“I’m going to look into this records theory for the rest of the day. Which means I need you to follow Haden. Find out where he goes. Who he talks to. What he’s doing here.”
“Seriously?”
“You’ve already got an in with him after this Lexie thing. Let’s use it to find out as much about him as we can.”
I’m about to tell Tobin he’s a couple of tubas short of an orchestra, but I notice the swirling, lifting notes in his voice as he asks, “Please, Daphne, help me.” It’s the sound of hope.
Hope that he’ll find his sister.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll help.”
chapter thirty-three
HADEN
Kopros.
This Tobin boy is getting too close to the truth.
Champions use Persephone’s Gate, which always leads to the grove, to enter the mortal realm, but in order not to draw too much attention to any one town, they spread out and alternate quest locations around the world—usually going three years before revisiting a city. Except for Olympus Hills. It has been six years since a Champion had been assigned here.
Dax.
I hear Tobin and Daphne leave the alcove and start up the hall, so I take off before the two round the corner. I head straight for the counselor’s office and ask for Mr. Drol.
“He’s on his break,” the woman with the cat’s-eye glasses says. “You’re not scheduled to meet with him until tomorrow afternoon.”
“This is urgent.”
“You can see Mrs. Dunfree instead if you’d like.”
“No, thank you,” I say, and open the door to Dax’s office anyway.
“You can’t do that!”
“It’s okay,” Dax says. “Let him in.”
Dax turns off the screen of his computer and swivels in his chair to greet me. He’s wearing one of his ridiculous elbow-patched sweaters. “Now, son. What’s all this bother?” he says in an exaggerated Yorkshire accent. I shut the door firmly behind me before ripping into him.
“Why did you send me into that party blind?” I say. “You’re supposed to be my guide. So why didn’t you tell me your Boon was the mayor’s daughter, that I’m attending school with her brother? Don’t you think these are important things for me to know?”
“Haden,” he says, dropping the accent. “I told you. I cannot speak of this to you.”
“But this affects me, Dax. It’s jeopardizing my quest. This Tobin kid is on to us. He’s determined to find out what happened to his sister, and he’s not going to stop until he does. How am I supposed to get Daphne to trust me if Tobin is filling her head with vitriol, all because of the mistakes you made?”
“I’ll take care of it,” Dax says.
“How?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“How?”
He slams his open palm on his desk. “I don’t know! I just will.”
I take a step back. “Why won’t you just tell me what happened?”
Dax stands. “I cannot.” His nostrils flare and he takes a deep breath, as if fighting from saying more. His meaning sinks in. He’s made an unbreakable oath. When he says he cannot, he means it would be physically impossible.
But who could compel him to do such a thing?
“If you value our friendship,” he says. “If I mean anything to you, you will stop being selfish for once in your life and listen to me when I ask you not to speak of this again. The consequences for me would be far greater than anything you can imagine.”
I nod and pull open the door. I leave the office more confused than ever. But I have to go. Because the one thing I need to ask him I can’t:
If Dax had returned alone to the Underrealm six years ago, but this Abbie girl still went missing, then what in the name of Hades had happened to her that he had sworn to never speak of again?
If it hadn’t been for the conversation I’d overheard between Daphne and Tobin in the hallway, I might think she is starting to like me, because she keeps glancing back at me during humanities class. Instead, she’s probably just trying to figure out whether or not I can be related to a kidnapper. Or worse.
I keep my face blank and pretend to be absorbed in the text of my book. When the bell rings, she stays in her seat instead of hurrying off to her next class. Is she waiting for me to leave? I pick up my book and head out the door. She follows a few seconds later.
I keep my pace slow so she won’t lose me in the crowded hallway. When I get to my next class, I duck behind the door. She stands there for a few minutes, satisfied that I’m where I’m supposed to be. I watch her turn and walk back in the opposite direction.
So she’s stalking me now?
I almost smile at the thought.
“You like her,” someone says.
I turn and find Lexie standing behind me, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Two of her friends flank her on each side. They remind me of miniature versions of Rowan and his cronies—but with matching shoes and coordinated skirts.
“Pardon?” I ask.
“You like Daphne. I can tell from the way you look at her.”
“I do not.”
“You do. I heard the way you two talked the other night. It’s obvious you’re jonesing for her.”
“I am not,” I say, not even sure what she means.
“You are. Heaven only knows why. But I’m feeling generous, so I’m going to offer you a little advice.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Listen, I don’t know what exactly happened Friday night, and I am not too keen on trying to remember, but I’m pretty sure I owe you for helping me home, and I don’t like being in anyone’s debt. So I am going to do you a little favor by offering a little womanly advice. You want Daphne to like you, yes?”
I clear my throat. “Perhaps.”
“Then ask her to help you with your performance for the Light-up Olympus Festival. Maybe suggest a duet? All that one-on-one time, working together—it’ll work like a charm.”
