Alex and I walked through the halls of the Armory, following the sounds of a harp near the balcony that always seemed to end up being the favored gathering spot. At least most times I had been here we always ended up in that area.

“It’s very dangerous here, Alex, but I’ll keep you safe. Just don’t touch anything. Pandora doesn’t like her things to be touched.” Alex nodded soberly.

I stepped through an archway and saw Pandora sitting on a cushioned stool, eyes closed as her fingers brushed the strings of a golden harp the size of a man’s torso. She had a distant smile on her face and leaned forward as if trying to hug the harp, or perhaps bring her ear closer to the sounds her fingers made dancing across the strings.

I smiled at her, enjoying the tune. It was light, jubilant, and… faint. As if even though I knew I was in the same room as the harp, I was actually hearing something far away in the middle of the woods, echoing through the foliage. Some nymph luring me to my death.

I shivered and turned away at the macabre thought. I’d heard songs like that before, and they were nothing like this. It was just… so entrancing. Almost the entire back of the room was actually a sandstone balcony overlooking a dry deserted wasteland. Not sand, but dry cracked rock, withered gnarled trees no taller than a man, and patches of dead weeds. No signs of life.

In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure where it was. If it was somewhere real or something from Pandora’s imagination. Because this was the Armory – a supernatural weapons cache that my parents had tucked away into this pocket dimension. Pandora was their librarian – or perhaps she was one of the weapons to be kept from mankind – and she answered only to me.

Well, she would also answer anyone I had let into this place, but ultimately, she had my best interests at heart. She had an encyclopedic memory of everything stored here, and almost seemed to share the soul of the place. Knowing with a thought whether anything was missing, where something was, or if anything was wrong with the place.

One time not too long ago, she had almost committed suicide in order to prove her loyalty to me, and as she had crept closer to that moment of no return, the Armory itself had begun to fade more and more – the walls becoming vague, shifting columns of smoke and fog, like dust caught in beams of sunshine.

I also knew that Pandora was kind of dangerous in her own right.

Which you couldn’t tell by looking at her now. A young woman with olive skin, perhaps freshly eighteen – although her smoky eyes made me think of two-thousand years of hot, steamy nights – and a fragile, yet pleasantly curvy, body.

She and Achilles might have been friends with benefits – or something more serious.

I watched Alex spin in a slow circle, jaw hanging open and eyes peeled back as he murmured to himself when he recognized – or thought he did – some particular piece. Because ornate wooden tables – all different shapes, sizes, designs and dimensions – displayed ancient items. Scrolls, wooden books adorned with precious metal locks, an ivory tusk with a golden cap on the broken end, bowls of treasure, thick glass vials of strange liquids, a glass orb full of shifting yellow smoke, weapons of every nation, some gleaming silver with priceless gems set into the hilts and scabbards – and even…

I realized I had walked closer to a black spear, my hand outstretched to touch the black wooden haft – not looking too dissimilar from the wood of the Huntress’ new bow. One end of the spear was tipped in six inches of silver that depicted four howling, agonized faces, as if to represent each cardinal direction. The other end featured a matte-black spear tip that seemed more of a cross between a sword and an axe – an arced, deadly concave shape maybe two feet long. A black-roped braid wrapped three times around the wood, as if holding the blade in place, and from the rope hung two black silk bags about as long as the blade itself.

The blade itself was black. Not painted, but as if forged from a black mineral of some sort. The blade’s edge was polished into a dark gray – as if that was the best that could be done with the dark metal. The reason for the odd shape of the blade was obvious. A single red ruby the size of a goose egg was set into the thickest section of the blade, right in the center.

I frowned at it, something about the overall look tickling my memory.

I realized my fingers were about to wrap around the wooden haft when the music suddenly ceased. “Hello, my Host,” Pandora called out. “And who is this tasty-looking specimen of a man?” she purred in a suggestive tone.

