But was he dead?

  Sarah felt that she could survive, but she wasn’t sure about Henry. He had the same potential as her, but it was still locked away. Helen had brought them back from death before, but she wasn’t here.

  Where the hell is she?

  Note to self, Sarah thought, looking at the long streak of blood, and the red dripping from Phoebe’s knife, the armor doesn’t stop blades—at least those held by little demigod shits.

  Their very existence was confusing, and not just because they were her biological half-brother and sister. Memnon had two demigods in the cult already. Why did he need her? Or Henry? What made them special?

  What could she do that Deimos and Phoebe couldn’t? They had DNA from two demigods. Whatever made Sarah special had to be more poignant in the twin sociopaths.

  So what’s the deal?

  Sarah snapped back to the present moment when Deimos fired a round into her leg.

  She shouted in pain, dropping down into a crouch behind her shield. Deimos drew his second pistol as she dropped, leveled both pistols at her, and unloaded.

  The kinetic energy of each round shook the shield, but the bullets deflected into the ceiling, walls, and floor. The red-lit hallways flashed yellow from the muzzle flashes and the sparks flaring from the shield. It created a strobe effect, flashing between bright orange to dark red.

  Phoebe seemed to skip in and out of reality as she charged, knives drawn, rage twisting her young face.

  What did they do to her? Sarah wondered, and then she stabbed out with her spear.

  The last thing she wanted to do was kill a kid, so she aimed to miss, hoping to just fend off the attack long enough to attempt restarting a dialogue.

  In her heart she knew it wouldn’t do any good. That these two had been brainwashed beyond hope. That any sense of empathy or goodness had been rinsed away. But she had to try.

  Trouble was, fending off Phoebe’s attack was impossible.

  The girl leapt away from the spear’s tip, sailing ass over tea kettle. For a split second it looked uncontrolled, like she might slap herself silly against the wall. But her feet struck the wall first. Knees bent as her momentum came to a stop. Then she extended her legs.

  Sarah saw the girl’s trajectory in her mind’s eye. In half a second, Phoebe would be on top of her with those knives, and if she shifted the shield to defend herself, she’d be riddled with holes, courtesy of Deimos.

  Phoebe pushed hard off the wall.

  Too hard.

  An average man, filled with anger, could put a fist through drywall. It wasn’t designed to be load bearing or impervious. When a demigod shoved her feet against it with all her strength, it crumbled.

  Instead of launching forward, Phoebe’s feet shoved inside the wall, and she fell. Legs locked in place, she swung down and faceplanted against the wall, denting her angry expression right into the surface.

  Deimos stopped firing so he could cackle at his sister.

  It gave Sarah an opening. She raised the shield, just a little, and stabbed out with the spear like a bona fide Spartan Hoplite…except she was sliding the spear along the floor, not aiming for the head or chest.

  She felt the blade hit something.

  Deimos barked in pain.

  “You stabbed my foot!” He wasn’t worried; he was incensed, voice oozing ‘How dare you?!’

  Intense pressure shoved the spear downward, the shaft crushing Sarah’s knuckles into the floor.

  He’s stepping on it, she realized.

  With Phoebe pulling herself from the wall, Sarah had just seconds before she was at the mercy of Satan’s tag team. She felt the bullet wound in her leg close up, then let go of the spear and charged Deimos, shield raised.

  Bullets slammed into the shield, shaking her arms. And then, an impact. She shoved hard with the shield, and when the weight fell away, she lowered it in time to see Deimos sail away, mimicking Henry’s hallway flight, sans the blood.

  Deimos dropped his guns. They slid beside him on either side. He pressed his hands against the floor. Skin squeaked against linoleum. He stopped short of colliding with the wall at the hall’s end. Both hands snapped up and snatched the guns before they slid out of reach. Then he sat up, death in his eyes.

  “Yeargh!” Phoebe shouted, announcing her attack. She lunged, swiping with the knives. The blades bounced against the shield, over and over, forcing Sarah back. “C’mon, bitch! Stick your turtle head out so I can lobotomize your ass!”

