

Reborn

S.L. Stacy

Reborn

Published by S.L. Stacy at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 S.L. Stacy

All rights reserved.

Cover design by H.N. Sieverding

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For the Hello Kitty/Superhero family

Acknowledgements

Thanks to my earliest readers who read the first version of Reborn on my blog. Also thanks to the Pittsburgh Writers Meetup Group for their encouragement and helpful hints. A big thank you to my family, friends and everyone who liked my Facebook page. Your support means the world to me. Shout-outs to my beta readers and editors Heather, Heidi (also my book cover artist), Lynn and Leila.
Table of Contents

Part One: Resistance

Part Two: Surrender

Part Three: Withdrawal

Afterword

Other Books by S.L. Stacy

Sources

About the Author

About the Cover Artist

Part One

Resistance

"As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport."—William Shakespeare, King Lear
Chapter 1

Six years earlier...

"We are Laurel High!" Clap, clap, clap-clap-clap.

"We are Laurel High!" Clap, clap, clap-clap-clap.

"WE ARE—" I shouted it at the top of my lungs one last time as I braced myself on the shoulders of my two bases, placing my right foot into their waiting hands. We bounced, and I felt like I was flying as they popped me straight into a full extension. At five feet two inches, I was the smallest flyer on the squad, so they thrust me into the air with relative ease.

"LAUREL HIGH!" My arms hit a perfect high "V" as I screamed the last word.

I beamed at the restless, lively crowd crammed into the bleachers. Above the thunderous rumble of voices I picked out an occasional "Go Ravens!" Sometimes I even caught a "Get 'em goddammit!" from an overzealous football dad. Nestled in the rolling hills of western Pennsylvania, my hometown ran on Jesus and football, and back then I lived for Friday nights: The adrenaline, the streak of black and silver jerseys up and down the field, the roll of drums and whistle of wind instruments from the marching band.

"One! Two! Three!" My spotter and best friend Anna Wallace had to shout above the blare of the buzzer signaling half-time to guide my dismount. Together she and the bases cradled me and popped me back onto my feet. The score was seven to three, Ravens. We cleared the field to take a break while the band assembled to perform.

Anna elbowed me as I was taking a swig from my water bottle and pointed at an inky black patch of sky away from the field.

"Look! A shooting star!" she exclaimed. The stadium lights washed out most of the sky, but sure enough I could pick out the bright pinprick of light streaking across it.

"Make a wish," I told her. Even as I said it, a wish of my own drifted into my mind:

I wish I knew where I belonged.

Now where did that come from?

Seconds later, the thought vanished along with the shooting star.

Anna tucked a lock of brown hair behind her ear. "There's another one!"

This one was followed by yet another falling star—then another, and another. Anna and I watched the meteor shower with awe. I looked around, but no other heads were titled up to the sky. Their attention was on the visiting team's band, which marched through formations playing "Eye of the Tiger." And with the blinding stadium lights, they couldn't have seen it even if they wanted to.

Just as quickly as it started, the meteor shower subsided as one last shooting star faded into the night. The sky was still again. Anna and I joined a few of the other squad members on the bench to watch the rest of the marching band performances. I forgot all about the strange light show we just witnessed except for a lingering feeling something extraordinary was about to happen.

The feeling stayed with me through the rest of the game. It poked at the back of my mind even as we watched the Ravens score the winning touchdown. In the ensuing excitement I managed to push it back, but it sprang up again in the car ride over to the post-game bonfire. Even the boys' tipsy, out-of-tune rendition of Queen's "We are the Champions" wasn't enough to drown out my festering restlessness. I watched the celebration from afar as Anna and I sipped beers and chatted quietly at the fringes of the party.

"Let's go Ray-vens!" a falsetto voice erupted from behind me. Anna's brother Jimmy jumped in between us, facing me, the tassels of his band uniform swaying as he clapped his hands and shook his hips. "Let's go Ray-vens!"

"You're an ass," I told him, but I giggled as I said it. His answer was a shriek from his trumpet that sounded like a dying elephant. He danced past us, but something stopped him as he approached the edge of the property.

"Hey, look at that!" He pointed into the woods.

Anna joined him and peered into the thick, dark trees. "I don't see anything, Jim."

"No, look! Something's glowing!" He turned and gave me a lopsided grin. "Let's go see what it is, kids!" He swung his arm in a sideways punch as if it were the 1950s and something was really swell.

"Ugh, come on, Jim," Anna groaned. "Just stay here. Dad's picking us up soon, anyway."

I came up on Jimmy's other side, the distant flicker of a white flame catching my eye. "I see it." I didn't know what it was, but there was something mesmerizing about it. I took an involuntarily step forward and looked over at Jimmy.

"Let's go." I smiled. Jimmy grinned back, his eyes alight with mischief. Anna sighed, and I sensed a frustrated inner eye roll.

"Fine." She looked back at our drunken peers. "No one's even going to notice we're gone. If something happens to us—"

"If we realize it's too far, we'll turn around," Jimmy assured her. Sometimes it was hard for me to believe that cautious Anna and impulsive Jimmy were even related, let alone twins.

We crept into the woods, our feet crunching over fallen twigs and leaves. Even though it was late and dark, I wasn't afraid—maybe because I was with Anna and Jimmy, or maybe that one beer I drank instilled me with false confidence. The white glow really wasn't as far away as it seemed from the yard, and it grew steadily larger and more luminous. A cool autumn breeze caressed my face, bringing a blend of sweet scents to my nose, like someone was burning a honey vanilla candle.

"It's a fire," Jimmy whispered. We stopped a few yards away from it. But it wasn't like any fire I'd ever seen—it was yellow-white and lapped at the ground without burning it. It stayed inside an almost perfect circle a few feet wide, only the curling tendrils of sweet-smelling smoke escaping it.

"You came."

All of us went completely still at the sound of the weak, hoarse voice. I looked wildly around but didn't see anything.

"You saw my signal, and you came to help me."

Then, I saw him, sprawled against a maple tree beyond the strange fire.

I looked away quickly, my face flushing in embarrassment. I got enough of a glimpse to realize he was mostly naked, muscles rippling down his marble-white chest and abdomen before disappearing underneath a black loin-cloth.

"Siobhan."

My head snapped up again when he whispered my name. This time I couldn't look away, my eyes drinking him in. Even in as vulnerable a position as he was, his presence permeated the forest, seeping into every crevice of every tree trunk, saturating every pore in the dirt floor. And he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Tousled dark hair brushed his shoulders framing high cheekbones and a sensuous mouth. A pair of magnificent, black feathered wings protruded from his back, crushed against the unforgiving ground. He reminded me of a fallen angel, but if angels existed, I didn't think they had his kind of sinister, carnal magnetism. But what shocked me the most wasn't his perfect body, his handsome face or even the wings.

He was the man from my dreams.

"Siobhan." This time it was Anna saying my name as she fearfully watched me tiptoe around the fire to go to him.

His thick eyelashes fluttered open, and underneath his eyes were a deep blue whirlpool sucking me in even further. His lips moved, but I couldn't hear him, so I leaned down closer.

"Psyche. You came back to me."

What was Psyche? And what did he mean, "You came back to me?" With the exception of my dreams, I'd never met him before in my life.

I didn't pull away or snap at him. In his final moments of life, he was feverish and confused. "I don't know you," I reminded him gently, "but I will help you if I can."

His eyes pleaded with me as he raised his hand into the air, palm facing me. In a trance-like state I extended my own and brushed my palm and fingers against his, which were warm and slick with sweat. I almost jerked away, but I took a deep breath and maintained the contact, all the while staring into the dark pools of his eyes.

"Siobhan, you're it." At least I thought that was what he said—his voice was so small and weak.

"Let's go back to the house." Anna's insistent voice was shrill with anxiety. She pulled on my arm while Jimmy pried this strange man's hand away from mine. Jimmy didn't let go of my hand immediately, instead clasping it firmly in his.

"Anna's right," he said, although I barely heard him as a flood of nausea suddenly seized me, waves of it coursing through my stomach and back.

Wait—my back?

I slipped my fingers out of Jimmy's and brought both hands to my stomach.

"What's wrong?" Anna asked and took a step toward me, but I staggered away from her. I didn't know what was happening to me. All I knew was the urgency crashing down on me. I had to get away from them before it happened.

"Wait! Siobhan!"

Their panicked voices followed me as I took off deeper into the woods. Frenzied footsteps picked up behind me, but a burst of adrenaline pushed me forward so I outran them even in my delirious state. I made it to the muddy bank of a stream before tossing the orange sports drink I'd drained at the game all over the matted grass.

I felt better after throwing up, my stomach settling, but the unfamiliar rolling underneath my jacket persisted. Bone and muscle liquefied as two jagged edges knifed through my skin. I tore my jacket off to the sound of splitting seams as they exploded out of my back, leaving the vest of my cheerleading uniform in strips of sweaty polyester.

Panting, hands still at my stomach, I sat unmoving for a few beats to calm myself. Once the hammer of my heart in my chest dwindled to a patter and my breathing steadied, I crawled to the bank and looked through bleary eyes at my reflection in the roiling dark silver surface on the creek. My violet eyes glanced at my face, white with shock, and the blonde hair sticking to my cheeks and neck before coming to rest on the butterfly-like wings looming behind me, shimmering midnight blue and indigo in the dark.

"Siobhan!"

I lifted my eyes at the sound of Jimmy and Anna calling my name—closer this time. Just as quickly as they emerged, I felt my back reabsorb the wings. I shrugged on my jacket and turned around to see my friends stumble into view.

"There you are!" Anna rushed over to me, helping me to my feet and brushing off my jacket. "What happened to you?"

"I—I got sick. What about that angel guy?" I asked quickly to change the subject.

"What about him?"

"You guys just left him back there?"

"We were worried about you." Jimmy's tone reminded me this should be obvious.

"But he was hurt! We need to get help," I insisted.

Anna looked like she wasn't so sure about that, but all she said was, "She's right." I stalked ahead of them back the way we came, Anna and Jimmy trailing along reluctantly behind me.

"It was here, wasn't it? He was here."

I stopped at the tree where I knew he lay minutes earlier, but now there were only rough, old tree roots jutting out of the forest floor. Kneeling, I desperately searched the ground, feeling around with my hands, but there wasn't even a dent in the black earth or a scrap of cloth to tell us he had been there at all. His signal fire had been snuffed out, too, but no ash, smoke nor stench of burning lingered behind. I got to my feet and faced Jimmy and Anna expectantly, but both sets of hazel eyes darted around the woods in confusion.

Anna shook herself as if coming out of a dream. "It must be really late. We should get back." She and her brother turned to go, but my feet remained glued to the ground.

"But where did he go? We need to get help!" I shouted after them, this time jogging to catch up with them.

Jimmy ran a hand through his longish hair and rubbed the back of his neck. "We need some sleep. And possibly some antipsychotics."

"I think we must have had more to drink than we thought," Anna added. "That's why you threw up."

I opened my mouth to speak, but only a strangled croak came out at first. No, I wanted to scream, I threw up because a pair of butterfly wings tore through my back—wings that angel guy gave me somehow. Like the wings nudging my back, I got a similar stabbing feeling when I realized my own friends probably wouldn't want to hear it—would probably tell me I was just too tired or drunk or something.

So instead of protesting, I mumbled, "Oh. Right," and followed Anna and Jimmy out of the woods, looking back over my shoulder the entire time.
Chapter 2

Present day

I shudder awake to a blaring alarm clock. I squirm, tangled up in forest green sheets, and squint against the sunlight streaming through the open blinds. I don't remember where I am. Then, I feel Max nuzzle my neck, running his hand underneath my red tank top so he can massage my breast.

"Morning," he murmurs in my ear, his voice still husky with sleep. His facial hair tickles my face. I try to bat him away.

"What time is it?" I groan, still shielding my eyes from the sun. "I have class at ten."

"Eight," Max tells me. His hand travels to my back, the pressure of his fingers making slow, gentle circles over my shoulder blades. "We have plenty of time."

"Not now, Max. I just woke up from a bad dream."

His fingers pause. "About what?"

About what happened at the bonfire six years ago. "I don't remember," I tell him.

"Poor Tink," he murmurs just as he's lifting my shirt up and bringing his lips to my breast. "This will make you feel better."

"M-Max," I stammer, but the protest is weak, the caress of his tongue against my nipple dissolving the lingering image of the man from my dream—the man from the woods—burned onto my retina. Max's fingers resume their delicately firm massage. I moan in objection when his lips leave my breast, but Max captures my mouth in a long, deep kiss. I hope my morning breath isn't too bad.

I half sit up so that Max can pull my shirt up over my head. He's slept shirtless in just his blue plaid boxers. I press my hand against the hardness underneath, and he groans.

"Roll over onto your stomach," he growls. I obey. Max brushes my straight blonde hair aside and kisses the nape of my neck. The hands kneading into my back have already told me what's coming, but now he follows them with a trail of kisses down my spine. It's this part I both loathe and crave. I totally mesmerize him, and that turns me on. But I know why he's told me to lay on my stomach.

"Are you turned on, Tink?" I feel his warm breath on my ear. "Do you want me?"

God, I hate that nickname, but I still have to whisper, "Yes." I'm on fire down below, and I can feel my wings stirring, ready to erupt through my back. I'm kind of like the Incredible Hulk—only instead of turning into a big, ugly green monster when I'm angry, my wings awaken in response to many strong emotions—rage, desperation, humiliation. Arousal. Thin and translucent, with splashes of midnight blue and dark purple that fade to black at the tips, they're more like a butterfly's wings than Tinker Bell's. I've had them ever since our encounter with the mysterious winged man who has haunted my dreams since I was a child.

Max makes room so that they can freely unfurl from my back. He lightly touches the soft tip of one with his fingers. Do I find his obsession with them flattering or demeaning? He enters me from behind just as this question pops into my head and douses my fever. Because I'm not sure what the answer is. It may be a little of both.

I hadn't intended to resume casual sex with Max this semester. We met last year at a Halloween party and bonded over our obsession with the paranormal. When he told me about the psychic women in his family, I thought I had finally found someone who would be accepting of my secret. I'm still not sure I really believe in psychics, but then again, who believes in humans that have wings? We barely gave ourselves time to shed our costumes completely when I gave my virginity to Max in this very dorm room. Sure enough, he eagerly accepted my wings. At first his fondness for them exhilarated me. It had been a long time since I let my walls down around anyone—especially after what happened with Jimmy—but around Max a few bricks came loose. Eventually I realized Max and I didn't click beyond sex, and I couldn't compete with my wings for his affection.

