We’re following a water nymph into a secret entrance to Olympus. This might be the craziest thing I’ve done yet. I don’t know where this leads or what waits for us on the other side, but I know that bad things are coming from this side of the passage. As I follow Petraie inside, I reach down and pull out my daggers.
I feel better with a blade in each hand.
“There they are!”
I turn at the sound of the shout. The compass-wielding woman leading the monsters has just rounded the nearest rock formation and is pointing at us across the clearing.
“Run,” I scream, moving back to the entrance and bracing myself in a fighting stance. “Petraie, can we close the door?”
Thane takes a matching position at my side.
Something cold and wet touches my shoulder as the oceanid moves past me, brushing me in her hurry. As the monsters race toward the tunnel, Petraie frantically moves her hands over the rock on this side of the door.
“I cannot—” She shakes her head.
The first monster reaches us: a Teumessian fox that is quick as lightning. I spin left and focus all my strength in a powerful side kick to the chest. The fox flies backward, taking out the next fastest beast with the momentum.
Thane rushes out of the tunnel, pulling his sword off his back as he goes after the next wave of attackers.
“Any time now would be good,” I call out.
“I am hurrying,” Petraie insists.
I hold position at the door as Thane takes on a pair of ursa hybrids. A man with waist-length hair and a row of razor-like teeth gets past Thane. I’m about to give him a taste of my dagger when Greer spins out next to me, landing a solid kick to the side of the head. The man collapses, unconscious, on the ground.
“Nice,” I say.
Greer gives me a tight smile. “Thanks.”
“Yes!” the oceanid finally shouts. “Here.”
The door starts its slow, grinding slide back into place.
“Thane!” I shout. “Retreat!”
I stay in ready position, prepared to take on the rest of the monsters that are closing in, as Grace’s brother runs back inside. Then, with a puff of wind that sucks most of the air out of the tunnel, the door seals us in—and seals the monsters out.
There is a faint clicking sound before the glow from Thane’s flashlight illuminates the enclosed space. It looks like a tunnel carved into a mountain of the shiny black stone.
“Whew,” Greer says. “That was close.”
“Tell me about it.” I pull out my own flashlight and flick it on. “Let’s get through here before they figure out how to open that door.”
We wind our way through an unending black tunnel, our path illuminated by nothing more than our flashlights. Every so often I hear a high-pitched sound and I tell myself it’s Greer’s sneakers on the stone. She’s been squeaking every few steps since we started out yesterday. I just hope it’s not rats.
Petraie stops in front of me.
“The tunnel ends here,” she says.
“Please turn off your lights,” the golden maiden instructs, “and maintain absolute silence until I indicate the coast is clear.”
Thane and I shut down our flashlights, plunging us into even deeper black.
We wait, silent, in the dark tunnel as the golden maiden walks to the door at this end of the secret passage. The sound of a knock—faint and eerie in the darkness—echoes around us.
I sense Greer moving to my side.
“This is insane, right?” she whispers. “I can’t believe we’re about to step into the home of the gods. My parents would die if I ever told them about this.”
As much as I want to make some snide comment, to make her feel silly for being so freaked out, I can’t—because I feel exactly the same way.
This experience is getting a little surreal, even for me. Sure, I’ve been hunting monsters straight out of mythology since before I had boobs, but the idea that the residence of the Greek gods—the gods—is on the other side of this door is mind-blowing.
“My ex-parents,” I reply, “would have probably beat the hell out of me for making it all up.”
I hear her sharp intake of breath. That’s when I realize I might have gone overboard on our bonding moment. I don’t talk about my childhood. These circumstances are making me more reckless than usual. Greer did not sign up to listen to me complain about my sucky former life. That’s all best left in the past.
“I—”
Her arms are around me before I can take it back.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers against my hair. “I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know if it’s the darkness or the emotion in her voice or the absolute craziness of the situation, but I find myself blinking back tears. I didn’t feel sorry for myself when I lived with Phil and Barb. I’m certainly not going to feel sorry for myself now that I’ve escaped them and made a bigger life for myself.
Still, I can’t help lifting my arms to hug Greer back.
I give her a quick squeeze that says Thank you and also Mention this ever again and I’ll glue your mouth shut while you sleep. She must get the message, because she takes a step back just as the door reopens and the golden maiden sticks her head into the passageway.
“All clear,” she calls out.
“Let’s go.” I step out of the tunnel. “Olympus awaits.”
CHAPTER 7
GREER
I have been a guest in the most expensive, designer-created homes in San Francisco and in cities around the world. I have attended operas in ornate, gilded theaters, walked the halls of the world’s greatest museums, and shopped in the most exclusive boutiques in New York, London, Paris, and Tokyo. But I have never, in all my travels, seen anything as breathtaking as the halls of Mount Olympus.
At first, I’m blinded by the brightness. Everything is sparkling white in brilliant light. It takes my eyes a full minute to adjust after the darkness of the passage and the abyss beyond.
When I can finally look my fill without squinting, I attempt to take it all in.
Every surface is marble—the floor, the walls, the delicate columns that sweep up to the marble ceiling. It’s the purest white stone I’ve ever seen, purer even than the coveted Makrana white Mother insisted on for her bathroom. There isn’t a fleck of color or a shadow of a vein in it.
Capping the columns are intricately carved capitals forming graceful acanthus leaves. Set in the spaces between the leaves are fat, round gems in every color of the rainbow. Bright red rubies, rich green emeralds, and deep blue sapphires trail down the fluted lengths of the columns, sparkle like multihued stars in the ceiling, and paint the inlaid floor with a priceless mosaic of precious stones.
To say I am in awe would be the understatement of the century.
“Greer,” Gretchen hisses, gesturing at me from an alcove halfway down the hall, where she is waiting with Sillus, the golden maiden, and her human-looking twin.
Almost as shocking as the gleaming halls of Olympus was stepping out of the tunnel and finding myself face-to-face with a flesh-and-blood version of our golden maiden. With the exception of their . . . material, they are identical—exact copies right down to the waves in their hair.
Apparently Hephaestus crafted more maidens in his forge than the four known golden ones. When the door between realms was sealed and the golden maidens were deemed more monster than human or god, he created more human-like maidens to replace those locked into the abyss.
The more human maiden calls herself Alaia, which makes me wonder if the golden maiden has another name.
I push aside my questions and my appreciation of the surroundings. I cannot forget why we’re here and why getting caught would be a very bad thing. Some of the gods are the ones who want us dead to prevent us from opening the door. They would rather let the monster realm be permanently sealed away, killing every last creature that lives inside. They believe that is the only way to protect the human world. They are unlikely to offer us ambrosia and scones if we’re found on godly grounds.