  Phoebe was lost in a freaky kind of rage, her high-pitched voice revealing a kind of violent mania.

  Despite the potential of actually being lobotomized, Sarah felt a pang of mercy. She’s just a kid. She was probably abused her whole life. She knows who she is, but she never knew who her parents were.

  “Mom wouldn’t want this,” Sarah said.

  “You know nothing of my mothers!”

  Knives struck the shield three times.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah saw Deimos. He was reloading, ejecting both magazines and slapping new ones home. She sidestepped and turned, putting Phoebe between them and Henry at her back.

  “Our mother was kind. She was loving. Would have loved you if she’d been given the chance.”

  “The woman who birthed me is not the woman who raised me. Your mother is dead…” The assault paused. Sarah glanced over the shield. Phoebe wore a twisted grin. “…and if we’re lucky, they’ll let me put your head in a jar next to your bitch moth—”

  Sarah kicked out hard, catching Phoebe in the gut.

  The girl spilled back, knives clattering to the floor, hands clutching her stomach.

  Gunshots forced Sarah back down and behind her shield.

  “Memnon killed your brothers and sisters,” Sarah shouted. “You mean nothing to him.” Her voice was muted by the sharp, contained reports of Deimos’s gunfire, but Phoebe had heard her.

  “You’re an experiment,” Sarah shouted. “Expendable! He doesn’t give a shit about what happens to you! Why else would Memnon send you to face me? I’m the special one, remember? He knows you can’t win. You’re just slowing me down so he can escape.”

  She peeked around the shield. It was just long enough for her to see the scowl on Phoebe’s face and the doubt in her eyes. It was also just long enough for Deimos to adjust his aim and pull the trigger.

  Sarah didn’t register the bullet until it carved a trough in her cheekbone and knocked her to the floor.

  Skin and bone burned, sending waves of pain throughout her body with each heartbeat. Blood pulsed from the wound. But then it slowed. The pain dulled. The wound healed.

  Too close! Sarah didn’t know the rules of demigod-hood. Didn’t know what could kill her and what couldn’t. But she believed Rhonda was right. Eventually, when enough of her—or certain parts of her—were destroyed, there would be no coming back. A bullet to the brain would do the trick, she decided, and she regretted not wearing one of the ridiculous helmets.

  As she pulled her legs back behind the shield, she felt something thump hard against her shin. It hurt, but not bad. Tucked behind her shield she looked down, expecting a wound. Instead, she found a pancaked bullet embedded in the armor. Not knifeproof…but bulletproof.

  Sarah grasped the dory and stood in a half crouch. The large shield covered her body from head to knee. The leg armor protected the rest. She lifted the dory, angling it around and held her ground in a way that she thought would look intimidating.

  But Deimos just laid into her, firing an endless barrage of bullets. The shield deflected most of it. A few rounds struck her lower legs, nearly knocking her down, but she held her ground.

  All the while, Phoebe was gathering herself.

  And then, the gunfire ceased.

  Sarah looked out over the shield.

  Deimos was reloading. Phoebe was on her feet, knives in hand.

  “You don’t know anything about us,” Phoebe said. “You don’t even know yourself. Memnon is wrong about you. And I’m going to show…”

  Sarah started moving before she knew what she intended to do. Instinct guided her—maybe even the cellular memory of her Spartan ancestors. All she really knew was that Memnon had to be taken down, and the longer she let these two mini-demis drag things out, the less likely that became.

  When her mind caught up to her actions, there was a flicker of hesitation. They’re kids! But they weren’t just kids. They would heal from whatever pain she dished out—short of maybe taking their heads off. Free from doubt, she moved.

  She lunged forward, backhanding the shield into Phoebe. The girl came off the floor, struck the ceiling, and then the wall. Before she hit the floor, Sarah took aim with the dory and flung it down the hall.

