the cool metal of the blade or the jewel-encrusted hilt.
Holy fuck.
Did I lose my dagger? Where is it?
I try to remember when I last had it, but I come up blank. I’m ninety percent certain I shoved it in my pants after threatening Aphrodite with it.
I pull my pants down the entire way and twist in the mirror.
