“Down here,” the voice says. “The door is hidden.”
“Here, huntress,” Sillus cries out. “Look here.”
I spin back, the flashlight beam swinging back and forth as I follow the direction of his excited gesture. Then I see it, just a couple of feet off the ground, in the middle of the wall that ends the hallway: fingers reaching out and wagging at me from a narrow opening. Non-monster fingers.
“It’s me,” the voice says. “Sthenno.”
“Sthenno,” I whisper, relief washing through me. I drop to my knees in front of the opening. “What happened?”
“I’ll explain that later,” she says, “once we’re out of here. Apollo will have raised the alarm. The soldiers won’t be long now.”
I scan my gaze over the wall around the opening, tracing the beam of light over every stone, every joint of mortar. There is no sign of a door at all, let alone a way to open one. It’s like she’s sealed in.
“How?” I ask. “There’s no door.”
“One of the stones is a false front.” She gestures to the left of the door. “Somewhere over there. It pushes in to release the catch.”
With the flashlight in one hand, I start running my other hand over the wall. I push on every stone, waiting for one that gives way. Push after push, and nothing.
Finally, I get to the smallest stone—only about four inches square—and when I press on its surface, it sinks back into the wall.
“Got it,” I exclaim.
The words are no sooner out of my mouth than I hear a metal-on-metal sound and the entire wall around the opening—maybe four feet across and six feet high—pops out from the rest. Thane gets to his feet, Greer hanging limp in his arms, and moves them out of the way. I try to get a handhold on the stone edge to pull the door the rest of the way open.
“Stand back,” Sthenno says.
Sillus scrambles to my side.
I find a rough spot where I can get a grip. “I’ve almost—”
The door moves suddenly, swinging open like a tetherball on a string. It knocks me a few feet to the left, but I manage to keep my balance.
Sthenno appears in the doorway, dirty and bedraggled but otherwise intact. That was an impressive display of strength.
“We must hurry,” she says, stepping into the hall. “They know you’re here, and they’re coming.”
We run down the hall, the light from Greer’s flashlight guiding our way. Sillus’s whistle drags on the ground, but I don’t yell at him to pick it up. We’ll be gone before it matters.
The golden maiden is waiting for us at the fork, a serious look on her face.
Gesturing at us to be quiet, she hurries to meet us. She whispers, “There are soldiers guarding the closet door.”
“Ursula?”
“They know someone is inside,” she says, “but the door is locked. They have sent someone to retrieve a key.”
Hugging the wall, I move to the end of the hall and peer around the corner. There are only a few of them, but they are bigger than and just as armed as their friends who took a dip in the moat earlier. It’s only a matter of time before they open the door. Ursula is so weak, she’s virtually helpless. We have to get the soldiers away and us back home.
“Maybe,” I say, thinking out loud, “if we—”
“As soon as they are gone,” the golden maiden says, “get to the closet and get home.”
Then, before I can ask her what she means, she’s stepping out of the hallway and calling out to the gathered soldiers.
“Great Zeus,” one of them says when he sees her. “It’s a golden maiden.”
“There hasn’t been one on Olympus for centuries,” another says.
A third grins. “Not since Hephaestus threatened to melt them all down for their insubordination.”
“Those are the lies he spread,” she mutters quietly. The golden maiden places herself between the soldiers and the staircase that leads back up to the shining halls of Olympus. “What was his offered bounty again?”
“A sword that never misses its mark,” one shouts.
“And, as I recall,” she says, with a teasing tone, “a helm of immortality.”
In a glint of gold, she’s racing across the hallway and disappearing up the stairs.
The soldiers chase after her, abandoning their posts for the promise of reward. She’s fast. I’m sure she can outrun them. I hope she can.
We don’t have time to wait around to find out.
The golden maiden has bought us a few precious minutes, a narrow window of opportunity. I rush to the closet door and unlock it. Ursula steps out, looking far more like herself. Guess I come by my fast healing honestly.
She looks at her sister. “Are we too late?”
Sthenno shakes her head. “But we must hurry.”
“I’m not sure I have the strength.”
Sthenno steps up to her and places a palm on either side of her face. “I shall give you the strength.”
“What about her powers?” Thane asks. “Are they still tethered?”
Sthenno studies him appraisingly. I can’t guess her judgment.
“No,” Sthenno says. “Once free from the cell, her powers are released.”
“Hurry,” Ursula says. “Everyone gather close. Make sure you are touching one of us.”
I start to pocket the dungeon keys, but something stops me.
“Give me a sec,” I call out over my shoulder as I head down the hall toward the maze of cells.
“Gretchen,” Sthenno shouts, “we haven’t the time.”
I don’t stop to argue. They won’t leave without me, and this will only take a moment.
Back in the vast, smoke-filled room, I hurry to the cell of the man who talked to me earlier. He looks up as I toss the keys into his cell.
“Everyone deserves a trial,” I say.
I don’t wait for a response before sprinting back to the group.
Sthenno scowls at me, but we’ll have that discussion later.
