I wasn’t entirely sure of where I was, but the smell of orange juice wasn’t supposed to be here. My first thought was that yeah, I had finally kicked it, and maybe heaven just smelt this way, but the last I checked, I wasn’t gonna see the afterlife according to some ethereal creature, so we could cross that one off the list. Hell, maybe? Couldn’t tell. My memories were hazy and fragmented, a little confused and stuck back together in bits and pieces. I remembered mom screaming, and Adam taking her away as the ceiling collapsed. Then…right, that thing—the Kaiju—digging its barbed tentacles into my skin and spilling my blood all over the stones that had crushed us both.

It kinda just sounded like a nightmare. Something that didn’t really happen. A story you told your parents whilst you ate breakfast and they only half-listened to your silly ramblings.

And it didn’t help that I felt amazing. Heck, Ry. Maybe you’ve finally bit the dust.

So why could I feel something wet sliding across my cheek, my mouth, my face and Gods, what the hell was that? I groaned, batted the tongue away, thinking it was the Kaiju and its tentacle, thinking that it was still alive, trying to finish the job and strangle me dead. And then the darkness barked at me, and I had no other option than to blearily open my eyes. Golden sunlight poured out of the window to my left, filling the room with warmth and light. Smells, too. Scents of flowers and wheat, soil and an excited dog who wouldn’t stop licking my face. I tried to push him away, but he was insistent on tasting me, forcing me to sit upright at a snail’s pace to fight him off because I had gotten so used to struggling out of bed that it felt weird feeling my bones not hurting and my muscles not aching. The dog finally gave up his pursuit and sat down, beating his tail against the floor as his big dumb eyes stared up at me, tongue lolling and droopy golden ears hanging low.

Cerberus. That was the name dangling off his dog collar. Odd for a golden retriever.

I looked around the room, and nothing jumped out at me as being weird. The dog was the most interesting thing about it. A painting above the bed showing a white horse running toward the hills. A pitcher of water on the bedside table. Two old books lay open on a desk, the chair pulled aside as if someone had just been sitting there, watching me either sleep, or the sunlight coming through the open window. I swung my legs off the bed and out from underneath the thick knitted bed sheets, and my feet pressed against an old fuzzy carpet that had probably felt dozens of other people over the years against it. I was still waiting for my body to cave in and stop working like an old, tired machine. To feel like shit. But as I stood, I didn’t even sway or feel sick. I felt great.

I felt alive for once.

Strong.

I clenched and unclenched my hands, feeling actual energy behind them. But there was evidence of the fight along my forearms. Fresh pale scars ran from my wrists to the crux of my elbows, rugged little lines as if some toddler had taken a light pink marker to my skin and gone crazy with it. But they had healed, healed perfectly fine. I had to admit it, I’d been smiling for the better half of five minutes as I stretched my arms and legs, feeling like I wasn’t constantly being stretched and broken and fit back together like some poorly made Barbie doll. I found a full length mirror just behind the door, alongside a towel and a change of clothes neatly folded on the table.

They weren’t my clothes, and neither was the large t-shirt and summer shorts I wore.

And the girl staring back at me in the mirror was me, but not quite.

My eyes were glowing, not as they had been before—not entirely golden like dad. I had a scar along my eye that split my brow, something faint, but it was my eyes that I was so focused on.

My irises were glowing softly, not as brightly as they used to when I used my powers. It was a soft light, like someone had spilled glitter into the natural blue of them. I tried to turn them off, to make my eyes normal again, but that wasn’t happening no matter how hard and long I tried.

I rubbed them with my knuckles, palmed them with the heel of my hand.

Nothing. They still glowed, still shone that little bit more.

A knock on the door stopped me from staring so hard at myself. “Heard the dog barkin’,” a voice said. A man’s voice, deep and husky and Southern. “Figured you’re awake in there, too.”

I stepped back a little, not sure of what to say. Where am I? And who is this guy?

Most importantly, shouldn’t I be dead underneath some rubble right now?

“You changed in there?” he asked. I said nothing, maybe because I hadn’t had a great summer of meeting new people. “Fine if you ain’t, I can wait on the porch.” Then I heard boots knocking against the floor, and soon heard a door creak open and softly bang shut behind him.

I waited for a second before moving, but all I heard was him humming a song from beyond the doors separating us. I glanced back at the dog, then at the clothes on the table. I decided to put them on, finding that they were just a plain white t-shirt with a red collar and tired blue jeans that fit me a little too well. These were probably the cleanest clothes I’d worn in weeks. I found a pair of sneakers underneath the bed, shrugged, and slid into them, and to my surprise, they were perfect as well. Maybe that creature I had met was wrong about me not seeing the afterlife. New clothes, new shoes—I smelt of perfume, actual perfume and not the cheap stuff I bought from the corner store. My hair was combed. Actually combed. Full and thick, a dirty blonde, but oh my Gods, a part of me kinda wished Bianca was here to check me out the same way my reflection was doing right now.

What can I say, I actually felt clean for once. Energetic. Willing to do this shit. The last time my body didn’t hurt constantly was way back in middle school when I didn’t have my powers yet.

I could actually breathe in and out without having to sigh a little.

Slowly opening the door, I was led into a short hallway, with a couple of other bedrooms on either side of the hallway, all empty. Picture frames hung on the walls, pictures that slowed my walk toward the main room at the end of the hallway. Several caught my eye, just because of what the pictures were and who was in them. A very young Cleopatra standing on top of a slain Kaiju, her sword on her shoulder still dripping green blood as she looked off toward a group of civilians. Ares kneeling beside a little boy who was a pudgy reflection of him, ruffling his blonde hair—his son, right. What was his name again? I couldn’t remember. He must be around my age now. Hermes. Heka. Even Lucas without his cowl, crouched atop a building with another guy in a deep blue costume beside him. Ben. It had to be. Nobody else could make Lucas smile like that. Ever.

