She wouldn’t.
Except, as I picture the determined look on my wife’s face, I realize she most definitely would. “You gave my mother’s phone number to Psyche.”
“I didn’t know what else to do. Your mom is a bitch, but she’s your mom. You can’t… I can’t sit by and let something happen to her. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Because Helen’s mother is dead, and there’s no coming back from that. “I thought Psyche had a plan, but I didn’t realize the plan would be confronting Aphrodite directly.”
“There’s no way you could have known.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
I bite back the sharp retort that she’s done enough. It’s not Helen’s fault Psyche and I are in this mess. She just did what she thought was best, and I can’t blame her for that. “Keep an eye on MuseWatch and let me know if there are any updates.”
“I will.” She hesitates. “Eros, I really am sorry.”
“I know.” I hang up, thinking hard.
If Psyche was seen at the university gardens and my mother is heading in that direction, that’s where they’ll meet. I’ll have one chance to control this situation, and bringing in more people adds too many uncontrollable elements. I consider my options. If I drive, there are going to be added minutes trying to find a parking spot, and it will take time I can’t afford.
I drag in a breath. No doubt my mother is driving. She never would have walked there from her house. That gives me time.
I start to run.
As my pounding strides eat up the blocks between me and the gardens, I can’t help the frantic circling of my thoughts. Why would Psyche do this? Why would she risk this?
Except… I know why, don’t I?
Love makes fools of us all. I never realized that would be so literal. We’re both so intent on saving each other from pain and harm, we’re throwing ourselves right into those very things. Psyche is cunning and so intelligent it drives me up the walls, but my mother is a different breed entirely. And she has a gun. I never would have thought she’d go so far as to dirty her own hands, but Psyche has outmaneuvered her at every turn. When cornered, Aphrodite won’t hesitate to strike out.
To strike Psyche.
I can’t lose her. I just fucking found her.
I’m panting and sweating by the time I reach the gardens. Where will Psyche have gone? I frantically think back to when we walked them. Was that just a few days ago? It feels like a lifetime. We walked deep enough down the paths that we couldn’t be seen from the street, to what she said was her favorite part of the garden. I bet that’s where she’s at.
My body aches as I pick up my pace. My shoes weren’t meant for running, but I barely feel the pain. Especially when I round a corner and find Psyche facing off with my mother. Aphrodite has my gun held in two hands, her stance shitty but it’s not like she can miss at that range. My wife is all but cowering against those fucking twigs she told me are flowers.
I force myself to stop, to slow down to avoid surprising my mother into pulling the trigger, and lift my hands. “That’s enough, Mother.”
She doesn’t look at me. “Turn around, Eros. I have this perfectly under control.” Her voice is so perfectly controlled, she might have been commenting on the weather.
“I can’t let you do this.” I can’t think, don’t know how to play this to ensure she puts down the gun without pulling the trigger. All I have is panic, and panic will get Psyche killed. I inch closer. “Go home, Psyche. I’ll deal with this.”
“She has a gun!” Her voice shakes and she’s half-crouched, her arms lifted as if that would be enough to stop a bullet. She’s panicking, too, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. “She’s going to kill me!”
“She won’t kill you. I won’t let her.” I desperately hope I’m not lying.
I take another slow step forward, but Aphrodite shakes her head. “No closer or I pull the trigger.”
That stops me short, my heart lunging into the back of my throat. I have to find the right words to say, but my brain is pure static. I’m not close enough to lunge for the gun, though, so I have to try. “You’d risk Zeus’s fury for this?”
“I’d do that and more.” She doesn’t take her gaze from Psyche. “But I’m not the one killing Demeter’s daughter, Eros. You are.”
Understanding dawns as I take her in. The old coat that I haven’t seen on her in years. The leather gloves that will remove any trace of gun residue if she fires—and her fingerprints. Which means the only fingerprints on the gun registered to me are mine.