Chapter 8: The Arrow

Jody slept most of the next day in a guest room with the dog's left head on her pillow.

The other two heads took turns guarding the door.

I sat on the floor of the hall outside and couldn't stop seeing the doves.

The way the keyholder's heart had shaken out and gone pink in one second.

The way he'd said "Oh, it's you," like the whole world had been a waiting room.

That's what a gold arrow does.

I'd seen it a thousand times. I'd done it a thousand times.

And I'd seen Hades' heart the moment the arrow went in.

Dark red. Slow. Steady as a drum.

It hadn't changed color.

Not in the ballroom. Not in the ER. Not with me on his lap and his hand on my ribs.

I got up and went to find him.

He was in the orchard, in his shirtsleeves, sitting on the low wall with a pomegranate in his hands.

He wasn't eating it. He was just turning it.

The ferryman had hung lamps in the trees, blue ones, and the fruit looked black under them.

"Jody's asleep," I said.

"I know."

"She snores."

"I know that too. The whole house knows."

I stood in front of him.

I didn't sit down.

"I need to ask you something," I said, "and I need you to tell me the truth."

He set the pomegranate on the wall.

"Do you only want me because I shot you?"

He looked at me for a long time.

The blue light made his eyes look even darker, if that was possible.

Then he started unbuttoning his shirt.

"That's not an answer," I said. "That's a strip show."

"Come here."

I came closer.

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