There was a long pause as we all took the words in. I found my voice first.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

If this had, for a while, felt like a fun scavenger hunt, then the horrible reality of the situation was now closing in upon me. This was not going to be easy. It was not designed to be achievable. There was no guarantee of success. A sick feeling started to well up in my contracting stomach.

"For fuck's sake; is this like a task from a thousand years ago? Do gods not update their tasks to move with the times? How many queens does Zeus think there even are in the world anymore? Most royalty has gone the way of his precious dodo. And even if there were still queens around - which there certainly aren't in fucking Manhattan! - does he think those are the circles I move in? Do I seem like someone who takes tea with royalty every Thursday? What the hell? And even if I did have the acquaintance of some modern monarch; you really think they're going to give up their crown? For why? Why would they do that? I know these tasks are supposed to be difficult, but if they're going to be impossible then why even bother? Just kill us and get it over with."

The guys just listened to me rant with blank expressions on their faces. I wasn't sure if they were as pissed as I was, but were better at hiding it; if they had as little clue of how to proceed as I had; or if they were under an injunction not to help too much because this was humanity's deal and I was their representative. Which was starting to look like a pretty raw deal for humanity.

"I need to get some air." I stomped towards a door in the window wall that led out onto a balcony overlooking the city. If I jumped off, maybe they could get someone else to do this - someone with a brain - then maybe mankind would have a shot. I paced up and down the balcony, frustration building in me till I could barely breathe. I felt like I was suffocating, like all my troubles had coalesced into a physical pressure pressing down on my chest. My steps got faster and faster, the thoughts burning lightning paths across my brain, all negative, all useless.

What the fuck was I going to do?

I was so caught up that I didn't hear the sound of the balcony door or notice that Alexei had come out to join me until I walked into him.

"Are you alright?"

I glared at him.

"Fine. Stupid question. But I think you're being too hard on yourself."

"Too hard?" I barked a joyless laugh. "The whole damn world is relying on me and you think I'm being too hard on myself? Look at that." I pointed down at the city. "All those people going about their lives. They don't even know they're living under a death sentence and that the only person who can save them is a useless, brainless girl who's never done anything meaningful or worthwhile in her life. I can't do this!"

Alexei absorbed my rage with quiet good temper. "Feel better?"

"Not really."

He put a hand on my shoulder. "If you weren't capable of doing this, then your father wouldn't have picked you."

I scoffed. "He was a shit father and I guess he's just as bad a judge of character. What the hell does he even know about me?"

"He knows that you’re his daughter."

"And what's that worth?"

Alexei sighed. "I know that you don't want to hear it, that you don't want to be anything like him, but..."

"I'm not like him!" I wouldn't even let him finish the sentence. "I'm not a god. If he wants a queen's crown then he just has to snap his fingers and she'll give it to him. It's easy when you're a god."

"Maybe," Alexei acknowledged. "But as I have told you before, that's not how your father does things. He likes the game. He likes a challenge - to make things hard for himself. Maybe there's nothing at stake because, like you said, he's a god. But you get those skills from somewhere."

"Fat lot of good they do." I turned away from him to stare out across the city. "I can't grift a queen. I don't know any queens. They live in palaces in Europe, I'm a foster kid from Brooklyn. I'm nothing special. This shouldn't be on me."

Alexei shook his head. "I can't think of anyone better suited to it."

"How about someone who actually knows royalty?"

"Then what about the next task?" Alexei pointed out. "It could take you anywhere. The person who takes on these tasks has to be someone who will rise to every occasion, not just one. That's what makes you right for it. No matter the situation, you find a way in. That's what makes you good at what you do. That's your power. Use it. The world is counting on you."

"Thanks for the reminder," I said sourly. "For a moment there, you were pretty close to making me feel better."

"Just allow yourself to think," smiled Alexei.

That was good advice but following it was not easy. There were too many thoughts clamoring to be heard and too much hanging on all of them for me to think straight. I needed to clear my head somehow.

I straightened up. "Does this place have a gym?"

"What do you think?"

Minutes later, I was in my work-out gear and Alexei was showing me into Dolos's private gym. It was as spectacularly well-equipped as every other room in the apartment and looked to have never been used. I guess gods stay in shape pretty easily.

"I think better when I'm sweaty," I explained to Alexei.

"Anything I can do to help, just ask."

