From Darkness (Hearts & Arrows Book 3)(104)
“Yeah,” she said over her shoulder, “that wall was creepy. How come nobody told me?”
“Ha, ha.”
She winked at him.
They’d spent a week in Washington while he recovered, and it had indeed been miraculous. She was partly convinced he was superhuman after the doctors had insisted he’d be there for two weeks, but he’d healed well enough to go home after only one. The nurses had made a huge fuss about it, but they’d loved to fuss over Jon anyway. It was a rewarding business.
The Spokane police had recovered Rhodes’s belongings, the most notable being the jewelry box that housed every trophy from every kill. It would mean closure for so many families and loved ones, and his death meant safety for countless more.
Josie had flown back while Jon was recovering, just for a few days, long enough to pull down the crime shrine and enter Anne’s room again. She had dropped to the floor at the end of her bed and cried until her tears ran dry, remembering her friend.
Letting her go.
Josie passed the threshold of her bedroom and set his bag next to the bed.
“Damn, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about being in this room again,” he said from behind her.
She turned to find him leaning against the doorframe with his arms across his chest and a crooked smile on his face.
“Oh, is that so?”
“Mmhmm.” He pushed off the door and walked across the room to where she stood, stopping close enough that they were almost touching. He looked down at her as she tilted her face to his.
“Well, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about you in this room.”
“That so?” He slipped a hand into her hair.
“Mmhmm,” she said through a smile.
“Well, you’ve got me here now through my recovery. What should we do?”
“I don’t know.” She looked up and shook her head. “The doctors said very clearly no strenuous activity.”
“Guess that means you’ll have to do all the heavy lifting,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
She ran her hands up his chest and wound them around his neck. “Oh, I don’t mind that at all.”
“Goddamn, I love you,” he said smiling as he bent down to meet her lips, sealing their forever.
Dita looked over the top of her couch when the elevator dinged to find Athena walking through the foyer, the sound of her heels marking her entrance. Her glossy blond hair was short and neat, red lips smiling curtly on her porcelain skin. She looked every bit as powerful as she was—her tailored, high-waisted black slacks and a white button-down, pristine and perfect—like she could walk into a boardroom and eat a dozen CEOs whole.
“Hello, Athena.”
“Hello, Aphrodite. I hope I find you well.”
Dita put down her worn copy of one of her favorite bodice rippers and smiled. “Quite. And to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“May I?” Athena motioned to an armchair, and Dita nodded. “Thank you.” She took a seat, crossing her long legs. “I wanted to come by before our competition starts. Shake hands, as it were.”
“Ah, good form. Have you chosen your player yet?”
“I have, and I’m optimistic.”
Dita chuckled. “That’s what they all say.”
“Yes, but I’m one of the few who makes you work for your win.” Athena’s blue eyes sparkled. “Oh, and we haven’t spoken much since you’ve been back. I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for what Ares did to you. I suppose none of us should be surprised at my brother’s behavior, but really, he outdid himself.”
“Yes, well…thank you. I appreciate the thought. I shouldn’t have expected more from him.”
“We all do, especially Zeus. Expectations are an impossible thing. You can’t help but want those you love to rise above and earn the love you’ve given them. Because we all love him, in our own ways. Just far less than we hate him.” The words were as practical and matter-of-fact as the goddess who spoke them.
“You speak in truth and wisdom, Athena,” Dita said lightly.
“Yes, I do. It is my blessing as it is my curse.” She stood and extended her hand. “May the best woman win.”
Dita shook her hand with a smile. “I always do.”
Epilogue
SWEAT ROLLED DOWN HEPHAESTUS’S bare back and chest, the familiar heat from the forge clinging to him, as much a part of him as his hands and his heart and his soul.
The only light in the room came from the coal in the stone pit, highlighting everything it touched in oranges and casting the rest in darkness.
In his hand, he held a crucible with metal tongs, the gold in the tray first bending, then softening, then melting into a pool of white-hot liquid that he could shape, that he could make something new from, that he could mold and change and create with.
He knew the moment before it was right, could tell from the color and the consistency that it was time. He poured the molten gold into a mold in the shape of a small bar and stepped back, leaning against his workbench as he waited for the metal to cool, staring into the coals.
This was the place he’d found solace for thousands of years, and tonight was no exception.