She let her sleeve drop back over the bracelet. “Nothing—or nothingnew. It’s the same as before. Just a weird buzzing in my bones. I know it sounds ridiculous.”
“That’s the magic inside you, ready to use.”
She scoffed. “Usehow?”
“To defend yourself.” Piers glanced back and forth between Sophie and the statue of Athena. “To contact her?”
“Yeah, that’s not really working out so far.”
No. They’d both tried talking to Athena and the other Olympians as they gazed upon their marble likenesses. They’d muttered prayers, internally and aloud, and even discreetly touched the ice shard to the statues, even though ropes were meant to keep them away. They’d been shushed and scolded by museumgoers several times, and frankly, Piers was losing hope that this would help them. He thought they needed to pray in a temple specifically dedicated to Athena, but Sophie said the most important one was half the world away, in ruins, impossible to actually stand in, and too expensive to get to anyway.
His hands fell to his hips. He pursed his lips. “Should we try your MoMA?” They’d covered the Met’s classical sections twice now—Greek and Roman. Apparently, these Romans had come along and adopted his gods but given them different names. Didn’t that just confuse people?
“I guess so.” Sophie rubbed her fingers over the Shard of Olympus through her clothing. “I’m not sure we’re on the right track, though.”
Piers leaned in and kissed the top of her head, her sweet-smelling shampoo making his mouth water. “It’s all right,kardoula mou. We’ll figure it out.”
“Sweetheart?” She smiled. “That’s nice.”
“You understand?” he asked in surprise.
She nodded. “We still use some of the same terms of endearment in my family. I guess that somehow trickled down from our common heritage.”
Emotion pushed at Piers’s ribs. He liked the idea of them having something in common. It made him feel less lost.
“Come.” He squeezed Sophie’s hand, holding on to it. “To MoMA.”
“To MoMA,” she echoed in a soldier’s voice.
They were outsideand in a quiet, tree-covered section of the park when Novalight himself stepped into their path. Piers recognized him from seeing pictures on Sophie’s phone. Self-importance rolled off him like the stench of dung. Several of his hired ruffians flanked him.
“I’d like my crystal now.” Voice flat, eyes flatter, Novalight clearly thought he’d get what he wanted now that he’d deigned to show up himself.
“What crystal?” Sophie asked. “Who are you?” She was a surprisingly good actress. Piers doubted anyone but he heard the slight reediness in her voice or noticed how her eyes dilated.
“Mycrystal.” Novalight held up a hand to keep his guards in place when they started forward. “Don’t play stupid, Ms. Iraklidis. We both know you’re not.”
“Fine.” Sophie’s chin notched up. “How did you find me?”
“I have endless resources, and you’re not exactly the queen of stealth.” Tall and easily in his fourth decade, Novalight looked as if he might put up a decent fight. Thick jowls gave him a heavy-set appearance, but Piers wasn’t fooled. There was at least some muscle beneath that bulk.
Sophie stared Novalight down. A small tremor jumped from her fingers to Piers’s, and he tightened his grip on her hand. “It’s not yours,” she said.
“Itismine. I found it. I own an archeological site on a Mediterranean island that’s coming closer and closer to being declared the lost city of Atlantis.”
Piers scoffed. Atlantis wasn’t lost. It was another world—like this one.
Novalight swung an annoyed look on him. “Do you have something to add?”
“More of a question,” Piers said. “What do you plan to do with it?”
“Study it. Reveal its potential. Use it.” It was impossible to miss the power-hungry gleam in Novalight’s eyes. He obviously knew the shard was important, but Piers doubted the man would know magic if it kicked him in the forehead. He must believe the shard could unlock some other prize.
“For what?” Sophie demanded.
“For whatever I deem necessary.”
“Spoken like a true psychopath,” she muttered.
