"WHY AREN'T YOU DRIVING?"

    Valerie glances up from the bag of weapons she's been triple-checking. "I never got my driver's license. I'm from New York."

    Travis leans against the side of the car, his shoulder and hip aligned with the tail light, as he looks at her. "You don't drive in New York?"

    She shakes her head and zips up the bag. "We don't. Or, at least, I don't. We have taxis, and the subway, and Uber." She slams the trunk closed before continuing: "I always meant to get my license eventually, but it just never happened."

    "I'll teach you how to drive."

    "Right now?" She asks, something resembling a smirk pulling at her lips. "I don't think that's a good idea. I'd crash."

    He laughs, spinning the key ring around his finger as he walks the small distance to the front of the car. "One of these days, I'll teach you."

    She shoves down the fluttery-stomach feeling and flops into the passenger seat, choosing not to respond.

    Her anxiety about the trip has been building for the past twelve hours, coming to an insurmountable peak as they get in the car to finally leave for Manhattan.

    Something about this hurts more than the last time she left Alyssa behind—last time, nearly two years ago now, she'd fled in the middle of the night, bringing nothing but her sword and a backpack with her. Alyssa hadn't known she'd left. No one had, until the sun rose the next morning and Valerie Greenwood was not in her bed, in the arena, or anywhere in between.

    The thought stings at her throat. What Alyssa had said the night before still lingers at the back of her mind, an open wound that continues to bleed. She knows Alyssa's words had been the bitter truth—that, no matter how far Alyssa's forgiveness is capable of stretching, how much she can condone and excuse, there is still a limit, and Valerie is nearing it more and more every day.

    In another life, this would not be a decision that she would have to make. In another life, she would have made all the right choices ten years ago, would have elected to favor the good she was raised with rather than the evil she was born with. She would not be widely hated by her peers.

    In another, better life, this trip would be Valerie bringing her boyfriend home to meet her family. It wouldn't be Valerie contemplating choosing between a place where she isn't accepted and a place where she is only accepted conditionally, when she pretends to be someone she isn't.

    "Hey, Sandman, you good?" Travis asks, eyes darting from the road to her face. "You got spacey there for a second."

    She knows he can see the bags under her eyes from one too many sleepless nights in a row. "I'm fine." She says, and the lie tastes bitter on her tongue.

    He knows. He always knows.

    Valerie leans forward and stabs at the buttons on the radio with her finger, flipping through radio channels until something heavy and metal plays through the speaker. She turns it up so loud that any chance for conversation is gone, and she rolls the window down to feel the warm, summery breeze.

    As much as she prefers autumn and winter for all their gloom and darkness, there's something about summer that she loves. Eloise was born on the first day of the season, and the twins were born in July. For the first long while she was at camp, Valerie spent her summers at home in Manhattan, celebrating her sisters and lounging next to the rooftop pool at the Greenwood.

    Surprisingly, excitement builds behind her ribs as the New York City skyline appears on the horizon. Travis, however, does not share the same excitement—his face grows pinched, his blue eyes glued to the skyline.

    She dares to prod at the cord tying their minds together, one mental hand reaching out to feel what he's thinking. She pulls back immediately.

    Travis is remembering the Battle of Manhattan, and she is able to see it through his eyes, feel his panic and fear and the bloodthirsty rage he felt during those days. She hears his name in her thoughts, an endless stream of prayers for her safety.

    He'd prayed, just as Alyssa had, that she was not in the city, that she'd gone somewhere other than her home when she had fled in the middle of the night. He'd prayed, over and over again, that she was not lying dead in the street, or being used by her father for some twisted scheme against the Olympians.

    He glances from the road in front of them to her face, and he sees her already looking at him, brows pulled together. He forces a smile. "So, what's the plan?' He asks, turning the radio down slightly so he can hear her response.

    Valerie picks at the chipped black polish on her nails. "I don't want to ruin my sister's birthday by showing up at her party and stealing her thunder. I figured we check into the room, then I go up to the penthouse, say hi, talk, have emotions, whatever." She snorts, a very un-Valerie-like sound, at her own words. "If you want, I could show you around the city after."

    His eyebrows raise, almost to his hairline. "You'd show me around?"

    "Well, yeah. The only time you've been to the city was during the battle, right? Kronos made my hometown look like a nightmare. I don't like people thinking my city isn't the greatest place in the world." She sounds defensive, as if others took in the view of a city in the middle of war and thought that was all it could ever be.

    Her words ease his nerves. "You were born here?"

