“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.”

“We did it?” I ask. “We got them both out?”

“We did.”

“And they’re all right?” I ask.

“Yes. They’re outside with Gretchen,” he says. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I—” I shake my head, not sure how to explain the vision with Apollo. “When I blacked out,” I say, “I saw Apollo.”

Thane scowls. “Like in a vision?”

“Yes,” I explain, “but not like any vision I’ve had before. We were . . . talking.”

“About what?”

This is the part I don’t want to think about. “About—”

The door to the room flies open and Gretchen bursts in.

“We need to go,” she says, rushing to my side and grabbing me by the ankles. “Now.”

With one rough thrust, she spins me around, yanking my legs to the side, letting them dangle off the table. Pain shoots up my spine, but I ignore it.

“Can you walk?” she demands.

“What’s happening?”

“Can you walk?” she repeats.

She reaches for me. Before she can manhandle me off the table altogether, I slide down to the floor and test out the stability of my legs. There is some pain, but only a little wobble. I pronounce myself able to stand.

“Yes,” I say, pushing away from the table to balance on my own two feet. “Now, care to tell me what’s going on?”

“No time.” Gretchen grabs our backpacks from the chair next to the door. She shoves one at Thane, pulls one onto her back, and threads her arms through the third so it rests on her chest. “First we move, then we talk. Sillus and the gorgons are waiting at the back door.”

She’s gone from the room before I can ask again.

I look at Thane, but he’s stone-faced.

“Walk,” he instructs. “If you need help, I’ll carry you.”

“I can walk.” The first few steps from the table to the door are a little unsteady, but I make it. “When we get where we’re going, I want answers.”