“No. I think only the captors know of this war, but I got a lead that might help. A witch who has access to spirit guides. She might be able to help me find Rune.”
“What are you waiting for, then?”
“I need to bring her offerings for the goddesses she’s devoted to.” I scratch my chin. “I was thinking I should let Rune know I’m working to help him.”
“Uh-huh, and how do you plan to do that?”
I need to trust someone, and Cassius is as good as any of the guys. “Come to my place?”
“Sure.”
We navigate the maze of hallways until we get to my unit. Inside, I turn to face Cassius. “I got my hands on a sleeping potion. That’s why I was asleep so long and that’s how I found Rune.”
His brow creases. “I don’t follow at all.”
“I found him in my sleeping state. I spoke to him, saw the room he’s in, all of it.”
“With a potion?”
“I got it in New Orleans. Sleeping is how I knew Rune was in trouble in the first place, so I figured, why not try it again?”
“And it worked? Interesting.”
“Yes, but they warned me that I should be monitored when I take it. My psyche is vulnerable to supernatural attacks.”
“Shit, Atlas. You took it without us before?”
“I did. And I slept for sixteen hours,” I remind him. “I can’t lose that much time again.”
“Okay, I get it. What do I do?”
“If anything goes wrong, or if I’m asleep for more than a few hours, wake me up however you have to.”
Cassius nods, even as his pale face turns a shade lighter. “I understand.”
I clap his shoulder. “Thanks, man. Hopefully I can let Rune know help is coming, then when I get back, I’ll go find the witch.”
“We’ve got your back.”
I walk to my armoire, open it, and delicately remove the potion bottle. After taking a deep breath, I pull off the top and very carefully squeeze out a single drop. My head is woozy before I even manage to put the bottle back.
Stumbling to my bed, I nearly fall over. Cassius hovers above me, concern etched into his features.
“I’ll be right here, Atlas.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out as my eyelids close and sleep drags me under.
RUNE
“Listen here,Elvira, I demand to know why I’m being held captive.”
My guard makes no attempt to speak to me, instead focusing on setting down a tray of food. My nose twitches at the delicate scent of buttered potatoes and grilled meat; a common meal in my household growing up. It’s better than the soggy grilled cheese, but unsettling that whoever has me captive clearly has some access to my childhood memories.
I set my shoulders and step in front of her before she leaves. “Tell me.”
“You’ve been told,” she replies in her stilted voice. “Eat.”
“What war are you talking about? How long have I been here? I have responsibilities, you know.”