    "Born and raised." She says, and her eyes drift to the horizon, lingering with a sort of malicious contempt on the Empire State Building peeking through the clouds. "I'll warn you now—I'm a different person when I'm here. Not around my family, but in the streets, at the party. I'll be different. The tabloids and my family's social circle think I'm a golden girl who does nothing wrong."

    "So you're saying you'll be nice."

    Valerie fights the urge to smile. "Pretty much."

    He grins as they cross the bridge into the city. "That'll be a nice change."

    Her heart beats erratically behind her ribcage, speeding up when the Greenwood Hotel's gargoyled roof is within sight. Her first home, where the heart and soul of her being resides. She wonders if her mother is home, or if Josslyn is in the city today. More than anything, however, she wonders if that fluttery-stomach feeling that has been present since she got in the car will stop being unbearable. She wonders whether or not it will stop escalating, growing from butterflies to a swarm of dragons.

    Somehow, after everything she has put him through, he trusts her enough to be away from the safety of Camp Half Blood and Chiron's watchful eye. He trusts her to not kill him or get him killed, and that is not something many others have done in her lifetime.

    "Park here," she instructs, pointing to the parking garage next to the Greenwood. "I know the guy that works in the office."

    Travis follows instructions, pulling into the entrance of the garage. He stops the car and allows her to lean across him to the driver's side window. She's so close to him that he can smell her shampoo, her perfume—something dark and spicy and warm, like aged bourbon and high-quality vanilla, spiced rum and cinnamon.

    "Hi, Mikey." She says, beaming widely. Her teeth are white and straight, not at all the wolfish grin that he's used to.

    The man working the booth—Mikey, apparently—returns her smile. "My favorite Greenwood Girl! How've you been, Miss Greenwood?"

    She shrugs and pushes some of her hair behind her ear, showing off the heavily pierced cartilage of her left ear. "I've been good, Mikey. All good. Anyway, any chance you can let me and my friend up without calling up to the penthouse first? I'm trying to surprise my family."

    "Sure thing, Miss G. Your friend can park up on two." Mikey hands Travis a slip of paper, numbers and letters printed on it. A parking pass. "Have a good day, and tell your mom I say hi."

    Valerie gives one more bright grin before they're pulling away from the booth, and her smile immediately drops. She sits back in her seat and almost radiates annoyance. "That's what I meant by different. Anywhere outside of the penthouse or our hotel room, I'll be acting like that."

    Her lack of malice towards the man makes Travis think of who they'd be in another life, if this was who Valerie was at all times. But then he realizes it wouldn't be Valerie without her spite, her fury, her coldness. He would not want her if she was not the way she is.

    Because Valerie Greenwood is to be loved because of her faults, or not at all.

    He parks on auto-pilot, nearly forgetting who they are or why they are there. He can feel her mental hand against his brainstem, probably more for her own reassurance than his.

    "You ready?"

    Travis nods. "Any last minute advice?" He asks, turning off the car and heading for the trunk.

    She ponders for a moment, and then that wicked, wretched smirk stretches her lips. "My older sister, Josslyn? Total control freak. She thinks I'm a feral animal, so as long as you don't play with weapons in front of her, she'll think you're okay. Eloise, my younger sister? Give her a throwing knife and she'll love you forever. She's more bloodthirsty than I am. My youngest sister is moody, I guess. I don't have any advice on how to win her over."

    Valerie hefts her bags, one full of weapons and one full of clothes, onto her shoulders and reaches for the two garment bags. The weapons bag is a large, military-grade duffel she'd stolen from the Ares cabin long ago, and it is long enough to hold full-sized swords and a fully equipped bow, while the bag full of clothes is small, almost a backpack.

    "Let's go."

|

    They go to their hotel room first, to drop off all of their belongings. Dolores, who had been working the front desk when Valerie made the reservation, is there again, and she gives Valerie a knowing smile as she hands over the metallic key cards.

    Valerie watches Travis like a hawk in the lobby and the elevator, searching his face for any sort of reaction.

    To his credit, he doesn't gawk or marvel at the luxury around them. He looks at it as if he's used to it, like he's been around it his whole life, just as she has. He doesn't mention any of the opulence as they take the elevator up fifty-six floors.

    The elevator is three walls of polished steel and one wall of glass, looking out over Central Park. The trees and people grow smaller the higher up they get, and the midday sun makes Manhattan look like a kingdom of sunlight reflecting off of windows. It's her city, and she loves it. There is nothing like Manhattan on a sunny day.