And there was dad, too. A picture that stopped me dead on the soft carpet. He wasn’t in his costume or his regalia, but normal clothes. Human clothes. A Hawaiian shirt and white shorts, beer in his hand and a smile on his face as he spoke to someone who looked a little too much like Witchling for my liking. I’ve never seen you look so human. I took the picture off the wall, angled it toward the yellow sunlight cascading through the bedroom behind me. I had seen almost every single picture taken of him. Dug through forums and chat rooms that barely existed, just to see him.

I hadn’t seen this picture before, and Gods, the Lord of the Sky looked just like them.

The man outside sang a little louder. Cerberus barked, wagging his tail as he stared at me, waiting for the door to be opened. I pulled myself away from the pictures, setting the frame of dad and the red-haired woman back on the wall. I entered the living room, saw the charred fireplace, the empty tea mugs on the kitchen counter, and the sandwiches covered by napkins. I wasn’t hungry, I realized, something I wasn’t used to. I was in such a good mood that the man’s offbeat singing didn’t even annoy me all that much as I opened the fly door and then the main door.

He was sitting on an old rocking chair, not swinging back-and-forth, but stable as he tried to spark his zippo. A thick cigar hung from one end of his mouth, his singing escaping from the other end. And he was big, very big. Broad shoulders. A close-cut ash-gray beard and even grayer hair. His face was lined with smile lines, but also with the deep creases of worry along his forehead. In a checkered black and red shirt unbuttoned to show his vest, tired blue jeans and old work boots, I really, really couldn’t help but wonder if I wasn’t dreaming right now. Maybe I’m dying under the rubble right now and this is my life flashing before my eyes. But I never did like lumberjacks.

And I had no clue who this guy was in the slightest.

“Damned thing,” he muttered, as the zippo only spat sparks. “Swear I just changed it…”

I pointed my finger to the cigar’s end, making a short bolt of electricity leap from my fingertip. I had expected a spark, or an even shorter burst, but hell, it lit the cigar for him, and it looked like I meant to do that, so I’d shelve that for now. Still, that was new to me. Then again, I had looked just like dad used to when Adam nearly got me. I didn’t know what was going on with me, or where I was, but the old man was laughing as he inhaled the smoke, and that distracted me.

“Neat little trick you got there,” he said. “The boys in the war woulda loved you.”

“Hey, not to be rude—and thanks for the clothes, I guess—but where am I?”

The man waved his hand out in front of him, and that’s when I saw the fields of lush golden wheat swishing and swaying for miles upon miles in front of us. An old truck on his lawn, the dog running circles around a tree, maybe trying to catch a bird that was screeching down at him, too.

“This,” he said, “is New Valhalla, came up with the name myself, ‘cause you folks already took the Olympus part and ran it through the mill a couple times. Had it for a couple decades, yep.”

It was gorgeous. And so…quiet. So very quiet. Peaceful.

I caught him smiling in the corner of my eye. “Lovely, ain’t it?”

I shook my head, then turned to him. “Am I dead right now? ‘Cause that would suck.”

“Death does suck, doesn’t it?” the man said, nodding. “‘Fraid you’re not, kiddo.”

“Then why am I here? How did I even get here? Last I checked, I almost—”

“Want some orange juice by any chance?” he asked, standing up. He was as tall as I thought he would be, possibly just a little shorter than Poseidon. “It’s all freshly squeezed, too.”

I blinked, confused. “Uh, sure. I guess I could go for some, but—”

He patted my shoulder and headed down the creaky patio steps, grabbing a cowboy hat from off the porch’s bannister before walking toward his truck, leaving me standing beside the wind chimes and the rocking chair. He stopped at the Dodge, looked around, then waved me over.

I expected for some kind of monster to burst free from the soil and attack me as I hovered toward his truck, but…nothing. I could afford to relax my shoulders and unclench my stomach, take a deep breath in and feel the wind in my hair. Past the apple tree. Over a lawn brimming with wildflowers. His truck creaked when he opened the door and banged it shut, and when I tried to ask him questions, he told me that daylight wasn’t gonna wait for anyone, and the orange juice was getting finished the longer I dawdled, so I had no other option but to get inside the truck, too. Cerberus leaped in after me, scrambling onto my lap in a rush of fur and dripping saliva, sticking his head out the window as soon as the old guy turned the truck around and drove down the one dirt road that split apart the sloshing tides of bronze barley. He remained silent for several minutes, one arm on the door, the other on the wheel, his cigar in his mouth and smoke out of his nose.

“Do I at least get to know who brought me here?” I asked him.

He glanced at me, smiling. “Open that compartment at your knees, won’t you? There should be some kinda disc in there, somethin’ country—you pick, though. Don’t know what kids are into anymore these days. Old gal ain’t got the ability to connect to the internet, you know.”

I stared at him, wondering if I’d somehow traveled through time. “Answers, old man.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “A little birdie dropped you off, said you needed help.” He tilted his head, and I saw a white feather singed at its tip tucked away in the band of leather circling his head. “A good man, I suppose, but always a little too busy to let himself breathe in the fresh air.”

“Yeah, well, the last time I checked again, I also can’t afford to sit around and do that.”

“And you’re right, kiddo,” he said to me, the truck rocking over each rut. “Oranges first.”

“Oranges?” I asked. “There could be some kind of monster in New Olympus right now.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, nodding. “Quite unfortunate, but I do think you need some oranges.”

“What’s so special about some oranges?”

He glanced at me, his amber eyes twinkling. “You feel great right now, don’t you?”

I shrugged a little. “I mean, sure. But my powers are probably helping with that, too.”

“Can your powers bring you back from the dead?”

I blinked. “Are you saying that I died?”

“No,” he said, grinning. “But these oranges can sure as hell keep you alive, tell you what.”