Most girls would have bawled their eyes out over a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream if their friends-with-benefits didn't call or text them all summer, but I just felt like a weight had been lifted. Either from anticipation or panic, I'm pretty sure my heart stopped beating for a moment when I saw Max's text last night asking me to come over. I should have said no.

I'm so absorbed in my thoughts I give a start that isn't an orgasm when Max cries out in ecstasy ten minutes later, his final thrusts deep and forceful. He eases out of me, and we sprawl in his bed for a few minutes, both sweaty and breathing heavily, before I crawl over him and search for my clothes.

"I don't want to move," he sighs as he watches me dress. My wings have retracted, so I easily slip on my bra and tank top.

"Maxwell Johnson," I admonish, hands on hips, "do not cut your first class of the semester." I hope my playfulness conceals the irritation and restlessness lurking underneath. "It'll set a bad precedent."

He laughs and reluctantly sits up. He's still naked. He has broad swimmer's shoulders and a fit body. With his twinkling blue eyes, careless brown hair and the splash of freckles over his nose and cheeks, he's attractive in a boy-next-door but unremarkable way.

Max catches my eye as I'm studying him. "Siobhan, I really like spending time with you. I care about you. You know that, right?"

I think he wants to believe he cares about me. He wants to believe that this is more than fucking. I just nod, stroke one of his cheeks with my hand and plant a chaste kiss on the other.

"I know. I'm going to be late. Later, Max," I say as I disappear into the dormitory hall.

Seven minutes later I'm climbing the driveway winding up to the Greek Quadrangle. An emerald, manicured lawn hugs the incline on either side of it, and at the top sit nine fraternity and sorority houses. Each is a red brick building with a flat slate roof and concrete patio. The Gamma Lambda Phi house is the first one on the right. Sunlight glints off our patron goddess Nike's milky white wings and tumbling red hair in the stained glass portrait in the window. She holds a green laurel wreath in one hand and a bronze chalice carved with the Greek letters ΓΛΦ in the other. Our alumni donated it to the house the year I joined, but we almost had to take it down because it looked too religious. In the end, the university let us keep it because Nike's dove-like wings are a part of the mythology: She flew over battlefields, crowning war heroes with laurel wreaths and rewarding them with eternal fame and glory. Next door to us is Alpha Rho, our on-again, off-again nemesis, and across from us is the Sigma Iota fraternity.

I cross our yard, planning to sneak through the back door, and nearly collide with the neon green blur coming out of it.

"Little! Weren't those the same clothes you were wearing last night?" My big sister's amber colored eyes assess me with mock disbelief. Her lime green spandex capris and tank top flash under the mid-morning sun as she jogs in place. A matching sweatband sweeps her auburn hair away from her freckled face. She holds the door open for me.

I smile brightly even though I want to roll my eyes at her. "Come on, Victoria. You know I was just with Max," I chirp as I slip past her. "Going for a run?"

She nods. "Want me to wait for you?"

"Thanks, but I have class."

"Okie dokie." A breeze whips by me when Victoria takes off. "Remember, we have a board meeting later. Five thirty. My room!" she tosses back over her shoulder.

"Yes, Madam President!" I call out behind her.

Thankfully, the downstairs is empty, and the house is quiet. I don't think I'll have to explain my whereabouts again.

On the second floor, I swipe my card key to get into my room. I peek inside, but my roommate isn't here. I strip down with my door still slightly ajar, wrap myself in a white towel and head back out to the bathroom. I shower quickly, wetting but not shampooing my hair. When I get out, it droops around my face in damp, dark blonde tangles. I tug a comb through it, studying myself in the mirror above the sink as I do so. Two large eyes stare back at me. They consume most of my face, and along with my wide pink mouth, sometimes I feel like a frog. My driver's license says my eyes are blue, but they're actually a deep violet. Without eye makeup, I look too ghostly, so I swipe on some mascara and eyeliner.

A half hour later, I'm out the door again, this time wearing a clean pair of skinny jeans and a dark purple t-shirt with paisley Gamma Lambda Phi letters. The panicked click of the small heels of my black sandals against the sidewalk echoes my urgency to get to class on time. I bring my schedule up on my phone to see what building and room my first class is in. "World Myths and Legends" is a red square spanning from ten to eleven a.m. on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It's in room B10 of Frasier Hall, the humanities building.

I race into the classroom with only one minute to spare. I find an end seat in the back next to some guy I don't know.

"Hi!" I exclaim, giving him a friendly smile and holding out my hand. "I'm Siobhan." He looks at me blankly, as if he's never shaken a hand before, and grunts something that sounds like it could be "John" or "Josh" before turning back to the front of the room. Dropping my hand, I also twist in my seat to face the front. I guess I can cross him off my list of potential study buddies.

I had a class in this room last year—it's one of the larger lecture halls that seats one hundred and fifty students, and about one hundred of those seats are taken, mostly by young women. Even though it's a morning class, it's a popular elective to fulfill history credits. This is all probably because of the reputation of the charismatic man looming behind the podium: Dr. Eric Mars. He's over six feet tall and looks like someone peeled him off a page of a Sexy Lumberjacks calendar rather than a history professor. He has a full head of charcoal black hair and a slick mustache and goatee. The sleeves of his maroon dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows to reveal two thick forearms. The podium just might break in two from the pressure of his massive hands gripping it on either side.

"Happy Monday," Dr. Mars says. His wide, friendly smile reveals a set of large, perfectly straight pearly whites. The room quiets down instantly. Many of my classmates, including a few of the guys, are perched on the edges of their seats, their jaws hitting the floor, their eyes fixed on our professor with sloppy admiration. "I'm Dr. Eric Mars, but please feel free to call me Eric. Welcome to 'World Myths and Legends.' I hope you've all read my email and have brought a copy of the syllabus with you..."

I forgot to print one out, so I bring it up on my phone and zoom in. He continues to talk through typical first-day-of-class stuff—expectations, text books, course materials, homework, exams, grades. I only half-listen. Not even this larger-than-life man can distract me from this morning's confusing reunion with Max. Our relationship—if I can even call it that—fizzled out with distance and the summer sun. I should have left the charred, lifeless remains alone. Now I'm going to have to break things off with him in person.

"Unfortunately, the teaching assistant for this course is bad news," I hear Dr. Mars saying and glance up from my phone back to the front of the room. "He's a huge slacker. You'll be lucky if he even shows up for office hours." He smiles at someone sitting in the front row as if sharing an inside joke and gives a rich, hearty laugh. "He knows I'm just kidding. You are actually very lucky to have Mr. Jasper Hart as your TA for this course. Mr. Hart is a third-year PhD student in the history department, and a very bright young man..."

Dr. Mars is saying something else about the perfect Mr. Jasper Hart, but now I've completely tuned him out. Our teaching assistant stands to face us and nods his head politely. My heart has leaped into my throat. I can't breathe. I really...can't...breathe. A flood of terror overwhelms me, and I won't recover unless I run out of this room. No, unless I jump out of my own skin. It can't be. He was dying. It can't be.

Jasper Hart is the man from the woods.
Chapter 3

My shoulder blades are itching, my sudden rush of panic awakening my wings. God no. Not here. I scoot to the edge of my seat, prepared to get up and race out of the room. I squeeze my eyes shut as though that will stop them. Please no.

When I open my eyes again, Jasper Hart has taken his seat. I think I can see the back of his head out of the corner of my eye, but I look steadily ahead at Dr. Mars. My heart rate slows, I catch my breath and as my body relaxes the feeling that my wings are about to spring from my back goes away. I spend the next half hour trying not to think about Jasper Hart instead of listening to Dr. Mars introduce the course. Since it's the first class, he assigns some reading and lets us out early. I'm the first one out of my seat, and I take the back exit.

My next class isn't until one, so I flee to the library where I can grab a bagel and coffee at the café and rearrange my thoughts. Confusion over the identity of Jasper Hart pushes my uncertainties about Max to the back of my mind.

It had to be him, right? Now that I'm out of that room, I'm not sure. Maybe it was just some other guy with shoulder-length dark hair, chiseled cheekbones and a marble-white complexion. I didn't get a good look at his eyes—the man in the woods had intense, midnight blue eyes, so dark they were almost black. And of course there's the obvious absence of broad, black feathered wings.

Even if it is truly him, why did I react the way I did? It's not so outlandish that he could be at the same school where I'm working on my bachelor's degree, is it? Thurston University is a relatively small, private school only about an hour away from where I grew up—an hour from where we found him.

Then again, how is it possible I dreamed of him before I ever met him? How did he give me this freakish..."ability," and why? What is he? Because whatever he is, Jasper Hart, World Myths and Legends teaching assistant, isn't human—if he's really the same person.

There is one person you could ask. The realization pops unexpectedly into my mind. Anna. Although we haven't talked in six years, we both ended up at Thurston. She could confirm his identity, although there's also a chance she'll pretend to have no idea what I'm talking about. For Anna and Jimmy, that night was like a really bad dream. For me, it had been a very real nightmare.

Before I can give myself more reasons to chicken out, I take another confidence-boosting sip of coffee and bring up her name on my phone. Even though she's probably gone through several phones these past years, I'm pretty sure she kept the same number. I hope she did.

Anna? It's Siobhan, I text her.

I put my phone back on the table and, after a few minutes of staring at it, I cram another piece of bagel into my mouth. Suddenly, my phone vibrates, and I eagerly tap the screen.

Yeah. Hi. That's all it says, but at least she answered me.

Really need to talk to u. Can u meet for coffee later?

When she doesn't answer for at least ten minutes, I add: It's about DA. I hope she remembers DA—Dark Angel, what we called him in the weeks following the encounter. Jimmy suggested it—apparently he's some comic book character. It's also the name of a short-lived science fiction series starring Jessica Alba. I may not know my comic books, but I definitely know my sci-fi TV shows. I never liked the nickname, even though it suited him. To me, angels represent goodness, purity of heart and soul. They're beings of light and wouldn't give off the waves of raw sensuality I'd felt emanating from him. I think I saw him. Think he's alive.

My phone buzzes a few seconds later. OK. Does 7 work? Starbucks on Hickory?

See u then, I reply. I sigh—class from one to five, executive board meeting at five thirty, coffee with Anna at seven. This is turning out to be a busier first day than I thought. I finish my bagel and take my coffee with me to a computer so I can print out the World Myths syllabus and reading and some materials for my other Monday classes.

***

"Where's Liz?" Victoria wonders impatiently. My big sister sits cross-legged on her black desk chair, hunched over her phone. Although she's since exchanged her workout clothes for a pair of jeans and a simple white t-shirt, the neon green sweatband still slicks her hair out of her face, and errant auburn strands struggle to break free. "She's ten minutes late. Can someone call her?" There's a neat stack of board meeting agendas on her lap, which she passes to where her roommate Carly is sprawled on her bed. The rest of the board members and I are more-or-less sitting in a circle around the bedroom.

"Already tried," Carly says. She stretches to accept the handouts, her black t-shirt bunching up around her waist, which wrinkles Billy Idol's silk screen face. Above her is a giant movie poster for The Breakfast Club. Carly wants it to be the eighties even though she was born in nineteen ninety two. Behind the flood of caramel-colored curls cascading down her shoulders and swaying in her face, her baby blue eyes dart from Victoria to the spiral-bound notebook resting on her knees as she jots something down. "She didn't pick up. I'll text her, too."

"Thanks." Victoria's forehead wrinkles as her amber eyes, large and shrewd like an owl's, contemplate Carly's shiny pink notebook. "Is that for taking minutes?"

"No, I'm making a grocery list."

Victoria rolls her eyes, and Carly sticks her tongue out at her.

"Well, let's get started without her so we can get out of here," Victoria continues. She goes around the room, asking us our plans for our position for the academic year. I scribble a few notes while the other board members are talking to get my thoughts straight. I haven't taken any time this afternoon to think about what I would give for my report.

"Little, do you have a recruitment report?"

I jump at the nickname, thinking Victoria is talking to me. Then I realize she also said "recruitment," but my roommate has already picked up on my confusion.

"She's talking to me, Twin!" Tanya explains, giving me a reassuring look. She's already changed out of her first-day-of-class outfit into a pair of pajama shorts and a low-cut tank top. Tanya and I have been roommates since freshman year. She had always wanted to join Gamma Lambda Phi while I hadn't been sure I wanted to join any sorority at all, but she dragged me to sign up for rush our freshman year. Now not only are we still roommates, but we have the same big sister, so in sorority lingo we're "twins." The endearment is especially fitting for us. Like me, she's a petite blonde, except she's about one inch taller than me, tanner than me, and several cup sizes larger than me. I don't really think about my boobs that much, but sometimes I get a fleeting pang of jealousy that we're practically the same size everywhere else except that area.

"Rush is at the end of September and will be here before you know it," Tanya reminds us. "Don't expect to get any sleep that weekend—or do anything else, for that matter. You will eat, breathe and crap Gamma Lambda Phi. But at the end," she adds, holding up a slim, tan finger, "we will get to welcome lots of fledglings into our bonds of sisterhood!"

I join the others in a round of encouraging snaps. Above the scattered pops of our fingers someone gives a gagging cough. Tanya wrinkles her nose in Carly's direction before continuing.

"I'm having a meeting with my committee tomorrow at seven, but if anyone wants to come and sit in I would certainly welcome the help." Her voice rises anxiously at the end.

"Fantastic," Victoria says, making a note of this in her planner. "Thanks, Tanya. Other Little—social report?"

"We have a very busy first couple of weeks of school. First is our mixer with the Sigma Chis coming up this weekend." My reminder is met with toothy smiles, squeals of excitement and another flurry of snaps. "And the weekend after that is our annual 'Find Your Sister a Mister' blind date dance at the Riverfront Bar and Grill. We have their dining room booked from seven to eleven that Friday. Carly is my co-chair for the event, and she'll be helping me with purchasing decorations and other logistical issues." I look over at Carly, and her caramel curls bob in agreement. "It would be nice if we had a committee to help us, though," I add to Victoria.

"That's fine. You can make the announcement at Chapter on Sunday. I expect all of you to attend the mixer Saturday night," Victoria says, sweeping her uncapped ballpoint pen around the room. "Okay, that's it for today, ladies."

I look at my phone. It's six thirty. If I start walking now, I'll still be a few minutes early for my next meeting with Anna.

"I'm headed back out," I tell Tanya. Her bronze face hovers in the doorway to our room. "I'll probably be back around nine."

"Where ya off to, Twin?" she wants to know. "Off to see Maxwell again?"

"Nope. I'm meeting a friend from high school for coffee."

