“Human brains were not meant to contain the powers of a god.” Sthenno crosses her arms over her chest. “There is a reason so few have been elevated to that status.”
“So . . . what?” Greer asks, her cheeks pale. “I can’t use my powers or I’ll . . .”
“You’ve already been in an astral lock once,” Ursula says, “for a short time. Each further attempt will only result in a longer and longer lock, until . . .”
“Until what?” I demand.
“Until her consciousness gets frozen there,” Sthenno answers. “Permanently.”
I suck in a tight breath and huff it out. Greer looks just as terrified as I feel.
“Permanently?” Thane growls.
“Not even Apollo could free her,” Ursula answers.
“Some things are beyond the powers of the gods,” Sthenno says. “The astral plane—the source of all magic, power, and prophecy—is not theirs to control.”
The thought of Greer with her consciousness trapped in some bizarro place and her unconscious body stuck here is awful. I will do whatever it takes to keep her from that.
“Fine,” I say, shaking away the image of my sister in permanent astral lock. “No more seeking visions—not while Apollo has full access to your brain.”
“No.” Greer’s voice is barely a whisper. “No more visions.”
Thane laces their fingers together and squeezes tight.
“It is, however, imperative that we locate the oracle,” Sthenno says. “She wrote the prophecy. She created the idea of the Key Generation.”
“It is the oracle they wish to kill.” Ursula clasps her hands together. “Destroying her could unravel everything, from the sealing ritual to . . .”
She trails off, and my gut tightens.
“Let me guess,” I say, already sure I know the answer. “To the Key Generation.”
“What?” Greer asks. “What does that mean?”
I look my sister in the eye as I say, “It means it could unmake
Her jaw drops in a look of unprecedented shock.
“Well, we won’t let that happen,” I insist. “There must be another way to find her.”
“I know some places she might have gone,” Sthenno says. “Havens for those seeking a break from their magical lives. I will seek her out there.”
I could use one of those havens myself sometimes—like right now. Maybe, when this war is all over and things have settled down, my sisters and I can visit one for a while.
Ursula smiles at Sthenno, her eyes shining with pride and joy. I’m sure she is happy to see her sister after their long separation, after they kept out of touch in order to keep me and
Generations of our ancestors have made sacrifices to make fulfilling the prophecy possible. There is no way we’re going to let them down.
“I, too, must leave. I have other assistance to convene,” Ursula says, pushing back from the table. “As the time of prophecy draws near, our allies need to rally to the cause.”
I just got Ursula back. The last thing I want is for her to leave again. Sthenno is going off to find the oracle. Even if I decide to trust Thane, he has no powers beyond killer fighting skills. I can’t leave my sisters alone in the city without supernatural protection, which means I can’t go with Ursula to protect her. “Can’t you call them or something?”
She shakes her head. “Such methods of communication are too vulnerable. I must collect them in person.”
“As the appointed time approaches,” Sthenno says, already heading for the door, “it becomes more critical that our forces be united.”
Ursula smiles at me. “We must go. But we shall return.”
“With help,” Sthenno adds.
I have a little mental chat with myself. It’s selfish to care more about keeping Ursula close by than about succeeding when we open the door. If the gorgons think we need the oracle and those other allies in order to win—to live and to save the lives of those in the abyss—then we must need them. They haven’t been wrong yet.
“Fine—while you two go after the oracle and our allies,” I say, checking my phone to make sure I haven’t missed a call or message from my other sister (nope), “I’m going to find Grace.”
If it’s the oracle the monster faction is after, there’s no point in Grace continuing this wild goose chase for our mother. And there are only three people who are absolutely necessary when the time comes to open the door: me, Greer, and Grace. She needs to be back at our side. We are stronger together.
Greer stands like she’s going to come with me.
“No,” I tell her. “You need to stay here.”
“I want to help.”
“You coming with me won’t help.”
Her face pulls into a scowl that probably makes normal people cower. I just give her a think-about-it look. It only takes a second for her to understand.
“Oh, right,” she says quietly, tapping her temple. “Beacon of Apollo.”
I nod. “Sillus, with me.” Then, looking at Thane, I ask, “You’ll protect her?”
He replies with one curt nod, and then Sillus and I are out the door, following the gorgons down to the street below. While they go off hunting for friends, allies, and an oracle in hiding, I’m going to find my missing sister and bring her back to safety.
My first thought is to look for Grace at her apartment. If she hasn’t found our mother yet, maybe she’s back home researching. I’m halfway there from the safe house when my phone rings.
I check the caller ID.
“Grace.” I click to answer the call. “Where the hell have you been?” I demand. “I’ve been trying to call —”
“Gretchen,” she says, her voice equal parts excitement and fear, “I found her.”
“What?”
“I found our mother!”
“Where are you?” I demand. She tells me the address. “I’ll be right there.”
I floor the gas and head for our mom’s house. Our mother. Guess it wasn’t such a wild goose chase after all. I hope this doesn’t complicate an already crazy situation.
CHAPTER 18
GREER
The safe house is one of the most disgusting spaces I’ve ever inhabited. Every object and surface in the tiny apartment is worn, rotten, or stained. Some are all of the above. The plastic chair from the too-vintage-to-be-cool dining set looked like the safest place to sit.
It’s not comfortable, but it’s probably not harboring bedbugs or bacteria.
I glance down and see a small puddle of dark brown liquid seeping out of one of the legs. Perhaps I was wrong.
Pushing to my feet, I cross to the lace-covered window and pull the brittle curtain to the side. The sun outside is bright, and even though my head still hurts, it feels good to stare out into the light.
It is an odd feeling, knowing that my brain is somehow connected to a god. On the one hand, it makes me feel powerful. How many people can claim to have ever been telepathically joined to an Olympian? But on the other hand . . . it’s terrifying. My brain—always a source of pride and power, the means to all of my success—is suddenly my enemy. It is bringing my enemies to my side, to my sisters’ sides. And I hate it.
The thought of being in any way the cause of harm to Grace or Gretchen makes me nauseous. I turn away
