Lore

Lore’s lips parted. Even Athena looked mildly disconcerted at the thought.

“So, you tell me which information is more valuable to us now,” Miles said triumphantly.

Van stood, but Miles didn’t back down, not even to escape Van’s glare.

“This isn’t a game,” Van told him. “There’s nothing to win and no rules to protect you.”

“I know that,” Miles said. But Lore knew her friend, and she recognized the look of eagerness and accomplishment that buoyed his mood.

Van was right. Miles was liking this too much.

The side door opened again, this time with more force.

Castor, Lore thought, slipping past Athena.

He braced a hand against the wall and leaned forward, exhaustion crashing down over his face.

Lore went toward him, ducking down to try to meet his gaze. Aside from a cut across the sharp line of his left cheekbone, he seemed to be all right. The tension in his face eased as he saw her.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “What happened?”

Castor wiped the sweat off his face against his shoulder, but his shirt was already clinging to every line of his chest and arms. “It took me longer to lose them than I—”

He straightened suddenly, gripping her elbow. The slight movement jarred Lore’s shoulder, sending a fresh wave of pain shooting through it. Warm blood trickled down her front, and she swayed, suddenly light-headed.

Castor ripped open a nearby laundry bag waiting to be delivered and dug through it until he found a towel. “How did this happen?”

“Charged when I should have ducked,” Lore managed, trying to focus on his face.

“What— Oh no—” Miles began retching as he saw the bloodstained towel. “Is she—”

“Heal her, imposter,” Athena ordered.

“No,” Lore said, pulling back. “Iro first. Iro. She’s— She needs to wake up.”

“I’m not going to watch you stoically bleed to death,” Castor said, exasperated.

She pressed the towel to her shoulder, stepping farther out of his reach. “Iro first.”

Castor pushed past Athena and moved into the office. Lore didn’t join them there until the light of Castor’s power filtered out into the dark hallway. He worked quickly, nodding as Miles repeated what he had learned from the Kadmides informant.

“We need to get out of here as soon as possible,” Van said. “If Wrath and the Kadmides are still tracking us, they won’t be far behind.”

“We can take a second to catch our breaths and figure out our next move,” Lore said.

“Let’s start with what would have spooked the Reveler enough to break an alliance with Wrath,” Castor said. One of his hands gently cupped the back of Iro’s head, but the girl showed no signs of waking up, even as he healed her.

“The death of Hermes,” Van said.

Castor sighed. “That would do it.”

“Why?” Miles asked.

“They were lovers for decades,” Lore explained, leaning her good shoulder against the doorframe. “They lived it up in the years between the hunts, enjoying themselves at parties, traveling the globe, visiting old relics of the ancient world in museums. Supposedly they managed to steal a few of them back.” She glanced at Athena. “You said you hadn’t been able to feel Hermes’s presence these last few years—do you think it’s related?”

“Hermes would never agree to an alliance with the false Ares,” Athena said. “I find it more probable that the false Dionysus’s choice to do so created a rift between them and Hermes had to seek shelter away from his known hiding places.”

“Didn’t help him in the end,” Lore said. “Well, regardless of what happened between the two lovebirds, if Wrath is looking for the Reveler we need to find him first. I think we can rework our last plan and potentially get a do-over in setting a trap.”

“Indeed,” Athena said, having already thought of it. “The imposter Ares will not suffer him to live after his betrayal.”

“That’s only if he agrees to help us,” Van said.

“He does not need to be a willing participant,” Athena said. “He does not need to know we are there until the false Ares arrives and the trap is sprung.”

“We’re assuming that Wrath hasn’t caught on to what we’re trying to do,” Castor pointed out. “And that he won’t see this coming.”

“No . . .” Lore said slowly. “I don’t think he will. Not this. He may know we’re coming for him, but he has no idea that we know about the Reveler bailing on their alliance. Even Van hadn’t heard they were allied, and he apparently has sources everywhere.”

The Messenger looked displeased at being reminded of that fact.

“Okay,” Miles said. “But how are we supposed to find the Reveler first when Wrath most likely has hundreds of hunters out searching for him?”

Castor glanced back at Van, seeming to convey a question. Van said nothing, only shook his head in answer.

“What am I missing here?” Lore asked, looking between them. The towel was growing heavier, and so was her head. She had to lean her temple against the doorframe to stay vertical.

“Wouldn’t it be faster?” Castor asked him.

“It could take forever,” Van told him. “We’d be too late.”

He dragged the backpack over to Castor, retrieving the laptop from it. Rather than plugging it in or booting it up, he used a small screwdriver to remove its back panel.

Both Miles and Lore leaned forward, intrigued, as he removed a small silver gadget from beneath the battery. It plugged into the base of Castor’s last burner phone.

“This is a copy of the Kadmides’ tracking program,” Van explained, waiting for it to load. “The one they use to note sightings of the other bloodlines and the gods. I’ll see if they’ve posted anything about the Reveler, but I can’t stay logged in for too long without their Messenger or someone else noticing.”

“What else do you know of the false Dionysus?” Athena asked.

“Almost nothing,” Van said, “beyond what’s common knowledge. He ascended a little over a hundred years ago. He was known as Iason Herakliou in his mortal life, son of the archon, Iason the Elder. He killed his entire family once he ascended and destroyed all of their records to make it harder for the rest of us to hunt him.”