For a second I think I’m going to collapse to the ground. All the air whooshes out of my lungs. I sink to my knees, sitting back on my heels.

“She’s—what?”

“There’s more,” Grace says.

How much more could there be? Not only is my longtime mentor secretly my relative, she’s one of my immortal ancestors.

“Wait, why did she come to you?” I ask. “Why didn’t she visit me?”

“I’m not sure,” Grace says. “At first she called me Gretchen, so she must have been trying to reach you. But I think her situation probably made things more difficult.”

“What situation?” I’m so not used to being the one asking questions of Grace. I’m usually the one with all the answers.

“Gretchen, she’s been taken prisoner.”

I lurch to my feet. “What? Where?” In three quick strides, I’m pulling open Moira’s door and sinking into the driver’s seat. As I turn the key in the ignition, I say, “I’ll pick you up so we can go get her.”

“We can’t,” Grace says. “She says we can’t come get her, but she’s safe.”

There is a hesitation in her voice. “She said she was safe?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t believe her.”

“No, I—” Grace takes a breath. “I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. She’s trying to protect us, I know. She knew about me and Greer and that we’re all in danger right now.”

That doesn’t surprise me. Those are probably some of the answers she kept promising to tell me. I lean back against the headrest.

“What does she want us to do?” I ask, knowing Ursula wouldn’t go to these measures just to not tell me where she is.

“She wants us to find her sister,” Grace says. “She says we need to find Sthenno.”

Her sister. I already know that from her cryptic note. “How?”

“She didn’t know.” Grace makes a frustrated sound. “They have been out of communication, trying to keep us safe. She only knows that Sthenno is in San Francisco and that she knows me. She told Ursula about me.”

“Do you have any idea who she means?”

“No clue.”

I squeeze the phone. “Then how are we supposed to find her?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

This is a lot to take in. I’m usually pretty steady on my feet, but all this news has me a little shaken.

“And Gretchen,” she says, her voice taking on a sympathetic tone. “She wanted me to tell you she misses you. Terribly.”

I can’t remember the last time I cried. Maybe the time Phil turned his violent anger against Barb and I pleaded with her to leave him. Maybe the night I ran away and found myself alone and scared in that empty warehouse. Maybe my first night in the loft, when I realized I would never be alone and scared again. But there is no mistaking the sting of salty tears in my eyes.

I quickly wipe them away.

“Thanks, Grace,” I say, trying to sound fine. “I appreciate it.”

What I can’t tell her is that I’m relieved to have her on my side. Even if I am scared at the moment, terrified for Ursula and whatever is going on, I know I don’t have to go through it alone.

“No problem,” she says. “Do you need me to come over?”

“Nah,” I say, not wanting her to think I’m as concerned as I am. “I’m out. I’m fine anyway.”

“Okay.” She doesn’t sound convinced, but she lets it go. “I should probably get home.”

“Be careful,” I say, meaning it more than ever.

“Yes, boss.”

My finger is shaking as I click off the call.

Why is everything going so wrong so quickly? Two weeks ago, I was totally certain. Ursula was here, I was a runaway with no family, and I hunted monsters—one at a time after dark—to protect the human world from real creatures straight out of Greek mythology. Now Ursula’s imprisoned, I have two sisters and two great-many-times-over-aunts, and the rules I used to know and love have gone to Hades.

And there’s nothing I can do about any of it.

I give Moira’s floorboard a solid kick, like that’s going to solve anything. Exhausted—from the fights and the news and everything just adding up—I’m headed home, pulling out into traffic, when my phone rings again.

“Yeah, Grace,” I say, thinking she must have forgotten to tell me something.

“Sorry,” the male voice at the other end of the phone says. “Not Grace.”

If it’s not Grace, then who could have this number? “Who the hell is this?”

“It’s Nick,” he says with a laugh. “Glad to know your manners are just as endearing on the phone as they are in person.”

I want to scream. I do scream. “Aaargh!”

Why won’t he leave me alone? I’ve given him every possible stop sign I can without breaking any bones or major laws. So why does he keep trying?

I should hang up. I should block his number and change schools, but curiosity gets the best of me.

“How did you get this number?” I snap.

“I have my ways.”

I can hear his cocky grin through the phone. Trust me, if I could reach through the airwaves and strangle him, I’d do it. Twenty to life would be worth it right now.

I should have let the skorpios hybrid get him.

“How?” I repeat. “It’s unlisted.”

“Nothing is that unlisted.”

“My cell number is.” I clench my hand around the steering wheel as I cut over to Market. “No one has this number.”

“Someone must,” he argues. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have it.”

“Where did you get my number?” I shout.

Normally I have a lot better hold on my emotions, but it’s been a rough few days. Plus, this boy has an unparalleled knack for pushing all my buttons in the wrong order. For a moment, I consider flinging my phone out the window. The only thing that stops me is that if Grace is in trouble or if—scratch that—when Ursula gets free, they’d have no way to reach me. I consider throwing myself out the window. Or maybe driving into the Bay. An icy-cold dunk might be exactly what I need right now.

“Relax,” he says, in a tone that makes me do anything but. “Look, I just have a question about biology. You don’t need to jump down my throat.”

“Didn’t you promise me you’d back off?”

“I did.”

I grind my teeth in the brief silence.

“I lied,” he admits. “Sorry.”