Right, and I can turn invisible. I figured that the questions I had weren’t going to get an answer from this guy, so I stayed relatively quiet for several minutes. I rested my arm on the door, watched as we passed by miles of wheat bursting to be harvested, so bright and yellow it was almost like someone had spilled paint over them from above. You never realize how much New Olympus reeked until you got into the open air, and when you could smell almost everything in a thirty block radius, a change like this felt like breathing for the first time. The air was sweet, clean, and filled with birds that weren’t covered in oils or soot or screeching as they fought over a severed finger. Doves in trees roosting on the branches that reached over the road. Tiny chicks tweeting as they got fed. We drove down this silent winding road for what felt like thirty minutes. Minutes of soft country music and the smell of an oak-scented cigar. Of passing by trees that lined either side of us. I kept waiting for something to happen. For him to pull over and for villains to come for me.

Nothing like that happened, and it still left me on edge. I found that my foot wouldn’t stop bouncing, my finger wouldn’t stop tapping. I had been clenching my hand for five minutes now. I caught myself staring out into the trees, past the fields, squinting to make sure those birds weren’t following us, and that animal was just a worm burrowing into the soil. The silence was killing me.

Doing nothing except sitting here was killing me. Thoughts began filling my head. Ideas on what to do about Cassie, about mom and how she’d been saved by Adam. Still so much to do, Ry.

And I felt guilty for even being here in the middle of nowhere, like I was wasting time.

That thing, for all I knew, had escaped, and was spilling through my city right now. How many more people had gotten sick since I’d been away and turned into more of those things? How many others had been dragged into its fleshy mass and torn apart, just to be put back together as some mess of barbed tentacles? Families trapped in homes because one of their own had turned. No way out, maybe they tried to kill it, stab it, shoot it, but nothing happened, so now their brother, their sister, their mom or dad was gushing blood and worms and organs as they got closer to them.

A hand shook my shoulder. I flinched, nearly swung. The man with the cigar was smiling at me, head tilted. The truck was off, and we’d stopped in an area that looked like a real life painting.

It was a picnic area, a sweeping glade of trees and red wooden tables, stands that handed out fruit and grills surrounded by men in pink aprons. There weren’t any children, that’s what I noticed first. Just older people, old in about their sixties or seventies. Silver hair. Tired skin. But they were smiling, not weirdly, just naturally. Having a good time. Eating. Playing cards. Smoking and drinking and minding their business in this area of about several dozen people. At the far end of the glade was a wooden cabin, a two-story thing that overlooked everything. There was a wrap-around balcony on its second floor, with the sliding glass doors open, meaning its curtains were billowing and that scent of oranges that had woken me up was pouring right out of it, too.

I had to stand beside the Dodge for several moments, trying to understand what was going on here. Is this some kind of cult? Should I fight them or something? They all looked so happy, so cheery, that it rubbed me the wrong way. Not because I was being an ass about it, but because most people in New Olympus weren’t exactly known for their smiles and world-renowned happiness, so being around it to this degree felt just so wrong to me, more so when they waved by way, too.

“Come on,” the man said. “We’ve still got some time before we can go into the Big House.”

I followed, just because I didn’t know what else to do. “What the hell is this place?”

“Hank!” a slender brown-skinned man said. He was at one of the picnic tables, accompanied by an older blonde lady and a man thoughtfully picking at the label on his beer.

The guy beside me grinned and led me to the table. I couldn’t help but look at some of the people we passed, because a lot of them were glancing at me, too. Some had scars. A few had eye patches. I caught one man blowing on a beer can, covering it in frost. Superhumans. No, wait.

Superheroes.

I knew these people. I’d read comics about them. Hell, I had figurines of some of them!

I didn’t have time to dawdle and stare and ask questions (and no, Olympia doesn’t fangirl, I was just excited to meet people like me for once), because Hank was introducing me to some.

“Kid,” he said, resting his burly arm around my shoulders. “This here’s a gang of crooks.”

“Worst o’ the worst!” the man picking his beer said, stopping to tip his faded blue hat at me.

“If you want anything to keep the party going, you come here, ok?” the smaller man said.

“Uh…”

“Don’t mind them, they’re old and senile,” the woman said, smiling softly. “Malory, dear.”

“Ricky,” the man with the faded hat said. “And this handsome bag of skin is Samir.”

Then they all looked at me, waiting. Oh, right. “I’m Olympia.”

Ricky laughed, a husky smoker’s kind of laugh. “Kid, we can tell. Your eyes give it away.”

“Real names here,” Hank said, shrugging. “Nothing to hide with us, we’re all retired.”

“Are you sure?” I asked tentatively.

Malory said, “Think we’re gonna use it against you, kiddo? Blackmail ya?”

I shrugged. “It’s been a shitty summer, can’t really blame me.”

“We’ll respect that, sure,” Ricky said, nodding.

“So we don’t call you Rylee, Daughter of Zeus, Heiress of Lightning,” Samir said. “Got it.”

I had to admit that Heiress of Lightning wasn’t something I’d ever been called before (and it was only a little awesome) but thinking about it, of course they knew my name. Dad had been here once. He must have said something about me, and that only tightened my stomach just a little more.

“Sit, sit,” Hank said to me. “I’ll check if she’s ready, but you’ll wait here for now.”

“Check if who's ready?” I asked, but he was already walking away toward the large, two-story cabin, smiling a smile over his wide shoulder that said, Wouldn’t you like to know? Malory scooted over as I sat down beside her, and that’s when I noticed she was just a little bit transparent in some rays of sunlight. I couldn’t tell what the deal was with Samir, but Ricky’s was obvious—the guy had horns under his hat, tiny things that wanted to stab through the fabric.

“We don’t get many young folks around these parts,” Malory said. “It ain’t against the law or something, it just is that way, you know? I just wish this place wasn’t so secretive, my Lord.”

