IT WILL, THOUGH THE DETAILS ARE UNCLEAR. IHAVEN’T THE GIFT OF PROPHECY.
“Can you at least tell me where the harbinger is?”
YOU’RE THEHUNTER.
“I’m really not.”
Another pause, this one longer.I...CAN’T SEE HIM. IT’S ANNOYING.
Hiding from Temple’s magic was one thing. Hiding from Artemis raised Ronnie to a whole new threat level. “I’ll look for him, but not as a Hunter.”
YOU HAVE THE STUBBORNNESS OFATHENA. I’VE GIVEN MY COUNSEL. HEED IT OR NOT.
Divine dismissals were rarely subtle. I bowed my head. “Thank you, Artemis, bright and fair as the budding leaves. May my senses be as keen as thine, and may your wisdom—”
LESS FLATTERY. MORE TRIBUTE.
I smiled. Despite all that had happened through the years, I loved Artemis. My life would always be incomplete without her. “Of course, my Goddess.”
I opened the music app on my phone and pulled up the playlist titledTribute. I pressed Play, then set the phone on the altar as the opening beats of Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” filled the room.
Artemis was also fond of Fleetwood Mac, Megan Thee Stallion, and Taylor Swift, all of whom were prominently featured on the playlist.
I left the goddess to her concert and headed downstairs, trying not to think about the last time I’d called myself a Hunter: my last mission from Felipe and the Council.
I’d moved on. I’d spent the next thirty-three years learning to leave that day behind. To shut out the screams, theirs and mine both. To forget that first thud as my arrow struck flesh that was all too human.
I’d even gone to therapy, for goddess’s sake.
But I could still hear the screaming.
“There’s a theory on the internet that Freddie Mercury was actually a siren and that’s why his songs were so addictive.”
“Newbies are all the same. As soon as you get a glimpse of therealworld, you start seeing magic in everyone and everything. Here’s the truth. Freddie Mercury was as human as you and me. He was an immigrant and refugee with a gift who worked his ass off.”
“What about—”
“Humans don’t need magical help to be talented or brilliant or cruel or evil. Da Vinci didn’t have angelic guidance. Hitler wasn’t possessed by a demon. Taylor Swift didn’t make a deal with the devil. And aliens didn’t build the pyramids.”
“But—”
“Stop looking for supernatural excuses to dismiss what people are capable of. Whatever name you’re about to say, they were human. Except David Bowie, of course. That guy clearly had fae blood.”
CHAPTER5
Annette
Iparked on a little side road off Lafayette Street and walked a block to an out-of-the-way dive on a dead-end street. The exterior was gray brick, two stories high. Colorful flyers covered the windows, advertising everything from local bands to deals on weed.
Gargoyles lined the edge of the sloped metal roof. Unlike traditional gargoyles, these had been carved into monstrous caricatures of video game characters. A distorted Pac-Man with bulging eyes stood over the entrance. A pair of finches had built a nest in his mouth. To Pac-Man’s left, Donkey Kong raged beside a creepy, wide-mouthed Mega Man.
There was no sign, and the green metal door was closed. If you didn’t know the Gauntlet, you probably didn’t belong here.
The door scraped the frame when I yanked it open. I stepped inside and let my eyes adjust to the low lighting and the flashing screens of the video game cabinets lining two of the four walls. Electronic sound effects cut through the buzz of conversation.
The Gauntlet was half-bar, half-arcade, and almost entirely patronized by those of us with at least one nonhuman ancestor swinging in the branches of our family tree.
There were no rules against pureblood humans. The Gauntlet didn’t bother posting a werebear bouncer at the door or anything like that to make sure everyone who entered passed the sniff test. Indeed, tourists searching for an out-of-the-way place to drink wandered right in from time to time.