I grinned at Alex’s yelp, turning to find him reaching towards a stand of ornate swords. I wasn’t sure if his yelp was in guilt for almost touching the merchandise or Pandora’s hint that she might like to touch his merchandise. Tall and strapping he may be, but experienced with the ladies, he was not. He stammered awkwardly, brushing a hand through his longish dark hair. “Al—” he attempted to state his name, and almost jumped to find Pandora suddenly six inches away from him, staring almost vertically up to look into his eyes.

He actually flinched as her fingertips touched his chest and trailed down his shirt. The caress stopped at his belly, but didn’t break contact. His face was beet red as he struggled not to stare down her transparent, flowing toga. Until she had stood, I hadn’t realized how translucent the toga was. It was entirely see-through! As good as, anyway.

“Al,” I repeated, grinning, “the lady killer. Lock up your daughte—”

“Alexander Arete…” Pandora whispered under her breath.

I flinched. “What was that?” I asked, leaning closer. I must have missed part of it.

Pandora shivered as she took a step back, clasping her hands behind her back, which did nothing for Alex’s shame, only flaunting her assets. She turned to look at me, took a breath, and then bathed me with a radiant smile. “I spoke his name.”

Alex cleared his throat, attempting to avert his eyes without appearing rude. “I don’t use that name. My biological father was never around.”

“Can you so easily change your height? Weight? Eye color?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, and she clucked her tongue, her lips glistening.

“I… no, what?” he finally asked in confusion.

“I’m referring to you dismissing a name because your father accidentally made you. A name is a name is a name. You are not adopting the man with the name, you are accepting a heritage. Just because your father was a bad apple doesn’t mean the family tree should be cut down. The tree might yet one day produce a succulent, crisp, sweet—”

“Apple,” I interrupted hurriedly. “Christ, Pandora. You’re going to give him a heart attack,” I muttered, watching as Alex desperately struggled to find something in the room without even a hint at femininity to its shape.

Pandora blinked, looked him up and down again, and then beamed delightedly. “Oh! Oh, my. You brought me a virgin? How viciously cruel of you…” she said, winking at me.

If possible, Alex’s face turned even darker. He was about to die of shame. “What was that about his name?” I asked, trying to give him a minute to compose himself. “Did you say Arete?”

“You know I did, Nate,” she responded tersely.

“Right. Well, I guess I’ll just cut to the chase since you can read my mind anyway. There’s no use drawing it out. Does his name have anything to do with this?” I asked, holding out my palm. The brand of my family Crest stood prominent, even though a burn, still remarkably clear even after the skin had healed. So clear, in fact, that the word Arete was still legible on the blade of the spear crossing the shield. The other weapon crossing the shield was a scythe – like Death carried – and that blade was etched with memento mori, which meant remember, you are mortal.

“What an interesting looking blade…” she said casually. I frowned at her, glanced at my palm, and then turned back to her. She sighed impatiently. “Yes. The same word. Coincidence, I’m sure,” she added dryly, turning away from me.

I turned to Alex. He shrugged. “Right. Is it, though? A coincidence, I mean?” I persisted, following her.

“Of course not,” she snapped.

Her tone made me pause for a moment. I found my eyes lingering on her cute little rear, and looked up hurriedly. I heard her chuckle and scowled. She could read minds, damnit. “Anyway,” I said. “I brought him here to see if you could give him a weapon. Something to help him defend himse— Hey! Where are you going?” I shouted at her back as she began walking away from me. Then she was gone. I saw her appear at the opposite end of the room, entering a hallway.

Then she disappeared from view again. “Um. Was that a no?” Alex asked.

“Follow me,” I growled as I jogged to catch up. Alex was hot on my heels as I followed her soft steps around one turn, down another hall, and then two more turns before I caught her sexy toga-nightie disappear through a dim doorway. How fast was she? I was almost running.

I skidded into a hot, humid, steamy room, eyes searching for her.

And saw some breathtaking side-boob.