JULY, 2016

    THE FIVE GREENWOOD GIRLS were everything a mother could wish for: intelligent, beautiful, funny, loving. Josslyn, Valerie, Eloise, Clara, and Noelle were Melissa Greenwood's pride and joy and the darlings of the Manhattan socialite scene.

    They did everything together. Despite the fact that it was heavily rumored that they all had different fathers—Josslyn, with her blonde hair and blue eyes, Valerie, brunette and brown eyed, Eloise and her tan skin and black hair, and the twins, freckled redheads with green eyes—there was nothing that separated them, except for death.

    It had started with the nightmares. Valerie had been having them her entire life, so often that they were more normal than good dreams. But when Noelle, the youngest of the five, started having night terrors and climbing into the beds of her older sisters in the middle of the night, Valerie knew something was wrong.

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    Hair tickled Valerie's nose, and a warm, sweaty hand gripped her own like a vice.

    "Val." A shaky, terrified whisper.

    Valerie found Noelle staring at her when she opened her eyes, the littlest Greenwood staring up at her with tears streaming down her face.

    "Hey, lady." Valerie said, using the pads of her fingers to wipe away Noelle's tears. "What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"

    Noelle sniffled and took a gasping breath. "There was a scary man in my room. He was screaming. And Clara didn't hear him. She didn't hear me. And I was gonna get Mama, but she would tell me I'm just dreaming." She spoke in a single stream of words, barely pausing to breathe. "And you're always in my dreams when I'm scared. You protect me from the bad dreams. But you weren't there."

    Heart sinking, Valerie wrapped her arms around her sister. "I'm sorry, Noey. I should've been there. Do you want to talk about it?"

    "The man was mean. He was tall and his hair was white and he was scary." Noelle said, and she buried her head in Valerie's shoulder.

    "It's okay, you're okay." Valerie murmured. "Go back to sleep. I got you from here, ladybug. I'm right here."

    Her fingers traced along Noelle's forehead, brushing the fine red hair away from her temples, and her free hand pulled the blankets up to make sure her little sister was enveloped in warmth and comfort.

    "Will you sing me a song?"

    Noelle's voice was so quiet, so soft and sweet that Valerie felt her heart nearly crack in two. "Okay."

    Valerie hummed the opening notes to Speak Now by Taylor Swift, Noelle's favorite song, watching intently as the little girl's eyelids began to droop shut, and by the time she'd finished singing the song, Noelle was asleep, safe in the arms of Hypnos.

    Noelle's dreams tasted especially sour that night, like bile, or a rotten lemon. Bad dreams always tasted awful, sitting in the back of Valerie's throat and refusing to leave her mouth. She was so used to Noelle having good dreams, happy dreams that tasted like cotton candy and chocolate cake and ice cream.

    Gritting her teeth, Valerie slipped into her little sister's dreams, quickly and easily and painlessly.

    Unlike the candyland dreams Noelle always had up until recently, this dream was dark, with shadows that writhed and moved like the monsters that haunted demigods.

    The man that Noelle had been terrified of—the scary, tall man with white hair—was in the corner, hidden within the murky darkness. He wore a robe of inkly black fabric, so dark that it blended into the shadows behind him and around him.

    "Hello, my child."

    Valerie's anger towards Morpheus had never burned so bright and hot, not even after he'd branded her when she was just a child. "Father."

    Morpheus smiled widely, cruelly. "Your sister's dreams were so easy to manipulate. So unlike you, Valerie. It was refreshing."

    "She's eight." Valerie hissed, hands forming fists at her sides. "Leave her out of whatever it is that you're doing. If you wanted my attention, you have it. But leave my sister alone. Leave my sisters alone."

    The shadows spread throughout the room, enveloping her and wrapping her in a vice-like grip. "I've told you what you need to do, Valerie. Many times." Morpheus said, dark eyes glinting like onyx.

    Valerie shook her head so hard that her brown hair whipped against her face. "And I told you no. I won't help you. I won't help him. People are going to die. I don't want a part of that."

    She squeaked as the shadows grew tighter. Morpheus approached, taking long, measured steps towards her, and his eyes narrowed.

    "What have they done for you? When have they accepted you, welcomed you with open arms? They hate you." Morpheus hissed, so close to Valerie's face that his breath wafted over her. His breath smelled like the worst dreams, the nightmares that woke her in the middle of the night and drove her mad. "Why do you protect them? Do you seek their approval? They think you are a monster. Why not prove them right?"

    Her mind flashed to Alyssa—their last fight, how they had screamed at each other, how Valerie packed up and left without an apology to Alyssa or an explanation or even a goodbye. All over a boy.

    Alyssa was the most forgiving person Valerie had ever met. She'd forgiven her for every wrongdoing over the past eight years, never complaining, never holding a shred of contempt for anything. Valerie knew, if she came back to camp right this instant, Alyssa would forgive her, no questions asked.

    But if Valerie did what her father wanted her to do... there would be no forgiveness. She would never be welcomed home. Not by Alyssa, not by Travis, not by Chiron. She would not be able to forgive herself.

