The screen shifted, showing the statue surrounded by embers and smoke. There were several people rushing around with fire extinguishers, but one woman had stopped to read something written on the wall closest to the bull.

Lore turned to ask Van if he could tap into a camera, only to find him one step ahead, passing a fresh mug of warm milk to Miles with one hand, and his laptop balanced, program searching, in the other.

Miles looked up in surprise, taking the mug from him.

“It’ll help,” Van said. His hand touched Miles’s shoulder, but he moved away quickly, before Miles seemed to notice the touch.

“I know it’s not a game,” Miles said. “I know that. But why would they do . . . this?”

Lore bit the inside of her mouth hard enough to taste blood.

Van’s fingers trailed over the trackpad, rewinding whatever footage he’d just seen.

“What?” Lore asked. “What is it?”

Van turned the screen around and pressed Play. The night-vision footage was grainy and shot from a high angle. Its green tint gave an eerie feeling to the scene below. Six hunters stood around the bull, their serpent masks partially obscured by the hoods of their black robes. One knelt to light the fire, which caught and flared quickly. Another stood near the wall closest to the bull, using a brush and a small bucket to paint words onto the pale surface. The crimson letters dripped, as if weeping.

BRING IT BACK

A message meant for only one person. Her.

“We need to take this monster out,” Lore heard herself say. “Now.”

“Wait a second,” Castor said. “That’s exactly what he’s hoping for—an emotional reaction. What does that message even mean?”

Athena looked to Lore, waiting.

Don’t do it, her mind whispered. Don’t tell them. . . .

But what choice did she have now? She had to tell them something—if not the truth, then a version of it they could believe. One that wouldn’t stoke Athena’s suspicions or put Lore in the position of doing something she swore she never would.

“The Reveler . . . he told me that Wrath is searching for me because he believes I have the aegis,” Lore said, her pulse thundering until her body nearly shook with the force of it. The static was growing in her ears again, but she pushed through it, trying to keep her voice as even as possible. “The Reveler’s job was to try to track me—and it—down.”

Van blinked. “And just to clarify—”

“I don’t have it,” Lore said firmly, avoiding Castor’s concerned gaze as it fell on her. “No one in my family has since the Kadmides purged our bloodline. The Reveler said it went missing at the end of the last hunt. My guess is that it was an inside job.”

“I see the logic in the false Ares’s assumption,” Athena said.

“I was ten years old during the last Agon,” Lore reminded her.

“He could think one of your parents took it,” Castor said, his brow creased with worry, “and that they told you where they had hidden it. Damn—no wonder he’s obsessed with finding you.”

“Good,” Lore said. “He’s more than welcome to find me. We’ll be waiting for him.”

“We need a different strategy,” Castor said, shaking his head. “One that doesn’t put you directly in the path of his blade.”

“Yes,” Miles said quickly, pointing to him. “That option, please.”

“What are you thinking?” Van asked.

“We need to find Artemis,” Castor said. “And convince her to ally with us.”

Athena scoffed at the idea.

Even though Lore knew the other reason why he wanted to find the goddess, she was still startled at the thought of searching for a being who so badly wanted to kill him.

“I can try searching again,” Van offered. “I haven’t spotted her since she left Thetis House. . . . Are you sure you actually want to find her, Cas? I can’t imagine she’s going to be a happy recruit.”

“I am well aware of the fact that she wants to rip my heart out and eat it,” Castor said. “She’s the best tracker in the hunt. Better than any computer program—no offense.”

Van waved his hand.

“If anyone can find Wrath and figure out whatever his bigger plans are without being detected, it’s her,” Castor said. “And, frankly, we could use more power to push back against him when the time comes.”

“If she doesn’t kill you first,” Lore reminded him.

“I agree. That is an absurd idea,” Athena insisted. “Set aside that distraction and focus your efforts on the matter at hand. We do not need Artemis to kill the imposter, nor do we need her help to find the aegis and the poem inscribed on it.”

Lore drew in a sharp breath, better understanding the goddess’s reluctance now.

“I didn’t bring up the aegis at all,” Castor told her, “or the poem. But it’s good to have confirmation you’d rather see your sister dead than risk her getting to them first. Are you really that scared there can only be one victor, daughter of Zeus?”

“Artemis will never consent to working alongside the slayer of Apollo,” Athena said, ignoring the bait in his words. “And as she wounded me to save herself, I feel no urge to come to her assistance. However, I concur that a new strategy is necessary to disrupt our enemy’s plans and his search for Melora.” She turned to Van. “Do you possess further knowledge of his holdings and property? Perhaps there are vulnerabilities there.”

“Of course I do,” Van said. “I have files on all the leaders and elders of the bloodlines. Believe it or not, I was once naïve enough to believe I could neutralize the bloodlines by releasing all of their shady dealings and having their assets seized and their leaders arrested.”

“Why didn’t you, then?” Lore asked.

“Because the Agon is a hydra,” Van said. “It doesn’t matter if I cut off the heads of the bloodlines. There are always more hunters to replace them, and even if I had exposed the Agon to the wider world, some of them would have still found a way to continue the hunt.”

It struck her then, in a way it hadn’t before, that all of them truly wanted the Agon to end—just for different reasons, and by different means.

“I get what you’re saying,” Castor said. “But is there anything that could be released to the press to draw unwanted attention onto Wrath? He might have some city and police officials in his pocket, but he can’t own all of them—”