“Possibly illusion magic,” I say. “Also possibly we were both really tired, and I was too busy stuffing a burger in my face.”
“And rain,” Connolly says. “Don’t forget the rain.”
Marion sighs and steers her car around the sign.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Thirty-six
We find Connolly’s car not far past that sign. It’s in perfect working order, including having a full tank of gas.
“You hallucinated the empty tank?” Marion says.
“No, whoever is toying with us refilled it,” Connolly says.
“A very considerate adversary?”
“He probably thought it was funny,” I say. “Got a laugh out of picturing us here, scratching our heads and saying ‘I know it was empty last night.’ ”
“What exactly have you two gotten mixed up in?”
I take it as a sign of progress that she doesn’t instead demand to know what I’ve dragged her poor son into.
“It’s related to my gray-market contacts,” Connolly says. “Contacts that are extremely beneficial but, yes, it does mean navigating treacherous landscape.”
“Well, as long as you’re careful,” Marion says.
I have to bite my cheek at that. Marion has no idea we’re involved with immortals—or that such things exist. She knows only that even before Connolly met me, he’d been getting into the so-called “gray market” of magic workers. It is dangerous, yet her warning sounds like she’s telling Connolly to be careful swimming in the deep end.
“I’ll follow you back to the highway,” Marion says. “To be sure the car is in proper working order. Then you may continue on with your day.”
“And you’ll remove whatever tracking device you have on my car?”
Her brows shoot up. “You’ve just admitted you are involved with potentially dangerous people, Aiden. You cannot expect me to surrender my only way of finding you. What if you go missing along with Theodora? Knowing where you are is a safety precaution.”
“One you misuse.”
She flutters a hand. “I promise that I will only check it in circumstances where I have legitimate reason to believe you are in danger or I have not heard from you in more than six daylight hours.”
Connolly hesitates, searching the promise for loopholes.
I clear my throat.
They both look at me.
“Is the tracker really on his car?” I say. “Because if it was, then you would have gone after him last night, especially if he seemed to be stuck on a backroad for hours. Yet you seemed surprised to discover where we left the car.”
“Because I hadn’t checked since Aiden left.”
“Since Aiden stormed from your house mid-argument? Took off during a blackout and left his phone behind?”
She says nothing.
“The tracker is in his phone,” I say.
Connolly shakes his head. “I have my phone checked monthly for both hardware and software tracking. It’s in my car. She only ever finds me when I’m driving.”
I turn to Marion. “It is in the phone, right? You just let him think it’s in the car by not admitting you know where he is unless he’s in it.”
We locks gazes. I arch my brows.
Marion throws up a hand. “Yes, in the interests of full disclosure—to prove that I am attempting to be more honest, Aiden, is it software embedded in your phone.”
“What?” Connolly says.
I turn to him. “Ask her to remove it. Then grant her access to your regular phone tracking.”
Like normal parents do when they have a valid concern about their kid’s safety.
They sort that out while I wander out of earshot. Do I jump when I hear the engine start? Whirl around, fearing I’ll see the car roaring off, Connolly kidnapped and dragged to the marriage altar? I know it’s ridiculous, but if last night taught me anything, it’s to never underestimate the Connollys.
Marion is not absconding with her son. She’s starting her car while he walks over to me. I relax and get into his car.
Connolly pauses and says, “I suppose we should presume Zeus put a tracker in the vehicle while he was filling it?”
“I doubt he came here with a gas can himself. He’ll have minions, like the other immortals, and probably twice as many. He only shows up when it amuses him. But, yes, definitely presume we’re being tracked by him in some way.”
We climb into the car. When he pulls from the shoulder, I say, “Should we be concerned about Theodora?”
He glances over as he turns the car around.
“I don’t want to be,” I say. “I want to head to a hotel and spend the day in bed. But I can’t quite figure out what role to cast her in. She seemed nice when she came to the shop. Nice and also . . . sad? Melancholy?”
I shrug. “It struck a nerve, so maybe I’m being too sympathetic. You did agree she was nice, though. And yes, we suspect she had an ulterior motive for inviting you to cocktails when I was conveniently left alone in your house. Still . . .”
I sigh and thump back against the headrest. “Tell me I can ignore it. Theodora is fine. Off to brunch with her parents, and her grandmother is panicking for no reason, and either way, it’s no concern of ours.”
I look over. “Tell me it’s no concern of ours.”
“It’s not.”
“And yet . . .”
He sighs as we reach the highway. “I have three voice messages from Leon. I haven’t listened to them. I presumed he wanted compensation for helping you.”
“But after that call, you think it’s about Theodora.”
He sighs again.
“We should call him back.”
Connolly taps the console screen to bring up his call log. He’s about to tap the button to return Leon’s calls when my phone rings.
“Where are you?” a voice says when I answer.
“Uh, who is this?”
“Athene, of course. Where are you?” The briefest pause. “I hear road noise. You’re in a car? With Aiden? Put me on speaker.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I hit the Speaker button and say, “You are now live with Aiden and Kennedy.”
“What’s going on?” she says. “You left a frustratingly vague message on my sister’s voice mail. We really need more details than that, Kennedy.”
“Mercy has her voicemail set to a five-second window,” I say. “I couldn’t leave more. Is she there?”
“Yes, and I’m sure you’d rather speak to her, but I have confiscated her phone.”
“I’m here,” Mercy’s voice comes in. “You’re on speaker, kid. What’s up? I couldn’t quite make out the message. Someone’s father is a distraction?”
“No, your . . .” I stop. “Aiden and I have a theory about who’s behind this. We think it doesn’t have anything to do with a blood curse. Well, it kind of does, but only because the person responsible knows how much that would upset Mercy.”
There’s silence on the other end. Then Athene murmurs, as if to her sister, “I told them what this person is demanding.” Then to us, sharper, “Continue.”