“You’re right,” Samir said. “We should open this place up, get some girls, some guys—”

“You talk too much,” Ricky said, “and that’s unfortunate. Whizz shoulda kept the muzzle.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” I said, “but, like, are you guys the Rangers?”

This time, Samir’s smile softened just a touch. “In the flesh.”

“Holy shit,” I said, not gasping—I did not gasp. “Where’s Trailblazer? And Gallant?”

Ricky sucked air through his teeth, then sighed a little. “Cancer, both of ‘em.”

That almost didn’t sound real to me. These people were part of the Golden Age. Well, they had been in their twilight years during the Golden Age, but without them, then it wouldn’t have happened. They’d saved the world times over. Saved cities dozens of times over. I was sitting with people I’d stayed up late at night reading about for so long that I’d missed the bus too many times to count. It really was like meeting celebrities, because up until an hour ago, I thought they all died.

“Oh,” I said, tempering my enthusiasm as much as I could. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Eh,” Ricky said, waving his hand. “Heavy smokers, those two. Mal told ‘em to quit.”

“But those two wouldn’t listen,” she said, her voice tinged with the kind of sadness she’d dealt with, but still hadn’t let go of—just like how mom sounded when she spoke about dad.

“That,” Samir said, “and Wasteland was a son of a bitch to beat. All those toxins.”

“I just…Oh my Gods. I know I shouldn’t say this, but I’ve read all about you guys.”

“Yeah?” Ricky said, half-grinning. “In those fancy picture books?”

“Comic books, Rick. God, keep up with the times. We had them on those gizmos.”

“Tablets.” Mallory shook her head. “Birds of a feather. No wonder they hitched up.”

I leaned over the table, keeping my voice low—however much that’ll do in a glade full of superhumans with tons more experience than me. “And that guy over there, flipping the burgers?”

“Valiant Man,” Malory said. “Still a hunk, even with a shot left arm and leg.”

“The lady downing the beer, her fourth one?”

“Samsara,” Ricky said. “Always did like her liquids.”

“Shirtless old due?”

“Oh, him?” Samir said, feeding off my energy, leaning forward too. “Alex the Great.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I pushed a hand through my hair. Maybe I really am dead.

“I thought all of you guys, well, you know.”

Malory sipped a glass of wine, then said, “Only a fraction of us here compared to last year.”

“Guessing they didn’t want to make the trip?”

“Pretty hard to make it when your grandkids gotta take care of you,” Ricky muttered. “Heck, some of us ain’t got nothing else to do or nobody to take care of us, so here we are, kiddo.”

“Honestly,” Samir said softly. “It’s a miracle that this many of us are here.”

“How come?”

“The shit we got up to back in the day, that kinda stuff burned us out quick.”

“We shot for the sky and the stars,” Mallory said, “and now our wings are just a little tired.”

“But enough about us,” Ricky said, with more energy in his voice. “Heard about your pa a while ago, Rylee. Sorry about that, kid. It’s never easy having to lose someone like that. Never is.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

I shrugged and waved my hand. “It’s…alright. I got over it.”

His eyes said otherwise, that he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t push it.

“Got anyone special?” Samir asked, which felt way too direct. “Must be hard trying to find someone who can keep up with Zeus’ kid. I mean, you probably don’t even do the school thing.”

“Come on, Sam,” Malory said. “Don’t put the girl on the spot like that.”

He leaned back, putting his arms up defensively. “Hey now, just wondering.”

“Well,” I said, before Malory could dig into him. “There’s this one girl—”

“Kiss her, pop the question, and do it all whilst you’ve still got the knees to get down for her,” Ricky said. “Trust me, kid. If you wait long enough, your back will give ‘for anything.”

“I’m pretty sure if I don’t die, I’ll live to be like two-hundred years old. My back won’t give out until the humans figure out how to get to Pluto.” Then I paused as his words sank in, then my heart was in my throat as I hurriedly said, “We’re not exclusive. Heck, I haven’t even spoken to her in weeks. She might actually hate me, because I keep airing out her texts and calls, and sometimes I think about seeing her, but so many people want to kill me lately, so that’s way out of the question.”

Silence, the kind of silence that made me itch. Then Ricky said, “So you don’t love her?”

“I…like her company, sure.”

“And she makes you stumble over your words?” Samir asked.

“No,” I said slowly. “I just talk quickly and mess up sometimes, what about it? I might have a concussion, so that’s probably why. Hey, wasn’t one of you a healer? You could fix that for me.”

“You know,” Ricky said. “Your old man stuttered just once that I know of, kid.”

Dad stuttering was like hearing pigs could talk.

“And that’s when we asked what was keeping him out of the limelight so often.”

That was even harder to believe, because I didn’t want to think about mom right now.

Maybe Malory could sense that, how I shifted and shrugged, because she asked, “What’s the girl’s name that’s making you sweat? Last I checked, I didn’t even think Zeus ever did, too.”

My mouth was just a tiny bit dry. “Bianca. Bianca Aleja Ross. She’s…pretty cool.”

“Ben’s sister?” Ricky asked, brows rising. “Holy hell, ain’t this a twist.”

“You knew him?”

“Kid, the old bastard who brought you here woulda killed himself if not for him.”

“Wait, Lucas brought me here?” I said quietly. “And he was going to do that?”

“Rick,” Malory said flatly, and it felt like a full stop, because he sat back like Samir.

“Hey, Rylee!” a voice shouted. I glanced over my shoulder, and Hank was standing on the second floor balcony of the wood cabin, waving me over. He headed back inside past the curtains.

“Guess you better get going, Heiress of Lightning,” Samir said. “Come around some time and chat with us. It beats playing bingo with all these old farts every Tuesday and Friday night.”

“You only hate it because you’re not very good at it,” Ricky said.

“Bingo’s a game of luck. There’s no technique in the thing!”