  As the long spear sailed through the air, it passed bullets headed in the other direction. Three of them struck Sarah in the chest. She leaned into the impacts, absorbing the pain in an act of defiance that pissed off Deimos, until the moment the dory struck his armor and passed through it. The blade sank into his chest, lifted him off the floor, and flung him into the wall.

  “Argh!” Phoebe yelled, drawing two more knives and charging.

  Sarah felt the world slow down. She could see where Phoebe would strike. Where her arms would be. Where to move to avoid being stabbed. And where to counterattack.

  She took a casual step back, leaning away from the first blade. Blocked the second with her shield. Then she reached out and around, grabbed hold of the girl’s armor, and yanked. Phoebe felt like a bag of packing peanuts in her hand. She barely felt the weight of her. But when the girl struck the wall, it crumbled.

  Sarah reversed course and threw the girl into the opposite wall.

  Phoebe attempted to stand, but a quick strike with the shield knocked her unconscious.

  Sarah headed for Deimos. He’d dropped his weapons. Was trying to pull the dory out of his chest, but it had him pinned to the wall.

  Sarah stopped in front of him. Took hold of the dory.

  “This is going to hurt,” she said. “And I’m sorry about that. Really.”

  He just looked at her, smoldering.

  She yanked out the spear. He dropped to his knees, and after a quick shield strike to the back of his head, he fell face down to the floor.

  The sound of scraping metal spun Sarah around. Shield and dory ready for another attack from Phoebe.

  But it was Henry. Back on his feet. He picked up the kopis from the floor. He walked past Sarah without glancing at the two unconscious kids. A deep frown was locked on his face. “Let’s go. Memnon’s not gonna kill himself.”

  41

  “Hey, slow down,” Sarah said, jogging a few steps to catch up with Henry. “Where are you even going?”

  “To get answers,” Henry said.

  Sarah put her hand on his arm. “From who?”

  “From any damn person that gets between me and the exit.” He yanked away from her and pushed through a set of double doors.

  “We’re dressed like Spartans,” Sarah pointed out. “The moment we step outside, people are going to see us.”

  Henry pointed into a room as he passed by. Said nothing.

  Sarah looked in. It was a hospital room. Like the other she’d seen earlier, but this one had a window. It was still night. Which meant it was sometime in the early AM. Maybe three or four. Sun would be up in a few hours. The recovering city would attempt to go back to work, hoping for some normalcy.

  But they weren’t going to get it.

  How can anything be normal again? Henry wondered. Gods and demigods were real. He’d killed people. A lot of people. And he’d blown his chance at becoming something…better.

  I guess that’s kind of normal for me.

  Sarah caught up to him again. “So it’s dark out. There are probably still cops everywhere. The good ones are looking to arrest us, and the bad ones will just bring us back to Memnon.”

  Henry waved her concern away. “You can stop them.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You and your spear. Sorry. Dory. And your big ass shield. You can probably lift a house by now, right? So…you can stop them.”

  “And then what?”

  Henry grimaced. She didn’t dismiss the idea that she could stop them alone. Of course, she could. Henry had been taken out of the fight with the two runts in a split second. Sure, he’d survived being stabbed in the heart. Awesome. He was strong. And fast. And could do some damage. But Sarah…

  He’d watched the way she dealt with the twins. While his body stitched itself together, she handled herself with the heart and mind of a warrior. She controlled herself. Struck with precision. And all the while protected her soul from the damage of killing children.

  Henry would have killed them both and lived to regret it.

  It was her all along. Always was. Why did Helen even bother to take me? Why did she tell me it could be me?

  Was she expecting me to attack Sarah?

  Does she still want me to?

  “Hey!” Sarah said, taking his arm again, this time stopping him and spinning him around. “Why are you being so salty?”

  He glanced down at her hand.

  She pulled it away. “Sorry. Did I hurt you? I’m still getting used to—”

  “Being a demigod?”

  “Yeah. I mean—”

  “Don’t rub it in.”

