“Fine. Let me indulge in your madness. Who?”
“I have my theories.”
“Who, Sloan?”
“Mallory.”
Mallory was Elva’s younger cousin. A minor Goddess who’d been responsible for greed.
Sloan pushed on. “Quentin is how old?”
“Twenty-seven,” I answered without hesitation.
“Mallory ceased to exist twenty-six years ago, and we never knew why.”
“Elva said she requested it and we can’t deny a direct request from another God when it comes to our responsibilities.”
“But don’t you remember how Mallory was?”
It was difficult to forget Mallory. She’d visit Elva regularly until they’d argued over something, and then she rarely visited upper Elysia, preferring to stay with the minor Gods.
We saw little of her for months and when she returned, Erik had said he felt such a sense of love and heartbreak, but he never asked her what happened. None of us had, and then it was too late.
“I don’t believe you,” I said.
“You don’t have to but if she is… If she is a demigoddess, then that’s even more reason to stay away from her, Gray.”
“And why is that?”
“Archer,” Erik said. We both turned to look at him. “Keep Archer away from her. If it’s true and he finds out, he’s going to find a way to use her.”
I sank back onto the sofa. “We need proof first. I need proof.”
“I plan to look next time we’re in Elysia. And Gray, perhaps you could speak to Elva,” Sloan suggested.
I nodded.
“I’m sorry,” she continued. “I want my family to be safe, and that means staying away from her, Gray. Please.”
It was late when I arrived back at Scott’s house, close to midnight. The conversation with Sloan and Erik ricocheted around my head. It was an impossibility. Sloan must have sensed it wrong. Maybe the pregnancy had made her less perceptive.
The shuffling from the kitchen was loud, and I stood quietly in the doorway, under the cover of darkness, and watched Scott.
She pushed herself up onto the counter, hissing in pain as she bashed her leg on the edge. Getting unsteadily to her feet, she reached up on top of the cabinet, fingers searching for a box just out of her grasp.
One thing that struck me most about Scott was her inability to ask for help. Whereas others sought it at the first sign of trouble, Scott exhausted every possibility before she reluctantly called in reinforcements.
After a few more minutes of searching for the box of coffee capsules, she sighed and dropped her arm. Silently, she stood on the counter, and then her thoughts drifted to me. She contemplated swallowing her pride to get a fix.
Without a word, I wrapped my aura around myself and returned to my room. Perching on the edge of the bed, I dropped my head in my hands.
Of all the people that could have worked on this project, of course, we’d stumble onto the demigoddess.
No.
She wasn’t divine.
The creak of the flooring gave her away, and I picked my head out of my hands to look at her.