    She leads him to their room once they exit the elevator, and, with her hands full, she cannot manage to get the key card to align properly with the scanner.

    Travis is taking it from her hands before she can stop him, his fingers gentle as he pries the metal from her grip. He gets the door unlocked in under a second, and he holds it open for her to push into the room.

    "Oh, fuck." Valerie mutters, amber eyes dark as she looks at the hotel room.

    She distinctly remembers the reservation she'd made: two queen beds, high up, view of Central Park.

    She's staring at the single, king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

    Travis Stoll has always been a problem-starter, ever since he was a little boy, but the murderous look on her face makes him want to be a problem-solver right now. "It's fine, I'll go downstairs and ask for a different room. No big deal."

    She sighs and drops one of the bags, cringing at the clinking of metal banging against metal. "The hotel is fully booked for Eloise's party. I had to pull strings to get this room." She gnaws on her lip and runs a hand through her bronze-brown hair, taking a step forward. "It's whatever. I'll just take the couch."

    He does not argue with her, as a rule and especially right now. He will argue with her later, even if it means he claims the couch before she gets a chance to.

    "Go see your family. I'll go talk to the front desk, see what's up. I got this." He gives her a smile, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "Seriously, go. Spend time with your mom and your sisters."

    There is something so vulnerable about the way she looks at him then, like her heart and soul are wide open in front of him. "Will you come with?"

    Valerie Greenwood rarely asks things of anyone, whether it be Chiron or Winslow or Travis himself. He does not hesitate to say yes.

|

    She's shaking. The mortifying realization that she is shaking from head to toe hits her like a ton of bricks as the elevator climbs higher and higher, and terror grips her like a vice.

    What if they hate me? What if they tell me to leave? What if they moved and didn't tell me?

    She wants to turn around, go running back to the safety of camp with her tail between her legs. She desperately wants to be anywhere but here, even if it makes her a coward. Cowardice will feel infinitely better than this paralyzing fear.

    But before she gets a chance to ask Travis to override the elevator's mechanisms, to send them down instead of up, the elevator stops, the door opening to reveal the penthouse of the Greenwood Hotel.

    "Mom!" A voice hollers, and a short redhead comes around the corner. "Mom! Did you invite someone over? The elevator—"

    Clara Greenwood stops short when she sees Valerie in the elevator. The iPad she has been holding falls to the ground, and for a moment, neither Greenwood girl moves.

    Until Clara is racing towards Valerie, throwing herself into her older sister's arms. Clara's legs wrap around Valerie's torso, thin arms vicelike around her neck. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." She whispers, over and over again like a mantra.

    That anxious pit in Valerie's stomach disappears, replaced by something so warm and good that explodes in her chest, going off like fireworks. "Hi, firefly."

    Clara starts to cry, thick sobs wracking her small body. "You're here. Why—You're here. I can't believe you're here." She's clinging to Valerie, fingers digging into the thin cotton of Valerie's t-shirt.

    Valerie clings right back, so thankful that Clara bears no anger towards her. She inhales Clara's scent—clean linen and lavender, the same as it had been two years ago.

    It takes Clara five whole minutes to untangle herself from Valerie, and she wipes at her wet cheeks. "You came back."

    Valerie smiles so hard that her face hurts. "I did."

    "C, what was all that shouting? I just put Eli down for a nap." Josslyn Greenwood says in a hushed whisper, coming down the long hallway until she's right in front of Valerie. She looks her up and down, blue eyes icy. "The prodigal daughter returns, apparently."

    Valerie shrugs. "Hey, Joss." She looks back at Travis and gestures him forward. "This is my friend, Travis. Travis, these are two of my sisters, Clara and Josslyn."

    He surprises her by shaking their hands, giving them each a warm hello, it's nice to meet you. He doesn't freeze under Josslyn's glare or seem uncomfortable when Clara asks him a dozen questions in the span of a single minute. No, he is calm, cool and collected.

    She admires that. Alyssa had only met Valerie's sisters once, a few years ago, and the five Greenwood girls had been more than enough for Alyssa to be thankful that she only had April growing up.

    But now there are four Greenwood girls, and the fifth sister's absence is made all the more noticeable when Eloise comes into the foyer, a hesitant look on her tan face.

    "You came. You got my letter." Eloise breathes, and she looks so much like a scared animal, ready to bolt if anyone so much as breathes wrong.

    Valerie gives a mock-salute. "'Course I came. I wouldn't miss your birthday." She says, choosing not to mention how, up until two days ago, she was very much considering missing the party.

