I wait patiently but get nothing but silence.
I buzz two more times, with no response.
Oh, come on.
I really don’t want to leave this Cassandra Gregory as a question mark on the list. Maybe her buzzer’s broken, I reason. She might be up there waiting for friends or pizza or long-lost daughters to show up and not even know they’re ringing her bell.
She might be grateful.
So, with my delusion in place, I start pushing every buzzer on the panel. Normally I would never do something like this. My only excuse is that my patience is in short supply and this is a desperate situation.
Someone finally buzzes me in.
I hurry inside and head for the stairs. Elevators aren’t exactly my favorite method of transportation after the situation at my apartment. I pound the steps two at a time until I’m on the fourth floor.
I’m so winded and tired that my hand doesn’t shake at all as I knock on the door to 4B. I’m too worn out to be nervous, I guess.
I listen carefully.
Maybe she’s really not home. Maybe I was making up that story about her buzzer not working—okay, I definitely made up that story. But maybe she’s just out.
Then I hear it: the soft shuffle of feet on a hardwood floor.
I get goose bumps.
I duck down, out of sight of the peephole. If she wants to know who’s at her door, she’ll have to open it.
I realize what a dumb thought that is—who in the city is just going to open their door to any old knock?—half a second before I see the handle turn. I bite my lips together, waiting, hoping . . . fearing.
As the door swings open, I bring myself back to my full height. I’m straightening my legs at the same moment when Cassandra Gregory’s face appears in the opening.
It’s like looking in a mirror.
Well, a fast-forward mirror in which I’m looking at my future self, but a mirror nonetheless. I’m frozen, gaping at this woman who is so obviously my biological mother.
And she, too, is frozen and staring at me.
This is her, the woman who brought me and my sisters into the world, who gave us up for adoption to protect us from those who want to kill or control us because of the blood that runs through our veins. Ancient, powerful blood. Her blood.
It’s a surreal moment.
A phone rings somewhere else in the building. The spell is broken.
“Cassandra Gregory?” I say, not able to keep the question out of my voice. “I’m Grace, your—”
The door slams in my face before I can finish.
“—daughter.”
Well, this is not a good start to our reunion.
My knuckles are going to go raw from knocking.
“Please, Cassandra,” I say—I can’t call her Mom. I already have a mom. “Just let me in. We need to talk. I have something to tell you.”
I turn my back to the door and sink to the ground. Why won’t she even talk to me? She must realize who I am and what’s going on.
Well, if she won’t let me in, then I’ll wait for her to come out. She’ll have to leave eventually.
“Please,” I whisper.
My phone dings in my pocket.
I pull it out and silence it so it can’t ding again. Maybe if Cassandra thinks I’m gone, she’ll come out sooner.
It’s a text from Milo.
“Success?”
I text back, “Yes and no.”
I stare at the screen, waiting for a reply.
“Be right up.”
I start to smile, wondering how long it will take for someone to let him in, but when I hear the lock above my head moving, I scramble to the side and press myself against the wall. I keep silent and out of direct view. The door starts to open.
Today I’m doing a lot of things I would normally never do: tell Milo the truth about me, push every buzzer in an apartment building, and—apparently—force my way into a stranger’s apartment. But she’s not really a stranger, is she? She’s my mother. Before Cassandra has time to react, I jump in front of her and block the door with my foot.
She doesn’t even scream.
“I’m sorry if this is a shock,” I say when I see her wide-eyed stare, “but this is important. Life or death, even.”
She watches me, her pale gray eyes unblinking. I can’t guess what’s running through her head, but, honestly, today I don’t care. Today, I put my hand in the doorjamb and take a step forward.
She’s in danger, and she’s as much a key part of this war as my sisters and I are. She needs to let me in. She needs to listen to me.
“You can’t be here,” she says. “Please, you have to go.”
When she backs up, I advance again.
“Leave the city.” Tears fill her eyes. “Before it’s too late.”
Two more steps and I’ll be inside the apartment.
“I can’t do that,” I explain. “You’re in danger. How much do you know about the legacy?”
She sucks in a breath. “The legacy?”
“Medusa and monsters and—”
“No,” she says, her voice cracking at the end. “It’s already begun.”
Then she’s lunging toward me. I brace myself for the attack, and my fangs descend on instinct.
When her arms wrap around me, I don’t know how to react.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she says. There is so much tightness in her voice that she can only be crying. “I separated you to protect you, to prevent the prophecy from coming true.” She leans back to look at me. “But I am a selfish creature, and I’m glad you’re here. I never thought I’d see you again.”
There are so many thoughts and emotions bombarding me, I can barely think. I can only hug her back.
“So I guess this one is your mother?”
I twist to look over my shoulder and give Milo what can only be a very confused look.
“Yeah,” I say. “I guess so.”
CHAPTER 17
GRETCHEN
The safe house hasn’t been home for long—just enough time for it to feel weird having other people sit on the ratty couch and rickety chairs.
“A priestess of Apollo might be able to break the bond,” Ursula suggests.
“Might,” Sthenno echoes, “if she didn’t want to exploit the connection for herself. And just where would we find one? There hasn’t been a priestess of Apollo in North America for more than a century.”
Ursula shakes her head. “I know.” She frowns. “Even if there were, Apollo could track her even more immediately than he is tracking Greer. We would have no chance.”
Sthenno gives her a look that says, Precisely.
I stand in the kitchen, my back against the peeling white countertop.
Ursula—after four years it’s hard to call her anything else—sits on the shabby couch, looking much more like herself with clean hair and fresh clothes. I can’t stop staring at her. It feels like a century since I last saw her. She’s back, safe and sound.
It’s like a missing piece of my life has fallen back into place. As much as I hate to rely on anyone but myself, I never realized how much I had come to depend on her. She’s been my mother, my trainer, my boss, and my friend since I was twelve.
Even the new sisters in my life couldn’t quite fill all those voids the way having Ursula back does.
Her sister, Sthenno, stands in front of the small yellow-lace-curtained window. She, too, has bathed and changed clothes, although she chose a pair of my backup cargoes and a tank over Ursula’s flowing top and pants.
The two immortal gorgons are busy debating how to break Greer’s open connection with Apollo.
Greer and Thane are each sitting on one of the chairs from the dining table. I didn’t miss how Thane scooted his chair closer to hers after they sat down, or how Greer leaned toward him when he did.