The Shadow Prince

chapter forty-four DAPHNE

“He’s crazy,” I mumble to myself as I lead Joe toward the house.

“He’s daft,” Joe agrees.

“He’s insane.”

“He’s mental,” Joe says.

“I don’t even think he’s human.” I know I sound like the crazy one, but there is no human explanation for what I had seen Haden do. What kind of person can throw lightning bolts out of his hands?

“Not even human,” Joe says. At least I had one person who could corroborate my story.

Tobin is going to flip when I tell him.

If I tell him.

Why wouldn’t I tell him?

I unlock the front door, take Joe into the house, and then lock the door again behind us.

“And I can’t believe I kissed him!”

“I can’t believe you kissed him.… Wait, who are we talking about?” Joe stumbles, trying to put one foot in the front of the other as I lead him up the stairs. I realize we haven’t been having a conversation; he’s just been drunkenly parroting me.

“Never mind,” I say, and propel him down the hall toward his bedroom. He falls into the nest of satin sheets on his bed, and settles his hands under his cheek against his pillow. He reminds me of a child.

I pull off one of his boots, and realize that my hands are still shaking. The only time they had stopped trembling since that thing attacked us was when I’d kissed Haden. Now the thought of that, and my name freaking carved into Haden’s arm, make my hands shake even more. I tug on Joe’s second boot. He smacks his lips and wiggles his foot, trying to help me.

“Who did you kiss?” he asks with a yawn.

“Haden,” I say, figuring that Joe won’t even remember in the morning.

“Oh,” he says. “Don’t kiss him. Haden is the devil.”

“What?” His boot pops off his foot, and I stumble backward, almost tripping over one of the various empty beer bottles on the floor. I drop the boot on the ground. “What do you mean?”

Joe snores in response. I shake his shoulder. “Joe? What did you just say? Joe, can you hear me?”

But it’s no use. He’s out cold, and I doubt he’ll wake up until morning. And by then he’ll have no idea what he said to me.

I gather up the empty beer bottles on his floor and take them down to the recycling bin in the kitchen. He had been sober for almost two months now. I wonder what set him off on this binge. There’s a half-empty case of beer bottles on the counter. I pull out a bottle opener and start popping their tops off, and then pouring their contents down the drain, finding myself angry that I even have to do this.

Joe seems to live a charmed life—so why does he keep trying to drown himself in this stuff? What is so terrible that he is trying to numb himself from thinking about?

I pick up a new bottle, but before I pop the top off, wind rattles the window over the sink. I jump, almost dropping the bottle. I check the window lock, not knowing if it would do any good against someone who can throw lightning.

What the hell is that all about?

And why is my name cut into his arm?

That is a whole level of psycho I wasn’t prepared to deal with.

I look at the beer bottle in my hand. If there is one thing I’d want to numb myself from remembering, it would be the moment I found those scars on his arms. The moment I went from wanting him to realizing he’s a sick freak. A sick freak who I kissed!

Now that’s a memory I’d like to erase.

I should have listened to Tobin’s warning to stay away from Haden. He probably really is from a long line of wack jobs. Even Joe seems to think he is a bad person … if he is even a person at all …

He’d even called Haden the devil.…

I shake my head at the possibility of even entertaining Joe’s drunken ramblings. I’ve never been a religious person, and the idea that a living, breathing incarnation of the devil is walking around Olympus Hills and practicing duets with me is about as crazy as believing in fairy tales, or even Greek mythology, for that matter!

I dump the last of the beer down the drain, wash the scent of it off my fingers, and go to my room. I don’t need to escape reality; I need to figure out what the hell is going on.

I flop down on my bed, ready to call Tobin—hoping his phone isn’t still turned off for the musical showcase—and admit that he’s probably right, when I see my iPad sitting on my night-stand, where I’d left it after studying last night. I turn it on and the text from my mythology book appears on my screen. I remember how defensive Haden had been that first day in humanities class when I tried to compare the Greek mythological character of Hades to that of the Christian devil. It was almost as if he had been offended.

Isn’t it supposed to be gods who can strike people down with lightning?

Haden, a god? That is even more preposterous!

I do a search in the mythology book for all the references of Hades. More in an attempt to put my mind at ease than to prove this line of thinking correct.

Haden already has two strikes against him as far as this Hades theory goes. First, he’d already admitted to being part Greek. And second, there is the name thing. Haden is only one letter off from Hades. But that feels a little too on the nose.

I scan the first page that references Hades, but it is merely a genealogy chart of all the gods. I go to the second reference and find a physical description of the god.

Hades, god of the underworld and brother to Zeus, is usually depicted as being extremely tall, standing at least seven feet in height …

Haden is tall. At least six feet four. But being tall doesn’t make someone a supernatural being. I mean, look at me.

… with a muscular build.

Another check mark for Haden. It had been a little hard to ignore his muscular build when being held in his arms.…

Hades is most often depicted as having a dark beard, and pale skin from spending most of his time in the underworld.

Haden doesn’t have a beard, but his hair is definitely dark and his skin is pretty pale for someone with an olive complexion—almost like he doesn’t get out in the sun much.

Physical objects attributed to Hades are a chariot pulled by four fearsome black stallions …

Haden has a black car, but that is hardly the same as having a chariot and horses.

… a bident, the Key of Hades, and a three-headed dog named Cerberus.

Ha. There. Haden doesn’t have any of those things. And he has the world’s smallest cat, not the giant, snarling, three-headed dog that is pictured in my book.

Hades’s most impressive possession is the Helm of Hades, a special helmet or cap that can turn the wearer invisible.…

This one strikes a strange chord inside me. I’ve never seen Haden with a hat, but I remember the way he seemed to materialize out of the shadows the first time I met him in the grove. And then there’s what happened when I was backstage at the auditions. I’d been completely alone, and yet it had felt like someone had been back there with me … some invisible presence.

I scan the rest of the pages with references to Hades. I reread the story of Hades’s abduction of Persephone and can’t help ruminating on Tobin’s theory about those girls—his own sister included—who have gone missing whenever Lord family members happened to be in town.

But there’s nothing in the book that says anything about Hades having the ability to produce and throw lightning. The only Greek god with that power is supposed to be Zeus.

I laugh derisively at myself. This is insane! Maybe there really was some sort of poison—or psychotropic drug—in those cookies Lexie gave me. My laugh takes on a harder edge, almost a sob, and I know that I am on the verge of a full-scale freak-out.

Tobin is right. I’d allowed my judgment to get clouded, just like he’d said. I’d let Haden in. I’d kissed him.

I’d almost fallen for him.

I may not know what Haden is, but something is definitely wrong in Olympus Hills, and I have no doubt now that Haden and his family are at the center of it all.

Which means that now I am, too.