Herakles expression didn't change. Whatever was on his mind, his gaze was troubled.

"I'm sure she'll do well," I said.

"Yes. She will," he agreed. "I fear more for the things she will learn that she might not be prepared for."

"Such as ..."

"The truth."

Concern fluttered through me. Was it the kind of truth that would drive her away from our cause? Sensing he wasn't about to discuss it, and not knowing him well enough, I didn't ask. I had two people digging into his past for more information about him. Whatever they turned up would give me more insight. Until then, I wanted to keep him content here in the underground city.

"Are you comfortable here? Have everything you need?" I asked.

"Very. Thank you. I only worry for her. Her fate is out of my hands, and I can't yet fully accept that."

I didn't want to imagine what I'd feel if Tommy were at the mercy of the Triumvirate. But Alessandra was tough. She didn't strike me as someone to wallow if she was knocked on her a.s.s. "Let me know if you need anything," I said and started away.

"I would ask one favor," Herakles said.

"Sure."

"I'd like to be involved on some level with the operation you're planning."

I considered him. "It's a very delicate political situation, Herakles. I don't have to tell you this."

"You fear giving me too much knowledge or power."

"We've built this underground city in the shadows. Should Alessandra not choose to support our cause, I risk much by granting you access now only to have you side with someone else later."

"Fair enough. Training? You have a lot of green troops. I can help. It'll do me well to stay busy, too."

"I think that'll work," I said with a nod. "Report to Commander Zeuson. He'll know where to put you."

"And could I trouble you for information on Alessandra, whenever you have it."

"I'd be happy to share."

He smiled. "Thanks, Docia."

Sadness was in his eyes despite his calm manner and acceptance of his adopted daughter's absence. I started away, thoughts on how we were going to steal the missiles once I used Niko's computer to unlock the facility, and then paused.

Herakles' suffering bothered me. Perhaps it was because I, too, had a child I'd never want to see go through Alessandra's fate.

"Artemis has kept watch over her this long," I told him, turning. "I don't think she'll forsake Alessandra anytime soon, but I'll say an extra prayer for her this evening at the temple."

Herakles' crooked smile was warm. "Thank you."

Without responding, I strode off once more. I had enough to think about without allowing the sorrow of one man to weigh me down. Yet something about Herakles, and his love for Alessandra, made me want to pray harder than usual this all worked out the way we planned.

Chapter Thirteen: Alessandra.

Be still my heart; thou hast known worse than this.

Homer My hand shook as I gripped the doork.n.o.b to the pseudo-garage. With one last look at the man in agony behind me, I stepped through the door.

I was ready for the worst, for an abrupt, if not violent, re-acquaintance to whom I was.

Instead, I was in little Alessandra's bedroom once more. It was light outside, and a warm summer breeze swept through the bedroom and past the little girl seated in the center of her floor. The spectral figure was playing with Mrs. Nettles and several other dolls and toys she'd brought to life. Those that were alive had three ribbons while those that were inanimate had two. Alessandra had a thick rainbow of greens, from the most brilliant yellow-green to teal to the darkest green moss. The room swirled with ribbons whose purpose and power I didn't understand.

"Do you want to play?" she asked and looked up at me.

I shook my head. I wanted to leave.

"Well, you should!"

I've always been saucy. A smile slid free. Sensing no danger, I sat down near her. "What's going on?" I asked. "Why am I here?"

"You're remembering."

"I was afraid of that. Is everything true?" I looked around the room. It was feeling more like mine this time around to the point I knew she kept the sc.r.a.pbook about the oracle in the bottom drawer of her dresser.

"Yes."

"Even the part about Herakles and ... my ... parents?"

"Yes." Her eyes were sad. "He loves you still." The wisdom in her eyes was out of place for a six year old, and I gradually began to suspect she was ... an image. Like the rest of this place. A surreal delivery system to provide me with the truth I needed.

"I love him." The words were a tight whisper. I swallowed the knot in my throat. Thinking of him made me ache. "And Adonis ... how can he hate me now?"

