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“I owe you one, Xavs,” I said. “Multiple ones, maybe.”

He reached for the last slider. “Pay up your tab at the newsstand and maybe I’ll call it even.”

“Nah. Never gonna happen.”

We parted ways for the afternoon. Morrow was desperate to change back into a suit. I wanted some time to get my head on straight. And Houston and Xavi clearly wanted some time to themselves.

Old Betsy and I made a beeline back to my apartment, the one place I could count on to help me re-center. I settled into my couch, phone practically glued to my face, ready to relax my brain with my favorite activity: accomplishing absolutely nothing of value.

My phone chirped. A text message from Theodore Morrow. My heart skipped at the sight of his name, then almost fell out of my ass when I saw what he’d written.

what are you wearing, his text said. No punctuation.

“What the fuck?” I muttered.

What the fuck, what the fuck? Was this really how things were going to kick off for us, with badly timed afternoon sexting?

A second message arrived.

Tonight. What are you wearing tonight

I locked the screen and rolled my eyes, giving myself a moment to think. I should have known it was too good to be true. But wait. What the hell did he mean by ‘tonight?’ Did we have some prior engagement I’d forgotten about? Questions upon questions. I frowned at my phone, preparing to ask for clarification in my same annoyed tone that he was presumably used to.

The black oblong lit up to reveal a woman’s face.

“So I said we should talk,” Freyja said, her voice tinny through the little speakers.

I almost threw my phone across the room. Instead I shoved it deep into my couch cushions. I reached for a glass of water, taking a long, cool sip to calm my nerves. The face reappeared at the bottom of the glass.

“This is awfully unfriendly of you,” Freyja complained. “Whatever happened to, ‘Hello, Freyja, how have you been?’ Honestly.”

I slammed my glass onto the table and reached for the TV remote. I clicked through the channels, wondering if I should just pull out the old controller and play a video game instead. Before I could decide, the television flickered. A rerun of some sitcom from the ’90s dissolved into static as Freyja’s face filled the screen.

“You’re being very rude, you know,” she said primly, her voice even more present in the room through my surround speakers. “It isn’t every day that a goddess reaches out to chitchat with mortals.”

I flipped the channel. The screen flickered to a cooking show, except that Freyja’s face was in the way. I flipped it again. The green grass of a soccer game scrolled in the background, Freyja’s face still in full view. I groaned.

“And that’s exactly what worries me. It’s why you’re reaching out. We’ve helped you once, Freyja. You’re free of your restraints. There’s nothing we could possibly do for you that you couldn’t do yourself with one snap of your fingers.”

“That’s exactly my point, Jericho Frost. You did me a favor. I would like to do you one in turn.”

My nose wrinkled. I knew it wouldn’t end there, how ties and alliances with entities were always transactional. And never in the mortal’s favor, either. In all the many, many tales of world mythology humanity has collected throughout the centuries — when has a human ever come out on top? I mean, Greek mythology alone.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I told her. “I threw out your gemstone over and over again. It keeps coming back. Stop haunting me, already.”

Freyja watched me quietly for a tense few moments. When she spoke again, her eyes gleamed with eldritch radiance.

“I would show you so much that you do not already know, Echo. Ways to make your very special talent blossom and thrive. Aren’t you curious to learn what incredible feats you could accomplish with your gift? Under the tutelage of a goddess of magic, freely offered. Think of the wonders you could create. Think of the miracles.”

I frowned. She had to go and use the M word.

“Goodbye, Freyja,” I said, hitting the power button.

I avoided everything reflective for the rest of the afternoon, an incredible challenge for me especially, Jericho Frost, brainrot victim and doomscroller extraordinaire. I spent the time cleaning my apartment instead — a rare event — then took special care to drop Freyja’s gemstone down the garbage chute. Again.

It wasn’t until my phone rang that I dug it back out of the cushions, averting my eyes from the screen when I picked up.

“Great news,” Xavi said. “My contact wants to talk.”