Okay, enough. “Look. Haven’t I made it crystal sparkling clear from the start that I want less than nothing to do with you?”

“You’ve tried.”

“Don’t I keep saying, over and over and over again, that you should back the hell off?”

“And over again,” he echoes. “Yep, I remember something like that.”

“Then why,” I ask with a sigh of despair, taking a turn without signaling and ignoring the angry horn blast that follows, “do you keep trying?”

Seriously. What kind of psycho masochist keeps returning for more rejection? Is he trying to drive me insane? After all the craziness lately, it’s not a long trip.

“Guess I never learned to take no for an answer.”

I don’t know what else I can say or do to get him to back off. Seeing me throw down with beasties on two occasions—even if he couldn’t see their true form—didn’t scare him away. What kind of guy wants a girl who gets into fistfights on a regular basis?

Obviously, this kind.

I drive in silence, not knowing what else to say, but not wanting—for some unfathomable reason—to hang up yet. When I pull into the garage, I’m suddenly struck by how very empty the loft upstairs is going to feel. For the first time, I don’t have even the tiniest hope that Ursula will be waiting inside. Without her it’s like an empty shell of the place that used to feel like home.

What if Ursula never comes back? The question sneaks into my thoughts before I can block it. Bracing myself on the steering wheel, I take deep breaths. My hands are shaking as fear speeds through my bloodstream. I’ve never felt like this, not even when Phil was on a bender and his fists were swinging.

Until now, monster hunting was business. A duty, a responsibility I upheld as a part of my legacy, because it is my destiny. It was a straightforward job and I did it well. But I cared about as much as I cared about the color of my non-existent nail polish.

Ursula in danger makes it personal, and I feel the fear like a tight fist around my heart.

She’s the only real mother I’ve ever known. I don’t buy for a second her insistence that she’s safe. I can’t just sit around and do nothing while she’s in danger. I might feel helpless right now, but I’m not. I have to do something.

“Gretchen?” Nick prods.

“What?” I snap into the forgotten phone in my hand.

“I have a confession to make,” he says, ignoring my anger, as usual. “I didn’t call to ask about biology homework.”

“Really,” I say sarcastically. “Had me fooled.”

“I’m tricky like that,” he replies. “No, I’ve got tickets to a concert in Golden Gate Park tomorrow night. Actually, the concert is free, but I’ve got a blanket and picnic basket and I was wondering if you wanted to—”

I click the phone off before he can finish his question. I know exactly what he was going to ask, and there’s no way I can say yes.

Slipping the phone into my pocket, I get out of the car and climb the creaking staircase up to the loft.

Girls like me can’t date. Imagine, sitting down to a nice dinner and catching a whiff of rotten meat. It’s not like I could say, Excuse me. Have to go take care of the Nemean lion that’s prowling the streets. Be back in a jiff.

My phone rings again and I ignore it. The situation isn’t going to change. Girls like me have to be alone.

I toss my ringing phone onto the couch and head to the fridge. Maybe some dinner will help clear my mind. I yank open the freezer door. It’s stocked with a month’s supply of frozen dinners.

I grab a turkey-and-stuffing box, tear it open, and pop it into the microwave. While the microwave whirrs and my dinner spins hypnotically in circles, I can’t help feeling more alone than I’ve ever felt. Not only because Ursula, my one and only true friend in this world, is being held prisoner. Not only because I’ve discovered I have two long-lost sisters, one of whom is safe at home with her loving family and the other who wants nothing to do with me. Not only because I can never, in any conceivable universe, let Nick or any other ordinary human boy close enough to discover the true me. Not only because I’m not even sure who the true me is anymore.

No, I feel completely and utterly alone because, for the first time since the day I realized my adoptive parents were abusive trash and I was better off on the streets than with them, I don’t want to be alone. For the first time, I want to let people in. I didn’t want to hang up on Nick, I had to. Because, for the first time, I wanted to say yes.

And I can’t imagine anything more dangerous. For me or for him.

The microwave beeps, and the jarring sound pulls me from self-pity into the real world. It’s like I have an instantaneous moment of absolute clarity.

“I know how to find Sthenno,” I blurt out to the empty kitchen.

Without another thought for my dinner, I grab my phone, jacket, and keys and dash back to Moira at full speed. My best chance of finding Ursula’s sister is the same person who told me I was destined for greater things than what Phil and Barb had planned.

The oracle.


The storefront looks exactly as I remember. Plain, non-descript, with dark velvet curtains that might have been red at one time blocking any view inside. Hanging in the door is a small wooden sign that reads FORTUNES TOLD, with a line of ancient-looking letters below: μαντεοn.

At twelve I thought they were magical symbols. Now I recognize the text as ancient Greek: ORACLE.

Just as before, the place looks deserted from the outside. A thick layer of grime covers the windows, no light shines through even the tiniest crack in the curtains or door, and there is no sign indicating whether the place is open or even when it might be. But I know, in the same unnatural way I knew four years ago, that she’s inside.

I walk up to the door, grab the tarnished brass knob, and twist. The door glides open like it floats on air. Except for the streetlight streaming in the now-open door, the space inside is dark as night.

“You came back,” a gravelly voice says from the void. “I knew you would.”

She steps into the beam of light, looking the same as before. Long black robes swirling around her tiny frame. Long black hair falling down her back in thick waves. Long beaked nose protruding out from a haggard and wrinkled face. She looks like an evil witch from a child’s fairy tale.