"Cool! Have fun!" she tells me before disappearing back into our room. I scamper the rest of the way down the stairs and go out through the back door to avoid the throng of sisters gathered around our television watching a rerun of the Kardashians.

The air outside is a little cooler than it was this afternoon, but it's not late enough in September to feel that crisp autumn chill I crave. Campus is still bustling with people going to evening classes or to dinner. Our pale brick academic buildings and residence halls cluster a few miles outside of downtown Shadesburg. Shadesburg is a mid-sized city that's really more like a decoupage of neighborhoods crisscrossed by old railroad tracks and rivers. Thirty years ago steel mills and coal-fired power plants belched toxins into the air and shrouded Shadesburg in a black veil of soot. The mills eventually closed, but expansion of the medical industry, banking, academia and sports revived the local economy. The air is cleaner now, too—or at least it looks cleaner. Our pocket of Shadesburg has a laid back, suburban atmosphere, but unlike Laurel, there's a lot to do and explore beyond the campus limits. It's the best of two worlds.

As I approach Starbucks, I see a slender, tan figure already sitting at one of the round umbrella tables outside. She's looking down at her phone, which makes her long, dark brown hair fall in front of her face, but I know it has to be Anna.

"Anna? Is that you?" I'm relieved that my innately cheerful voice doesn't betray my apprehension. Anna looks up. She's wearing black leggings that stop just below the knee and a long turquoise-and-white plaid shirt cinched at her waist with a belt. I'm standing there smiling like I'm on crack, but she maintains a frown, her hazel eyes assessing me coolly.

"I'm missing rehearsal because of this," she tells me, her tone dripping with animosity. "This'd better be good."

"It is! I promise," I reply quickly. "But first, coffee," I add, starting for the door.

"Right," Anna says and gets up to follow me. I've forgotten, at about five foot nine, how much taller she is than me. She looks slim in her leggings, and her skin has a slight bronze glow without looking artificially tan.

Inside, I order a tall coffee—decaffeinated, because otherwise I'll be wired all night. Anna orders a chai tea latte with skim milk. I take a moment to dump half and half and sugar into mine. We go back outside to sit down.

"So...how are you?" I ask as she's taking a sip of her tea. More like: How have you been for the past six years? We barely even see each other let alone speak. As a music education major, she's usually holed up in the fine arts building, while I'm trapped in one of the undergraduate biology labs plating E. coli. She has voice lessons and auditions; I have my sorority. Sometimes I forget we're even at the same school. And after what I did to Jimmy, I'm relieved she's willing to speak to me even six years later.

Anna shrugs. "Things are good. I'm getting through the program pretty quickly. I might be able to graduate a semester early, or fit in a master's degree." Another tentative sip. "What about you?"

"Pretty good. I like the Biology department, most days." I laugh when I add this part at the end, but her face remains serious, so I stop. "I'm social chair for Gamma Lambda Phi now, so I get to plan our mixers and dances and stuff. It's fun."

She nods. "Cool. So, about DA?"

So much for catching up. I sigh and fold my hands on the table since I've been fiddling with the tassel of my purse in my lap. "I think he's my World Myths and Legends teaching assistant."

Anna looks like she's about to spit out a mouthful of tea. "What?" she manages to choke out after swallowing.

I tell her about the first World Myths class this morning and describe Jasper Hart to her, every detail I can recall before I shut my eyes to try to calm myself down. Of course, I leave out the part about my wings wanting to burst out of my back in response to that intense sweep of panic.

"He reminded me so much of Dark Angel," I conclude. "I'm like, eighty five percent sure it's him. I'm just not entirely sure because..."

"Because you'd rather it not be him," Anna finishes for me. "Because that would be creepy."

I nod eagerly. "Please, Anna." I take a deep breath before going on. "I know you have every reason to hate me—and I know you don't have any good reason to help me. I just...I don't know why, but this is really bothering me. No, that's an understatement." I should stop talking, but suddenly everything is pouring out of me. Anna watches me intently. "When I saw him, I was so scared I wanted to run out of the room. Anna, I—"

Anna holds up her hand to cut me off. "It's fine, Siobhan. Really. I can understand why you're scared. That whole thing at the bonfire was just...weird." She shuts her eyes and shakes her head as if that will erase the memory. "We don't know why he was there or who he is. What he is," she corrects herself.

"The next class is Wednesday morning, ten to eleven," I tell her. "I was thinking you could meet me there and sit in, even if you just stayed for a few minutes. It's a huge class—no one will know you aren't enrolled."

Anna shakes her head. "That's when my seminar class is. Does he have office hours?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow night, actually," I recall, surprised that my distracted brain had absorbed any part of Dr. Mars's lecture. "Seven o'clock, I think, at the library café."

"I can go then," Anna says. "You don't have to if it's going to be too much for you. I can text you what I think."

"I'll meet you there," I insist. "If it is him and he's going to be my TA, I have to get over this at some point—"

We both jump when her phone starts buzzing on the table. She picks it up and taps the screen.

"It's a text from Jimmy," she mutters, then glances up as if she's anticipating some big reaction from me. It's usually painful for me to think about Jimmy—it causes a desperate ache inside of me that awakens my wings—but I remind myself to relax because I'm not alone.

"How is he?" I ask her, keeping my voice steady.

"Jimmy's...Jimmy," Anna sighs. "He's trying to make it with his band and bartending on the side."

"That's great!" I exclaim. Anna raises her eyebrows doubtfully. "He plays, like, every instrument that was ever invented, and he has that beautiful baritone voice. He's still following his passion. I think that's incredible." As soon as the words fly out of my mouth, I wish I could swallow them back up. I hope I didn't offend Anna since she chose the more practical road rather than the life of the struggling performer.

But Anna just shrugs. "I don't know about that. They do okay in the city, but I don't think it's going anywhere big. I keep telling him he should have something to fall back on. He's a smart guy—he should go to college, get a degree and grow up. But he's so damn stubborn." She's texting him back while she rants. I can't help but wonder if she's telling him she's with me. "His band literally consumes him. I feel bad for any girl he dates. He never puts anyone before his band, except maybe Mom. Sometimes me.

"Anyway, it's almost eight thirty," she announces. "I need to get going. You live at the sorority house, right? Do you want a ride back?"

"Um, sure, if it's not too much out of your way." I run my fingers through my hair to get the strays out of my face and slip my purse over my shoulder. "Where do you live?"

"In an off-campus house with Jimmy and two of his bandmates."

"That's cozy," I reply even though I'm grimacing.

"Nope, the expression on your face just about covers it," Anna says, and for the first time tonight she's laughing and giving me a genuine smile, looking more like the Anna I used to know—Anna, my best friend. "It's a decent place, though, and the rent is cheaper than anything on campus, although Jimmy and I usually end up paying most of it." She takes her car keys out of her purse, and we stand and make our way to a banana yellow pickup truck.

Minutes later, we're idling in front of the sorority house.

"Thanks for the ride," I tell her. I hop out of the car and shut the door.

"Siobhan!" I hear her calling out to me as the passenger's side window slides down. "It was... nice seeing you today."

I hesitate for an instant, her words catching me off guard. I decide on a simple, "You, too. See you tomorrow."

"See you!" The car window rolls back up, and she peels away from the curb. I look up to see a tall, lanky girl approaching the house from the direction of campus. She has skin the color of coffee and cream, and tightly woven cornrows crisscross her scalp and ripple down her shoulders like black ropes.

"Liz. Hey, Liz!" I yell when she doesn't look up right away.

She starts and finally looks my way. "Oh. Hey, Siobhan!" Her voice is cheerful, but her expression is strange. Her almond-shaped brown eyes are slightly glazed over.

"Everything okay? Hey, you missed our board meeting!" I remember suddenly. "We tried to text you. Where were you?"

"Oh, shoot!" She smacks her forehead with the palm of her hand. "I went to office hours after my last class to get to know the professor. It totally slipped my mind." We're at the door to the house now, and I take my card key out of my pocket and swipe it through the lock. "Victoria's going to kill me!" she adds with a groan.

I'm about to reassure her, but then I shrug. "Probably."

"So how was your day?" she asks me.

Weird, I want to say. "Not bad."

"Cool, cool. God, I'm so hungry. I haven't eaten dinner yet," she says almost to herself as she heads into the kitchen.

When I go upstairs, Tanya's not in our room. I ease the door shut and change into some pajamas. The practice problems we're supposed to do before lab tomorrow take me longer than I thought they would. My head hits the pillow at midnight.
Chapter 4

"My love."

I feel his warm breath on my ear as he encircles his arms around me. I tilt my head back to accept a long, luxurious kiss from him. Like snow clinging to shaggy evergreens, his broad wings form a feathery white curtain around us. His hands slide up my waist to cup my breasts. I moan against his mouth and curl my fingers into his dark hair. They come up wet, and my lips hesitate as I pull back and open my eyes. Scarlet liquid pools on the pads of my fingers. I look up in confusion...

...and blanch at the sight of his beautiful white wings, which are now black as night and dripping blood onto the pale gold sheets.

"What's wrong?" he asks me, puzzled. I open my mouth in a silent scream...

I awake with a jolt, sitting up, my heart pounding so loudly in my chest I wonder if it could wake Tanya up. But when I look over, I see a peacefully rising and falling lump under her hot pink bedspread, a fan of platinum blonde hair splayed on the pillow. Grayish light peaks between the lacey yellow curtains on the window above her bed.

I look at my phone. It's only six o'clock. Lab isn't until one, so I could sleep in, but I'll probably just return to my nightmare. Is every night's sleep destined to be a mixture of erotic bliss and anguish now that I know he's here?

Tiptoeing out of bed, I throw on black spandex shorts and a purple nylon shirt. A cool, serene gray morning greets me outside—perfect for a morning run. The fresh, crisp air washing over my skin erases the dream's residue, a trail of slime in the back of my mind. I return to the sorority house sweaty but invigorated, ready to face the day and tonight's mission. I'm going to get up early and go for a run every morning. I know that this is never going to happen—as the semester gets busier, they will turn into sporadic, whenever-I-can-fit-them-in jogs—but it's a nice thought.

I shower and change again into my least favorite pair of jeans and a t-shirt I wouldn't mind sacrificing for the sake of science. To my surprise, the day flies by, and at five I realize that I haven't thought about Jasper Hart all day. I only remember when I get a text from Anna:

Are we still on for 7?

Yes! I quickly text back, sighing at the reminder of our mission. Fingers crossed, after this evening I will know whether Jasper Hart and Dark Angel are one-and-the-same, and whether or not I'll be able to survive having him as my TA without breaking down at every lecture. Will he recognize us?

I place a frozen eggplant parmesan in the microwave downstairs for dinner. While it's warming up, I change yet again, this time into my form-fitting khaki dress and dusty purple flats.

"Going out?" Victoria's pulling a box of pasta out of the cupboard as I walk back into the kitchen. I pause while the microwave gives one, prolonged strident beep before replying.

"Not really, just office hours for my history class."

"Already? How over-achiever of you."

I shrug, but someone stomping into the kitchen saves me from having to elaborate. Anything more would be a lie—and I don't want to lie to my big sister. Tanya jerks open the fridge in a huff, takes out a bottle of diet Pepsi and slams it shut.

"You okay?" I ask, at the same time popping open the microwave door. Inside my eggplant parmesan is ready for me, all sizzling and gooey. I pinch the hot sides of the tray with my fingers, quickly remove it and set it on the counter to cool off.

"No." She twists the cap of the bottle, and it opens with a hiss. "I was late meeting up to pass out fliers for rush and got a lecture from that bitch on Panhel."

"Which one?" I ask her, ignoring Victoria's reprimanding glare. Panhellenic Council is the governing body that oversees all of the sororities on campus.

"Samantha Carson. She's an Alpha Rho. Of course. She lectured me about punctuality and the value of other people's time. Like I'm in freaking elementary school. I could just...strangle that stupid dyke!" Tanya's squeezing her bottle so hard I'm waiting for pop to go shooting out of it. In her fit of rage she doesn't see Victoria roll her eyes. The look our big sister gives me seems to say, And you wonder why I haven't told her?

"I was five minutes late. God." Tanya keeps muttering to herself on the way out the door.

"Maybe you need a lecture on how to stop being such a whiny brat," Victoria says under her breath, which makes me burst out laughing through a mouthful of sticky eggplant.

My heart is already hammering in my chest on the walk over to the library, but I take periodic deep breaths to keep my twitchy wings at bay. Anna waits for me outside the entrance. She's wearing skinny jeans and another plaid blouse. A pair of gigantic black-framed glasses perch on her nose.

"I didn't know you needed glasses," I say. It's another change, albeit a small one—just another thing I don't know about the new Anna.

"I don't. I just think they look cool," she admits. "Are you ready for this?"

No.

"Let's go." I step into the revolving door.

We bypass the first floor computer lab and enter the café. There's a long line of students waiting to place pastry, coffee and Red Bull orders. Many of the round red and orange tables have been claimed. Against the back wall three tables are pushed together to seat a group of ten. As we creep closer, we read the tent sign that has been placed on the center table: History 201 World Myths and Legends.

"That's him, isn't it?" Anna whispers to me, although we're still far enough away that no one would hear her anyway. "The guy with the longish hair whose back is turned? It seems like it could be him, but I need to see his face. We're going to have to join them."

I nod reluctantly and shadow her purposeful stride up to the group, which I now see consists mostly of girls dressed for date night rather than office hours. There's also a sprinkling of hipsters, the dominant stereotype in the school of humanities. A few people notice our approach and nod or wave in our direction, which prompts Jasper to stop talking and turn around.

My heart jackhammers in my chest.

"Welcome, ladies," he says, gesturing to two empty seats on the side opposite him. "We were just discussing the structure of the course."

No sign of recognition crosses his face. My heart rate slows to a quieter but still insistent knock. I don't look over at Anna because I'm afraid my face will give everything away, but now that I'm so close to him I know for sure it's him. He's wearing a suit without a tie; instead, the first few buttons of his white shirt are undone, giving him an air of carefree elegance.

"You may introduce yourselves if you like," he continues. "You know—name, major, hometown."

Hometown? I wish I had been there for his answer.

"Anna Wallace." Anna gives a little wave. "I'm a junior music education major, and I'm from Laurel, which is about an hour outside of the city."

"Welcome, Anna," Jasper says, and then his dark eyes turn to me. Yes, those are the same eyes that penetrated right into my soul that night in the woods. But he looks at me like I'm just another student.

"Hi. Siobhan Elliot. I'm a junior biology major. And I'm also from Laurel." It comes out bubbly, not anxious. Maybe this won't be so bad.

