Sweet Legacy

She actually laughs.

“You’re getting a bit of an—oof—defiant attitude, Grace Whitfield,” she says.

I smile back, pushing all of my weight into the door. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good,” she says, “because it was.”

“Huntress talk later,” Sillus says. “Push now.”

Together, we all shove, and the door moves. Almost closed. Sillus jumps up on Gretchen’s shoulder and leans down to the narrow opening where human and inhuman fingers are struggling to get a grip on the door. Opening his jaws wide, he chomps down on the fingers.

When the hand jerks away, we give the door one more solid shove, and it connects with the jamb. Gretchen quickly flips the deadbolt.

“Go,” she says. “Now!”

She shoves me away from the door, toward the fire escape. Sillus scampers out ahead of me. I don’t bother looking back. I know she will be right behind me. Placing a palm on either side of the window, I climb out onto the metal platform.

Far below, I can see Greer and Cassandra climbing down the ladder to ground level. I release a tentative sigh of relief as I start down after them.

I drop to the ground, wishing for once I’d worn shoes with more cushion than my standard uniform Chucks. They’re awesome for pretty much everything but shock absorption.

As soon as I’m down, I move out of the way so Gretchen can follow.

“Jump, huntress, jump,” Sillus calls out.

Gretchen leaps down, landing hard on her combat boots.

“We need to move,” Gretchen barks. “Head around back in case there are more of them waiting out front.”

“You cannot escape, huntress!”

We glance up and see the fake landlord leaning out over the fire escape railing.

“Go,” Gretchen shouts.

I don’t wait to hear what else the man shouts. Taking Greer by the hand, I set out at a run, around the back of the building and into yet another alley. Gretchen passes me and takes the lead as she reaches the head of the alley. She stops just long enough to make sure the coast is clear and then takes off down the sidewalk.

Cassandra takes Sillus’s hand, and they run after Gretchen. Greer and I struggle to keep up. I’m panting by the time we catch them, stopped at a red light two intersections later.

The five of us huddle up next to the lamppost.

“Where do we go?” Cassandra asks.

I shake my head.

“I don’t know,” Gretchen says. “They’re still finding us wherever we go.”

“Who were they?” Cassandra asks.

“Soldiers of the Arms of Olympus.” Gretchen’s expression turns dark. “I’m getting sick of those jerkwads.”

I can’t help but giggle at her calling the army of the gods a bunch of jerkwads—then I immediately cover it with a cough when Gretchen gives me the look of death.

“I thought things were supposed to be better,” I say, “now that Greer’s disconnected from Apollo.”

Gretchen frowns. “They should. Between that and the magical protections, they should not have been able to trace us there.”

“Clearly they have other means,” Cassandra says.

“Well, we need to go somewhere,” Gretchen says.

“Grace’s,” Greer whispers.

“My place?” I ask. “Why?”

Greer’s brow twists. “Because . . .”

“Numbers,” Gretchen says.

I ask, “What?”

“Your apartment building is huge,” she explains. “If they track us there, it will at least take them a while to find your unit.”

“They already did,” I insist. “They were there when Nick and I autoported in.”

“The monster side knows,” Gretchen argues. “They’re probably not sharing their intel with Olympus.”

I suck in a breath. “You’re right.”

“Come on,” Gretchen urges. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 25

GREER

When I suggested we go to Grace’s apartment, I hadn’t actually been thinking it would be good cover to be in a multi-unit building. I hadn’t been thinking about the best or safest place to escape to. I had only been thinking about Thane.

Despite the vision I had, I was secretly hoping he’d be here, that he’d have come home.

But as Grace and Cassandra get drinks from the kitchen, I peer down the hallway to where the bedrooms are located. There isn’t a sound other than Cassandra humming and the drumming of Gretchen’s fingers on the dining table. It’s clear that Thane is nowhere around.

He’s off somewhere feeling guilty.

I take a seat next to Gretchen in the dining room, clasping my hands in front of me. For the first time in days—weeks, maybe—I feel like I can take a breath. I shouldn’t feel safer here than anywhere else, but for some reason being in this apartment, in this home, is calming. I can pause and reflect and think about everything that has happened.

Then again, most of what’s happened recently isn’t worth dwelling on. It’s not like I want to look back on that time I died with great fondness. It’s not like I have some great life lesson to learn or divine wisdom to bring back and share with the human world.

No, I got the brilliant advice from the Fates to fight not alone.

What is that even supposed to mean?

You shall see, the woman says.

Who are you? I demand. I’m getting sick of having people in my head, real or not.