He holds up the picture he just drew. “Found with a key at The Temple of Hephaestus in 300 BCE. It’s made of blue sapphire with a gold relief carved into its surface. Depiction of the Greek gods standing in a circle. Gold accents highlight the sun and other objects like Hephaestus’ hammer.”
Face white, she takes the sketch from him and stares down at it. “Thanks, Doran. Make the call, and I’ll pay your debt on our way out.”
While Kline makes the arrangements, the four of us crowd around Phaedra. “Do you know what it is?”
She shakes her head. “No, but when I held the key, I got a vision. It showed me several different panels. One looked exactly like this one.”
A vision. It’s the first time she’s shared something important with me, and I can’t help but feel grateful for that little kernel of trust. But why is she the one getting the vision?
“One group has the panel. One doesn’t. Neither has the key. It’s our only leverage,” I remind her. “Where’s the key?”
Her face goes blank. “It’s safe.”
Mathias takes the sketch from her. “Where do we start looking?” He passes it to Hawthorne.
“Archaeology network, old tombs, the original dig, and artifact finds from digs at similar sites,” Hawthorne informs him, and she nods in agreement. He passes the paper to me.
Phaedra bites her cheek for a second, then says quietly. “I think Letz told me where to start.”
Kline walks over before I can ask her to elaborate and hands over a piece of paper. “They don’t want to meet, especially not with a security team from the council. This is their account number. Make the payment tonight, and they’ll recall the marker.” His voice breaks as he hands her the paper. “If you ever need anything, please call. I’m in your debt.”
She squeezes his hand. “Thank you. Go hug your kids.”
17
PHAEDRA
The money transfer goes through immediately, and we head back to the airport. Gatlin boards the plane first, and when he deems it safe, the rest of us join him. I settle in and study the image Kline drew. Six gods are depicted on the panel. Hephaestus with his hammer. Athena, easily recognizable in her helmet, with her spear in her right hand. To her left, Ares, his shield half-raised toward Hephaestus. Those two never did get along. Then, Apollo, laurel crown on his head and bow in hand, stands next to Artemis, his sister, with her own bow and arrow. Last but not least, Demeter. Gratitude overwhelms me as I trace a finger over the last god. The one who advocated for me so long ago. Why does the panel only show these six and not the twelve Olympians? Maybe one of the other panels shows the rest of them? Some of the details in the vision are hazy.
Hawthorne leans over my shoulder. “There’s something in the middle.”
The low timbre of his voice sends a shiver down my spine, but I force myself to focus on the sketch. “Show me.”
He points to the way Athena’s head is tilted, and Apollo’s eyes are downcast. “It looks like they’re staring down at something.”
Flipping it around, I stare at it from a different angle. “I’m not sure. Maybe?” My eyes drift up to meet his, and I find myself staring into his green eyes.
He raises an eyebrow. “Where do you think we should start first?”
His use of “we” sounds better than it should. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him about Letz and his society, but too many years of caution hold me back. “Besides the place Letz told me about, we should look up the original dig. See exactly where the archaeologist discovered the items.”
He leans in closer, inhaling deeply. “At first, I thought you might be a siren. Or a succubus. But you don’t smell of fire and tobacco, just the sweet, luscious scents of jasmine and vanilla. I’ve never smelled the combination on anyone else. What are you?”
The low, husky tone of his voice sends shivers down my spine. Jamison was telling the truth. I wonder if I smell different to everyone or just them. Nobody has ever commented on it.
Part of me is tempted to lean forward and kiss his firm lips, but the other half is amused at his attempt to seduce the answer out of me. I lean in until our lips are almost touching.
“Does that work on most women?” The husky tone of my voice conveys my interest in him. I don’t mind the seduction. Just the reason behind it.
Half-lidded, he stares down at me. “Most women want to share everything about themselves.” He holds up two fingers a half-inch apart. “You share little. I’m left to guess. Something I don’t like to do.”
Another thing we have in common. “I’m a woman. Isn’t that enough?”
He chuckles. “A very smart, intriguing woman with too many secrets.”
I blush at the blatant interest in his gaze, but I avoid replying by picking up the sketch again. “You know what’s weird? I don’t remember hearing about this discovery, and I can recall almost all of the Greek expeditions.”
Brows furrow as he thinks about it. “Neither do I. And I was alive back then.”