“Come play with us some time,” Malory said as I stood. “And bring that girl, too.”

“I don’t think either of us has ever played bingo.”

“It’ll be a great first date,” she said. “I mean, these two nearly killed each other the first time they met, and it was in a bingo hall. Now look at them, forty years and dozens of IQ points less.”

I couldn’t help but laugh a little, even if the idea of going on a date made my cheeks burn.

The inside of the Big House was a lot smaller than I thought it would be. It looked like a regular wood cabin, with a bear rug in front of a fireplace, and heavy colorful wool blankets draped over almost every couch and chair I could see. It felt lived in and warm, old and almost partly forgotten. A drizzle of dust on a few shelves, the smell of wet wood coming from underneath the floor. It was old, tired, and the tiny holes in the wispy curtains, and the scars on the wood from chairs being dragged from the dining table to the living room were long snaking things deep in the dark oak.

There was only one set of stairs, so I followed them like the genius I am.

A hallway and a green carpet, closed doors and the smell of wood varnish. The scent of oranges grew stronger, filling my throat as if I’d already started downing a pitcher full of the stuff.

No picture frames, that’s what I noticed. Unlike Hank’s place, this house was barren. But it hadn’t always been like that. The lighter squares on the wallpaper told a vastly different story. They had been taken down some time ago, but the house wouldn’t forget; it wouldn’t forget for a while.

The corridor led me toward large, dark wood doors at the very end. Thick bronze handles, and accented lines of gold around the doorframe. I didn’t know what to do, so I knocked twice.

Hank opened the door almost an entire minute later, waving me inside.

And to hell with what the fucking room looked like.

Cleopatra was sitting right in front of me.

I didn’t move from the doorway, couldn’t if I wanted to. Hank tried to gently guide me forward, and the man was strong—I could feel it, but I wasn’t moving regardless. I stared. I had to stare and watch her sip something black and hot and steaming from a small China cup. It clinked as she set it down on a small plate, rattled a little as Hank shut the door behind me. She’s alive. Her legs were crossed elegantly, her dark blue jeans snug along her calves and thighs. She wore a white blouse, something light and wispy that showed off the tonnage of her arms, and the scars of battle that she had long since fucking won. You’re meant to be dead. Soft brown skin, silky black hair interrupted by bursts of white that swept over her shoulder as she looked at me. Holy shit. Cleopatra was looking at me. Those eyes alone had turned countries to warring cesspools. The sharpness of her nose and the line of her jaw, the angle of her eyes, and the face of a queen.

I had to remember to breathe, or else my head would be smacking against her floor.

You died the same day my father did.

“I shoulda told you in advance,” Hank said, “but I like surprising the new folk.”

I grabbed his collar, pulled him close so he could hear my choked words. “Real?”

“Is she real?”

Nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, unwinding my fingers from his vest. “Real as the sky is blue.”

“Rylee Addams,” Cleopatra said, and that would have been lights for me if I didn’t choke on my own tongue trying to answer her as quickly as possible. “Take a seat, darling. It’ll be brief.”

I walked stiffly, like my legs had never done this before, until I reached the plush red couch across from hers. I sat. Shuffled. Straightened my back and put my hands on my knees, but was this too formal? Olympia wasn’t supposed to get flustered or anxious, so I had to relax, lean back a little, which was only just as uncomfortable, so I put myself back upright and as stiff as I could be.

“Now, Hank tells me—”

“I had a Cleopatra-themed birthday once,” I said. Why, why did my mouth move?

She nodded slowly, then said, “I’m honored, truly. Thank you. But your body is—”

“And I once tried to get some guy to make a sword for me, but it actually costs a lot more than I thought it would, and I get paid peanuts an hour, so I tried making my own, you know, with my electricity, but that was stupid, because you can’t do that to electricity, so I tried to bend a piece of rebar, but I’m also not that great with weapons, which sucks, because I crushed on you when I was fifteen hard.” I laughed, kept laughing. Gods, you idiot, stop laughing! “But you were dead, at that time you were dead, anyway, which sucked—really sucked—and my phone wallpaper was—”

“Rylee,” she said softly, clearly, which put a stop to my rambling. “We’re equals here.”

I snorted, which was not what I was supposed to do. “Yeah, right. You saved the world.”

She shook her head. “My compatriots and I did. It was a collective effort, dear.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that your statue is standing in front of the Olympiad.”

Her mouth thinned. Did I talk out of place? Gods, does she hate me? “Regardless of that fact,” she said—breathe, in and out, Ry—“we need to discuss a multitude of situations, starting with your abilities, Lucas, the state of New Olympus, and your supposed brother. Tea first, my child?”

I don’t even like tea all that much. “Yeah. Sure. I actually prefer it over coffee any day.”

She smiled, but only because she probably had nothing else to say. She poured me a cup from a teapot so detailed and gorgeous it was almost an offense that I was staring hard at it. She finished pouring and set the teapot back on its own plate, leaning back on the couch as she rested an arm across the cushions beside her. Hank stood behind the couch, arms folded as he looked at me, gesturing for me to drink it. And so I did, holding the fragile little thing—which was a lot harder than you might think—carefully so I didn’t shatter it, just like I had seen Cleopatra do.

I sipped it, a lie on my lips to tell her how much I loved it.

But half the cup was finished before I even blinked. Then the second helping was gone a minute later, and I had to force myself to stop drinking straight from the teapot for some more.

“Holy—”

“Good, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Good?” I said incredulously, about to drag my arm across my mouth before catching myself and using a napkin instead. “This stuff is great. How do you even make tea like this?”

“I lace it with my light,” Cleopatra said, turning her hand and widening her fingers. Threads of golden light snaked around her fingertips, hanging loosely like melted gold. They vanished seconds later. “I tried with many fruits, but oranges have the best taste. The most poignant kind.”

“Gods, you could make a killing with this thing.”

