something to help—argue his case, maybe, or break him out of jail. But not today.
“Sorry, bud,” I say, actually meaning it even though it comes across as sarcastic. “Can’t help you.”
I don’t have time for this right now. I don’t have time for anything except saving Ursula from torture. But as I continue on my search, the image of his vacant eyes haunts me.
By the time I circle back around to the group again, I’ve exhausted every last inch of the walkway around the moat. I’ve studied every block of stone, every line of mortar, every keyhole and footing and iron pipe. Finding nothing but cells and prisoners, I am no closer to getting through the shield and across to the other side. There’s no sign of a secret button, hidden lever, or magical key.
“What the hell?” I shove my fingers into my braid.
I pace back and forth, running over the space in my mind. There has to be a way across. How else would the prisoners get over there? How else would the torturers get to them?
A tiny voice at the back of my mind suggests that maybe the only way across is a magic I don’t possess. I punch that tiny voice in the throat. That’ll shut it up. I don’t have time for negative thinking.
“There has to be a way.” I face the golden maiden. “You seem to know everything. Didn’t your sister mention this?”
She shakes her head. “I am sorry. Alaia would have no way to gain that knowledge.”
Turning on Greer, I demand, “Tell me everything you saw. Every last detail of the vision.”
Her eyes widen. “I did,” she insists. “I only saw the cell. Nothing beyond. I can’t even be certain it was one of these cells, or anything near this time. It could have taken place last week, or it might be going to happen tomorrow.”
“What good are your stupid visions?” I fight the urge to slam my fist into the stone wall. “Why even have them if you can’t figure them out?”
“I don’t know!” she shouts. “All right? I have no idea how these visions work or what they mean. I can’t even control them!”
“Then keep trying!” I shout back.
“What?!”
“Keep trying,” I say. “Try again.”
She blinks. “Try again?”
“Try. Again.” I close the distance between us. “Have another vision.”
“I—” She frowns and shakes her head. “I can’t.”
“Of course you can.”
She just blinks at me. “I never have.”
It takes me a moment to realize we’re not shouting anymore. With a calmer head, I start to think my idea isn’t a bad one. I’ve honed my super strength with years of training. Grace has been practicing her autoporting. Greer needs to do the same.
“Now’s a good time to start, don’t you think?” I place my hands on her shoulders. “Instead of waiting for a vision to come to you, go after it with a big stick.”
“How?” she mouths.
Thane steps closer to her side. “I think I can help.”
We both turn to look at him in shock.
He meets my gaze straight on. “Give us a few minutes,” he says. “I’ll teach her to draw down the vision.”
“Draw down?” I question. He scolds me with a look. “Fine. Answers later. We’ll give you some space.”
With Sillus hurrying to keep up, the golden maiden and I walk away from my sister and my other sister’s brother—my life has gotten too complicated by half—and back around the corner. If Thane thinks a few minutes alone with Greer will help us get to Ursula—Euryale—I’m willing to give it a shot. What other options do we have?
CHAPTER 10
GREER
When Gretchen and the others round the corner, Thane lifts my backpack off my shoulder and drops it and his on the ground at our feet. He steps closer so there are only a couple of inches separating us. He seems so calm and certain, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this. I’m not used to feeling afraid of failure—I don’t generally fail, so what’s the point in fearing it?—but the pressure is overwhelming.
So much is riding on my ability to produce this specific vision.
“Thane, I’ve never—”
“You will.”
His eyes are so deadly serious that I have to believe him.
I want to believe him, which makes him easier to trust.
“Close your eyes,” he instructs.
I take one last look at his eyes, at his strength, before I comply—before putting my faith in him, in his ability to banish the unfamiliar helplessness.
“Imagine you’re in an empty room.” His voice drops to such a low whisper, I can barely hear him above the roar of the flames in the moat below. “A white room, with a white table and a white chair.”
I smile. “I like white.”
“Shhh.” He smoothes his fingertips over my forehead. “Just listen.”
I nod, enjoying the feel of his hands on my face, erasing the dull ache at my temples.
“You walk into the next room.” His fingertips dance across my skin, focusing on the spot right above my nose, between my eyes. “On the table there is a marble. It’s small and round, made of bright red glass.”
I picture it down to every last detail: the smooth surface of the table, the brilliant shine of the marble—even the aura of red from the light that passes through it. My mind is so intent on the room that the sounds and smells of the dungeon around me drift away.
“Walk over to the table.” He rubs a soft circle over my forehead. “Are you standing in front of it?”
I nod, not because I remember I’m supposed to be silent but because I’m too relaxed to disturb the moment with speech.
“Don’t do it yet,” he continues, “but when you reach down to pick up the marble, have the gorgons in your thoughts. When you squeeze the marble in your palm, you will have a vision that answers our questions.”
Mentally, I stare down at that marble like it’s the last piece of fresh sourdough at Boudin’s. It’s the most desirable thing I’ve ever seen.
“Are you ready for the vision?”
His hands shift back down to my shoulders.
“Now,” he says, gripping me tightly. “Grab the marble.”
In my imagination, I reach out and snatch the red glass ball from the table.
Immediately I’m slammed with the dizziness.
“Hold on, Greer,” Thane soothes. “Keep it together, and the vision will come.”
I force thoughts of the gorgons into my mind. I picture their faces, their elegance, their strength.
Then it comes, like an old home movie—dark around the edges, with bright lens flares and burned-out spots in the middle.
I see the dungeon—the moat and the cells and the shield keeping us from reaching the central island. I spin in the vision, searching for the answer. There must be an answer—otherwise, why have this vision? Movement catches my eye. Directly across the moat from Ursula’s cell, the little monkey creature has climbed up to the ceiling. He sticks his tiny hand into a nearly invisible hole between two of the ceiling stones.
In a flash, a bridge shoots up from within the flames, and the shield, the very air around the moat, flickers like a bad hologram and then cuts away.
I watch, thrilled, as the monkey drops gleefully back to the ground and Gretchen races across the bridge. It worked. I know how to get us across. I know how to save Ursula.
