Goddess Boot Camp

Griffin's blue eyes, burning white-hot, focus on me so intently I'm not sure he even sees anything-or anyone-else in the room. You know that whole protective thing I was thankful for last night? Well, here it is again, lashing out. I try to keep calm by telling myself he's just worried about me. My getting defensive is not going to improve the situation.

'What is this about?' he demands.

Acutely aware of three pairs of very observant eyes, I slam my palms against Griffin's chest and push him out into the hallway. He and I have been through enough. We don't need an audience. 'Privacy.'

'Phoebe,' he practically growls.

'You know I got that note pointing me to the record of my dad's trial.' I point out. When he nods, I explain. Then I got an e-mail. And another.'

'How many?'

'Five, in all.'

'From who?'

'I'm not sure,' I say. The sender's address was blocked.'

'In your Academy e-mail? Not possible.'

'Apparently it is,' I insist, trying not to get annoyed that he doesn't believe me. Like I would make that up. 'I couldn't get them to print, either. So we asked Urian'-I nod at the door behind us- 'for help.'

'What did the e-mails say?'

I explain the content, inching away as his expression grows darker with every word. He looks like he could explode at any second. By the time I finish, I'm pressed up against Urian's door.

'Why didn't you tell me about this?'

'We weren't exactly in a sharing mood the past few days,' I say. 'Besides, I don't see why this is such a big deal.'

'I don't think you should go.'

'Why not? Everyone seems so sure this is some master plot or something.' Like I'm important enough for someone to master-plot against me. 'What if it's just someone trying to help me out?'

Although the fire in his eyes is gone-replaced by an equally intense blank look-and he isn't moving a muscle, his entire body is practically radiating tension. If Nola were here, she'd probably tell me that his aura is fire-engine red right now. It doesn't take major deductive or psychic powers to realize he's upset. And, if it wasn't my dad we were talking about, I'd probably appreciate the concern.

'Then why all the games?' he replies. 'Why not just mail you the record or leave it on your doorstep? No.' He shakes his head. 'This recks of mischief.'

'You're being ridiculous. 'Reeks of mischief.' What are you. a character from Shakespeare? I'm going,' I say, daring him to argue. Which, of course, he does.

'No,' he grinds out, 'you're not.'

'You can't stop me.' I turn to grab the door handle, but Griffin snags it first, holding it shut.

'Yes I can,' he says, sounding overly alpha male. 'I will do whatever I have to do to protect you from harm.'

I want to spin around and chew him a new one. To say that it's just his Hercules heroic gene that's making him so protective.

But I know that's not true-not entirely anyway. Besides, I don't like using that against him, like it's a tool I can use to win an argument.

Instead, I say softly, 'You won't.' I lay my hand over his on the handle. 'Because you would never forgive yourself if you kept me from finding out the truth about my dad.' His hand softens beneath mine, but doesn't move. 'And because you're afraid I'd never forgive you, either.'

His hand drops away.

Before I turn the handle and slip back into Urian's room, I say, 'Thank you for trusting me.'

* * *

At eleven-thirty, I'm leaning against the courtyard wall, trying to stay in the shadows and keep an eye on the two entrances at the same time. All of the classrooms that overlook the courtyard are dark and only the faint glow of moonlight illuminates the smooth stone floor. The tiny pieces of the intricate mosaic at the center shine like those glow-in-the-dark jellyfish we learned about in freshman biology. I can't make out the design at the moment, but I know from memory that it depicts Plato and Athena-the cofounders of the Academy-locked in a heated debate.

I can just imagine what they're arguing about. The ideal political state. Ethics and education. Who looks better in a toga.

I stifle a snort at my own joke.

'Somehow I knew you wouldn't wait until midnight.'

I spin around, face-to-face with the one person I never expected to see here.

'Damian?' I can't stop blinking. Damian isn't here, he's in Thailand with Mom. Trekking through the Southeast Asian jungle. On their honeymoon. They're not getting back for another two days. Oh no, maybe something happened. Maybe Mom-

'Your mother is fine,' he assures me with a knowing smile. 'She is sleeping peacefully in our Nakhon Pathom hotel room.'

It still bugs me how he can read minds, but I'm more in shock over the fact that he's here. In this courtyard. Right now.

'Then what are you doing here?' I ask. 'How did you know I-'

'I sent the e-mails, Phoebe.' He places his hand on my shoulder. 'I sent the note.'

That doesn't make any sense. Why would Damian go through all this mystery and superspy subterfuge? He could have just picked up the phone-or, considering the rates to place a call from Thailand, sent a nonblocked e-mail. Besides, he is so not the type to play games.

When he doesn't seem to be reading my mind-or at least he's not acting on what he reads-I ask, 'Why? The mystery, the suspense, the secrecy. Why would you do it this way?'

For many reasons,' he replies cryptically. 'The foremost of which is that I wished to distract you from your looming test. I believed that if I diverted your worry from your powers, you might more easily control them.'

Ha, like that worked.

'Skepticism aside,' he says. 'Consider this: When was the last time your powers behaved erratically?'

'This morning,' I say without hesitation. 'Griffin and I were training with Tansy, and as we-'

'I know.' He always seems to know way more than should be possible. It's like he's got this whole island wired or something. 'Autoporting surprised you, but it did not misbehave. That was exactly what your subconscious was trying to achieve.'

Maybe he's right. I mean, I was exhausted and desperate to get across the finish line and then, suddenly, I was. At least I hadn't zapped myself to Finland or anything. The last time my powers truly freaked out on their own was the first day of camp, when I turned Stella into a birthday cake.

His distraction had worked.

'Was that the only reason?' I ask. 'Keeping my mind on something else?'

'No,' he explains. 'I chose the lure of your fathers trial in an attempt to draw out your strongest emotions.'

'Why?' I shake my head. 'Everyone says emotions hijack your powers.'

'Exactly.'

'I don't understand.'

'Phoebe, learning to control your powers is about more than passing a single test.' He steps