    "No," Valerie choked on the shadows, on her own conflict and confusion. She shoved the darkness from her shoulders and arms, from her entire body. "I won't do it. I won't put them to sleep. I won't let people die."

    Morpheus stepped back, eyes simmering. "I hope the consequences of your choice don't come back to bite you, daughter of mine. Sleep well."

    Valerie sat up straight in bed, chest heaving and pulse thundering in her throat. Noelle still slept next to her, and her red hair was fanned across the pillow as she snored.

    When she didn't stir, Valerie laid back down and tried to get her hands to stop shaking.

    She stared at the ceiling until the sun came up.

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    AUGUST 16, 2016

    "VAL, LET ME FIX YOUR HAIR."

    Valerie glanced up at Josslyn, her older sister's pregnant belly protruding from under her bridesmaid's dress. "My hair looks fine."

    Melissa Greenwood's third wedding took place in the middle of August, on one of the hottest days of the summer, and all five Greenwood girls sat in the penthouse of the Greenwood Hotel, drinking sparkling cider as they got ready for the wedding.

    Josslyn furrowed her brow. "I love you, and you're beautiful, but your hair needs work. Did you even brush it?" She asked, and she crossed the room to Valerie with a handful of hair pins.

    "Fine." Valerie muttered, and she allowed Josslyn to steer her to a chair and force her to sit down in it. "But don't yank. You always yank."

    Noelle and Clara had been ready for hours, and they did their best to undo all of the work that had been done as they ran around the penthouse, their red hair falling further out of their updos as each minute passed.

    Eloise, the middle child, tried to wrangle them, but she soon gave up and plopped onto the chair next to Valerie. "Joss, her hair looks fine. Sit down, okay? You shouldn't be on your feet this much." She said, and a smile crinkled at her dark eyes.

    Josslyn scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm fine. He's not due for another month and a half. But Val won't be fine if Mom sees her hair like this in the paper tomorrow."

    Melissa Greenwood was a socialite, heiress to a chain of hotels across the world. She was, for lack of a better word, filthy rich, as were her children and her choice of husbands. Husband number three was a tech genius, wealthy in his own regard. It was a given fact that the wedding would be heavily publicized, and it was more than likely that many media outlets would be in attendance. It was neccessary for all of her children to appear put-together.

    The doors to the penthouse opened then, and the wedding planner bustled in, eyes widening when she saw the girls. "Are you not ready? We need you downstairs in..." She paused to check her watch. "...five minutes ago. You all need to get in the elevator, now, and meet your mother in the bride's suite."

    Valerie and Eloise's eyes met, and they both stifled laughter as they steered the twins towards the elevator. The wedding planner had been a part of each of Melissa Greenwood's weddings, and each had ended in a messy divorce.

    "Oh, my darling girls." Melissa was trapped in a massive pile of tulle and lace, but the smile on her face when she saw her daughters was a mile wide, white teeth gleaming brightly. "Oh, you look so beautiful. I'm so glad you're all here today."

    Despite the fact that she had spent the past eight years living between Camp Half Blood and Manhattan, there was nothing Valerie loved more than her sisters and mother.

    She kept this thought in her mind and heart as she walked down the aisle ahead of her mother and sisters, staring straight ahead at the man her mother was going to marry. He was a good man, kind to Valerie and her sisters and especially to their mother. He would treat her well.

    Just as she reached the front of the aisle, the world came to a screeching halt. Time seemed to freeze, and she was forced to watch as everyone in the ballroom collapsed to the floor, some hitting the stone harder than others.

    And then there was the roaring, both in her head and coming from outside of the hotel. In her head, it was the blood rushing in her ears like vertigo, and outside, it was the howling of monsters, the number of which she couldn't count.

    Valerie rushed to the wide, floor-to-ceiling windows, nearly tripping over the bodies of the wedding guests. The busy Manhattan streets were unrecognizable.

    The cars that had been driving were stopped in the middle of the street, and bodies littered the sidewalk, some slumped on top of each other.

    "No," she whispered, brown eyes wide as saucers. "No, no, no, no."

    Monsters filled the spaces between cars and buildings, monsters she'd never seen before. And the sky—

    The sun had disappeared from sight.

    Valerie took off running, hiking her skirt up to avoid stumbling, and rushed to get up to her room, where she'd stashed eight years' worth of armor and weapons. The roaring outside grew louder, and the elevator shook as it climbed to the penthouse.

    Her armor was where she had put it, under the bed, and her sword, Nox, balanced precariously on her vanity, its bronze blade forged with the very essence of darkness.

    The bridesmaid's dress her mother had chosen—a beautiful gown of green gossamer—was not made to fight in. It was too tight in the torso, and the long skirt was a hazard. Josslyn had tied her into it, buttoned up the back. Without her sister, Valerie couldn't get out of it on her own.

    She found one of her daggers from under the mattress, sticking the point of it in the bodice of the dress and slicing clean through the gown. It ripped right off, and she hurried to rummage through her drawers to find fighting clothes.