Sillus jumps onto my back as I wrap a hand around Sthenno’s forearm. I can feel power—strength—surging through her beneath the fabric of her jacket. Thane steps to my side, Greer still cradled in his arms. He turns to press his shoulder against Ursula’s.
I’m not convinced that’s enough, so I grab Greer’s hand with my free one.
“It will not come.” Ursula’s voice is weak, and she sounds like she’s given up.
“It will, sister,” Sthenno says. “Concentrate.”
Ursula opens her eyes. “It is no use. I am too weak.”
I’m not sure what scares me the most: the threat of our enemies coming back for us, or the defeat in Ursula’s gray eyes. Since that day four years ago when she pulled me off the street, talked me out of the warehouse I was calling home, and gave me a bed, a future, and a destiny, she’s been nothing but strong—nothing but certain that I can succeed in whatever I try.
To see her give up like this ignites a fire in me.
“The hell you are,” I shout.
She looks at me, eyes wide.
“You are going to get us out of here,” I say. “You’re going to autoport us the hell out of this mountain. Right now.”
Her gray eyes light up and I see the first spark of hope—of belief.
She closes her eyes again, focusing, and I tighten my grip on Sthenno’s arm. I channel whatever powers I have into Ursula. Together, we can do anything.
The bright light is already blinding me before I remember to tell her not to autoport us to the loft.
When the world stops swirling, I open my eyes. We’re standing in the hollow shell of what used to be our home. The building still smells like barbecue and burned rubber.
Releasing my grip on Sthenno and Greer, I say, “I might have forgotten to mention that—”
Ursula collapses to the ground.
“Ursula!”
“We must get her to the healer,” Sthenno says. “Who has a vehicle?”
“I do,” I say. ?
??But not here.”
My car is halfway across town, parked in front of Greer’s house.
“Where is the healer?” Thane asks. “Greer needs help, too.”
Sthenno looks at Greer, frowning with concern. “I am afraid,” she says, “that a healer cannot help her.”
The muscles in Thane’s jaw clench. If I didn’t know Sthenno was the gorgon with super strength—like me—I’d be worried for her health. Thane looks like he wants to destroy something, or someone.
I know the feeling.
“I’ll go get my car.” I glance at our two unconscious companions. “It will take me a while. Maybe twenty minutes.”
“There is no time,” Sthenno says. “Can you carry your sister?”
“Of course,” I reply without hesitation. Sillus climbs off my back.
Sthenno smiles like a proud teacher. “And I can carry mine. We can be at the healer’s in a matter of minutes.”
I reach for Greer, but Thane holds her out of range. “I have her.”
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I feel like we’re going to have a stare-down. Then his look softens, and his brows dip just a little, turning his expression into a plea. I don’t have to be a social genius to know what that means.
“Fine,” I say, pulling the monkey back onto my shoulders so he won’t slow us down. “Let’s get moving. Sthenno, you can lead the way.”
The healer is in a tiny storefront in Russian Hill, a short uphill trek from the loft. Unlike the oracle’s abandoned-looking shop, this place is all lights and neon. Only a plastic “closed” sign on the door gives a go-away message.
Sthenno knocks on the door.
The painted notices in the window invite customers to get acupuncture, acupressure, massage, facials, and aura readings inside. A glowing neon sign advertises aromatherapy. There is a special discount—free aura reading with the purchase of six acupressure sessions.
“Who is this quack?” I ask. “How can they help us?”
Sthenno looks evenly at me. “This quack,” she intones, “is a child of Panacea, a goddess of healing.”
My cheeks burn, and I try to disguise my embarrassment with cooperation. “Oh, that’s good, then.”
When the door swings open, I want to take back my words.
“Sorry,” the short, wiry man says, “we’re—”
When he sees Sthenno, his jaw drops.
“Gorgon,” he says, inclining his head, “you are most welcome.”
He steps back and waves us inside. Sthenno goes in first, carrying Ursula in her arms as if my mentor weighs nothing. I wave Thane in before me, and Sillus and I bring up the rear.
The healer takes one look at the two unconscious bodies and says, “Come this way.”
We follow him through the space, into a large room in the back with twin massage tables set up in the center. It smells like herbs and essential oils, and the air is filled with music that sounds like the soundtrack to some tragic movie where everyone dies.
“Lay them down,” he says, walking over to a stereo sitting on the counter and punching off the music. “What happened?”
“Euryale is but weakened,” Sthenno exclaims. “She autoported us from Olympus while her energy stores were still quite low.”
The healer pumps liquid sanitizer onto his hands and then walks over to Ursula. He runs his hands around her, not touching her—his palms hover just above the surface of her body. When he gets to her wrists, he swirls his hands in small circles. She groans and tries to sit up.
“Hold still, gorgon,” he says to her in the gentle voice of a therapist or kindergarten teacher.
He crosses to the cabinet, pulls open one of the bottom drawers, and takes out a small brown vial with a black top. Unscrewing the cap, he squeezes the bulb, drawing up a dropper full of orange liquid. Returning to Ursula’s wrists, he squeezes one drop on first her left and then her right. He replaces the cap and then proceeds to rhythmically rub the stuff into her wrists.
