“Yeah, it’s great,” I say. “But right now my sister could use your help.”

He glances at Greer and then back at me. “Of course, of course.”

He turns to stand over Greer’s table, muttering to himself.

For several minutes, he pokes and prods at Greer. She doesn’t stir, doesn’t react, doesn’t even wince in pain. That she’s not hurting is good, I guess, but my heart is racing. She’s so . . . still. The longer he evaluates her, the higher my blood pressure goes.

But it’s when he finally places his hands over her scalp that I really panic.

“Oh dear,” he says with a heavy dose of worry in his voice.

“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”

“Am I correct that she has the second sight?” he asks.

Sthenno answers, “Yes. She has Medusa’s power.”

“That is what I was afraid of.” He turns to face me, frowning. “Your sister is in an astral lock.”

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.”