"And welcome, Siobhan. So, what was I saying before?" Jasper asks to no one in particular. "Ah, yes. So, we're covering Sumerian mythology first. Throughout the course we'll be learning about these stories and legends in the context of the beliefs held during that time period, the customs practiced, conflicts, ways of life etcetera..."

I can feel my phone vibrating in the depths of my purse. I take it out in what I hope is an inconspicuous way and glance down at the screen.

It's def. him, Anna's texted me. I give a slight nod while keeping my attention on the conversation.

"We'll also be doing some interpretation and analyses of specific stories, which the English majors in the class might enjoy." He smiles at the girl sitting to my right. The gold ring in her lower lip flashes as she gapes at him, her returning stare brimming with disbelief, like Ryan Gosling has just asked her for her phone number. Anna and I seem to be the only girls there not following his every move with eager eyes or hanging on his every word. He is an incredibly attractive man, but just like I sensed in the woods six years ago, there's something sinister about him. His smile is just about as charming as a wolf's.

"As Dr. Mars explained in class, you'll be asked to write three papers throughout the course, each focusing on a different civilization and myth of your choice."

There are a few nods and murmurs of acknowledgment around the table. "What's your favorite ancient culture, Jasper?" Lip Ring finally manages to ask, rather breathlessly. "What's your favorite myth?"

"I enjoy Greek mythology the most," Jasper replies. "My favorite is the story of Eros and Psyche."

"Why's that?" the only guy who showed up to office hours asks. He's on the end and cranes his head around the girl sitting next to him so Jasper sees him. The disdainful glance he gives the rest of the table suggests he actually came for the extra help, not the eye candy. "It's just a stupid love story."

"Just because it has elements of romance doesn't make it 'stupid,'" Jasper counters smoothly. "I think that the love stories of the gods are great examples of early guilty pleasure entertainment. And their love for each other was the most desperate and consuming of all."

"So what is the story?" Anna wonders, looking around the group as if she's missing something.

"Well, Psyche was a beautiful mortal who attracted the ire of Aphrodite—the goddess of love and beauty, as I'm sure you know. Aphrodite was insanely jealous of Psyche's beauty and sent her son Eros to make Psyche fall in love with an ugly beast. Eros fell in love with her instead.

"By day, Eros made himself known to Psyche only as a honeyed, seductive voice. At night they made love, Eros camouflaged in darkness, still never revealing his face. Even so, she ran away with him to Olympus without protest." Every eye is transfixed on him as if under a spell. Even Anna and I have grown subdued, enraptured. This is the sexiest history lesson I've ever had.

"Although she loved Eros, Psyche missed her family terribly, so he invited them to visit his palace. Just like Aphrodite, they were always jealous of Psyche's natural beauty and now even more so of her grand new home. They said her dark prince was really a hideous monster and convinced her to spy on Eros. That night Psyche found his secret bedchamber, but when she held her lantern up to his face, she saw not a monster, but the face of a handsome, glorious god. Eros considered this a betrayal of trust and banished her from Olympus, leaving her to wander the Earth, desperately searching for him."

When he hesitates, disrupting the flow of his tale with a dramatic pause, I blink a few times and emerge from my trance. I realize he's looking at me, and only at me. His eyes glisten like pools of water under a night sky, but otherwise his expression is hard to read. He finishes the story, never once breaking eye contact with me.

"Eventually, Psyche asks Aphrodite for help, and she successfully completes a series of difficult tasks. Her reward is immortality, and she and Eros reunite and marry."

"Aw! I think that's romantic!" Lip Ring cries.

He finally diverts his gaze away from me. "I'm glad you liked it."

"I don't think it's romantic." I sound a little more disgusted than I had intended to. Jasper's head snaps up again.

"Why's that?" he asks. Annoyance simmers just beneath his even, casual tone.

"She went through all of that hardship to get a guy who abandoned her back? That's really unfair."

"She betrayed him."

"Because she wanted to find out who the man she loved really was? Okay, so maybe he was angry. He could have gotten over it. Leaving her just seems petty and cruel." I can't even believe I'm saying this. Yesterday morning I was cowering in my seat, the mere sight of Jasper unraveling me. Now I'm sitting here arguing with him. My heart rate picks up again, giving a few raps of warning, but it's not enough to stop the word vomit. "And he would only come to her as a disembodied voice? Why? Didn't anyone ever tell him that's creepy?"

"Maybe he just wanted someone to love him, for him," Jasper snaps, grinding his teeth. His retort startles me and my peers into silence, the atmosphere over the table thickening like a storm cloud. Jasper's eyes sweep the table. They're wide as though he's just realized his outburst. He clears his throat to collect himself. "I guess I never thought about it that way," he concedes, his tone soft, slow and thoughtful this time. "So...would anyone else like to share a favorite myth?"

A few people jump in with their favorite stories, although none of them captivate the group like Jasper did. Closer to eight, Anna whispers to me, "Do you want to talk after this? We can go to my place. I'll give you a ride back later."

"Um, sure," I mumble back.

Scattered "thank you's" and squeaking chairs make me realize that everybody is getting ready to leave.

"I'm going to get some tea," Anna tells me. I nod and wait for her at the table. I think that everyone has left until I look up and see Jasper Hart standing up but lingering by the table.

I smile up at him. "Thanks for your help tonight," I say to fill the silence. "I hope you didn't mind the little debate."

"Not at all. I hope you bring that spirit with you to class," he insists. His uncertain frown, however, suggests he's hoping I keep my mouth shut. "You and Anna are looking well." He winks at me and then turns on his heel and walks briskly away before I can come up with something to say.

"Ready to go?" Anna asks me, jiggling her car keys in one hand, her paper cup of tea in the other. I'm still staring, dumbfounded, at the spot Jasper has just vacated.
Chapter 5

"He remembers us," I whisper.

"What?" Anna says, sitting down again beside me.

"Just now, before he left, he said, 'You and Anna are looking well.'"

Anna's hazel eyes grow wide. "That's really creepy. Who the hell is this guy?"

I shake my head. "Well, let's go." We leave the library, and then walk across campus to the parking garage to get her pickup.

Consumed by our own thoughts, we sit in silence on the drive to the house she shares with her brother and his bandmates. It's an older-looking, two-story house in a residential area where a lot of students rent. All of the houses are similar in structure with concrete porches and off-white siding. The streetlights are dim, and the street is quiet. It feels a little sketchy, but it's fairly close to campus so I imagine it can't be that bad.

Anna pulls into the driveway and turns the car off. We get out, and I follow her inside. She flips on the living room light and drops her purse and keys on the dark wood table next to the door. We walk through the living room to get to the kitchen. The plush, faded orange couch, brown coffee table and old TV are familiar—they all came from the Wallaces' family room in the basement. Their old green card table and fold out chairs are in the kitchen.

"I made chocolate chip cookies last night," Anna says. "I hope the boys didn't eat them all yet." Their fridge is almost empty except for a carton of milk, eggs, a half of a loaf of bread and a six-pack of beer, so it doesn't take her long to emerge victorious with a plastic container still stuffed with cookies.

"Milk?"

I nod, so she pours me a glass and opens the cookies on the table.

"Is Jimmy here?" I ask casually though a mouthful of cookie.

"No. I think they have a gig tonight." She studies me over her tea.

"Are you still in love with him?" she asks me.

"What?" A few crumbs spray out of my mouth. "With who?"

She gives me a knowing look. "Jim. Are you still in love with my brother?"

"Was I ever in love with your brother?" When I realize how cold I sound, I continue, "You guys were my best friends. I cared about both of you, a lot." I still do.

"Cut the crap, Siobhan. I know how you felt about him in high school," Anna says. "That's why I was so angry at you when you humiliated him like you did. I mean, it would have pissed me off anyway, but I was even angrier because I didn't understand how you could do that to him when you were in love with him.

"And now, whenever I say his name, you get this look on your face. You probably don't realize it."

"What look would that be?" She's only mentioned him a few times, but when she does I have to fight down the memories that come creeping into the back of my mind, threatening to flood me again with despair, regret and longing. Does all of that show on my face?

She hesitates. "Wistful," she decides.

I look down at my half eaten cookie to avoid her prying eyes. "I don't know," I reply softly. "I don't think so. I think just talking to you again has brought all of these memories back—some of them are awful, and I wished they'd never happened. But most of them are happy. I guess I'm just feeling nostalgic."

And with that realization, I let memories of high school seep into my mind, memories of everything that went wrong after the bonfire, after our encounter with Jasper Hart.

***

It was a few Saturdays later when I wandered over to the Wallaces' to wait for Anna to get home so that we could go to the mall. Although Anna wasn't back from the eye doctor yet, Jimmy was supposed to be home, so I rang their doorbell and waited. When I heard what sounded like the shriek of microphone feedback through a speaker, I realized he must be getting ready to practice in their garage. I went around the side of the house to the backyard, trampling brown grass and fallen leaves.

The front door to the garage was open. I could hear Jimmy shuffling around inside, adjusting the speakers then strumming a few chords on his electric guitar. I paused under the fading green-to-gold leaves of their maple tree, nervous about going inside. The three of us had been inseparable when we were kids, all the way through middle school. Now it was usually just me and Anna. I couldn't remember the last time Jimmy and I had hung out without her.

It didn't help that I had a huge crush on him. I knew that Jimmy and I would never happen. He was just nice to me because I was his sister's friend, but I knew what his friends thought of me and the other cheerleaders. We were ditzy. Shallow. And most of the squad thought Jimmy and his friends were losers. It was all so stupid. Anna and I stayed out of it. No walls for me. I liked everyone.

Jimmy was absorbed in playing and singing when I finally got the guts to walk the rest of the way to the garage. This time I lingered in the doorway so I wouldn't interrupt him, but where he could see me if he looked up. I had no idea what song he was playing—probably something profound and influential from the seventies. I loved listening to his soulful baritone voice. I closed my eyes and got so lost in it that I didn't realize when he stopped playing.

"Siobhan," Jimmy said in a tone that told me he had been trying to get my attention. My eyes flew open to find him still cradling his guitar and chuckling. Usually, his lips were set in a stubborn but sort of endearing pout, but now he was treating me to a rare, full-blown smile. He was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. Back then his brown hair was long, down to his shoulders, and fell into his hazel eyes. I thought he was so cool.

"That was amazing," I exclaimed as though that hadn't just been the most awkward moment ever. "What song was that?"

He probably thought I was clueless, but he answered me anyway. "'Comfortably Numb.' It's a Pink Floyd song."

I had no idea who Pink Floyd was, but I didn't admit that. After another uncomfortable silence, I said, "I'm just waiting for Anna to get back. We're going shopping."

Jimmy nodded, lifted the guitar strap over his shoulder and set the guitar on its stand. "Let's go inside." He cocked his head in the direction of the house. "I can get you something to drink."

"We have," Jimmy said, peering into their refrigerator a minute later, "Coke, iced tea, milk and beer," he added, turning and winking at me.

I gave a short laugh. "An iced tea sounds great." He handed me a can and got one for himself, and we headed downstairs to the basement.

I can't remember how it started, but somehow we got a conversation flowing. Soon we were talking and laughing like we were thirteen again, like nothing had ever changed. We sunk lower and lower into the orange plush couch while keeping to our respective sides. During a lull in the conversation, I blurted out, "So, do you have a girlfriend?"

I already figured he didn't. Our high school was small, and my friends and I always made it our business to know who was going out. So I wasn't surprised when he shook his head no.

"What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked me. "I bet you do—it's one of those gorillas on the football team."

I threw one of the ugly orange pillows at him, but I was laughing. "No. I'm not dating any of the 'gorillas' on the football team, or anybody else for that matter."

Jimmy raised his eyebrows. "That's hard to believe. What about Anna Banana?" he continued. "Does she have a secret beau I don't know about? I'll kick his ass."

"Beau?" I repeated, still giggling. "Who says that? Do you belong to some secret yacht club I don't know about?" I teased. "And why is it hard to believe I don't have a boyfriend—I'm sorry, a beau?"

Jimmy's laughter subsided at my question, and he regarded me uncertainly. "Seriously? You're beautiful, Siobhan," he said, suddenly serious, "and you're a really good person."

"Oh," I mumbled, unable to meet his gaze. "Well, thanks. That's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me." Any boy.

"Do you like anyone?" Just as abruptly, he was back to being silly. He rested his chin on his fist, leaned in closer to me and persisted in a shrill voice, "Come on, Siobhan. Spill the beans."

I put my face in my hands and groaned. "Oh, my God, this is really what you think girls act like." He batted his eyelashes at me in response.

"There is someone I like," I finally admitted, uncovering my face, "but I know he doesn't like me back."

"Who? How do you know he doesn't like you back?"

I sighed. His kidding around was starting to grind on my nerves. "Because he's smart, and talented, and has a band," I said through gritted teeth, "and to him I'm probably just a stupid cheerleader." I got up from the couch and stomped over to the stairs.

"Siobhan, wait!" he called after me. I felt his hand on my arm and turned around reluctantly.

"What?" My face was probably tomato red. I pursed my lips to hold back the embarrassed tears collecting in my eyes.

Jimmy just stared at me for a few seconds. Then, he took my face in his hands and leaned down to kiss me.

During the next few weeks after our first kiss, Jimmy and I kissed some more. A lot more. On my couch when my parents were out having a date night. On the couch in his basement when his parents were out and Anna was babysitting next door. Under the bleachers before he had marching band practice and I had cheering practice. Somehow we managed to keep our relationship a secret. I don't know why we snuck around. Anna would have been happy for us. I think we both thought the other didn't want anyone to know. I want to believe I didn't care what my other friends thought, but maybe a small part of me did.

Despite the sneaking around, it was perfect. Jimmy had asked me to Homecoming, so it wouldn't have been a secret for much longer, anyway. Until that Friday night when Jimmy and I were alone again in his basement and everything changed.

With me on my back, my head crushed into one of the couch pillows, Jimmy was stretched out beside me and slightly over me, his lips eagerly exploring mine. He pulled me closer to him, lightly skimming his fingers up and down my body. His hand paused on my inner thigh, close to where I was already warm with anticipation for something I had yet to experience.

"Is this okay?" he mumbled against my lips as he massaged slow circles between my thighs.

"Yes," I gasped. Waves of heat and excitement rolled over me.

After carefully unzipping my jeans, his hand dipped underneath them, underneath my underwear. God, his fingers felt good there. I thought I was going to dissolve into the couch. But as his hand brought me closer and closer to the brink, I felt a familiar burning somewhere else.