A thought struck me. "Anything?"

"Within reason."

"Wanna spar?"

I warmed up as Alexei got changed and then we climbed into the boxing ring.

"Don't go easy on me," I said, only half meaning it as I took in his impressively muscular body.

"I'd rather not hurt the potential savior of the Earth."

"You gotta catch me first. And I'm not going to go easy on you." I snapped an unexpected punch at his cheek, knocking him back.

I watched as he looked up at me, a grin on his face. "Okay. That's how it's going to be."

Although I had probably spent more time talking to Alexei than Nico or Christoph, in another way, I had never really talked to him. Alexei was the one in charge, the one who did all the thinking and who took the lead in all situations. Talking to Alexei was like talking to my father through a proxy, everything he said was business. We had never spoken as people, as I had with the other two. We weren't exactly talking now, but at least we were doing something that wasn't to do with the tasks, with saving the world, or with my damn father. We were communicating in a quite different way and, through the punches and kicks, the ducking and weaving, I felt I was getting to know him in a more personal way.

I had worked my way through every self-defense class in New York - or at least those in my price range. And the more offensive ones, too. I knew my kick-boxing from my Krav Maga, and my Jujutsu from my Muay Thai, and I had forged all these differing fighting styles together into a mixed martial art of my own concoction, which Remi had dubbed 'Cat-rate' - like karate; get it? I was a formidable adversary, and there were plenty of potential muggers, angry marks and other undesirables on the streets of New York who could testify to that. I knew how to throw a dude five times my size over my shoulder, letting his weight do the work. I knew how to dodge a punch that would have felled a horse, and how to go in low and dirty. Above all, I knew how to use my own diminutive size to my advantage. I was quick - by the time you kicked I'd already moved. I was light on my feet, dancing out of the way and wearing my opponents down. I could run and jump like hell, always attacking where I was least expected.

And today I needed every inch of skill. I didn't know what training Dolos gave his minions but Alexei was more than just a tower of muscle, he knew how to move and he knew how to fight. Obviously, he was stronger than me but I had the edge on him in speed and nimbleness. Usually in that situation I try to keep my distance and wear the other guy out whilst landing enough blows to keep the fight alive, until he's exhausted enough that I can take him down. But it swiftly became apparent that Alexei had stamina that could match mine - which was nice to know. It meant that I had to meet him, I had to take him on. With his reach so much greater than mine, I ended up using my feet a lot. As he swung a punch, I ducked to kick out his legs. He danced left, avoiding my sweep and then bringing his own leg down at me, forcing me to roll then bounce back up onto my toes ready to block the next punch.

As the fight went on, the punching and kicking gave way to more grappling. His strength was his advantage, but I could squirm my way out of his grip like an eel. My advantage may have been that I was not afraid of hurting him, and I played dirty – fortunately, he had had the foresight to wear a cup. Again and again we clashed close against each other, arms locked, legs trying to twist around the other’s. Sometimes he brought me to the mat and I twisted free, wriggling from beneath him. Others, I managed to bring him down, taking out his legs, but he would use his superior strength to get back on top.

I don't know how long we sparred. The sweat poured down us both but neither would give an inch. My muscles ached, my chest rose and fell like a bellows, my bruises had bruises, but my mind was active and alert, working faster than instinct. I went in low and hard, catching him off-guard, snaking my leg about his and sending him off-balance. But mid-air he fought back, twisting my lithe body so I hit the mat first, with him on top of me. I dug down with my feet, trying to get purchase enough to flip him off or wriggle out, but this time he had me pinned to the mat, his weight crushing me, his face inches from my own. I kicked and struggled, sweating and gasping, but he was as immovable as rock.

"Cat."

"What?"

"Where can we find a queen willing to sacrifice her crown?"

And the answer was just there.

I hadn't thought about it since we started sparring, there had been too much else on my mind; how not to get kicked, how to take Alexei down, and how amazingly good his ass looked in lycra. That was what I had needed - a bit of time off to free my mind up, to trick my brain into thinking laterally. That had been the problem. When I was thinking like the last hope of mankind, I could only think in a straight line; I must achieve this. But freed from that constraint, my brain went back to its default setting - thinking like a grifter. Sometimes you have to be able to think around the problem, rather than straight through it. For a grifter, it's all about seeing the angle.

I grinned. "Greenwich Village."