She shook her head. “It’s for all to consume. Nectar is a drink for the soul, not the dollar.”

I wiped my sweaty palms against my thighs, wanting more. Desperately wanting more. No wonder my body felt so good. Even now, I felt enough energy in me to go damn-near supersonic.

“But,” Cleopatra said, “I wish we could speak about things such as tea and the mundane, but your city is in a state of disarray, and news about it is untrustworthy at best from my sources.”

“I guess your sources kinda suck,” I said, chuckling weakly. She didn’t laugh or smile, and hey, maybe it was time for me to stop trying to get her to like me. “Uh, what do you wanna know?”

“Adam.” Cleopatra raised her chin a little, looking at me dead. “Who is this boy?”

I shrugged. “Beats me. I only met the guy a few months ago. Nearly killed me the last time we met. I think he might be my brother, because if he’s a clone of my dad, then…I don’t know.”

I knew, but what that would mean for the thread-thin relationship I had with my mom…

“A clone of Zeus himself,” she muttered. “Disgusting. He possesses your abilities?”

“Not that I know of, ma’am,” I said. “He just flies really quickly, and hits like a freight train. If I wasn’t around, he would probably be the guy everyone talks about. He just looks like dad.”

Cleopatra tilted her head. “His eyes do not glow, yet he still made you bleed?”

She was staring at me, staring into me. My skin crawled. “Yeah.”

She remained silent, not moving a muscle as Hank whistled slowly.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t, but the Olympiad remains his current home, yes?”

I nodded.

“Shame,” she said quietly. “He would never have let it happen.”

“Let Adam happen?”

“Let you bleed.”

“Are we talking about the same guy here? We’re talking about Zeus, right?” Because where I was from, that’s all just par for the course. My old man would have watched it all unfold, too. Not that I was bitter about that. The more my people fought, the more we struggled, the stronger we became. The more durable. It was for my sake, if he stood there and watched, and I turned out fine.

“Have any more of these…clones appeared that you know of?” she asked me.

I thought for a moment, then said, “Well, maybe. But she must be your kid.”

“I took a vow of chastity decades ago,” Cleopatra explained. “Likely impossible.”

“Then there’s a girl who kinda looks like a younger you, now that I think about it.”

Hank stopped smoking his cigar and straightened. “Got the same powers, too?”

“Yep,” I said, nodding. “Sword of light, arrows of gold. The whole shebang.”

Cleopatra had been tapping her finger against the cushions for a while, but this made her stop. She unwound her legs and said, “If you kid, Rylee, I’m requesting that you stop soon.”

“Swear,” I said. “Think her name was Victoria or something. Kinda weird but kinda cool.”

“And she resides within the Olympiad as well?” Cleopatra asked.

“I actually don’t know. She just kinda appeared one day with Bianca. I think not.”

“Dammit, Lucas,” she said quietly. “The man is beginning to slip. Something of this caliber would have been his top priority. Has he said anything about it to you, about these children?”

“Now that you mention it, no—but he’s been pretty busy with—”

“What, clones of the Olympians ain’t high up on his bucket list?” Hank asked.

“The guy’s just busy trying to keep the ship afloat, that’s all.”

“And if those children were to be used, manipulated, by the people who made them? If those children grow to be as strong as we once were, then who can tell what could happen to the world,” Cleopatra shook her head. “I trust, however, that the correct morals have been enforced in these children for Lucas to have seemingly taken a back seat in investigating something so crucial.”

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable. “I mean, Adam’s an ass, but he doesn’t want to go around killing humans, and Victoria saved Bianca, so she’s in my good books. They’re fine.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t help but question if their creators have the same intent.”

“I…have no clue about that.”

“So neither does Lucas,” Hank muttered.

Cleopatra said, “Are you well-equipped to handle this situation if, by any chance, you were to face a boy who looks like your father? Not in his current state, but when his eyes burn, too?”

I hadn’t thought about that, I’ll admit. “Yeah, I’d like to think so.”

“Has Lucas given you a plan of action for any such case?”

“Haven’t spoken to the guy in weeks. Just vanished.”

Then she stared at me, as if I’d told her I had seen an alien outside: absurdly.

It soon clicked to anger when her eyes narrowed.

“His instructions from your father were clear,” Cleopatra said. I shut my mouth, stared at her. “He was to train you appropriately if the time ever came that Zeus wasn’t able to. He was to ensure that matters like these, problems as impactful as these, were to be dealt with accordingly by both you and himself. That man has left you scarred and broken. You understand, child, that the sheets you stained with blood, the countless beddings we were forced to change over these past several days, were because of him? His under preparation has been detrimental to your life.”

“Well, he did bring me here, and did train me, which is more than you’ve done for me.”

Cleopatra stared at me, and I stared back. Silence, long and heavy silence.

Then she sighed, leaning back. “Child—”

“It’s Rylee. Or Olympia. You pick.”

“Hey, kiddo…” Hank said.

“Rylee,” she continued. “There was a contingency for the time after our retirement. Zeus would be able to continue for decades onward, but the rest of us were growing older, our senses a lot blunter. Time would move without us, and we needed to ensure the next generation was ready.”

“I’m guessing this is the part when you tell me I didn’t make the cut for those plans.”

“You were our first agenda. Our first meeting. And the countless nights that followed.” She sipped her tea, then softly, said, “In all honesty, we knew of your importance, not just to us but to your own people. Frankly, some of us were glad your powers did not manifest during your early years, else it would have been bloodshed on our planet, of which we would not have been ready for. But there was a plan in place, in the event that your powers manifested after any of our deaths, for you to be trained by several of us, not just Lucas alone. You are special, Rylee. And that man has done nothing but steal you away. Ares was to be your combat trainer. Hermes to match your speed. Heka to ensure your capabilities on the battlefield were lesser than nobody on the planet.”