    Once she was dressed, she strapped a small sheath around her thigh and clasped her belt scabbard to her waist. With Nox around her hips and half a dozen daggers fastened around her body, she made her way back to the ballroom.

    Her sisters slept side by side, curled around each other like they had when they were children and the twins were babies. It reminded Valerie so much of the sleepovers they'd had in the twins' nursery, building a bed out of blankets on the floor and using each other as pillows.

    With her heart in her throat, she left the ballroom and the hotel altogether, out into the streets filled with monsters and sleeping mortals, with her leather beaded camp necklace tight around her neck.

    She would defend the Greenwood Hotel, the Greenwood sisters slumbering inside. She would not let a single monster past her, even if it meant making her final stand here and now.

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Alyssa Winslow had never felt fear like this. It was all-consuming, bone-deep, running through her veins like the worst kind of drug. She'd seen too many of her friends fall that day, butchered by monsters and demigods alike. It was madness in the streets of Manhattan, and it was unrelenting.

    In the distance, she could see the gargoyled roof of the Greenwood Hotel, rising high in the sky. She hoped—prayed—that Valerie and her sisters had gotten out of the city in time.

    Alyssa had lost the group of demigods she had been running with hours ago, in a city that she did not know and had never been in before. She was lost, utterly and completely disoriented and misplaced in these streets.

    She was distracted.

    And then there was a knife at her throat, a dark voice behind her speaking.

    "Scream or move a muscle, and I'll slit your throat."

    She went completely still, barely breathing as she glanced down at the blade—celestial bronze. A demigod's weapon. Someone who had turned against Camp Half Blood and deferred to Kronos's side. A traitor.

    Valerie had trained her for moments like this, months ago, when the war was brewing on the horizon. They'd practiced hand-to-hand combat at dawn for weeks until Alyssa could hold her own against Valerie.

    Valerie, Valerie, Valerie. Her name was in Alyssa's mind like a prayer, their training sessions just out of her mental grasp. She couldn't remember what she had been taught.

    So she went limp. The blade dragged across her neck, slicing rather than carving, and she was able to duck out from under it. She made it two feet away when the enemy demigod kicked her feet out from under her, and she slammed into the concrete.

    She was on her back before she could scream, eyes going wide as the enemy demigod, a tall boy with icy blond hair and cold gray eyes, pressed the blade to her throat once more.

    "I told you not to move." He hissed, eyes narrowing.

    Those eyes. He was a child of Athena. Just like her.

    Alyssa Winslow was not one to beg. She didn't beg, or cry. She prided herself on that.

    Except today, in this moment, when she looked death in the face—death that wore the eyes of her mother—she began to beg. "Please. Please. Please."

    Her pleas did nothing. The boy's face didn't shift, but his hand did, bringing the blade closer to the thin cut that it had left a mere moment ago.

    She closed her eyes and prepared to die.

    Valerie, I'm sorry. Forgive me. Take care of April. Burn my shroud. I'm sorry.

    She wasn't surprised to feel blood splatter on her face. It was an expected part of dying by throat slitting. She was surprised, however, that she didn't feel a single shred of pain.

    When her eyes opened, she saw God.

    No—it was Valerie, covered in the sulfur of dead monsters and the blood of dead demigods. Her shirt was ripped in several places, and there was a bite taken out of her thigh, but she smiled, a mixture of glee and cruelty in her expression. A shadowy aura rippled around her, inky darkness that seemed to be a living thing, breathing when she breathed and moving when she moved. She yanked Nox out of the demigod's spine, sending drops of blood flying.

    "You're here." A broken sob left Alyssa's lips, and when she was hauled off of her feet, she threw herself at Valerie and wrapped her arms around her.

    Valerie didn't return the hug at first. "You called." She paused, then wound her free arm around Alyssa's waist. "I heard you, in my head. I've been hearing you all morning."

    Alyssa dabbed at the trickle of blood leaking down her collarbone. "Your sisters...?"

    The look on Valerie's face shifted. "I won't burn your shroud, because you're not dying today. But if you mention my sisters again, I'll kill you myself."

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SEPTEMBER

    NOELLE NEVER WOKE UP from Morpheus's curse. Josslyn, Eloise, Clara, and Melissa Greenwood rose when the Battle of Manhattan was finished, confused but awake and alive.

    But not Noelle. She never woke up from her slumber, and the dozens of doctors, healers, and prayers to Apollo left them with no answers. She never woke up, and she was declared brain dead a month after the battle had ended.

    Valerie was a shell of a person during the funeral, eyes trained on her hands that twisted in her lap. She sat between Eloise and Josslyn, still and quiet, no emotion on her face.

    It was her fault. Morpheus had used Noelle as a bargaining chip to get Valerie to do his bidding, and Valerie had refused.

    If she had agreed, her sister would be alive. Or maybe she would still be dead.

    Either way, the grief and guilt and shame would still surround her like a burial shroud.

    Something in Valerie had irreparably snapped in the middle of that synagogue, while a rabbi recited the funeral rites for her littlest sister. The line between good and evil had been crossed with no going back.