"He doesn't remember who he is, but I've begun to remind him."

"You ... you're Mnemosyne?"

She nodded. "Too weak to appear to you in person. The Holy Wars tax us all. I was forced to use your mind, and your magic, to create all this." She waved around her before returning to the toys. She picked up Mrs. Nettles then deftly grasped the green ribbon. "This is yours. Only you have it. Not even the G.o.ds can use it."

I accepted it. It had no weight whatsoever and yet stuck in my hand. "What does it ... oh." Mrs. Nettles went still, became inanimate once more, as I leaned back. When I leaned forward, she returned to life. "So that's what I do? Bring toys to life?"

"You can do many things. Each has a purpose." She motioned to the other two ribbons. "You can change them." She manipulated the ribbons floating around Mrs. Nettles. The stuffed animal faded until she was a ghost then returned to normal and then ended up with her feet where her hands should be and her eyes on her b.u.t.t.

I can manipulate matter. I had never heard of anything so incredible. "This is what G.o.ds do, isn't it?"

Mnemosyne nodded and returned Mrs. Nettles to normal before bringing her back to life. "We control nature, time, s.p.a.ce, and so do you. Initially, G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses learn to create and destroy. You have to train yourself to do other things."

"Like what?"

"Premonitions. Teleportation. Telekinesis. There is no limitation to what you can do. You simply have to learn." She handed me Mrs. Nettles. "When you bring something to life, it's yours. You are bound to it. You must protect it. You can never harm one of your creations." These words were so solemn, I almost smiled at her cute, serious expression.

"I brought Adonis ... the grotesque ... to life," I mused. "He's not the same man I saw in the kitchen."

"You must help me remind him. I am too weak to do it myself."

I wasn't certain it mattered if I told the SISA chief who he was to me. He had changed too much. He didn't seem capable of compa.s.sion or empathy or even reason, and he worked for the Supreme Priest. Basically, he was everything I didn't need in my life right now, even if he could turn into a grotesque and fly at night.

"What else should I remember?" I asked, hushed. "More horrible stuff?"

"No."

"And the trials? Is that what this is?"

"No. You will need to know who you are before you start them. Mismatch remembers you; he doesn't know it yet. I asked him to bring you to me, and he did. If he didn't feel the connection between you, he would've denied me."

Ugh. I was already feeling unsettled, to say the least. I yearned to talk to Herakles, to ask him to tell me his version of events the night I fell from the sky. To understand how he could kill my parents then raise me as his own.

This kind of betrayal was too deep for me to feel anything but profound confusion. I didn't remember my parents, but that didn't mean I was able to brush off their deaths. He had hidden away his entire past from me, and I never bothered to ask him too much about it out of respect for the man I loved. Was this wrong? Should I have insisted instead of blindly trusted him?

"These trials ... what is the purpose?" I asked, puzzled.

"The G.o.ds created the trials to challenge you so you understood how to serve them. I fear men will choose trials to further their goals as well."

"I need to get this over with," I said. "I need to talk to Herakles."

"If you are ready." Mnemosyne pointed to another door I suspected didn't lead where I thought it should.

I had no idea what I should have been ready for. Mnemosyne went back to playing with her toys, and I stood. "Thank you." I went to the door and stared at it, stilling my emotions to handle whatever came next.

"I do know you can't kill him," she called after me.

"Kill who?"

"The opponent the Supreme Priest chose to face you."

So next is a battle. I faced the door. I could deal with a battle better than I could learning I knew even less about the world and those in it than I thought. "I'm not afraid. I can handle a battle."

Mnemosyne said nothing. With a deep breath, I opened the door ...

... and stepped into the courtyard on the SISA compound. It was empty aside from the ribbons that flowed around everything quiet and late afternoon with lights from the recessed corners of buildings illuminating the shaded area around me.

