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“Everyone finds them demonic, but I think they’re misunderstood.” Aedon’s voice is low in his chest.

“What makes you think that?” I breathe, unable to tear my eyes from the portrait. The hair on the back of my neck rises and a chill runs up my spine.

“All art is open to interpretation.”

I want to argue, but I realize everything I say will support his statement. It’s technically art, and everyone is trying to interpret it with no context.

“Who drew it?”

“Artist Unknown.”

“I need to get back to my group.” I take one last look, but Aedon blocks my path when I try to go.

“How about I give you a private tour instead?” I glance behind him and see that I’m missing another explanation. “I promise it will be much more interesting than whatever summarized theories he is going to spew. Plus, you owe me a date.”

“I said I would go on a date with you. As in the future,” I argue.

“That clarification was not outlined when we made the deal. You owe me a date and I want it to start right now.” His eyes glitter in the darkness.

“You don’t give up, do you?”

“You have no idea.” He smirks. “Come on. I want to show you my favorite thing here.”

As we pass by several artifacts, I can’t help but slow. Now that I’m here I’m invested, and I’m missing a lot of shit. Stafford didn’t send me to this place for no reason.

Aedon backtracks. “None of those are real. They’re all replicas. This isn’t even close to the number of artifacts that exist.”

“How would you know?” I glance up at him.

“Because everything is in Hades’ vault.”

“And how would you know that?”

He hesitates. “I’m well connected.”

“A stalker, a pest, and an asshole. Well done.” I clap, drawing the attention of the entire room. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He smiles at me with his hands in his pockets. “You’re the most sought-after artifact in this room. Let them look at something they’ll never see up close again.”

I scrunch my face up. “And you think you will?”

“I would never be so bold as to assume, but I have Hope.”

He strides toward the far corner of the room. I hurry to catch up and fall into step next to him. If Aedon knows anything, it’s how to pique my curiosity, and I hate it. There’s a black velvet curtain covering a doorway with a sign that says, ‘Keep Out: Private Tours Only’. Aedon pulls it aside and directs me in as if he knows where he is going.

Inside is lit by candles, too. A few cases with locks on them are dispersed around lavishly. This isn’t something for the public. He walks up to a glass case on the far side of the room and pulls off a cover, revealing a black stone box looking thing.

“Wow, this is quite the…piece,” I say carefully. I don’t want to leave this room before seeing everything.

He bites his bottom lip, eyes shining, and angles his body to conceal it. Then he reaches up and pulls off the glass case.

“I’m not a regular museum patron, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to touch the display,” I hiss. “Or go into places that say, ‘Keep Out’.”

“You don’t seem like a stickler for the rules,” he responds with amusement. He’s met with my own silence. “They call this the box of Tartarus.” He hovers his hand over the outside. It starts to vibrate the closer he gets, and gold symbols glitter from the crevices. “They say it’s unable to be opened. People have tried for centuries to no avail.”

There is no mistaking that they are the same symbols on my body. The same ones that are etched into the back of Kate’s Grimoire. My jaw drops. What the fuck? His hand retracts, shuts the case without touching it, and reaches over, pushing up my chin and shutting my mouth.

I practically plaster my face to the glass, not caring if anyone walks in, and inspect it. It’s made of smooth black stone, and they are definitely the same symbols. I’m acutely aware of the irritated scars on my body, and yank at the neck of my blouse trying not to call attention. I want to pull out my arm and compare it, but he’s standing there watching me expectantly.