    Eloise fiddles with the necklace that hangs between her collarbones—a gift from Valerie for her bat mitzvah. "How long are you staying? Are you staying? And who the fuck is that?" She points one finger of her free hand at Travis, eyebrows raised.

    "Language." Valerie and Josslyn snap at the same time. They glance at each other with the slightest hints of smiles on their faces.

    "Two weeks. And he's a friend from camp." Valerie answers, and her barely-there smile falls when Eloise's head bows. "Where's Mom?"

    Josslyn gestures down the hallway. "In her office, on a call with the manager of the Greenwood in London. She said it'll be a few hours." She pulls her cell phone out of her back pocket, tapping at the screen a few times. "I'll make a reservation for that place you like in Harlem. Is your friend staying for dinner?"

    "He's staying for dinner. And, before you make that reservation, can I borrow your phone? I have to make a call."

|

    Valerie isn't quite sure how she's remembered the number for Camp Half Blood after all these years. It's been at least half a decade since the last time she called—for a reason she can't recall, probably something stupid.

    Somehow, though, she remembers the phone number. She taps it into the touch-screen of Josslyn's cell phone, the mortal technology unfamiliar to her, as she sits on the edge of the bathtub in one of the many bathrooms of the penthouse. Still, she manages, and she hears ringing when she holds the phone up to her ear as she sits on the edge of the bathtub, in one of the many bathrooms of the penthouse.

    "Delphi Strawberry Service, how can I help you?" Chiron's voice is slightly muffled through the call, but he sounds the same—gruff and clipped.

    She clears her throat. "Hey, it's Valerie. Can you put Alyssa on?" She says, knee bouncing with restless energy.

    There is a pause before Chiron speaks again. "I wasn't aware you left. Are you safe?"

    "Yes, I'm safe. You can punish me for leaving without permission later." She rushes through the words, knowing her older sister is outside the bathroom, probably leaning against the wall and tapping her foot on the marble floor. "Can you get Alyssa? I really need to talk to her."

    Chiron sighs, and for a moment Valerie expects a scolding. "I'll go fetch her. Give me a few minutes."

    She's nearly shocked, because Chiron tells her no, regardless of what the question is. "Alright."

    There's movement outside of the door, like someone is pacing in the hallway. Most likely Josslyn, waiting to see if this call would lead to another event like the one that occurred when Valerie was seventeen. She still holds it over her little sister's head to this day—the fact that she had to bail her out of jail at four in the morning.

    "Valerie?"

    Valerie sits up straight at the sound of Alyssa's voice. "Hey, Lyss."

    A door shuts on the other end of the call, probably Alyssa locking herself in Chiron's office. "Are you okay? Did something happen? Why are you calling?" She inhales, halfway between a gasp and a steadying breath. "If this is you saying goodbye for good, I'll kill you."

    "I'm not saying goodbye, I promise." Valerie says, standing from her perch on the edge of the bathtub and walking in circles around the large bathroom. "I'm calling to tell you I'll be back eventually, but I might stay longer than I expected. I...I missed my sisters. I don't know if two weeks will be enough with them."

    Alyssa sighs, and Valerie can picture her leaning against the desk in the office, holding the phone to her ear and fiddling with its cord. "So you're not leaving me alone with these idiots."

    "Not permanently, at least. I'll keep you updated with when I'll be back. It shouldn't be long, but there's something I need you to do for me." Valerie says, shifting her shoulders so her sweatshirt doesn't press against her shoulders.

    Another pause from Alyssa's end, for Valerie doesn't ask for favors. "What is it?"

    "I need you to train Winnie for me. Winnie Gilbert." Valerie lowers her voice, just in case someone is listening. "She's a daughter of Hecate, and a mimic. Super powerful, but she's untrained. Just help her get a hold on her powers."

    Alyssa's reaction is unclear, because all that she says is, "Alright. Anything else you need?" Her tone isn't angry or spiteful, but Valerie still tenses up.

    "No, that's it." Valerie says, still listening for footsteps outside the door. "Thank you. I'll try to keep in touch, but I'm using Josslyn's phone, so I don't know how often I'll be able to reach out."

    There's a peal of laughter from Alyssa. "That's fine, V. Have fun with your sisters. Fool around with Travis. Party hard." She says, humor lacing her voice.

    Valerie rolls her eyes. "Shut up. I'll talk to you later."

    "Love you. Bring me back a souvenier."