Sweet Legacy

for the whistle hanging around my neck and lift it to my lips. “We already have Euryale safe. We’re going to take you home.”

Pain slices through my forehead. I suck in a breath to blow the signal.

As the ear-piercing shrill of the whistle echoes down the stone hallway, off the metal doors and into the dungeon beyond, my mind explodes like someone took an ax to my skull.

“Greer!” I hear Sthenno cry out as I collapse to the ground.

I don’t even fight the black as I am yanked into another vision.

I am in a white room. It is made of marble, like the halls of Mount Olympus, and decorated with laurel branches and ravens. In the corner, a stand holds a golden instrument that looks like a miniature harp.

“Welcome, young huntress.”

I spin to face the source of the familiar voice, the voice that has been whispering in my mind. It is a man— no, more than a man. A god. I don’t know how I know; I just know.

“Who—who are you?”

I never stammer. But, then again, I’ve never come face to face with a god—not even in a vision.

He smiles, his beautiful face transformed into an angelic expression. “You do not know?” His smile fades, replaced by a scowl. “How charming.”

I take it all in—the ravens, the lyre, the too beautiful face.

“You’re Apollo.”

He applauds softly. Mockingly.

“After all the time we’ve spent together, I would be hurt if you didn’t know.”

“Time together?” I shake my head. “We’ve never met.”

“Not formally, I suppose.” He studies me. “But I have been watching you closely since you touched my pendant.”

“Watching me?” The air rushes out of my lungs.

If he has been watching me, he has been watching my sisters, watching our progress. No wonder enemies keep showing up everywhere we go. Apollo knows just where to send them.

Remembering the sensation of being pulled out of my body and pulled into this vision, I ask, “Why did you bring me here?”

“I thought we should have a chat. Please”—he gestures at the space in front of me, and a chair appears —“have a seat.”

Something feels very wrong about this situation. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be having a conversation with a god while in a vision. They shouldn’t work like this.

I slowly shake my head. “No thank you.” I straighten my spine. “What do you want from me?”

“What do I want?” he asks, his voice deceptively sweet. “I want you and your sisters to walk away. I want you to let the door seal forever so my family has something else to talk about over dinner.”

In a flash, Apollo is right in front of me, mere inches away.

“Since you do not seem inclined to give up,” he says, “then I want you dead.”

“You will have to find us first,” I say with more bravado than I feel. My heart pounds like an earthquake in my chest. “You cannot kill what you cannot catch.”

“You cannot hide.” He smiles, and the expression knocks my breath away. “You and your companions have fought children until now. The wrath of Olympus is in motion against you. Not even one of my sister’s wayward soldiers can save you. You will not know what hit you.”

His sister’s soldiers? What does that mean? He is only trying to confuse and frighten me, and, well . . . I do not frighten easily. I’ve never faced down a god before, but I dig down deep and draw out all my courage.

“We are strong,” I insist. “We can take whatever you dish out.”

His smile is full of wickedness.

“And we will kill you,” he replies. “You, your sisters, your friends and family . . . one by one, until no one who even remembers the Keys remains.”

My hand strikes out without hesitation. My palm stings, the pain as real as if the slap had occurred in real life, not only in my mind.

And Apollo’s rage is just as tangible.

That’s my girl, the woman’s voice says.

He reaches out to strike me, hard and fast, a blow that I’m sure will leave me bruised and bloody.

Not so fast, wolf god.

I’m gone before his hand can connect with my cheek, pulled back out of the vision, just as violently as I was pulled in.

CHAPTER 13 GRACE

Avoiding the elevator, I run up the stairs to my floor, taking the steps two at a time. I don’t have to look back to know that Milo is keeping up. As I step out into the hall, I can see that the door to my apartment is open—wide open. This can’t be a good sign.

Milo follows me down the dark wood-paneled hall, but when we get to the front door, he pulls me back by the shoulder and steps in first. He pauses in the doorway, and I stand on my tiptoes to peer over him.

Everything looks normal.

“Are they gone?” I whisper.

“Let me check,” he says. “Stay here.”

I smile. The old Grace would have gladly waited in the hall while the boy went inside to search, but the new Grace has courage and confidence—and fangs.

As Milo moves left, through the dining room and into the kitchen beyond, I scan the living room on my way to the back hall. I duck my head into my bedroom, snatching my phone off the nightstand and slipping it into my pocket, and then check Thane’s room and the bathroom we share. Milo meets me in the hall outside my parents’ room.

He frowns but doesn’t say anything.

Together, we walk into the last room of the apartment.

Empty.

“They’re gone,” I say, defeated.

There is no sign that any kind of violence occurred here—no blood, nothing broken or disturbed. The monsters who were after me are gone. They must have taken Nick with them.

The earlier scene in the apartment plays through my mind. The boss and his goons hadn’t looked too happy with Nick calling the shots. Nick threatened to kill me—and I’d thought he was betraying us. He actually betrayed them. I don’t think they treat traitors like him very well.

“He’s gone,” I whisper. “He saved my life by sacrificing himself. They’ll kill him for sure. Gretchen is going to hate me.”

“Grace,” Milo says.

I jump at the sound of his gentle voice. I was so lost in thought, I’d forgotten he was here. Turning slowly to face him, I can’t keep the despair off my face.

He lays his hands on my shoulders and leans his head down to look me in the eyes.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

I shake my head, either because I can’t tell him or because I can’t speak at all. I can’t just confess what’s going on. Besides the fact that humans aren’t supposed to know that monsters and mythology are real and running wild on the streets of San Francisco, I don’t want him to know.

I like Milo. I mean, I really like him, and I don’t want to scare him away.

I don’t want him to see me as anything other than an ordinary girl.