The Prophecy by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Author:Jennifer L. Armentrout [Armentrout, Jennifer L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Prophecy
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2018-03-08T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Seth

“Get these people under control,” I ordered, stepping over the sprawled form of some guy who’d just gotten knocked out.

Alex whipped around. “What?”

I kept walking, slipping out the door and into the night. A handful of seconds had passed between when I’d seen the guy leave and when I stepped out, but the road in front of the bar was empty.

Frowning, I looked down the old cobblestone sidewalk. Left and right were vacant and… “Shit.”

Wispy mist slowly crept across the road, and tendrils licked up the curb and coiled around my ankles. There was nothing supernatural about the fog, but it sure as hell was creepy.

The door opened behind me and Deacon spilled out, plate of food still clutched to his chest. “I was sent to check on you—whoa, look at this fog.”

“It’s just fog, Deacon.” Frustrated, I tried to see through the damn mist, but apparently X-ray vision wasn’t a godly ability. Where in the hell had the guy gone?

“I don’t know.” Deacon wandered to the left as he picked up one of his fried fish filets. “This is spooky. Like, this is the kind of atmosphere perfect for a ghostly sighting if I’ve ever seen one. I bet the walker is around…”

Shaking my head, I let instinct guide me as I stepped off the curb while Deacon prattled on about some ghost that walked around and, I don’t know, screamed in people’s faces?

I crossed further into the mist, reaching a market of sorts that had been open when we entered the pub, but the large, square windows were now dark. I passed a bench and stopped at the corner of the alley. The weird-ass tingle was still dancing between my shoulder blades, but I still didn’t see shit as I crossed the alley. It was so damn quiet out here I was beginning to wonder if I’d hallucinated seeing the guy in the bar.

Shit. Maybe it was a ghost.

A ghost who walked into bars and stole drinks.

Sounded like a cooler ghost than the one who ran around screaming in people’s faces. I turned back to the pub. Maybe he went in the—

“Looking for me, mate?”

My back stiffened. Son of a bitch was right behind me, and I didn’t even hear him. I pivoted around, and there he was, standing near the bench I’d just passed.

The moment I saw him, I knew.

Fuck.

Even in the faint light, I knew he was Ares’s son. Even if what had happened in the pub hadn’t happened, I would’ve known the moment I saw him.

The guy looked like a younger version of Ares. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Cold face.

Shit.

The damn Fates had their messed-up hands in this. I knew it. Only they would ensure that, out of all the demigods, it would be Ares’s son who survived.

He must’ve walked down the alley and waited, and he still had the mug of beer in his hand.

“Maybe,” I said, keeping my hands at my sides.

The guy took a drink of his beer. “Who are you?”

I said nothing.

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