“Yeah?” I asked quietly, a lump in my throat—maybe anger, maybe not. “And you?”

“I was voted off the Olmpians shortly before Titan betrayed us. My say was revoked.”

So why did you make the world think you died fighting alongside the Olympians?

“Doesn’t answer my question, lady.”

Cleopatra stood, and the wind pulled her hair over her shoulder. “You were to be mine.”

I blinked, dumbstruck. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that I saw your mother as unfit.”

Now it was my turn to stand. “What do you know about her? She’s…maybe not been the best mom on the planet, but she’s still better than nothing. Hell, you were supposed to be dead.”

“Rylee,” she said plainly. “Do you know who it is that held you first upon birth?”

I spread my arms and said, “Hell, if I know. Probably some alien doctor.”

“Me,” Cleopatra said. “I cradled you in my arms, and was the first to look into your eyes. Your father lost faith in his powers manifesting within a human, but I saw the golden light before it could vanish. It was my finger you held first. My chest that you wailed against before anyone’s.”

I stood, paralyzed, my blood cold and my muscles solid. I felt dizzy, light headed, and this time, I did sway. I did stumble. But she put her arm out and steadied me, holding my shoulder.

“The weight of planets was placed on you before you were even born,” she said. “And your mother had swindled her way into birthing a child with a man who had razed kingdoms for you.”

“Stop,” I said weakly.

“Your lineage is gold. Glory. You were destined to be something, and I knew what your mother was, and so did Lucas, but not your father or the others. She was going to be your death, that’s what I told them, and if it was God I would have fought that day, then your father was just meters away from giving me the chance to do so.” Cleopatra lifted my chin, but I was breathing hard, still not entirely focused. “Lucas promised me he would do a good job. That he would raise you correctly, but all that man has done is poison your mind. He was never a real hero, Rylee.”

“But…he was,” I said. “Shrike was a myth, a legend. He raised Ben to—”

“That boy died chasing his approval,” she said. “And Lucas watched as Benjamin went for Lucian’s throat and missed. Benjamin Ross did not die because of who he was. The boy’s fate was destined to change the world. He died because Lucas left him with Lucifer. Left him to be beaten. And tortured. Skinned and burnt and murdered, and if I hadn’t found whatever was left of him, then that family would have never had anything to bury. But…then again, I wonder if I should have given them anything at all, lest the state of him leave a mark on their minds. Lucas killed him.”

I felt like puking, like…fuck, I didn’t know what to do. What to think.

“Why?” I said. “He loved Ben. He trained him and cared for him.”

“Lucas only ever wanted the thrill,” she said. “And a way for all of us to see that we either all go to war with Lucian, or make a deal to stop such pointless killings. His words exactly.”

Lucas made the deal?

He made the fucking deal?

I stepped back, away from her hands. I stumbled when my thigh hit the couch, shoving it back against the wall. I needed to breathe, to drink in the air. Light headed. Sick to my stomach.

“Rylee—”

“Wait,” I said, holding a hand out in front of me. “Then why…why did you stay quiet?”

“You must understand—”

“All this time, all those nights I listened to my best friend wailing for her brother, and you just sat here in your cozy little fucking wood cabin drinking tea all day, doing absolutely nothing?”

Cleopatra’s shoulders tensed. “Ambrosia, you know what this is, yes?”

“I’ve heard of it, sure, but what the fuck does that have to do with right now?”

“It’s deadly to you,” she said. “It was deadly to your father as well. Lucas Freeman, after all the nights he spent trampling throughout the shadows, seized unthinkable amounts of it, Rylee.”

“What?” I said, almost out of breath. “It can’t kill me. I don’t even know what it does.”

“It gives superpowers to Normals,” Hank said.

“Impossible. Fucking impossible, and you know that.”

“The Divergent Virus lies dormant in most of humanity,” Cleopatra said. “When we are all of age, it either dies, remains stagnant, or infects us, outgrowing our body’s natural defenses. The drug is an agent that ensures the virus either hyper-reproduces, or awakens from its dormancy.”

Too much info. Too much. I wanted to be angry at something, hit something, shout at someone, but Lucas was using this…this drug? How? “How is it deadly to me and my dad?”

“Unfortunately, I do not know,” she said. “That knowledge was shared without my presence, possibly because Lucas was already beginning to sow the seeds of distrust between us.” She stepped closer. “I could not say anything about Ben, lest he used Ambrosia against you. Your mother, too, was a secret I was sworn by your blood to keep. Your father trusted him, because he saw a human amongst Gods. A man weaker than him that he could crush if things went awry. I had fought Zeus once before, and I’m still the only person to have said that several planets over as well. I was a threat who he wanted gone, but one he knew he couldn’t kill. Lucas found a way for him to effectivly do what your father couldn’t, and remove me from the team. Distrust, he said. Lies. Secrets. Clandestine operations I had undertaken to share confidential information to any bidder.”

“That’s why you faked your death? Because Lucas threatened you away?”

She stayed silent for a moment, then said, “There were other circumstances.”

“Like?”

“Matters that are unimportant as of this time,” she said. “Rylee, all I can say is be wary of him. If he finds out that we have spoken, then he will tell you that I’m distorting your mind.”

“Then why did he bring me here? If he wanted me dead—”

“No, not anymore. He wants you alive. You’re his asset. His tool. He brought you here because his father would ensure that you were able to heal. The SDU then allowed this to happen.”

“So…he doesn’t know you’re here?”

“Correct,” she said. “He knows not of my existence, but only of my grave.”

I looked at her, at Hank—Lucas’ supposed father—and pressed my back against a bookshelf, my brain a mess of thoughts and information that was making me sick to my core and then some. I shut my eyes and palmed them, groaning, not knowing what to do, or what to say. I felt like shooting right through that balcony and leaving this place right now. I needed to focus on things I understood, like Cassie Blackwood being a villain, like the Kaiju that were frothing in the underbelly of New Olympus. Not Lucas. Not mistrusting someone who’d taken pictures of me cutting my first cake. Who’d helped me and mom set up new bedroom wardrobes. Who had gotten me my first supersuit and said I finally looked the part with a smile he’d never given me before.