I guess it's a good thing I had already discovered my wings—the curse from my Dark Angel. After that first time in the woods, they exploded out of my back again during a nightmare. The pain coupled with my own screaming woke me up, and my parents. Even in the few seconds it took for them to rush to my bedside, the wings were already reabsorbed. I burrowed under the sheets to hide the sweaty flannel strips of my nightshirt from them. Another time my history teacher made fun of an answer "someone" had put on our exam in front of the entire class. I bolted from the classroom, tears streaking down my face, and dove into one of the stalls in the girls' restroom. I had just enough time to yank my pretty pink lace top over my head before they erupted. Later I got detention for disrupting class.

So I knew that they responded to intense fear and humiliation, but not arousal. The itching at my back distracted me from the pleasurable exploration of Jimmy's hand.

"Jimmy, stop," I panted, shrinking from his touch.

He withdrew his hand. "What's wrong?"

"I just need a minute." I got up and raced for the basement bathroom. I locked the door, pulled my top over my head and unsnapped my bra. A second later they burst out of my back, smacking against the walls of the small bathroom. One of them toppled a glass candle holder on the shelf above the sink. It shattered on the floor.

"What's going on in there?" I heard Jimmy ask through the door. He tried the doorknob. "What...Siobhan, what are you doing in there?"

"Just give me a second!" I shouted. I breathed in deeply, trying to calm myself, trying to forget my desire for him. The velvety wings retracted. I put my bra and my shirt back on, unlocked and opened the door. Jimmy stood just outside of it, his fist poised to knock again.

"I have to go," I blurted and swerved around him to get to the stairs.

"What the hell! What were you doing in there?" He followed close behind me all the way upstairs. "If you wanted me to stop, you should have said something earlier."

I finally turned around to face him. "I didn't want you to stop."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I just...I didn't want you to stop, but I did...it just got too intense. I'm sorry." I looked down at the floor. "And I'm sorry—I accidentally broke your candle holder. I'll go back down and clean it up."

"Don't worry about that. I'll take care of it. And don't be sorry, just tell me." He reached down to coax my chin up so that my eyes met his again.

I pursed my lips and nodded. I had just lied to the nicest, most genuine guy I knew.

"I do have to go," I said. "I'll call you tomorrow."

He nodded and stood in the doorway, watching me hurry away.

Tomorrow came and went. Sunday slipped by. I didn't call him. At school I didn't meet him at our usual empty janitor's closet for a quick make out session before homeroom. I managed to avoid him all the way up until lunchtime.

Anna and I ate lunch with the rest of the squad and a few of the football players. This was the "popular table." I guess I was supposed to be popular, but I didn't feel like it. Even before Jasper gave me my wings, I felt like I didn't fit in. Not just at school, like most kids feel—it ran deeper than that. Sometimes it was like I was in the wrong place—that I didn't belong anywhere.

Even so, I knew our reputation, so I was a little surprised but impressed when Jimmy marched up to our table. Even in just his faded jeans and characteristic white t-shirt, he looked better than the two jocks sitting with us.

"Hi," Jimmy said shortly, nodding at the table in general.

"Hey, loser," our squad captain Tija mumbled.

Thankfully, her highly original insult was covered up when one of the guys bellowed, "Hey, Jim-BO!" He hopped to his feet and raised his hand to give Jimmy a hi-five. Jimmy hit his hand half-heartedly.

"Can I talk to you?" he said to me as I pretended to pick at my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Sure!" I exclaimed, looking up attentively even though I knew what he was hinting at.

"I mean...in private, for just a minute?"

"Can't we just talk here?" I tried my best to sound inconvenienced. "Anything you have to say you can say in front of my friends."

"Well, okay...I was just wondering..." God, what was I doing to him? I'd never heard him sound so nervous before. I didn't think he even got nervous. "...what color your Homecoming dress was."

"Why would you need to know that?" Tija piped up.

"Um, because we're going together." Jimmy sounded like he was entertaining the question of an annoying toddler.

I took a deep breath. "Oh, you were serious about that?" I said in my best oblivious voice. I could feel Anna glaring at me from across the table. "Sorry, I thought you were joking. Anyway, I can't go with you."

Jimmy's expression was hard to read, but when he spoke again his tone simmered with anger. "Really. Why's that? Who are you going with?"

"She's Siobhan Elliot. She can go with whoever she wants," Tija replied for me, her voice like acid.

He shrugged. "Well, I hope you have fun."

The rest of the table was already moving on, laughing and talking as if he weren't there anymore, but Jimmy held my gaze and mouthed one last word at me.

Coward.

"Nice going," Anna snapped. She gathered her lunch and her backpack and took off after her brother.

***

Anna and I have been sitting at her kitchen table in silence for a while, both deep in thought. She's the one to finally break it.

"I know you never told me everything," she says. "I don't think you really meant to hurt him. Well, I guess you did...on purpose, so he'd stay away."

I give an almost imperceptible nod, and then try to cover even that up by putting a lock of hair behind my ear. As always, Anna is spot on. I had been too scared to confide in her and her brother, and it cost me both of their friendships. Anna hated me afterwards, of course. She quit cheering when the season ended and immersed herself in chorus and the school musicals. For the rest of the year, the football players got up in Jimmy's face and bellowed things like "De-nied!" and "Re-jected!" They weren't the only jerks, though. Jimmy's friends called me Ice Princess. He didn't, but he didn't tell them to stop, either. The nickname didn't stick, but I spent the rest of high school stringing boys along, always pulling back when things would get too hot and heavy. I didn't hook up with anyone regularly until Max.

"It must have had something to do with...Jasper," Anna realizes, pausing before saying his name as though she can't get used to him having one. "Everything fell apart after that night. He's affected you in a way I can't fully appreciate. I want us to be friends again, Siobhan," she admits, sounding frustrated, "but you have to promise me that, when you're ready, you'll tell me everything. I think it will make it easier for me to forgive you."

"I promise," I say even though I'm not sure I can keep it. Being friends with her and Jimmy would mean the world to me, but I can't tell them Jasper turned me into some kind of creature. Especially Anna—his black aura didn't affect her like it did me. She had sensed he was dangerous and insisted we leave. She wouldn't be talking friendship if she knew he transferred his darkness to me.

"So, what are you going to do about Jasper? He's made it clear he knows who we are, but we still don't know who or what he is."

"I have no idea." My shoulders heave as I give a heavy sigh. "I guess just try to not fail the class while at the same time figuring out what he is and why he's here."

"Piece of cake." Something about the combination of her nonchalance and the absurdity of the situation makes us both burst out into hysterical laughter until we're nearly hyper-ventilating.

"I think I'd better head back," I say once I've recovered myself.

"Of course. Please take the rest of these." Anna thrusts the container of cookies into my hands. "Maybe your sisters can help you eat them. Assuming sorority girls eat cookies."

"You have no idea."
Chapter 6

I finally have a dreamless night's rest and awake feeling refreshed the next morning and ready to confront Jasper in class. Or if not confront, at least be able to look at him without cowering in my seat. My armor is a sleeveless leopard-print dress with a red belt and red sandals. Wearing my favorite dress boosts my determination, and I walk into Dr. Mars's class with my head held high.

But it turns out I didn't need my fashion shield today. The auditorium fills up, but there's no sign of our dapper teaching assistant.

My purse vibrates in my lap. It's yet another text from Max. My phone has been blowing up with nonstop messages from him since late last night. This one says:

Siobhan, what's up? Please txt or call me. Miss u. It's punctuated with an animated frowny face. I toss my phone into my purse.

I'm only half-listening to Dr. Mars's lecture about Gilgamesh. Instead, I fasten my eyes on the door, waiting for Jasper to walk through it.

At ten to eleven, it's pretty clear he's not coming. After assigning the next readings, Dr. Mars lets us go. I lag behind the rush of undergraduates spilling out of the doors, wondering if maybe he needs to stop by and check in with the professor. While I linger in the hall, my phone buzzes once. Twice. I think someone is trying to call me, but when I take my phone back out it's Max again.

What's up worried.

Horny is more like it. I'm surprised to see the second text is from Anna:

Jim's band is playing tonight. Come with me? Bring your sisters if you want.

I stare at Anna's text until the backlight dims. Part of me doesn't think I can handle any more drama. My hook up is turning into a stalker, and the mysterious man who gave me my wings is my TA. The other part is dying to get a glimpse of her old "beau," and she wins out. I can always surround myself with a small army of my sorority sisters. I text Anna back "sure" and send another message blast to the board to see if any of them want to tag along.

Awesome! Anna replies later. They're playing at The End at eight.

I have no idea what or where The End is.

Sounds good, I tell her. Tanya and Carly can come. We'll give you a ride.

That's ok. I have my truck. I don't want to impose.

It's no problem! Meet us at the quad at 7:30.

My sisters and I wait for Anna outside the house. When I see a tall, willowy figure with a mane of glossy brown hair walking up the driveway, I slice my arm back and forth through the air and cup my hands around my mouth.

"Anna!"

Anna's head jerks in our direction, and she gives a small, hesitant wave back. Her eyes dart uneasily from one Greek house to the next as she approaches us.

I present her to Tanya and Carly with a flourish of my hands.

"Guys, this is Anna, my good friend from high school. Anna, these are my sisters Carly and Tanya."

Tanya smiles but casts me a knowing look while Anna's shaking Carly's hand. I've told her some of the story from high school before—the biased version where Jimmy was a jerk, Anna was a bitch, and I was perfect.

"Shotgun!" Tanya calls as we're descending on Carly's blue hatchback. I crawl into the backseat with Anna. While the car purrs to life, Tanya searches for The End on the GPS.

"I can't find it."

"It's short for 'The End of the World,'" Anna explains.

"That's uplifting," Carly says wryly.

"We don't need that," Anna tells Tanya, meaning the GPS. "It's in Greenview. Make a right at the next light," she instructs Carly.

Once we figure out where we're going, we sink into an uncomfortable silence. Carly finally turns some music on, and a rasping, British male voice singing about a white wedding fills the car.

"What is this?" Anna wonders.

"Billy Idol."

"Ugh, I hate eighties music. The eighties were the beginning of the decline of pop music."

Carly slams on the brake, sending us all reeling forward then slamming back into our seats. Luckily, we're on a side street, and no one's behind us.

"Sorry, I thought I saw a squirrel." Carly's knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and I can see her baby blue eyes in the rearview mirror trying to make Anna's side of the backseat burst into flames. One glance at me and Carly's grip on the steering wheel slackens. She swallows her rage and shifts her foot to the accelerator, easing the car gently onward. A swift punch cuts off Idol mid-croon.

"I like your shirt," Tanya tells Anna a few beats later. She cranes her head around the passenger's side seat to face us. "I love wearing my boyfriend's shirts, too. Boy clothes are so comfy."

Anna runs her fingers along the hem of her dark blue and black plaid flannel shirt. "This is my shirt."

Tanya's red lips make an "O," but no sound comes out. She turns back to look out the front window.

"So...are you in a sorority?" Carly asks quickly.

"No." Anna scowls at the curls springing up over the top of the driver's seat. "I don't need to pay to have friends. Um, no offense." Anna regards me anxiously out of the corners of wide eyes.

"We're here!" Carly announces with relief, saving me from having to pretend not to be offended.

The End of the World is a nondescript brick building with a green awning sandwiched between a tanning salon and a sushi restaurant. All of the metered spaces on Third Street are taken, so Carly cruises the side streets until we find a free space in the residential part. The houses here are mostly red brick with neglected yards and weathered fences. Greenview isn't one of the most prosperous neighborhoods around Shadesburg—or one of the safest. We walk for about three blocks to get back to The End.

"My feet hurt already!" Tanya whines. Ahead of us, a twenty-something guy with a green Mohawk and a gold septum ring holds open the door to The End for his friends.

"Maybe you shouldn't have worn six-inch heels," Carly tells her and points to her own pair of red crushed velvet flats. Her shoes seem to be the same ones printed underneath the iridescent letters of "Let's Dance!" on her white tank top. Next to her, Tanya oozes sex appeal in a pair of wedge heels—which are high, but not actually six inches—gold spandex leggings, and a white lace halter top plunging dangerously close to a wardrobe malfunction. My sisters and I cluster together like three bright tropical fish stumbling into a sea of washed out denim, leather, black ink and gold body piercings. In her flannel shirt and jeans, Anna blends in much better, marching around us and accepting the door from the bull-ring guy. Before going inside, I scan the poster plastered to the front of it. There's a picture of a white skull amidst black flames at the bottom, and there are inky tendrils coming off the bold, black letters of the announcement:

The End is Nigh!

Music-alypse at The End!

featuring Black Orchid and Search and Destroy

Inside, the bar is bustling, but not so crowded there's no breathing room. The lighting is dim, and the air is hazy with cigarette smoke. Booths and round wooden tables stand between us and the bar. At the far end space has been cleared for a microphone and sound equipment. There's a guy setting up and tuning his electric guitar. Anna claims one of the tables closest to the performance area. I hurry to catch up with her while Tanya and Carly stop to get drinks at the bar.

"Sorry if that was awkward," I say, sitting down beside her. Anna shakes her head.

"No, I'm sorry," she insists. "I shouldn't have said that about sororities. You have special rituals and bonding and stuff." Her upper lip twitches in uncertainty and perhaps a little disgust. "I just don't get it because I don't make friends with other girls that easily."

"I know how they can come off, but Tanya and Carly are really nice once you get to know them," I tell her, then let it go with a smile as they join us, vibrant cocktails in hand.

"I think I will get something," I say, standing. "Do you want anything?"

"No, thanks," Anna says, so I go up to the bar alone and ask the bartender for a tonic water and lime with ice.

"Are you ready for the end of the world?" asks a familiar voice behind me as I'm watching the bartender prepare my simple order. I turn to see Jasper standing there, smirking. Again, he's wearing dress pants and a white collared shirt with no tie. I imagine his closet bursting with dozens of pairs of the same stylish black slacks and crisp white shirts. The thought makes me laugh.

His brow furrows. "It wasn't that funny."

I shake my head. "It's nothing. Shouldn't you be drinking a martini or something?"

"Excuse me?"

"The beer. It doesn't go with your...look." I wave my hand in a circle over his ensemble as I say it. My heart thuds in my chest, but there's a playful grin on my lips. "And your look—it doesn't go with this club."

"Neither does yours, Ms. Gamma Lambda Phi." Jasper's chuckle is uncertain.

The bartender hands me my drink, and I hand him some cash, tip included. I turn back to Jasper. "Because charming, mysterious doctoral student fits right in."

This time he lets out a bark of laughter. He holds up his beer. "Cheers."

I give in and clink my glass against his bottle.

"You weren't in class today," I say after taking a sip of my tonic water. I instantly regret it. Why would I let him know I noticed? It sounds like I care.

