Changing the Future

Chapter 98

Dancing on the rooftop of a random building in Hell's Kitchen was a welcome change of pace after the night I'd had. The soundtrack to Barbie in the 12 Dancing Princess played through my headphones as I twirled around, tapping into the basic ballet lessons Aphrodite had forced me into years ago. I shut my eyes and spun as if I were Genevive, opening a portal to another dimension, purposefully ignoring the lingering muscle aches.

Finding and capturing a golem had become nearly impossible since learning of their true nature. Now that I wanted to find one, they'd seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet. Go figure.

I'd run into a cluster of manic spirits inhabiting a shipping warehouse by the docks. Seeing that the last golem I'd fought had been in that general area, I figured that as good a place as any to resume my search. A horde of insane, bloodthirsty spirits hadn't been on my radar.

Dispelling the spirits was more of a nuisance than anything – Stygian iron was the best way of sending them to the Underworld – but the sheer number left me with my fair share of bumps and bruises. I left the warehouse wondering what had drawn the manias there at all.

Rather than going back to camp, I shadow-traveled to the rooftop where I currently danced, needing a break from everything if only for a few moments more.

"This is my looking spot," said a voice I'd grown familiar with over the past couple of months. "Get your own."

I set both feet on the ground and opened my eyes. "Hello to you, too, street panda."

My headphones and music vanished with a flick of the wrist. I turned my full attention to the newcomer, giving her a brief once-over. Other than the usual dirt and grime clinging to her clothes, she appeared unharmed. I wicked away the oily film on her glasses; the cleansed lenses glistened underneath the lights.

"I hate it when you call me that," she griped, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I thought we agreed it was better than trash panda."

"Just call me a raccoon, then."

"Or you can give me your real name," I offered.

She shook her head. "Nope. Not happening. You're lucky I talk to you at all."

"You only talk to me for my cooking."

"I resent the accusation."

I laughed at the stubborn set of her jaw, the suspicion gleaming in her eyes. I'd known who this girl was from the moment I laid eyes on her. The pair of gold rings on either middle finger and bedazzled cat-like glasses further confirmed her identity. Not to mention Demeter's aura surrounded her like a thick blanket. It was in my best interest not to antagonize Meg, so I played along.

I produced a brown paper bag from my purse. It held leftover chicken fried rice I'd made in the Big House last night. I'd added an apple and a pack of Oreos, too.

I held out the bag only for Meg to immediately snatch it from my grasp. She tossed the lid of the rice's Tupperware to the ground and shoveled fried rice into her mouth like her life depended on it. She barely swallowed between bites, which would normally gross most people out, but left my heart aching for her.

When had she last had a filling meal? It had been two weeks since I'd seen her last. She could've returned to Nero's at any time to have a meal and grab a change of clothes, but I figured she liked to stay away from him for as long as possible.

Anger rose within me, a fire burning in my chest threatening to make its presence known. If not for the Fates, I'd have spared Meg the pain of her father's death by killing the mad emperor myself.