I was meant to kill the bad guys, but I didn’t know what that meant right now.

“I…listen, Cleopatra,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to breathe so I wouldn’t start hyperventilating. “Thanks for the tea, and making my childhood dream come true. But I really need to leave. It’s getting late, and New Olympus is only gonna get worse off without me there, so…yeah, I’ll just go now. Hope your orange-Nectar thing goes well. Mister, thanks for the clothes. I appreciate it. Just point me toward the East Coast, and I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“Rylee, do you now trust what I’ve said?” she asked quietly.

“No,” I said. Gods, why did my eyes sting so much? “I don’t, and I really would want to, you’re one of my idols, but…this summer’s been so shit. I’ve been betrayed and lied to so much.”

“Gods, that man, what has he done?” she whispered. “I wish I could have been there—”

“But you weren’t, because nobody has. But it’s alright, it’s whatever. I’ll be fine.”

“Rylee,” Cleopatra said. “If you must leave, then fine. I cannot keep you here. I lack the strength, and you are correct, I have not been there when you needed a guiding hand the most. Just know that I believe in your light and your effort. It is not all in vain. And if there is ever a time that you need my aid, however much that will do you now, then call to me, and I will be there. I saw your light even before the world did, and I know in my heart that it will not falter because of it.”

“And kid…Rylee?” Hank said to me. “Be wary of that boy. Ain’t been right for years.”

I was already outside, hovering slightly off the wood underneath me. The sky was melting into purple and black, spreading from the horizon onward. I’d find New Olympus, didn’t need their help for that. High enough in the sky, and it would catch my eye, like a shard of glass sticking out of the Earth’s side. I breathed slowly, massaged my temples, and heard Cleopatra stop behind me.

“He keeps me away from that city,” she said quietly. “From you. You fear so much, but you should not. You should never have been so afraid of the world.” A hand on my shoulder, and a necklace dangled from her fingertips. A chain of gold, with a tiny lightning bolt hanging from its end. “For you, because your eighteenth birthday was missed, and so too were many others.” I waited, tentatively, a hare ready to run, as she laced it around my neck, putting the clasp in place, and leaving it dangling from my throat. “Keep safe, and don’t let your light dim in any darkness.”

“Lucas,” I said over my shoulder. “What did he get out of making a deal with Lucifer?”

“No man survives this long in a profession full of gods without selling his soul, Rylee.”

“Selling it to what exactly? For what?”

She only shook her head, resting her hands on my shoulder, as if to try and keep me here for a little longer, to keep me from killing something—or someone. “There are so, so many things I wish I could tell you. Things that you will need to learn one day, but now is not the time.” She may have said she wasn’t strong, didn’t have the power to stop me, but she was able to turn me around, and her eyes were so gentle, so full, that I almost forgot that it was Cleopatra I was looking at. “I wish I could have seen you grow into the young woman you are now. I wish I could have taught you that heroism is no more complex than knowing who it is that you raise your sword against, and who those are that you continuously raise it to defend.” Cleopatra felt me tense, but continued speaking, her voice smooth. “You’re a child of pain, anguish, violence, and for a world that I fought for, a world where peace was meant to prevail, it hurts me to see someone so young so misguided by it. Your father did not die for us to watch you suffer. It was to see you prosper.”

“Jeez,” I muttered, rolling my shoulders to shake her off. “Everyone thinks I’m damaged goods, but I’m still able to think straight, still alive right here and now, so I’m doing fine, alright?”

“Then why is it that you shake and stir and tense, even when you sleep?”

“Nightmares, I guess,” I said quietly. “They happen.”

Cleopatra brushed a strand of my hair away from my face. The breeze had picked up, blowing harder ever since the sun had vanished, but it wasn’t cold or bitter, but warm. Buttery.

Peaceful.

She smiled. “Once you save New Olympus, once you save them all, come to me, and tell me about everything. If necessary, I’ll risk even coming to you, if that’s what you need at the time.”

My mouth was dry, my chest ached. “Why?” I asked. “Why do any of that?”

“Why lend you my time?”

I couldn’t answer, and didn’t think I was even capable.

“Because the wrong people have dedicated you their time, and when I saw you on that bed, so badly beaten that my mouth bitters at the thought, as I wiped sweat from your brow, changed your bandages and cleaned all of your wounds, I was forced to come to a conclusion, Rylee.”

“What conclusion?” I whispered.

“That I should have kept you in my arms, and should have never let you go,” she said. “Veronica never understood the choice to wear a cape and fight for those around you, and she hasn’t yet understood that it’s those around a hero that ensure the hero never falls—though only on the condition that those around them have faith, too. But the past remains a memory, a series of regrets we can only muse upon. I know you wish to go, so fly, Rylee, but always know that your ability to endure, to have made it this far with the voices of hatred and doubt being forced upon you from before you could ever say your own name, is a testament to who you are. Don’t let your chin be lowered by these people, or this world, lest they force me out of hiding to fight them for their answers as to why they would ever think of diminishing the hopes of my own blood.”

I almost smiled. Almost.

“Thanks,” I said hoarsely. “I think that would be kinda cool, us teeming up or whatever.”

“Yes, indeed, it would be very cool.”

Laughter slipped out of me, quiet and strained. I cleared my throat.

Then she hugged me, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to do. She smelt sweet, felt warm, her muscles hard but her touch soft, “Go save them. The people cry for their champion.”

And when Cleopatra gives you the seal of approval to save the day, you can’t say no.

For the record, I didn’t hug her back. My arms moved on their own. Olympia doesn’t hug.

Got it?