"s.h.i.t." Until I turned, I could a.s.sume I wasn't being matched up against the one man who could not only beat me, but who could do so very, very quickly, before I had a chance to convince him not to kill the person who brought him to life.

Grotesques lining the rooftop of a temple. I was on a cla.s.s tour of the temple when teen boys began to torment one of the stone monsters. I stopped them, tried to fix the creature and in doing so, brought it to life. The memories were trickling in. With a start, I realized I wasn't wearing the red cord. The world didn't quake, and I focused for a long moment on the ribbons. I could manipulate them, allegedly, yet had no idea what each color meant or how to maneuver them without making the entire world crash down around me. Mnemosyne's warning about being able to create or destroy out of the gate concerned me. How on earth had I as a six year old managed to learn to use this power safely?

I felt him near me. This time, the uncanny sensation was stronger. I hadn't yet recovered from the revelations or the trek through my mind to release my memories.

"The Supreme Priest has ordered your trial to be as such: you will face me in a battle here and now. If you fail to defeat me, you will swear a blood and life oath to serve him and obey him without question."

"Can we, uh, talk about this first?" I asked. Coldness pierced me. I drew a breath and faced Adonis. He was dressed in his black uniform, cool gaze on me, panther body tensed and ready for a fight. He carried two knives and appeared serious about using them.

Except, I wasn't seeing him as he was now but as he had been the weeping man bleeding out on the floor of my kitchen. He nearly died to save me, and he had murdered several government men to protect me.

What happened between the moment he fell from the sky and when he rediscovered me? Did any part of the man he had been remain?

You can't kill him.

Mnemosyne wasn't telling me I'd fail. She was warning me I physically could not destroy something I had brought to life.

"What if I win?" I asked as the silence drew out.

"Then you owe him nothing."

It was simple and smart. The Supreme Priest managed to cut out the other members of the Triumvirate up front. I imagined he intended to use my powers for the reason Adonis claimed earlier: to expand his influence and control over the world. If I were truly what Mnemosyne claimed, I could grant him this, and help him rule the G.o.ds as well.

"Quick question," I said, my heart starting to race. "Do you remember me?" It was lame.

"Choose your weapon." He pointed with the tip of one knife towards the windows of the second floor overlooking the courtyard. I watched his ribbons shift around him with each movement, fascinated by them. "The Supreme Priest is watching on behalf of the G.o.ds."

"Of course." I blew out a sigh. "Adonis, I don't "

"Weapon of choice."

I studied him. Some part of him had known me, but it was buried under years of him being a different man. I went reluctantly to the display of weapons on a table. My hands were shaking as I picked up one knife and tested its weight.

"You are not so eager for your trial," he observed.

"No, I'm not."

"You had some sense knocked into you since we last spoke this morning."

"Not sense. Knowledge." I set the knife down and picked up another. No part of me was involved in choosing a weapon. I was wishing instead that I'd never gone in to open my memories. Not that I wanted to kill Adonis or anyone, but knowing I couldn't, with his pain and effort to save me still fresh, with the confirmation that we truly were connected, I was worried. Terrified even. Because all that emotion meant I wasn't going to be able to pull the trigger if I had the chance. Not in self defense. Not out of anger for what he'd done to Herakles, the forest, my adopted family. Herakles had trained me to contain my emotions when it came to survival and I wasn't able to do that now that I knew the history between Adonis and me.

Seeing him for the first time in the backyard, when he came to visit the night after I'd woken him ... the fleecy softness of his wings ... his scent ... how he'd gently wrapped me in his wings ...

Oh, G.o.ds. That was where I first smelled him. It was why he was familiar to me even in the human form I never saw as a child.

How could I defeat him when I didn't think I'd have the heart to try?

There's another way to win. Help me remind him who he is. The voice of the G.o.ddess I'd just met was almost too soft to hear.

"You're stalling," he said.

Blinking, I shifted towards the next set of weapons, short swords. Images from the night he tried to save me, when he picked me up gently from the tree house and hovered off the ground, flew through my mind.