Now it’s my turn to frown. “What does that mean?”
“It means her consciousness is anchored in a vision,” he explains. “When beings with second sight seek a piece of the future, they journey to the astral plane. In ordinary circumstances, the visit is short and uneventful—there and back without incident. With the power of a god magnifying her access, her mind can be overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information, not unlike a computer trying to process more data than it has the capacity to handle.”
“What can we do?” Thane asks.
“Very little,” the healer says. “With adequate rest, however, she will return to her body.”
I sigh with relief. “Good,” I say. “That’s good.”
“Why is this happening?” Thane asks. “Is it a normal side effect of her powers?”
The healer shakes his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Then what?” I demand.
“She has become a beacon of Apollo,” Sthenno answers for him.
Sillus gasps.
Thane curses, multiple times.
“A beacon of Apollo?” I echo. “What does that—”
Oh, no. Now I remember. When Nick and I found the pendant of Apollo in the oracle’s storefront, he explained what would happen if Greer came in contact with it. Because of her psychic ability, it would forge a direct connection between her and the god of prophecy. It would give Apollo a direct connection with her brain.
“She touched the pendant?” I guess.
“Yes,” Sthenno answers.
“Why would she do that?” I demand. “She knew it was dangerous.”
“She did it to save you,” Sthenno replies. “She sought the knowledge necessary to rescue you from the abyss.”
To save me? And all because I had to dive in after Nick. If I had known the cost . . .
I look around at the faces in the room, all studying me with varying degrees of sympathy—except for Thane, who just looks furious.
“Then we undo it,” I say, matter-of-fact. Seems like an easy answer to me. “We disconnect her. Unplug her like a computer in a thunderstorm.”
Sthenno and the healer exchange looks.
“It is not that easy,” the healer says.
“There is no magical undo,” Sthenno adds.
“Why not?” I argue. “The oracle did it. She left the pendant and abandoned her powers.”
“The relationship between Apollo and his oracles is governed by ancient law and precise ritual,” Sthenno explains. “Greer’s connection with the god of prophecy was created outside the bonds of ritual. That is what makes her situation so dangerous.”
“Apollo can do whatever he wants.” Thane flexes his fingers, like he wants to strangle someone. Maybe Apollo. Maybe me.
Sthenno nods sadly. “He has unrestricted power in his connection to Greer.”
That sounds bad. That sounds really bad.
“I don’t accept this.” I start pacing. “There must be a way.”
“There is only one way to break this connection,” the healer whispers.
“How’s that?”
Sthenno shakes her head, and the healer drops his gaze.
“How?” I repeat.
Thane looks me straight in the eyes. “The human has to die.”
CHAPTER 15
GREER
Everything around me is gray—hazy and misty and unclear. I feel like I’m jogging on the beach at Crissy Field when the fog rolls in off the Bay.
Only when I’m on Crissy Field, my head doesn’t usually feel like it wants to explode into a supernova.
“Oh god,” I moan.
“Greer,” someone shouts.
“She’s waking up!”
“Shhhhh,” I complain, trying to lift a hand to my aching head, but my arm is tied down. Both of them are. “Stop yelling.”
“We’re not yelling,” a voice says, not quite as loud as before.
“Where am I?” I ask. “Why are my hands tied down?”
“You’re in the healer’s room,” the voice, which is starting to sound more and more like Gretchen, says. “And your hands aren’t tied down. See?”
I feel something wrap around my wrist, and then one of my arms lifts up.
I try to pull it away, to guide it to my throbbing head, but it remains frozen as before.
“Don’t try to move,” Gretchen says, her voice getting softer. “The healer says your brain needs time to restart.”
“Restart?” I try to remember . . . something, anything. The last thing I can recall is a beautiful white hall, more glorious than anything I’d seen before. It feels like a long time has passed since then. “Why?”
“That’s not important right now,” Gretchen says. “Just relax. Close your eyes, and everything will be back to normal when you wake up.”
She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.
I don’t always choose to do what Gretchen tells me to do—I hate following orders—but just this once . . .
The next time I wake up, my head still hurts like someone is crushing it in a vise, but my arms seem to work. I lift one to my forehead, expecting to find a bloody gash or pieces of skull sticking out. The way I hurt, I wouldn’t be surprised if half my brain was missing. I’m disappointed when I only feel my normal, unmarred skin.
“Obviously we can’t kill her,” a hushed voice says. “What’s plan B?”
My ears perk up.
“There is no plan B,” another voice replies. “If she were stronger, had more training, perhaps she could withstand him for a time.”
“We have to do something,” a third voice whispers. “Anyone with Apollonian blood or one of his amulets can track her wherever she goes.”
Squinting against the blinding light, I force one eyelid open just a fraction. I’m in what looks like a spa room—I’ve been in enough to recognize one on sight. There is soothing sage green paint on the walls, a stack of fluffy white towels on a rack by the door, and a collection of massage oils and lotions on the counter. I’m also completely alone.
“We need to get to the safe house,” the second voice says. “It is only a matter of time before they show up here.”
“We stay here as long as we can,” the first voice insists. “She needs the recovery time.”
“Huntress recover.”
The voices are coming from the other side of the dark wood door.
The conversation sounds important. I need to be out there with them.
I push my palm against the surface I’m lying on, trying to get myself into a sitting position. Fierce pain sparks from my wrist, up my arm and down my spine.
I cry out.
Wave after wave of pain washes through my body, and I scrunch up my face as my stomach coils in knots. I can’t remember ever feeling this kind of pain. Of course, right now I can’t remember much of anything. I force my brain to work. I remember the loft exploding, the mythological armies showing up at my tea, going into the abyss and then Mount Olympus beyond that. The brilliant white hall.
“Sthenno,” I whisper, my voice dry and cracked.
Memory slides into focus, and I remember.
I’d been searching for Sthenno, had just found her in some invisible cell and blown on the whistle to call Gretchen and Thane back to my side, when I blacked out—got pulled away. By Apollo.
As the god of prophecy’s warning echoes in my mind, I can’t stop the shiver that chases down my spine. How can someone so beautiful be so malicious?
A warm hand slips beneath my palm and gives me a squeeze.
I smile. I hadn’t even heard the door open. “Thane?”
“How do you feel?”
“Like someone threw me off the top of the Transamerica building.” His soft laugh is like a balm to my pain. “Where am I?”
“At a healer’s,” he says. “Sthenno brought you and Euryale here.”