“This nectar of Iaso will restore her,” he says. “She will need to rest for a few hours. When she wakes, she will be healed.”
“Thank you, friend,” Sthenno says. She sounds relieved.
“What about Greer?” Thane asks.
Sthenno studies him. Maybe she sees the same thing I saw in his eyes when he told me he could carry my sister here. He cares about Greer. They may not have known each other for long, but he has feelings for her.
Sometimes it doesn’t take much time. I haven’t known Nick for long, but I still dived into the abyss to save him.
Sthenno turns to the healer. “These are my . . .” She glances at me, like she’s trying to figure out how to define our relationship. “Nieces.”
There are too many “greats” in there to keep track of, so I suppose “niece” is simpler.
“Your nie—” The healer’s eyes widen. “Oh, wonder of wonders. They are of the Key Generation?”
Sthenno only stares at him.
The healer turns his attention to me. “Are you?” When I nod, his old face cracks into the widest grin. “Such miraculous news. The rumors are true.”
“Yeah, it’s great,” I say. “But right now my sister could use your help.”
He glances at Greer and then back at me. “Of course, of course.”
He turns to stand over Greer’s table, muttering to himself.
For several minutes, he pokes and prods at Greer. She doesn’t stir, doesn’t react, doesn’t even wince in pain. That she’s not hurting is good, I guess, but my heart is racing. She’s so . . . still. The longer he evaluates her, the higher my blood pressure goes.
But it’s when he finally places his hands over her scalp that I really panic.
“Oh dear,” he says with a heavy dose of worry in his voice.
“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
“Am I correct that she has the second sight?” he asks.
Sthenno answers, “Yes. She has Medusa’s power.”
“That is what I was afraid of.” He turns to face me, frowning. “Your sister is in an astral lock.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. “What does that mean?”
“It means her consciousness is anchored in a vision,” he explains. “When beings with second sight seek a piece of the future, they journey to the astral plane. In ordinary circumstances, the visit is short and uneventful—there and back without incident. With the power of a god magnifying her access, her mind can be overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information, not unlike a computer trying to process more data than it has the capacity to handle.”
“What can we do?” Thane asks.
“Very little,” the healer says. “With adequate rest, however, she will return to her body.”
I sigh with relief. “Good,” I say. “That’s good.”
“Why is this happening?” Thane asks. “Is it a normal side effect of her powers?”
The healer shakes his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Then what?” I demand.
“She has become a beacon of Apollo,” Sthenno answers for him.
Sillus gasps.
Thane curses, multiple times.
“A beacon of Apollo?” I echo. “What does that—”
Oh, no. Now I remember. When Nick and I found the pendant of Apollo in the oracle’s storefront, he explained what would happen if Greer came in contact with it. Because of her psychic ability, it would forge a direct connection between her and the god of prophecy. It would give Apollo a direct connection with her brain.
“She touched the pendant?” I guess.
“Yes,” Sthenno answers.
“Why would she do that?” I demand. “She knew it was dangerous.”
“She did it to save you,” Sthenno replies. “She sought the knowledge necessary to rescue you from the abyss.”
To save me? And all because I had to dive in after Nick. If I had known the cost . . .
I look around at the faces in the room, all studying me with varying degrees of s
ympathy—except for Thane, who just looks furious.
“Then we undo it,” I say, matter-of-fact. Seems like an easy answer to me. “We disconnect her. Unplug her like a computer in a thunderstorm.”
Sthenno and the healer exchange looks.
“It is not that easy,” the healer says.
“There is no magical undo,” Sthenno adds.
“Why not?” I argue. “The oracle did it. She left the pendant and abandoned her powers.”
“The relationship between Apollo and his oracles is governed by ancient law and precise ritual,” Sthenno explains. “Greer’s connection with the god of prophecy was created outside the bonds of ritual. That is what makes her situation so dangerous.”
“Apollo can do whatever he wants.” Thane flexes his fingers, like he wants to strangle someone. Maybe Apollo. Maybe me.
Sthenno nods sadly. “He has unrestricted power in his connection to Greer.”
That sounds bad. That sounds really bad.
“I don’t accept this.” I start pacing. “There must be a way.”
“There is only one way to break this connection,” the healer whispers.
“How’s that?”
Sthenno shakes her head, and the healer drops his gaze.
“How?” I repeat.
Thane looks me straight in the eyes. “The human has to die.”
CHAPTER 15
GREER
Everything around me is gray—hazy and misty and unclear. I feel like I’m jogging on the beach at Crissy Field when the fog rolls in off the Bay.
Only when I’m on Crissy Field, my head doesn’t usually feel like it wants to explode into a supernova.
“Oh god,” I moan.
“Greer,” someone shouts.
“She’s waking up!”
“Shhhhh,” I complain, trying to lift a hand to my aching head, but my arm is tied down. Both of them are. “Stop yelling.”
“We’re not yelling,” a voice says, not quite as loud as before.
“Where am I?” I ask. “Why are my hands tied down?”
“You’re in the healer’s room,” the voice, which is starting to sound more and more like Gretchen, says. “And your hands aren’t tied down. See?”