I consider her idea for a moment. It sounds exactly like something Dax would suggest.
“What if she doesn’t say yes?”
“She will,” Lexie says. “Trust me. I’ve seen the way she looks back at you.”
I’m not so sure about this assertion of hers but I nod and thank her for her advice. “One more thing,” I say as she and her lackeys start to head to their desks. “If you really want to be square with me, then you need to do me one more favor.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “What’s that?”
“Stop shunning Daphne.”
“That’s a big request. I’m not sure you have the bargaining power for it.”
“Suit yourself,” I say. “But you should see it more as me doing you another favor. If Daphne’s dad is in charge of writing the play and there are still several parts to be doled out, don’t you think you should be a little nicer to the one student who might be able to pull some influence on your behalf? I think you’d make an excellent queen of the underworld, don’t you?”
Her nostrils flare almost imperceptibly, and I know she sees my point, whether she wants to or not.
“Besides, if you owe anyone anything after Friday night, it’s her.”
Lexie uncrosses her arms. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
chapter thirty-four
DAPHNE
I can’t find Tobin in the cafeteria, so I carry my lunch tray out to the courtyard. I sit under a statue of some Greek poet or whatever. I pull out the stack of homework I’m supposed to finish in order to catch up on the three weeks of classes I missed at the beginning of the year. Between that, rehearsing for the play, my current course load, and now Tobin’s “investigation,” I am starting to feel a bit underwater.
I try a couple of math problems and then give up. Instead, I pull out a notebook, and decide to make my own dossier of things I know about Haden Lord.
Name: Haden Lord.
Age: 16? 17?
Hair: Dark brown, almost black
Eyes: Jad
e green (but sometimes look like they have bright amber rings around the pupils?)
Occupation: Part-time pirate
I tap my pen on the paper, realizing what I know about Haden isn’t very much at all. I take a bite of my chicken salad sandwich, trying to think of something else to add to my list.
“Hello, Daphne,” Lexie says as she sits down right in front of me.
“Um, hi,” I say. I look around, trying to figure out what she’s up to. None of her Sopranos is around, so I’m not sure if this is an ambush waiting to happen.
Lexie tucks her legs under her and opens a prepacked salad, like she’s planning on staying for a while. She stabs a cucumber with a plastic fork. Eats it. And then looks at me. “Do you want to know why I hate you?” she asks.
I almost choke on a bite of chicken.
“Not particularly,” I say when I’ve recovered. “But I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”
Lexie shakes a little tub of dressing, opens it, and dips the tips of her fork tines into the dressing before taking a bite of salad. She chews it neatly and then repeats the tiny bit o’ dressing, lot o’ bit of lettuce process before she decides to enlighten me.
“I hate you because you’re a natural,” she says.
“A natural what?”
I expect the next words that come out of her mouth to be something like a natural-born loser but instead she eats another cucumber and says, “A natural at everything I want to be.” She scoots an olive off her salad with her fork. “You’re a natural blond, naturally fit—hello, all the mayonnaise on that sandwich—and most of all, you’re a natural singer. I, on the other hand, have to go to a stylist every six weeks to keep my hair color fabulous, do an hour of Pilates every morning to look this rocking, and I’ve had six different vocal coaches since I was five years old. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m talented, but I’ve had to work to get this voice. You just have it.”
“I work hard, too, you know,” I say, putting down my sandwich. “And I would have killed for the voice coaches you’ve had.”
“And yet here you are, in one of the best music programs in the country without an ounce of professional training. Don’t deny it, Daphne, you know you’re special. You’ve just got it, and people can see it. They can hear it.”
“So you hate me because you’re jealous?”
“No, I hate you because you’re an idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“I saw the look on your face when your dad announced that he’s writing a freaking opera—just for you. He threw the biggest opportunity in the world at your feet. And you didn’t want it. You would have thrown it back at him if you could. Meanwhile, I work my ass off trying to get a big enough part so my parents will even bother to come. Which means you’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want to propose a truce. I’ll call my Sopranos off if you help me get what I want.”
“Let me guess, my part in the play?”
“We both know your daddy wouldn’t go for that. No, I’ll let you play the damsel in distress. I want to be the queen. Put a bug in your dad’s ear that I’d make a good Persephone, and I’ll make sure you have a nicer time at this school.” She packs up her salad and stands. “Sound good?”
“I guess,” I say.
“Cool. I like your … um”—she scans her finger over my outfit—“barrette, by the way. Très chic.”
“Thanks,” I say, and watch as she walks through the courtyard back into the school.
I pick up my sandwich and take a couple of bites, wondering how this lunch break could get any weirder than Lexie proposing a truce, when someone very large steps in front of my sun, casting a shadow over my food.
I look up. Way up. And see Haden Lord, with a purple paisley tote bag on his arm, standing over me.
chapter thirty-five
HADEN
When I see Daphne sitting in the courtyard during our lunch break, I don’t hang back or pretend to be aloof. I walk right up to her with the determination of a warrior and address her as if she were an Underlord of my same rank. “I have agreed to sing during the festivities of lighting up Olympus. I request that you help me prepare. Or perhaps a duet would be prudent.”