Jasper drains the rest of his beer. "We had a meeting for all of the TAs," he replies after swallowing. "Did you miss me?" The question comes out lighthearted, gently teasing, but there's a disturbing intensity in his eyes.

I tear my gaze away from his and look at the glass in my hand. "I should get back to my friends."

"Wait," he insists. "Can we get coffee or something after this? I know a good place close to here. I think we need to talk." He sounds genuinely concerned.

"I don't think so," I say, but my voice lacks conviction. "Carly's my ride."

"I can get you back to campus safely."

"I'm sure, it's just...I really should go back and do some work." Could I sound any lamer?

Jasper hesitates. Realization dawns behind his eyes, and he frowns. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

Wait—he thinks I don't remember him? "Of course I do. We found you that night in the forest."

"That's not what I meant—"

"Is everything okay here?" Suddenly Anna is standing next to me, and her suspicious voice cuts Jasper off. "I think Black Orchid's about to go on."

Annoyance flickers in Jasper's eyes, but only for an instant. "Everything's fine."

"Ah, here he is!" booms a fourth voice, this time from behind Jasper. "Getting distracted by these lovely ladies."

Dr. Mars claps Jasper on the back. Then, he holds out his hand to me. "Miss Siobhan Elliot, from my World Myths class." His hand swallows mine when we shake.

"Hi, Dr. Mars."

"Eric, please." He offers his hand to Anna and looks at her expectantly.

"Anna Wallace." I can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as I watch Anna dissolve under Dr. Mars's arresting gaze. She might be able to resist Jasper's charms, but no one can ignore this giant of a man.

"This is Pat," Jasper says, nodding at a girl I didn't even notice lurking behind Dr. Mars. She must be another of Eric's teaching assistants because Jasper adds, "Every once in a while, Eric lets us see the light of day."

"Or at least the inside of a dingy bar," Patricia teases. Just as striking as her male companions (seriously, where are all of these absurdly attractive people coming from?), she leans against one of the bar stools, stretching out like a panther sunning itself. Obsidian hair snakes down her creamy white shoulders and back. A strange, amused smile tugs at the corners of her wine red lips as her yellow-green eyes dart from me to Anna and back again. The thigh high slit in her black velvet dress makes her look longer and leggier than she really is; when she pops off the stool and slinks over to me, our faces are level. She brings hers so close to mine our noses almost touch. My stomach churns as I'm hit with a blast of clashing scents that might be iron and roses.

"Your eyes are an interesting color," she tells me without smiling. She's one to talk.

"Thanks," I say. She tilts her head to the side, her probing eyes following me as I shrink back from her. My foot twitches, but I resist the impulse to take a step back.

"They remind of turnips—"

"We're gonna go sit down." Anna cuts her off with a polite grimace and places a hand at my elbow. "It was...nice meeting all of you."

"So, are we on for coffee later?" Jasper asks me. Anna gives my arm a tug. I turn back to her and hold up my pointer finger. Her eyes gape at me, but she lets go of my arm, her eyes sweeping over Eric one last time before she starts picking her way back to our table. I look back to Pat, but she's vanished, the invisible tendrils of her nauseating perfume the only evidence that she was ever really there at all.

I shake my head. "Maybe some other time. See you in class." I follow Anna, not waiting for his reply.

"He smelled really good," Anna tells me when I sit down.

"Who?"

"That Eric Mars guy." We both look over at the bar, but Dr. Mars and his teaching assistants are gone.

"What does he smell like?"

"The woods," she sighs. "Whiskey." And sex, I think she adds, but her voice is drowned out as the lead singer of Black Orchid brings his lips to the microphone. A shock of black-blue hair falls dramatically in front of half his face, and the eye we can see is enhanced with eyeliner. His tight jeans are a strange contrast to his formal white collared shirt and black tie.

"Good evening, ladies," Emo Kid's voice crackles through the microphone, "gents. Welcome to Music-alypse. We're Black Orchid."

Black Orchid's opening song has a lively but impatient tune. I really can't get into their grating sound or Emo Kid's strained vocals, so I try to mentally block them out and study the room instead. I finally see Jasper and his posse lounging around a table against the far wall. There's another girl with them who looks familiar, but I can't place her. Alert, dark eyes watch the performance underneath shiny black bangs. Her white shorts and floral-printed top stand out in this otherwise unconventional crowd. Out of the corner of my eye I see Tanya's head perk up from her phone. She follows my gaze and groans.

"Who is that?"

"Genie Cho," Tanya says in my ear. "Alpha Rho's president. She's in my economics class. Such a know-it-all. And I hate it when people wear tights with shorts." Tanya returns to Facebook, and I laugh, now noticing the silver-blue semi-circles covering Genie's legs like glossy fish scales. I start to turn away, but another metallic flash catches my eye.

Genie runs her fingers through her short silky hair, briefly revealing a patch of neck covered with the same oily scales. Several folds of silver skin flare out, raw and pink underneath. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head.

This time when I open them, I see only smooth pale skin. The gills and scales on her neck and legs are gone. Maybe I imagined them. Except Tanya saw them, too, and thought they were tights.

I reluctantly turn back to Black Orchid. Their set seems to drag on forever, but I think it's actually only been a half an hour. Finally, Emo Kid is yelling "thank you!" into the microphone as his band disassembles and the bar erupts in fevered applause. Carly hops to her feet, giving a high-pitched whoop and patting her hands together eagerly. She glances expectantly down at me, Tanya and Anna still seated, our claps slow and mechanical. Stuffing her hands in the pockets of her skinny jeans, Carly hides her face in her curls and sits back down.

Black Orchid walks off, and four members of Search and Destroy take its place. None of them are Jimmy. The one with greasy brown hair spilling into his eyes bends down to adjust something, and his flannel shirt rides up to expose low-sitting jeans and his...ew. I quickly look away and watch a head of blonde-tipped, spiky black hair settle behind the drum set. The other two are setting up a key board next to the drummer. When they're done, the solemn one with the mop of blonde hair stations himself behind it, his hands poised over the keys. He's the tallest and lankiest of his bandmates, and also the most well-dressed in black dress pants and a turtleneck. They even look like they've been washed and ironed recently. His helper, who I'm guessing must be the bass guitarist, wears a pair of shorts and nothing else.

The bar has gone rather quiet except for the clink of glasses and the occasional murmur of conversation drifting up from a table. Suddenly, a voice booms out from a microphone somewhere at the other end of the room.

"I'm tired," the unseen speaker announces. "I'm so, fucking, tired."

"Of what?" one of the bartenders calls out, and a few people chuckle.

"Of everything," the male voice bellows. A figure strides up between the tables as he continues, "Of my parents telling me to get a real job, a nine-to-five job I'll probably hate."

He joins his band and faces the audience. "I'm tired of these sociopathic kids," he adds, practically grinding his teeth into the microphone, "with their iPads and their smart phones thinking they're the best fucking thing to ever happen to the world, and for treating each other like shit."

Anna whispers in my ear, "Jim has an iPhone. Our parents pay for his plan." She huffs and crosses her arms, her mouth a thin, resentful line as she glares at her brother.

"And I'm tired of these stupid old dudes in Washington thinking they know what's best for the good ol' U.S. of A," Jimmy concludes. Like his bass guitarist, he's not wearing a shirt, but he's clearly been taking care of himself. His chest and abdomen are rock hard and slick with something. Sweat? Oil? His dark brown hair is shorter now, but his strong jaw line and pouting lips are unmistakable. "You know, nothing ever really changes. You think you leave high school—the arrogance, the backstabbing, the drama—behind, but you never really do. In the real world, it's called Washington."

After those last three words, they launch into a raucous song with jarring guitar chords and half-sung, half-spoken lyrics about how "shitty" everything is. Jimmy doesn't have a large space to work with, but he writhes and thrashes right up to the first few tables of patrons who keep time with bobbing heads. Search and Destroy flies through their first few songs, the sound frenzied and disturbing, but Jimmy's soulful voice and incredible stage presence pulls it all together, gives it order.

Abruptly, Greasy slows down the pace with a rolling, simmering guitar melody. Jimmy wipes sweat from his brow and addresses the audience again.

"This next song is a cover of The Stooges' 'Gimme Danger,'" he announces, and without further explanation purrs the first few words in a low, loud whisper into the microphone, his entire body pouring itself into the song. His wide, wild gaze sweeps the audience and stops at our table. I have to remind myself that he probably can't actually see me—or if he could, he might not recognize me. Still, I sink lower into my chair as his eyes linger on our table. The insistent melody, his deep, trembling voice and intent stare unhinge me. I'm suddenly hot and alert. Anticipation builds in my lower abdomen, between my legs. A fleeting image of Jim pressing himself against me, running his hands up and down my body and singing against my neck passes through my mind.

It vanishes when Tanya taps me on the shoulder—just in time, too, because my wings itch to unfurl. She hands me her phone so that I can read the brief but urgent email Victoria has just sent to the executive board: I need you guys to come back to the house, now. Carly looks up from her own phone and meets our confused gazes.

I lean into the table. "It sounds like an emergency. I guess we should go back to the house."

"Did someone break a nail?" Anna jokes.

Tanya glances over at Anna, her upper lip twitching, but she just says, "I'm sure the other board members will go. Victoria knows we're out."

"We won't be that much longer," Carly agrees. "Let's just stay."

I give a reluctant nod and turn back to the performance, but the moment has passed. The speed of the song has picked up, and Jimmy's eyes are closed as he belts out the rest of it. Their set continues for another twenty minutes, and the end of it is met with loud applause and cheers from the audience. A few patrons even stand up. I want to stand up, too, but I don't want to draw his attention my way.

"Ready to go?" Anna asks.

"I have to pee first," Carly says.

"Me too," I tell her.

"It's downstairs." Anna points to a staircase I hadn't noticed before. It leads to the basement, which smells like cigarettes and mildew, so Carly and I are quick. A few minutes later we burst out of the lady's room back into the hall—

—and I almost slam into Jimmy.

"Jimmy!" I shriek. He jumps back in surprise, too. "Oh, h-h-hey."

For a moment, Jimmy's hazel eyes just look at me. Then, he gives me a lopsided grin.

"Siobhan!" He opens up his arms, and I think he's going to hug me, but then they drop back at his sides. "It's great to see you! Thanks for coming. You're here with Anna?" I nod, and then we both have to step back because some guy is trying to bypass us on his way to the restroom. I see Carly look at Jimmy, then at me. She points quietly at the stairs and runs up them.

Jimmy closes the gap between us. "So, how are you?" he asks me eagerly. I can't help but smile. He's adorable even when he's exhausted and sweaty.

"I'm doing well," I reply, my head bobbing up and down as though I'm trying to convince myself of this along with him. "School's going pretty well." I should have more to tell him. We've talked so little since high school, but it's like everything has evaporated from my brain. "By the way, you guys were amazing out there." It's true, but I'm also trying to change the subject.

"Thanks! I thought we had a good night." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and shuffles a little closer to me still. "Anyway, Anna was telling me you're studying science or something?"

And we're back to me. "Yes. Biology, actually."

"That's cool. I'm not surprised. You were always really smart." He looks away from me and down at the ground for a moment, absent-mindedly ruffling his hair with his hand. "And I hear you're in a...sorority?" He grimaces, but it quickly turns into a smile so I know he's just teasing me.

I nod. "That's pretty much my life right now: school and Gamma Lambda Phi," I admit. "What about you? Besides the band?"

"Search and Destroy is pretty much my life right now. I'm also a bartender here."

"Oh! That's great!" My innate cheeriness is taking over, and I hope I don't sound fake. "It's nice they let you play here, too."

"Yeah." He shrugs. "It took them long enough to warm up to the idea, though." He glances over his shoulder like his boss might have appeared in the doorway while we were talking.

For a few beats, we're both silent, looking everywhere but at each other. "Well, I'd better get back upstairs. It's good to see you, Jim." I hope he knows I really mean it.

"You, too."

"Hey, Siobhan," he calls after me as I'm about to go back up. I turn around. "We're doing another show this Friday. I'll let Anna know the details. I hope you can make it."

I smile. "I should be able to. See you."
Chapter 7

Carly swipes her card key in the front door of the sorority house, and she, Tanya and I burst inside. Except for the text books, back packs, hoodies and dozing laptops strewn about the floor and couches, the living room is empty. There isn't any sign of the impending doom implied in Victoria's email.

"Oh, Victoria," Tanya sighs in exasperation as she heads for the stairs. "She's such a drama queen."

"Yes. Victoria's a drama queen." I can hear the eye roll in Carly's voice, but then their voices become murmurs as they disappear upstairs. I start to follow them but pause when I notice the light pouring from the open door of the usually unused guest room on the first floor.

"Hello?" I call tentatively, knocking lightly before peeking inside. There's a woman crouching down to shove the bottom drawer of the bureau closed, but she shoots up at the sound of my voice.

"Oh, hello there." When she faces me I feel...

Star-struck.

Like how I would feel in the presence of Charlize Theron or Heidi Klum. Not good enough. Insignificant. Even wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and an old tank top, this stranger is seriously stunning. She's tall and slender with sun-kissed skin—not a creepy orange like a spray-tan-gone-awry, but the natural, golden glow my body lotion upstairs claims but fails to give me. Ash blonde curls cascade over her shoulders to her waist and frame high cheekbones and a small nose. I'm not great at the age game—she looks like she's in her thirties—but an ancient wisdom thrives in her jade green gaze.

"You must be Siobhan." She crosses the room in two long strides and extends her hand. We shake.

"Actually, it's Shiv-awn." That came out a bit more annoyed than I meant it to. People mispronounce my name all the time. It's just there's something about her tone making me feel like she's messing it up on purpose.

"Oh, so sorry! Siobhan. What a pretty name." There it is again—a sneer lurking behind the sweet lilt of her voice.

"Thanks. And you are...?"

"Ah, you missed Victoria's email," she realizes. "I'm Farrah—your new house mother."

As if that were her cue, Victoria charges in carrying an armful of pale pink sheets and fluffy white towels. Dark sweat stains slash her silver and white workout clothes. As usual, her auburn hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, the stray strands slicked back with a canary yellow sweatband.

"I finally found the spare sheets," she sighs. "Oh, you're back." I catch her rolling her eyes. "How was the concert?"

"Great." I have to jump out of her way so she can set her load on the bed. Now I know the reason Victoria needed us, but there are other members of the executive board that I'm sure must have responded to her request for back up. She didn't really need all of us here, did she? Since when did we need a house mother, anyway? Still, guilt twists my insides as I watch my big sister making the guest bed, trying to smooth out all of the creases in the sheets and fluffing the pillows.

