face to her with his mouth hanging open, reminding Therese of how he looked when he was a golden retriever.
“It’s about time,” he said. “Sit down.”
She looked around. Jen fell onto the bean bag in the corner, leaving the papasan chair for Therese.
“I need to know what you told Hermes,” Therese said as she sat on the edge of the chair.
“He scared the hell out of me,” Pete said. “If only you would have let me tell you earlier.”
Therese took a deep breath, telling herself to be patient, but it didn’t work. “Well, you can tell me now. Spit it out.”
All her life, Pete had seemed so much older, bigger, and stronger. She had looked up to him for as long as she could remember. But today he seemed…fragile.
“I cut my finger and dropped my blood in a cup in the barn and called to my father’s ghost,” Pete explained. “My father came to me. His memory was hazy, and I wasn’t always sure he knew me. It was like talking to someone with Alzheimer’s, until he drank the blood.”
“So what happened?” Jen asked.
“I asked him what would become of Mom. I wanted to know if I should stay living here, or if I was free to go off to pursue my own dreams.”
While Pete had been pierced with Cupid’s arrow, he had wanted to stay close to Therese and work on his parents’ place. But once she had successfully neutralized the arrow, his old dreams of going on tour with his band seemed to resurface.
“And?” Therese asked, dreading the answer.
“His white eyes started rolling around in their sockets, and he said a whole bunch of stuff I couldn’t understand. He said the number seven a lot, and he said moons and suns, and all kinds of mumbo jumbo, but the part I could remember is the part about you. He said the day you marry Death, the lord of Mount Olympus will fall, and someone close to you will die.” Then he added, “That’s why you can’t marry Than. I’ve been trying to tell you. I know you probably think I’m just jealous, but I’m not. Well, maybe I am a little.”
“Pete…” Jen started.
“Look.” Pete squared himself to Therese. “You can live with him, but you can’t marry him.”
Therese gawked, momentarily paralyzed. With this information, Zeus would no doubt do everything in his power to keep her and Than apart. Threats to his kingdom in the past had led to horrible consequences. It was why he swallowed Athena’s mother. Would he swallow Therese, too? The Olympians already considered Than and her to be oath breakers, so Zeus would never take their word for it if they swore to never marry.
“I’ve got to get out of here!” Without saying goodbye to the Holts, Therese opened a window and flew to Hip where he’d been waiting in the sky. “Take me home!”
“To your aunt and uncle’s?”
“No. To the Underworld.” She took the reins from him and drove the chariot home.
That night she stayed in the safety of the Underworld rather than travel the world helping humans and their animal companions. Although Than was with her, he was also in countless other places, and she feared he was vulnerable to attack. Zeus couldn’t afford to capture Thanatos, the god of death, could he? She supposed the king of the sky could return Hermes to the Underworld. Nervously sucking her bottom lip, she sat beside Than on their new couch between the two leather chairs facing the fireplace, and begged him to be vigilant. She didn’t want to distract him, so she tried not to talk much, but he reminded her that he could do billions of tasks simultaneously.
“There’s really only one thing that distracts me,” he said with a mischievous smile.
“Then stop thinking about it,” she said seriously. “I don’t know why Zeus hasn’t already acted. It must be the party. He’s waiting to capture us when we’re on Mount Olympus.”
The next day, wearing a dress of pale pink silk made for her by Ariadne, Therese followed Than down the winding corridor to his father’s