Page 41 of Apollo

Apollo swore again, this time taking it ten more octaves below his breath. “Right now, let’s just assume the situation was more of Door Number Two, yes?”

Quil cocked his head, though not far enough to confirm full commitment to the suggestion. You’re aware that might be more Johnny Damn Dangerous than Dandy Door One, eh-eh-eh?

Apollo balled one fist at his side—the left hand, farthest from where Irowen’s eyeline could possibly fall—before replying to the crow from painfully gritted teeth.

“More dangerous than what, buddy?”

Because in all honesty, what part of this night had felt safe after Irowen Steed begged him to spare her life?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Once Wen let go of Apollo after he closed the portal between the Underworld and Haneda Airport’s International Arrivals terminal, she stumbled while the scrambled eggs of her senses returned to normal.

But only if normal meant keeping her ears open, her head on a swivel, and her vision on full alert, ready for any number of scenarios.

Between Apollo’s place and here, it had realistically only been about ten minutes. But every second of them represented another challenge for which she tried to formulate a viable action plan.

Of course, the last plot twist on her list had been this one.

Even when the what-if had hit her mind, she’d nearly replaced it with something else. Because even now, her gut twisted like an F1 circuit over how to handle it right. Then again, maybe a right way for this one didn’t exist.

The pain in her stomach bubbled into nausea.

She clenched the sick down as she and Apollo approached the spot where his brother Hercules ducked his head next to a planter which easily dwarfed any normal person, including the pretty woman next to him. Even before they got closer, Wen recognized the beauty with the diamond-shaped face and gold-beryl brown eyes as Lois Lance, the writer who’d passed herself off as Natasha Korra at the charity event in the DeLux club last night. The woman was much more gorgeous as herself, a conclusion owed in part to the adoration on her face while gazing at the demigod who’d taken up a firm explanation to her.

“ . . . Polo Pony’s already too cheeky with all his modern entertainment ideas,” Hercules all but growled. “We really don’t need my brother thinking—”

“What?”

Apollo’s interjection was as deceptively smooth as his expression. Lois almost vocalized true thanks to Hercules and Lois for reacting so fast and whipping their heads up, especially with harsh frowns reflecting her own dogged confusion. To everyone else on the concourse, they simply looked like a pair of ethereally beautiful brothers and their lucky companions; the reality was so much different.

A reality that shouldn’t exist at all.

They stood here waiting on the yakuza boss who’d extorted her into his search team for a superpowered instrument string, or the pop star who actually possessed it. Quite possibly, both.

And if that was the case, then what?

Apollo owed her nothing anymore. With his team’s report of Genny in this area so recently, she had a fighting chance of finding her sister soon. At that point, her own debt to him would be fulfilled. According to the Arrivals screen above their heads, the string and its thief were on approach over Tokyo Bay right now.

But Lois and Hercules didn’t need to know all that. They didn’t even care. Their glowering faces already told that tale. To them, Wen was clearly still the crazy girl who’d shot at them while riding Korra’s foyer chandelier like a sci-fi lunatic on a rogue dragon. A mercenary with a soul as black as the spots on her battle gear.

As she perused her tattered ensemble, secretly pining for the plush red track suit in which she’d never get to luxuriate, Apollo jacked both brows and prompted his brother, “Adelfós? What exactly do I not need to be thinking?”

No immediate answer from the big guy. Not until after Herc veered his sights over, draping Wen in a full seethe from head to toe. She kept her head high and her features neutral, sticking to the theory that not even Zeus himself could actually kill a mortal with one look. Not that the demigod and the woman at his side refused to give up trying.

“Why don’t we try you first?” Hercules finally flung back at his brother. “Where the fuck are my thoughts not supposed to be going now?”

Apollo blurted a Greek profanity beneath his breath, audible only to Wen. Or so she guessed, since Hercules didn’t falter his glower. The poor sun god at her side now squirmed like a nerd at a frat party.

“Brother,” he muttered. “I know what you must be th—”

“No.” Hercules spat an acidic laugh. “I don’t think you fucking do.”

“Hey.”

She almost opted not to go so hard about the exclamation, but as soon as the guys backed off and calmed their stances, she inwardly lauded herself for making the right call. There was no time to waste about capitalizing on the point, so she didn’t. With a confident stomp over, she framed her hips with fisted hands.

“You guys serious about finding Natasha before Reks Byrd does, or should I just set up targets for the pissing match?”