"A concert? Who was playing?" Farrah wants to know. I tear my eyes away from Victoria's obsessive inspection of the bed.

"Just a few local bands," I tell her.

"Sounds like fun." She takes out a slinky black dress from her suitcase and drapes it over a hanger. "So what year are you, Siobhan? What are you studying?"

"I'm a junior biology major."

"Excellent." Her glossy peach lips curve into a dazzling smile. "And where's home?"

"Laurel. It's about an hour away from here."

Farrah nods. "I know where Laurel is."

"Oh, are you from around here?" I wonder, assuming this must be the case since Laurel is one of those small towns no one has ever heard of unless they're from the area.

Farrah shakes her head. "No, my home is a long, long way from here." Her eyes lock on mine. Is it just me, or is she giving me a meaningful look?

"I've been moving around so much for the last few years, though, that I haven't really felt settled anywhere," she explains. The strange moment has passed. I must have imagined it.

"Well, I'll get out of your way. Let you unpack." I back away slowly but deliberately until I'm almost out the door. "It was nice meeting you. I'm glad you're here. I think your presence will really be an asset to the chapter," I add to impress her. Farrah raises her eyebrows and frowns.

"No one likes a brownnoser, Siobhan."

My shock over her blunt reply must show on my face because a second later tinkling laughter fills the room.

"Oh, relax. I was only kidding."

No she wasn't.

Victoria and I go out into the living room. Farrah gently closes the door behind us.

"Did Headquarters tell you why they sent us a babysitter?" I whisper the question as we're walking up the stairs even though I think we're safely out of earshot.

"Apparently the only reason we haven't had a house mother until now is because none of the other sororities here have one, but our chapters at other schools do—so now they've decided we should, too."

"But they didn't give you a heads up?" We pause outside my room. The door is closed, and the space between the floor and the bottom of the door is dark. Tanya must have gone to bed.

"Nope."

"I wonder where she's from," I muse. "She's kind of exotic. You don't think she's hot?" I exclaim when my big sister scowls.

Victoria looks a little green. She shakes her head. "She's just not my type."

"Are you kidding me? She's everybody's type. She might even be my type." I widen my eyes in mock horror. "Maybe I'm gay, too."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you? It's contagious," she hisses, wriggling her fingers at me. I give an unladylike snort of laughter, which makes us both laugh even harder.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't come back earlier," I say, my giggles subsiding. I'm not sure I really have anything to apologize for, but still, I don't want to let her down. I'm an only child, but Victoria's like a real older sister to me, not just a sorority one. She was the first sister I met at the Gamma Lambda Phi house.

Recruitment is a marathon weekend: Four days of tripping around the Greek Quad in high heels as you visit all of the sorority houses, networking with the sisters and resisting the urge to take two of all of the pastel colored desserts offered to you. On the last day I was still undecided, flip-flopping between Gamma Lambda Phi and Alpha Rho, but then Victoria, her face lit up with the first earnest smile I had seen the entire weekend, handed me a red velvet cupcake with pink cream cheese frosting. Despite her striking auburn hair, which she wore in a shiny bob that evening, Victoria didn't fit the image of the typical sorority girl seared in my brain. Her form-fitting black dress and pumps only accentuated her gangly frame, and her angular face was pleasant but not pretty.

"I'm so glad we got to know each other this weekend." Just like her smile, her words rang with sincerity. "I would love it if you joined our sisterhood, but I hope we can stay friends either way." It wasn't just the cupcake and her frankness that convinced me to join. Victoria was just one of those people I felt instantly at ease with, like I used to with Anna—like I had known her forever even though we had only just met.

"It's fine," she says now through a yawn. "I was just stressed out." She walks across the hall to go into her own room.

"Oh, and by the way, Max was here earlier looking for you. I told him you'd call him as soon as you got home."

"Gee, thanks!" I shout after her as she slips into her room. I take out my phone, my fingers hovering over the touchscreen keyboard. I should at least text him or something, ask him to meet me tomorrow so that I can break things off with him in person. He might be clingy, but he's the only person who knows my secret, the only guy who's made me feel sexy just as I am.

I let the screen dim and tiptoe into our bedroom, clicking on my desk lamp and guiding the door shut behind me. I change into pajamas and turn the sound off on my phone before climbing into bed. I know I can't ignore Max forever, but I just need some more time to figure out what the heck I'm going to say.

***

"Carly Dragonjac!" Victoria shouts over the buzz of voices swelling in the living room. She's sitting on the floor with her back resting against the couch. Her laptop is propped on her knees as she marks attendance in a spreadsheet.

"I'm right here!"

Victoria gives a start at the sound of Carly's voice behind her. "Didn't see you back there." Her eyes flicker to where I'm sitting beside Carly on the couch. "Siobhan's here," she mutters to herself, blinking against the brightness of the computer screen as she marks an "x" next to my name. "Tanya Giuseppi!"

"Hewe!" Tanya calls out around a mouthful of brownie. She comes out of the kitchen balancing a silver tray in one hand and starts passing out brownies to the clump of sisters congregated on the living room floor.

"Elizabeth Grant! Liz!" Victoria repeats after a beat. There's still no answer. "Where is Liz?" she grumbles in exasperation.

"This is last minute," Carly reminds her. "Maybe you should cut her some slack."

"It's five o'clock on a Friday. I know she doesn't have class," Victoria insists, "and it's too early for people to be going out." She calls out the rest of the names, then closes her laptop and stands up. "Okay, we're going to get started!" Her commanding voice slices the air and cuts off the excited chatter. I don't think I know anybody else who could silence a room full of sorority girls so quickly. Tanya sits down next to Carly and offers us the platter of brownies. We each take two.

"Today I have the pleasure of officially introducing our new house mother." Victoria gestures to Farrah, who gets up from the other couch to the tune of fifty pairs of snapping fingers. "I hope you will all join me in welcoming Farrah to our chapter."

"I guess Farrah doesn't have a last name," Carly whispers. "She's like Madonna. Or Kesha."

"House mother by day, trashy pop star by night," Tanya mutters back, which sends the three of us into quiet snickers. Victoria shoots us a warning glare, and our mouths snap closed.

"Thank you, Victoria." Farrah steps forward to take over. "I'm so excited to be here." She's wearing that little black dress I saw her putting away last night, its cowl neckline revealing just a hint of cleavage. The heels of her scarlet red patent leather pumps click against the hardwood floor as she walks back and forth while speaking.

"I hope you won't see me as some kind of babysitter." She casts a sideways glance to where I'm sitting cross-legged on the couch. "I know you are all bright, responsible young women. What I hope to be is a valuable advisor and mentor so that Gamma Lambda Phi continues to be a positive force on this campus.

"But we can't do so without first strengthening our organization from within. That's why weekly ritual practices are especially valuable."

"Oh, we only hold ritual practice once a month," Victoria interjects. A few groans have gone up around the room.

"Ladies." Farrah's disapproving gaze sweeps the room. "We need to treasure our ritual. It strengthens the bond of our sisterhood. We will have ritual practice every week, after our chapter meeting on Sundays." Victoria frowns, but keeps her mouth shut.

"I would also like to remind everyone that according to the House Rules curfew is midnight during the week and two a. m. on Friday and Saturday."

"Yeah, but we don't actually uphold that—" I try to tell her.

"We're going to start," Farrah talks over me. "Those times are completely reasonable."

"But what if we want to stay over at a...um, friend's place?" Tanya wonders.

Farrah gives her a sweet, understanding smile. "Then you can let the house manager know." Carly's curls oscillate as she straightens up, beaming. "But remember: No boys in the house after midnight on any night." Why is she looking directly at me? It's not like there's tons of male traffic going into and out of my room. I've never even had Max spend the night.

"I know these little changes will take some getting used to," Farrah concludes, "but we need to be at our best. Our patron goddess was the Ancient Greeks' paragon of victory, after all. I want Nike to shine through us every day. 'Through strength of the mind, body and heart comes victory,'" she reminds us, quoting our motto. Still looking at the room at large, Farrah's hand darts out just as Tanya's reaching for another brownie. "And we're going to have to cut back on the sweets." Tanya doesn't seem to hear her, just looks down at her empty hand in confusion.

Despite the new rules—well, the old rules we're going to start enforcing—Tanya, Carly and our sisters flock to her like butterflies to a flower when the meeting is over. I can't blame them. Farrah just bubbles over with love, rainbows and unicorns for everyone.

Everyone except me.

"Don't you look pretty," Farrah is telling Carly later that evening as I'm coming down the stairs. She's sprawled on one of the olive-colored couches with the latest issue of Marie Claire on her lap. "Have fun tonight!"

"Thanks!" Carly says on her way out the door.

"Where are you off to?" Farrah's suspicious tone brings me to a stop a few inches from the door.

"A concert," I tell her, my hand poised on the doorknob.

"Another one? Whose?"

I finally turn to face her. "My friend Jimmy has a band."

"Cute. Well, have fun. And remember—two o'clock." She taps her watch-less wrist twice.

"How could I forget?" I mumble and shut the door firmly behind me before she can get another word in.
Chapter 8

When Anna and I finally get to the concert, the crowd of students is already thick around the stage set up on the lawn outside of the student union at Shadesburg University, a state school sprawled in the middle of the city. Search and Destroy is last in a line-up of four bands playing their concert to kick off the fall semester.

We weave our way through the crowd, trying to get as close as possible to the stage. I see flashes of light out of the corners of my eyes as friends take pictures of each other with their phones, and the air is filling with a sweet-scented smoke. Above us the sun sends splashes of orange and pink across the slowly darkening sky. A pleasant breeze grazes my skin and ruffles the skirt of my red sundress. We decide on a spot behind a group of guys and girls all wearing the same lime green shirt with "The Green League" stamped in white lettering on the back. On stage a guy wearing brown corduroys, a white t-shirt and an orange beanie is tuning his acoustic guitar. The strumming fades when the student body president walks out onto the stage to say a few words.

"So, what were you talking to Jasper about the other night?" Anna asks, drawing my attention away from the speech. No one can hear it anyway because his mike isn't working.

"He wanted to go someplace after the concert and talk, but I said maybe some other ti—"

"—there we go," Mr. President's voice cuts me off when the microphone kicks in. "As I was saying, we've got a great concert for you tonight—"

"I think that was a wise decision!" Anna says in my ear.

"I need to talk to him at some point," I insist.

"You really don't. That guy rubs me the wrong way. I think you should just let it go." Anna looks back at the stage, shielding her eyes from the setting sun with her hand.

"You're right," I tell her, a spasm of guilt shooting through my gut. She doesn't know the whole story, at least not yet, so of course she doesn't understand.

"First up, we have S.U.'s very own brother-sister duo Dreamscape," the president is saying. A few cheers go up in the crowd. He walks off as a girl sits down on the stool in the center of the stage, reaching out to lower the microphone. Her brother takes up his guitar again.

After the folk sounds of Dreamscape, I suffer through another thirty minutes of Black Orchid. They're followed by an all-girl punk rock band called Blood Rouge. When it's Search and Destroy's turn, Jimmy doesn't make a grand entrance like he did at The End. He takes the stage with the rest of the band as they open with a familiar song. His bandmates are in jeans and t-shirts except for the keyboardist, whose black sequined vest flashes underneath the stage lights. Jimmy slinks, barefoot, back and forth across the stage as he bellows into the microphone, writhing and twisting to a hollering and screaming audience. Their set is energetic and boisterous, although it doesn't sweep me up as much as last time. By the time they start their last song Jimmy's face and chest glisten with sweat. He wipes his hair off his forehead and smiles as the audience continues to cheer and whistle.

"Thanks, you guys have been great tonight!" he shouts. "We've got one more song to do before we go. One my buddy Peter back here wrote—" He cocks his head back at the keyboardist. "—I know he's hard to miss," he adds, and everyone laughs, including Peter. "It's called 'Pain.'"

"You know how to hurt me,

You reach inside me, grab my heart

Squeeze, squeeze...

I watch my blood run through your fingers..."

He chants these vivid, angst-ridden lyrics over a sinister, muffled drum beat and clashing piano chords. At one point he crouches down to pick something up at the edge of the stage—an empty, amber-colored beer bottle. He breaks it on the floor and flourishes one of the jagged pieces in the air.

"Someone, stop this pain,

Stop, stop, stop my pain—" He howls, drawing the shard of glass across his chest. A red line trails along behind it.

I gag into my hands, and I have to look away. This is why I'll never be able to go to medical school. Anna grimaces and, although I can't exactly hear her, I think she's saying something like, "What the hell is he doing?"

Around us the crowd is thunderous with admiration. I reluctantly look back at the stage. Not even wincing, Jimmy digs it into his skin a second time until there's a bloody "X" on his chest.

"My blood runs cold," Jimmy concludes with a loud whisper into the microphone. As an over-the-top drum solo ends the song, everyone around us is clapping and screaming.

"I can't believe he did that!" I clutch my own chest protectively with my hand. Anna is already striding through the dissolving crowd, her head bent down over her cell phone.

"He's such an idiot!" When she looks up at me, I can tell she's holding back tears. "Come on, we have to find them. He's going to have to go to the hospital." I nod solemnly, and once the crowd thins out we finally reach the stage. Although I recognize some of the members from the other bands packing up backstage, Jimmy and Search and Destroy are nowhere to be found. Anna's phone buzzes in her hand.

"It's Peter." Her lips move slightly as she reads the text to herself, her brow furrowed in concentration and confusion. "They left in a hurry to get to some party. Apparently Jim's 'fine.'" She rolls her eyes. "Look, Peter gave me the address—I'm going to head over there."

"I want to come with you. If that's okay."

"Of course it is. Thanks."

"Has he ever done this before?" I ask her once we're racing down Jefferson Boulevard in her yellow truck.

"Never at any of his shows I've seen." Anna puts on her turn signal and waits for a bus to pass us before switching lanes so she can turn left. "They've joked around before about him cutting himself on stage, but I didn't take it seriously. I guess I should have."

We get off the highway and make a few more turns that take us to a side street in a suburb I don't know the name of. Anna parks and immediately jumps out of the car, slamming the door and stalking up to a pale gray house across the street. Music thumps from inside, shaking the walls and rattling the windows. As we approach, a tall lanky guy comes out onto the porch.

"Banana-fana fo-fanna," I hear him singing once we're within earshot. I wouldn't have recognized Peter right away if it weren't for his sequined vest. "Fee-Fi-mo manna, Anna!" He engulfs her in a sideways hug, but she shrugs away from him.

"Cut it out, Peter. Where's Jimmy?" She shoves him out of the way so she can get to the door.