She blinks at me for a moment, then looks down at the notebook at her side as if contemplating what she’s written there. She looks back up at me. “Um … okaaaay.”
“Very well, then,” I say, hiding my surprise that she has actually agreed. “We shall commence rehearsal at your earliest convenience.”
“Next week,” she says. “I have a ton of homework to catch up on first.”
“I bid you a pleasant day, then.” I give her a respectful nod and start to take my leave.
“My tote?” she says, pointing at the bag over my arm. I had intended on giving it to her first thing as a peace offering.
“Oh yes.” I hand it over to her. “Everything is as it should be, but I took the liberty of charging your phone for you.”
I walk away at a fast clip, not giving her time to reconsider our arrangement.
chapter thirty-six
DAPHNE
After Haden is gone, I pick up the list of things I know about him and add sometimes talks like Thor.
This day definitely can’t get more surreal.
A light flashes in my eyes and I jump, hitting my back on the base of the statue behind me. Tobin lowers his camera and laughs. “That was a good one. I’ll give it a ‘dazed and confused in the daytime’ caption.”
“What the crap are you doing?”
Tobin raises his camera to take another picture of me. I push him away. “Go away. You know they don’t allow paparazzi past the gate, dork face.”
“Come on, it’s for the yearbook!” Tobin seems way too happy, considering our earlier conversation.
“Since when were you on yearbook?”
“Since I found out from the librarian that the yearbook staff has commandeered the school collection of yearbooks dating all the way back to the founding year. They’re working on a project to scan and digitize all of them and put them online for OHH’s fiftieth anniversary. I guess it’s supposed to ‘nostalgialize’ the alumni into sending big, fat donation checks.”
“Which means you’ll have access to class lists for the last fifty years.”
“Exactly. I am going to find every Lord who has ever gone to this school and cross-reference them with the girls who went missing. The investigative avenues will be endless after that.”
“That’s going to take a while,” I say, but it’s far preferable to the thought of Tobin getting arrested for hacking government files.
“How’s your end going?” he asks.
I show him my meager list about Haden. “But I think the perfect opportunity to study Haden more closely just fell into my lap. He just came over and requested that I help him prepare for singing at the ‘festivities of lighting up Olympus.’ ” I move my arms while I’m speaking, acting like I’m doing an impersonation of a robot.
Tobin laughs. “That’s perfect.”
I stick out my tongue as he snaps a picture of me.
He puts the camera down and gets real quiet for a few minutes, absentmindedly picking blades of grass.
I fish my phone out of my tote bag and check to see if I have any messages or texts from CeCe, explaining why she quit and left town. I expect to find at least a good-bye text, but there’s nothing. I try to send her my own text, but it doesn’t go through. Like her number has been disconnected. I blink back tears, wondering why CeCe would just cut me out of her life like this.
Tobin brushes my arm, drawing my attention. I give him a small smile, happy to still have a friend like him.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful around Haden, okay?” he says. “Don’t get too close.”
I nod, remembering that Haden might be dangerous.
chapter thirty-seven
HADEN
?
??That was very nice,” I say from the doorway of Daphne’s bedroom. She jumps and almost drops the guitar she’s been playing. I’d caught her right at the end of a song.
She shoots up from the edge of her bed. “What are you doing in here?”
“The door was open … and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“What, did you just walk right into the house? An open door isn’t an open invitation. Joe always forgets to shut it. And you’re not allowed in my room anyway.”
“Sorry.” I take a long stride backward so I’m now standing in the hallway outside her open door. I jam my hands into the pockets of my jeans because I don’t know what else to do with them. “I knocked on your front door. Your servant let me in. She said I could come on up to find you.”
“We don’t have a servant,” she says, like it’s an accusation.
“Thin woman? Hair slicked back into a hair … ball … thing … on the top of her head? She seemed too young to be your mother.”
“Oh. That’s Marta. Joe’s assistant.” Her tense stance softens a little. “Why are you here?”
“You said you’d help me with the festival song. It’s been a week, as you requested. Is this not your earliest convenience?”
“Oh. Yeah. I guess I didn’t mean in exactly a week. The festival isn’t until the end of November, you know that, right?”
“I don’t believe in procrastination.”
“Meaning I do?”
It had been a week since I had an excuse to talk to her, and not talking to her was making me feel addled. But I can’t tell her that. I point at her guitar. “Will you show me how to play?”
“You don’t know already?”
“I’ve had more important things to do.”
“If you were serious about the music program, you’d make time.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I temper myself, remembering that Dax told me to be nice. “I need your help.”
Daphne picks up the guitar and brushes past me through the doorway. I follow her to a large living room. She sits on the couch and looks up at me. “You coming?”