The three-year-old’s parents are nearby, but they’re too busy talking to each other. The toddler hasn’t been allowed to do much of anything, so he’s been watching others closely and making up his own stories.
Even though he’s much lower to the ground, I push myself to dig deeper into his mind, trying to parse out reality from whatever fiction he’s associated with what he saw. I never get a glimpse of the men’s faces, the little boy is too engrossed by the gun, but then I catch it—the clue I’m looking for: Blake’s signature ass. It’s at the perfect height for the little boy to take in fully as Blake gets shoved past him and pushed into the darkness beyond.
My eyes pop open and I’m on my feet.
Racing into the gaping entrance to the rest of the cavern, I pluck my small flashlight from my pocket and enter the pitch darkness. Pressing the button, the LED springs to life, illuminating the pathway ahead. At first the tunnel is wide and direct, but the further I jaunt, the more turned around I get. Tunnels and offshoots splay out in every direction—some larger, some extremely narrow—and without a good read on the man with the gun, I can’t hone in on Blake or where he’s been taken. And I sure as hell can’t go ask the boy for more details. I’m lucky I got what I did.
My feet hit the dusty ground in rhythm with my heartbeat—rapidly.
What if I can’t get to Blake in time? How long has it been?
Would the man kill him?
Could he already be dead?
I pull up short in the middle of a larger opening, with five offshoots branching out in front of me. Clenching at my side, I shine the flashlight to the ground, searching for any signs of footsteps—or a clue to the direction Blake was taken.
“Dammit—he’s gotta be here somewhere. But which one—” I curse aloud, raking my fingertips through my hair. “C’mon, Diana. Where did they go? Which direction?”
I take a breath, trying calm myself and use my gifts. My tongue brushes my lower lip, as I close my eyes and concentrate. Instantly, I’m overcome with the sensation of dizziness and nausea as the Mnemosyne symbol flashes in my mind—still blocking any access to Blake himself.
“Dammit,” I mutter, dropping to my knees.
There’s still a way to find Blake, but it means losing everything—
“This can’t be happening—it can’t be the only way.”
The fingertips of my left hand press against my lips as I clutch the flashlight firmly with my right.
My heart thumps unevenly as I weigh my really shitty options.
I’ve waited for this day for longer than I can remember—the day where I knew I could finally grow old and die—and before I can even accept, it’s being pulled out from under me.
What kind of sick joke is that?
On the other hand, Blake’s insanely capable—what if he’s already managed to get out of the situation? Or used his background to overtake the asshole with the gun?
I could be throwing it all away for nothing.
I bite my lower lip.
But what if he hasn’t?
Is that a risk I’m willing to take?
I shake my head, my nostrils flaring.
What if he just needs a diversion—or a little help? What if by holding off, I get him or the girls killed?
The musty odor of the cavern triggers the newly gifted memories from before and I can’t lose Anastasios’ soul again.
Sighing in defeat, I know exactly what I have to do.
18
RACING BACK TO THE VORTEX and the place where I carved Mnemosyne’s mark, I come to an awkward halt as I trip over my own two feet and slam my right shoulder against the cavern wall. My ripped skin aches, but it doesn’t matter—it will heal, and I’ll live on. I can’t say the same for Blake or the girls if I don’t take immediate action. I need to locate him and there’s only one way I can force it to happen.
Rubbing my shoulder, I widen my stance and take a deep breath. Lifting my head high, I call out into the black abyss, desperation permeating every word.
“What good are these gifts if I’m left blind and helpless when it really matters? Come on Apollo, or Mnemosyne, whoever it is I need to bow to or kiss ass. Give me something to work with. People are in danger here and I can’t sit on the sidelines,” I say, lowering my head and whispering, “I can’t lose him again.”
I flare my nostrils and clench my fingers, curling them so tightly into my palms they begin to lose blood flow.
One at a time, as if held up by invisible torches, purple flames burst from the walls. They cast an eerie light, not dissimilar from the Violet Flame invocation weeks before with Demetri. Stumbling backward, I cry out in surprise and the sound reverberates off the cavern walls.
My senses are suddenly inundated with Mnemosyne’s trademark scent of jasmine and roses and I know she’s heard my beckoning and come to me.
“What’s done cannot be undone without expressed permission, Pythia. You know this to be true. To unlock that which you seek—it requires a decision to be made. One which may only be made by you. Do you accept your immortality and responsibility in the aid of Apollo? Will you secure your role as the rightful Oracle of Delphi?”
My eyes widen as I take in this surprising news.
The Oracle of Delphi—that’s what I am?
What would that role even entail?
Blinking back the tears burning in my eyes, my heart folds in on itself. I’m so close—I could have it all. A life, a love of my own. I could finally age and die— But if I don’t regain my gifts fully, I can’t help Blake and I may lose my chance with him altogether. Hell, maybe I already have.
Chewing on my lip, I flip back and forth between my decision.
This is not the way I like to make decisions—impetuously, impulsively. Not
