“I am nothing like Shades of Grey,” I said quickly. “I didn’t even read the book.”

“That denial came way too fast.” He laughed and picked up the previous thread. “Pretty much the fact that Tad is a snake shifter makes it perfectly okay to hurt, torture, or kill him in Achilles’s eyes. All in the name of good versus evil. It’s not wrong to make the evil ones suffer, you know.”

“Tad is the furthest thing from evil.” I paced the room while the air filled with the scent of baklava. I grabbed a pot and threw it on the stove, filling it with vanilla, honey, sugar, and water, my movements on autopilot.

This was not happening. It couldn’t be. “Ernie, how long do you think we have?”

“Hard to say. Hours. Days. Maybe a week? It will depend on whether Achilles has already killed him.”

I froze where I was, unable to move past what Ernie had said. “Killed?”

Ernie flew close to me and put his chubby fingers on my cheeks. “You need to be prepared for the worst. That’s life when dealing with the Greek geeks.”

I put both my hands on the counter, and the oven dinged. Moving swiftly, I grabbed the oven mitts and pulled the pan of baklava out. I drizzled the honey mixture over the pastries.

Ernie made a “gimme” motion, flickering his fingers at me repeatedly. “Those smell amazing.”

“Thanks.” The word was automatic. I dropped the pan on top of the stove and pulled the gloves off. Ernie shoved a pastry in his mouth and grabbed two more.

Who would know better where Tad might have been taken? Zeus was the obvious answer. But I still had another two hours before I was to see him. That only left one person I trusted, other than Ernie, who knew the Greek pantheon. Someone who’d been a part of it in her own way.

Yaya.

“Let’s go.” I turned the oven off and threw the pans into the empty sink with a clatter.

Hurrying to the car, we were on our way in seconds. Ernie licked his fingers the whole way, which kept him busy. Not that I wouldn’t have wanted to talk, but I couldn’t. My voice kept getting stuck on a single word.

Killed. Tad could have been killed already. I might be too late.

The hospital was only ten minutes away in good traffic, and I made it in less than five. I hurried to the front doors. The receptionist looked up as I entered, his heavy jowls and sallow skin speaking to too many night shifts.

“Visiting hours are from nine to four during the day.”

I slumped. “Please, I need to see my grandmother. Just tell me what room she’s in and I’ll not say anything about you—”

He tapped the sign beside him. “Not my rules.”

Ernie was nowhere to be seen. So I was on my own. Time to embrace what I was, and not just the monster side either.

I needed to see Yaya, and I wasn’t leaving without talking to her. I slowly turned back to the receptionist, and leaned in as if to read his name tag. “Steven, is it?” I batted my eyes and drew in a slow breath, which lifted my chest up. His eyes dropped and he swallowed hard.

“Yeah.”

“I . . . want . . . to know where Flora Dininny is. What room. I’d be awfully grateful.” I smiled and tried to think about how to convince him I was serious. What did women do when flirting? Something with the tongue. I ran mine along my top lip and Steven’s eyes went wide.

“What are you?”

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass above his head. The very tip of my tongue was forked.

Oh dear. That was not the reaction I wanted. “You will help me. Now. What room is Flora Dininny in?” I put everything I had, all the need and desire I had in me into the words. There was no going back.

Steven’s face went slack and his hands fumbled over the keyboard; his eyes flicked and he pointed. I leaned into his cubicle and read the screen. Fourth floor, room 415.

“Thank you. Pretend I was never here.”

He nodded, his head bobbling like it wasn’t attached quite right. “Yes. You were never here.”

I hurried away toward the elevators. I pressed the button and nothing happened. Of course, they were locked after visiting hours. I paused and looked around for the stairwell. There to my left the door beckoned. I jogged to it and raced up the three flights in a matter of seconds.

I wasn’t even winded.

At the fourth floor I pushed on the door. Locked. I hung my head, defeated by a hospital door.

Again.

“You’re strong enough to break it.”

I turned to see Ernie flying up the last few stairs. “I’m not going to shift in the stairwell.”

“Even in this form, you’re strong enough. Just shove it hard, you’ll break the lock.” He floated above my head as he pointed at the door. As if I’d forgotten it was there.

I wrapped my hands around the cool metal handle. “Okay. Here we go.” Putting my feet against the wall, I pulled. Slowly, I added to the force until the metal began to grind, like a mortar and pestle working overtime. Except all that happened was the handle let go first, snapping off.

“Fricky dicky!” I threw it down the stairwell, the clang of it bouncing all the way down, echoing far louder than I’d thought it would. I flinched. “I hope no one heard that.”

“The nurses are probably all sleeping. You wrecked the handle, see if you can pull it apart now.” Ernie peered at the door.

He was right; there was a small section of metal that was bent outward where the handle had been. I put my hand into it and fished around for the lock mechanism.