Chapter Seven

Zoe hadn’t told Adrian everything. A person was allowed to keep some details to herself, after all. And he’d probably be happier not knowing, when he walked through the Underworld’s fields, that Zoe and Tabitha had lain together under that particular clump of white trees with long gray-black leaves, while Niko took a few hours’ sleep, sprawled upon his coat under the next tree over.

Adrian could live without picturing how Zoe and Tab had spread coats and scarves over themselves for warmth and privacy, and how, rather than merely sleep, they had started with a playful kiss, which had turned into more urgent kisses, which had turned into clothes being unzipped and unhooked and flesh being breathlessly fondled.

In the blur of lights and colors beginning to dawn in Zoe’s healing eyes, Tab’s golden hair and reddened lips were the first things in this world, this life, she had seen. It felt right somehow, since it was also the first time Zoe had touched anyone, or been touched, that way.

Snuggling drowsily with Tab afterward, her vision still a developing but fascinating blur, Zoe said, “I’ve never done that before. Probably obvious.”

“Really? No, you did great.” Tab chuckled against Zoe’s neck. “I mean, as far as I can tell. I’m no expert myself.”

Zoe circled her finger around a chunky cuff bracelet on Tab’s wrist. “Had you? Done it before, with a girl. Or I suppose a boy.”

“No boys. A girl…” Tab hummed in recollection. “Yeah. Once. Really, you haven’t?”

“Never even kissed a girl till now,” Zoe said. “A couple of boys. Even Adrian once—before his Hades memories—just because we were both curious and didn’t have a lot of opportunities. But it didn’t do a thing for me.”

“Poor Adrian.”

Zoe grinned. “Nah, didn’t do a thing for him either. So who was your one girl? Not Sophie?”

“Nope, never Soph. I love her, but not like that. It was last year. Sophie and I went to a sci-fi-fantasy convention at a hotel, right? We were both dressed up. I was Merrin from ‘Nightshade.’ Naturally. Everyone’s favorite lesbian character.”

Zoe nodded. “Good choice.” She watched “Nightshade” too, a supernatural-themed TV show. Well, not “watched” technically, but listened to and followed.

“We met this other girl, really cute, dressed as Baylia. I started talking to her, and later that night we danced at one of the parties…and she invited me up to her hotel room.” Tab settled her head on the grass, her long hair still draped down Zoe’s shoulder. “I finally got why people say ‘One thing led to another.’ I kept thinking she wouldn’t go any further. Like she must only be doing this because we were in costume and playing. But somehow we didn’t stop.” Tabitha laughed softly, a rare sound of modesty, and stayed quiet a few seconds. “I never saw her again. Sent each other a couple ‘Hey, that was fun’ kind of texts, but that was it. So I guess I’ve had a one-night stand.”

Zoe laid her hand over Tab’s, which rested on Zoe’s chest. “Sounds fun. I should try attending conventions.”

Tab laughed again, sleepily.

Zoe added after a few minutes, “You could say you’ve had another now. Unless, I suppose…”

Tab hugged her from the side. “Hey, we’ll be seeing each other for, like, the rest of eternity,” she murmured.

Zoe accepted the answer and tried to get some rest, rather than pursue the question of whether Tab meant merely seeing each other or, you know, seeing each other.

Tab’s friendly texts since then hadn’t shed any light on the answer. Insecurity was starting to nag at Zoe, to be honest.

They did both have a heap of other tasks to sort out for the next few months, so she ought to be patient. But she wanted to know, to be reassured, to be validated. Or at least to be told, “Nah, that was it for now, bye,” if such was the verdict.

But she knew better than to pin down Tabitha for an explanation too soon. No surer way to turn a person off. So she kept her thumbs off her phone and her lips zipped, and forced herself to wait.

In the meantime she also did not need to burden Adrian with her little romantic drama.

After all, he was kind of her dad now. Talk about weird.

Betty Quentin stretched her stiff legs, straightening one and then the other in the confined space of the car’s front seat. “I’m too old for road trips,” she remarked to her grandson Landon, who was driving.

“We’ll stop soon for lunch,” he said.

“No hurry.” Outside the window, sagebrush blurred past beside the highway. The low, dry hills of eastern Oregon undulated out to the horizon, muted to a uniform brown by the gray clouds. Misty rain sprinkled the windows now and then, with occasional splatters of sleet.

“How long do you think we’ll stay over here?” Landon’s voice was steady, a bit on the high side, but he was keeping calm for someone who was willingly helping a fugitive escape and thereby breaking the law himself. He was a brave boy—a brave man, rather. He was twenty-six now.

“At least a couple of weeks. They’ll be searching for me in places connected with Sophie, and around people connected with her. Also places I’ve been known to go. So we’ll have to stay away from all those a while.”

Landon’s gaze remained on the highway, his long-lashed eyes hard to read behind his large glasses. He held his slender neck straight and stiff.

He was her only family—at least, the only one she counted as family. His mother, Betty’s daughter, had always been too soft and silly a creature. She and Betty had clashed from day one. Betty hadn’t been married for over thirty years now; she and her ex had divorced, right about the time she was rising in the ranks of Thanatos—all of which was kept secret from her husband, for his own safety. He’d died a few years after they split up. She had a brother she hadn’t talked to in at least fifteen years. None of her family understood her or took interest in her philosophies and studies. None except Landon. How it cheered Betty’s heart to see him take after his grandmother, even a little, and not after his mother. She almost hated to endanger him, though she appreciated his company.

“I’m not giving up,” Betty added. “But you can go home if you like. After you drop me off somewhere safe.”

He adjusted his grasp on the steering wheel. His old-fashioned gold wristwatch gleamed beside his shirt cuff. He shook his head. “I want to help.”

“You’ll be going into hiding too, then.”

“Nothing to go back to.”

His father dead, his mother nearly estranged from him, no job, no girlfriend—indeed, Betty suspected he was homosexual, but he had never admitted it—she saw his point. She thumped her hands on her thighs. “In that case, I have some ideas. And this time, I won’t make the mistake of being so soft, even on people who are supposedly innocent.” She cocked her head at him, though he still gazed forward. “Will that bother you? The possibility of collateral damage?”

Landon swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he kept the car traveling steadily down the highway. “Not if it’s for an important cause.”

“It is.” She nodded and faced forward too. “You understand.”