  Her eyes lingered on his, slowly relaxing. “Henry…”

  “You figured it out, too, huh?”

  “I don’t know. Neither of us knows how this works.”

  “She woke you up. Not me!” Henry started walking again. God help anyone who got in his way.

  “We don’t know if—”

  “You’re like a bazillion times stronger than me. You heal a lot faster. Move faster, too. You’re not afraid anymore, either.” Henry stalked a few more feet and then stopped. “Memnon is afraid of you. Not me. You. Ran like a little bitch. I just want answers now.”

  “Like why not you?” Sarah asked.

  “That’s one question, yeah.”

  “You don’t think I deserve it?” Sarah asked, growing angry.

  But Henry didn’t care. “You’ll do nothing with it. You had parents for ten years. You went to college. You have a filter that keeps your mouth shut and your hands from doing things before you have a chance to consider right from wrong. And what the hell did you do with your life? It was only slightly more impressive than my shitty life, and I have zero self-control!”

  “Then get some,” Sarah said. “You’re not incapable of growth. You’re not stupid. You can think things through. You can weigh the long-term pros and cons against the instant gratification that rules your damn life.”

  “I’m controlling myself right now,” Henry said. “If I wasn’t, this damn sword would be in your face.”

  Sarah stood tall, like she’d been slapped.

  All of her power shrank away. And then she stepped past him. Headed for the door.

  He watched her push through it, step into another red-lit hallway to who-knows-where, and disappear.

  He stood there, confounded.

  Why did I say that?

  Sarah had been good to him. In all his life, she’d been the best to him. She had defended him. Rescued him. Stood beside him even when he acted insane. And when he was with her, he felt different. Not really good or bad. He felt vulnerable. Because he cared. About her. His family. They didn’t have the same parents, but their parents had suffered together. At the hands of the same delusional, immortal asshole…who Sarah could stop. Who she could kill. For both of them.

  “God damnit… I didn’t mean it.” He faced the doors. Called out. “I didn’t mean it!”

  Henry’s pulse quickened as he ran for the doors.

  He felt strange.

  Uncomfortable.

  He’d only run twenty feet, but he was out of breath by the time he pushed through the doors into another empty hallway.

  Hands on his knees, he fought to catch a breath. Wondered if he was having a heart attack. He had been stabbed. And he wasn’t a demigod. Not a real one.

  He tried to call out, but his voice caught in his throat.

  She left me.

  Sarah’s gone.

  Then he heard her. Up ahead. There was an octagonal receptionist desk. He staggered toward it. Head spinning, he clung to the counter. “Sarah.”

  She turned to face him. Had a woman pinned to the wall. She was middle-aged. A school marm type. A bug up her ass, but currently afraid for her life.

  Sarah shifted from anger to worry when she saw Henry. “What happened? Are you okay? Is it the twins?”

  “I…I thought you left.” His breathing slowed. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

  “Looks like a panic attack,” the school marm said, and then she winced in fear when Henry glared at her.

  “Not possible.”

  Sarah watched him for a moment. His pulse slowed. Normalcy returned. Then she turned back to the school marm. “Why are you here?”

  “I watch the children,” she said. “Bring them to meetings. To training. They really are wonderful dears.” Her eyes flickered between Sarah and Henry. “Oh, you didn’t hurt them?”

  “Didn’t kill them,” Sarah said. “Hurt them…” She gave a shrug.

  “You know who we are?” Henry asked.

  She gave a nod.

  “She’s a Culus,” Sarah said.

  The woman furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry. What is a Culus?”

  “Never you mind,” Henry said, drawing his kopis. He stepped closer.

  The woman’s fearful response revealed she knew exactly who he was and what he might do.

  “Now answer her questions.”

  Sarah looked back. A slight smile on her face. “I only had time to establish her name, Margaret, by the way, and that she was in charge of the wonder twins.”

  Henry rolled his eyes. Lowered the kopis. “She was talking already?”

  “Totally.”

  “Fine. Go ahead.”