“Who the fuck are you?” asked Drake, sounding exasperated and pissed off.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I should’ve introduced myself.” He offered his hand. “My name is Path.”
Chapter 27
“Amahté could’ve mentioned that we should be looking for someone instead of something,” said Ax.
“Oh, don’t blame him. He never knows what form I’m going to take,” said Path. Since no one had taken him up on the handshake offer, he withdrew his hand. “So, gang! Let’s go get us some ambrosia!” He rubbed his hands together. “Ready?”
I said, “For wh—”
Blink. Blink. Boom!
“—at?” I finished.
We stood on a hillside. All around us were verdant, rolling hills. Above us was a light purple sky dotted with fluffy silver clouds. And on top of the hill in front of us was a single golden tree, its branches curving up to the sky like a dozen prayerful hands. It had no leaves at all. On a single limb about midway up was a single golden fruit about the same size and shape as a plum.
The ground around the tree’s base was blackened, as though it had been scorched, though the tree itself looked untouched.
Path saw the direction of my gaze and nodded. “You would not believe how many have tried to get that last piece of ambrosia.” He rolled his eyes. “Such a kerfuffle!”
“And why can’t they get it?” asked Larsa.
“Oh, the tree won’t allow it. You see, Anubis gifted one of the fruits to Amahté for his service—right before that whole thing with Shamhat. But once a god has gifted ambrosia, it’s an unbreakable promise. He couldn’t take it back. Of course, the tree had more fruit on it three millennia ago. Anyhoodles! When Amahté gave it to you, his claim on the ambrosia ended.” He glanced up at the tree. “You’re the only who can touch it now.”
“And by touch it,” I said, “you mean I have to climb up there and pluck it.”
“That’s what she said.” Path snort-laughed. He slapped his thigh. “Oh, I kill myself.”
“If only you would,” muttered Larsa.
I studied the trunk, noting that it was completely smooth. Trying to climb it would be like trying to shimmy up glass. Damn.
We all walked up the hill. When we came within two feet of the tree, I kept going, but everyone else acted like they had walked facefirst into a wall. A round of cursing and rubbing of noses occurred.
“Keep going, kitten,” encouraged Path. He’d known to stop about two steps before the others. Perverse son of a bitch.
“I really have to climb this thing?” I walked around the base of the tree, and studied it some more. No footholds, no knots that I could grab onto.
“I think it would be very entertaining if you tried,” said Path. “But you could just ask the tree for it.”
“Ask . . . the tree.” I looked at Path, and he nodded.
What the hell, right? I stood under the branch, my gaze on that fruit. It was Dove’s life hanging up there. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Moira. May I please have my ambrosia?”
For a moment, nothing happened, and I began to wonder if Path had been fucking with me just to see if I would ask a magic tree for its magic fruit.
Then the limb with the ambrosia on it slowly lowered until the branch was at my eye level. “Thank you,” I said. And I grabbed the fruit and pulled it off the tree.
“Okay, kids, let’s skedaddle.” Path looked at me, offering me another skeezy smile, and before I could tell him to knock it off—
Blink. Blink. Boom!
We stood at the location where we’d entered the Underworld. The party continued, and I wondered if it ever stopped. Probably not.
“I wish I could say it had been fun, kids,” said Path. “But I really can’t. Good luck with . . . well, whatever.” Path wiggled his fingers at us, and then turned, slipping into the crowd.
“Moira.”
I turned at the sound of Drake’s voice, and saw that the portal had opened. Drake went first, then me, Larsa, and Ax.
On the other side, in the same field that we had left, Amahté and Shamhat waited for us, along with Gabriel, Braddock, and Darrius.
“You have the ambrosia?” asked Gabriel. He sounded anxious.
“Yes, and before you get any ideas, I’m the only one who can touch or use it.” I showed him the fruit. “And I’m using it to save Dove.”
Gabriel lifted a moon white eyebrow. “You mistake my intentions. Patsy made a promise. And her promise is mine as well.”
“Good,” I said. “Shall we go kick some vampire ass?”
• • •