"Relax, love. I told you, he's fine! Trust me!" Instead of going after her, he spins around and sticks out his hand to me. "Hello, I'm Peter." With his ruffled blonde hair, twinkling blue eyes and infectious grin, he's cute in a boyish, mischievous way, but the British accent gives him a sexy edge.

"Siobhan," I tell him. He puts his hand on my back and ushers me inside the house. The living room bursts with people dancing and reeks of alcohol, cigarettes and sweat. Anna hasn't made it very far and looks helplessly around the crowded downstairs.

"Seriously, don't bother him, Anna!" Peter insists. He puts his arm about her shoulders again, and this time she sinks into him, defeated. "You need a drink. Siobhan, come meet the rest of the band!"

We take refuge in the kitchen, and Peter mixes Anna a gin and tonic. The other members of Search and Destroy, except for their lead singer, are playing cards at the kitchen table.

"Everyone, this is Siobhan," Peter says, pushing me in front of him. "Siobhan, everyone."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you all." I flash them a bright smile, which is met by three deadpan stares and snarling lips, as though they're wondering why Peter let the perky blonde in.

"I'll look around for Jimmy," I say, turning back to Anna and Peter. "Just stay here and relax. I'm sure everything's fine." I look at Peter, and he silently points at the ceiling. I nod briefly to let him know I understand.

"Thanks," Anna mumbles before taking another sip of her drink.

I have to sidestep around limb-locked couples as I climb the stairs. When I reach the top, I hear gentle guitar chords drifting from the bedroom to my right. The door is wide open, and Jimmy's alone inside, sunk into a black bean bag chair. He stops playing when he sees me and waves me inside.

"How's it going?" I ask casually, closing the door a little more than halfway behind me. He's wearing a black t-shirt now. He sits up and readjusts himself, poised to resume playing.

"Look, Jim—" I start, but he holds up a hand to silence me.

"Wait. Listen," he says and starts playing again before I can interrupt. I grudgingly sit down on the floor across from him. His voice, still slightly raw from the concert, wavers above the soft guitar melody. The lyrics speak of unforgettable memories and bittersweet reunions. They coax a smile onto my face and a blush onto my cheeks.

"What is that?" I wonder.

He stops playing and lays the guitar flat on the floor beside him. "Roxy Music's '2HB.' You've never heard of it," he guesses, and I give an apologetic shrug. "Did you enjoy the show tonight? I'm glad you could make it."

"You guys were great. By the way, Anna's looking for you. Maybe we should go downstairs and show her you're alive," I suggest, uncrossing my legs and hopping up from the floor.

Jimmy gives an exaggerated sigh as he gets up. "She's worried about me? God, I'm fine. I'm a big boy."

"Of course she's worried—she's your sister. She should be," I blurt in frustration. "You cut yourself on stage. And it's not just Anna who's worried."

"Oh, so you're worried too, now?" he says doubtfully. "You never gave a damn before. What changed?" He tries to say it jokingly, but he ends up just sounding petty and mean. For a moment, I just stand there, gaping at him. He shifts uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze.

"Please come downstairs and show Anna that you really are okay," I finally say and turn on my heel to leave.

"Siobhan, wait. I'm sorry!" I feel his hand on my upper arm as he tries to get me to stop.

"You should be," I shoot back. "I didn't come up here expecting to get yelled at for trying to help."

"I am sorry! It's just...I'm not really sure how to act around you," he admits. "I mean, most of me is really excited that you're here, and that maybe we can be friends again. But then all of these memories come flooding back and..." he trails off, gesturing like he's going to catch what he wants to say in the air.

"Yeah. I know," I agree, finally turning fully to face him again and meeting his intense, hazel gaze. "In one way, it feels like ages ago, but in another, like it was only yesterday."

"Part of me wants to get some closure. Tell you off," he continues, almost as if I haven't said anything. "But then I just...I just wanna..." He takes a few more steps toward me and holds my gaze steady.

I swear I'm not usually like this. Max was my first, and for a long time it's just been him. My point is, is that I don't usually hook up with more than one guy in a week.

I don't know who initiates it. All I know is that a moment later, our lips and bodies are intertwined. I run my fingers through his dark brown hair, and I can feel his hands sliding down my waist to my hips. With ease he swings me around and guides me to the bureau without breaking our feverish kisses. He sets me on top of it, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He grinds the bulge in his pants against me, and my hips thrust to meet his rhythm as he continues the glorious motion over and over again.

Déjà vu. My body is getting out of control, my wings rippling underneath my back. But I let him take off my sweater anyway and slide one of my dress straps over my shoulder as he kisses down my neck and across my collarbone. He lifts his arms up, and I yank his t-shirt over his head.

I remember as I trail my eager fingers up and down his naked chest. My eyes open, and I reluctantly pull my lips away from his so that I can look at him. I see his taut muscles, a smattering of dark brown chest hair, but his skin is unscathed.

"It's completely healed," I murmur as I trace the area where he slashed the bloody "X" into his skin. "That's impossible." He's unflinching underneath my searching fingers and is breathing heavily. I look up into his eyes, still simmering with desire. "Jimmy?"
Chapter 9

We sit down on the edge of the bed. Suddenly it feels weird—sitting on someone else's bed, someone I don't know—even though moments ago we might have ended up making love on it.

"Ever since the night we found Dark Angel, I've been able to heal quickly," Jimmy explains, not meeting my eyes.

At first I don't know what to say. Although he doesn't press me, Jimmy won't stop fidgeting—shaking his leg and flexing his fingers. Next to him, I am stoic and still, but my insides feel like they're being crushed.

"Why...why didn't you tell me?" I finally ask softly. In my head, I continue the train of thought: We could have avoided so much pain. We could have never stopped being friends. No—we could have been together. But I know he's not really to blame. I was afraid, too, and I didn't have to push him away like I did.

"I guess I was just...afraid." He steals a glance at me. His careless dark hair hangs in front of his eyes, and I fight the urge to brush it out of the way. "I thought it would freak you out. I thought you would refuse to believe it, even if you saw it with your own eyes. I was afraid of rejection. Which I got anyway," he realizes as an afterthought. He smiles, but it's a resigned, sad smile.

"I was afraid, too," I tell him. "There's something I have to show you. Will you help me with this zipper?" I ask and readjust my position so that my back is to him.

"Um, this wasn't exactly the response I was expecting," he says, although I can feel his fingers brush the zipper.

"It's not what you think," I laugh. "Just do it."

Once the zipper is down, I stand up and lower the dress until it's at my hips. I keep it wrapped around my waist. Moments ago we were tearing off each other's clothes. Now, not only is my naked back exposed, but I feel like I've ripped my heart out of my chest and am about to offer it to him, bloody and still beating. I let those delicious recent memories resurface, recall his eager tongue and tantalizing touch. Soon my wings take shape and unfurl from my back. I cross my arms over my breasts and look over my shoulder at Jimmy. Underneath his unkempt hair, his eyes are huge, his mouth parted in astonishment.

"This is what he gave me."

"You're telling me he left us both with—"

"Jimmy, are you in there?"

The sound of Anna's angry voice on the other side of the door cuts him off. We both look at the door in panic.

"Peter told me you were up here!"

Jimmy jumps to his feet. "Wait, Anna!" he tries to warn her, but she's already pushing open the door.

She sees me first.

"Oh, my God!" she cries, covering her eyes with her hands. "Seriously? You guys are fooling around in here! Wait a minute." Anna peaks at me through her fingers. "Siobhan, what...what are those?" She slowly lowers her arms and looks to her brother for help. Her gaze drops to his exposed chest. "But I...we saw you cut yourself...can one of you please say something? What's going on?"

"Just give me a second." I have to block out her ranting so that I can calm myself and retract my wings. I quickly pull my dress back up.

"Need help again?" Jimmy asks hopefully.

"I'll get it." I reach around and yank the zipper up myself. "It looks like Jasper left me and Jimmy presents," I tell Anna.

"Wait. Who's Jasper?" Jimmy wonders.

"He couldn't have done that—no way," Anna says at the same time, furiously shaking her head.

I plop down on the black bean bag chair by the window, and Jimmy and Anna sit on the floor. I tell them everything. I tell them how the wings sprang from my back when I ran off after we found Jasper. How they only emerge in response to strong emotions. How I can't control them.

"It all started that night in the woods." Anna closes her eyes as though that will help her absorb everything.

"And Jimmy," I add, looking at him to pick up the story. He explains about his body's uncanny ability to heal itself, quickly, and from any injury.

"Wait." Anna snaps out of her moment of reflection. "Any injury? How do you know that?" she demands.

He shrugs. "I was curious at one point over how far I could push it."

Anna closes her eyes and takes a deep, calming breath. When she opens them, I think she's going to berate him some more, but instead she asks, "Why would Jasper do this?"

"Back up a minute. Who the hell is Jasper?" Jimmy says in exasperation.

"Right. Sorry." I explain that our Dark Angel is now my World Myths and Legends teaching assistant.

"He's your TA? This is fucked up."

"No wonder you want to talk to him!" Anna realizes. "You want to find out who—well, what—he is. How he did this to you guys. Why he's at our school."

"It could be just a coincidence, right?" My voice is hopeful.

"Of course," Anna says quickly. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence." She exchanges a brief but grave look with her brother, and the solemn lines of their mouths tell me that neither of them actually believes this. "If you do end up talking to him, just be careful."

"We can go with you if you want," Jimmy adds.

"Thanks, guys. I'll be careful—I promise." I take my phone out of my purse when it starts vibrating. There's a text from Tanya:

where r u? curfew?!

"Crap, it's almost two."

"So?" says Jimmy.

"Our new house mother instated a two o'clock curfew on the weekends."

"That sucks."

It does, but I realize I'm ready to go back, anyway. Now that my skeletons are out, I feel lighter but used up, too—my closet a gaping, empty hole. I blink against the invisible lead weights pushing on my eyelids.

"Come on." Anna gets up. "I'll give you a ride home."

"I'm coming, too." Jimmy follows us out the door. Outside the bedroom, the party dwindles, but there are still some stragglers having the kinds of deep conversations you can only have in the wee hours of the morning.

"Aw, you're leaving!" Peter calls out after us as we're heading out the front door.

"We're taking Siobhan back to campus. See you at home," Anna tells him.

"Right. It was lovely meeting you!" He envelops me in a languid, drunken hug.

"You too," I say and pat him awkwardly on the back before we pull away.

***

"Do you mind waiting for a few?" Jimmy asks his sister when her truck is idling at the curb.

"I guess not."

"Thanks for the ride," I tell her. Jimmy and I get out, and he walks me to the front door of the sorority house. For a few minutes our eyes play hide-and-seek, looking back and forth from the doorstep to each other.

"I almost forgot how beautiful your eyes were." The next time our gazes meet, Jimmy holds mine steady.

"Thanks," I say, my cheeks heating up. "Someone told me the other day they were turnip-colored," I add, recalling Patricia's intrusive stare.

Jimmy raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. "They look like...Neptune," he says and reaches out to tuck a wisp of my blonde hair behind my ear.

"Actually, Neptune's more of a light blue, because of the methane clouds."

"You just had to science it up. I was trying to be poetic."

"I see. In that case, they can be Neptune violet," I assure him with a smile. Jimmy gives a short laugh. He rubs the back of his neck and rolls the tension out of his shoulders.

"So, your wings...do they respond to any strong emotion?" he tries to ask me casually. "Is that why you ran out on me?"

I look down at my sandals again and nod. "I'm sorry. I know I should have just told you, but I was scared, too."

He caresses my cheek with his hand, and I gaze up into his face. I've always loved looking at his face. His square jaw and stubborn pout give him a look of perpetual defiance. I can dive into his hazel eyes and find out exactly what he's really thinking and feeling. He's not flawless or classically handsome—like Jasper—but I like that about him. He has a wild streak, but he cares and loves honestly and completely. I feel like whatever we're in, we're in it together.

"I'm sorry about...I'm so sorry," I whisper, closing my eyes but at the same time pressing my cheek into his rough hand.

"I know. I'm sorry, too," he says, and when I open my eyes he's leaning in to kiss me.

"Siobhan?"

Ugh. Interrupted, again.

Only this time the voice belongs to Max.

Jimmy's lips stop centimeters from mine, and we look up to see Max stopped on the grassy slope leading up to the house. A girl I don't know stands behind him, looking from me to Max in confusion. He climbs the rest of the way up to us.

"Who's this guy? Is he the reason you haven't been responding to any of my calls or texts?"

"What? No, Max—Jimmy has nothing to do with that," I exclaim. "But we should talk."

"Duh! Do you know how crazy I've been without you?" He seizes my upper arm, and I let him because I'm too startled to react—he's never laid a hand on me before, and I've certainly never seen him this angry. His eyes burn into me like blue flames. "I missed you. I missed you so much, Siobhan. I thought you left me," he whimpers, his fingers digging even more tightly into my arm.

"I...I..." Here it is, the opportunity I've been waiting for to break off whatever this is between us, but somehow I can't make the words come out. I feel another pair of eyes on me, and I look over his shoulder to see his companion staring at me, unblinking, with eyes the same bright blue color as Max's.

"Max, who is that?" I ask instead. The air around us thickens with anticipation and dread.

"I'm his cousin Vanessa," the girl wheezes. She points at me with a trembling hand. I can barely make out what she whispers next, but it sounds like, "The butterfly goddess has returned."

Butterfly? My wings...

"You told people about me!" I explode at Max. "Max. Max!" I shout, but he's unresponsive, still gazing at me with those hurt puppy dog eyes. "Something's wrong with your cousin. Look at her!"

"It's no longer safe for you here!" This time when she speaks, it's in a voice that doesn't belong to her—deeper, more resonant, and filled with terror. Her electric blue irises have rolled into the back of her head, replaced by the whites of her eyes splattered with spidery red veins. She pushes Max out of the way. It forces him to release his grip on me, but then her own hands grab my shoulders and shake me. "You must get out. Get out!" the voice bellows, and she collapses onto the ground.
Chapter 10

"Vanessa!" Max shouts, finally emerging from his daze, but she has already hit the ground, her eyes closed. We crouch down on either side of her. Jimmy looks on with concern but stays back.

Vanessa's face glistens with sweat. I press my warm hand to her cold, clammy forehead. "What's wrong with her?" I gasp. "Should we call an ambulance?"

"No. She'll come to," Max assures me, taking her delicate, pale hand in his own. It's not just that she's pale—her skin is as white as chalk. She looks dead. "It was just a vision, that's all."

"I'm sorry, a...a what?" I don't bother concealing the doubt from my voice.

"A vision," he repeats. "I've told you like a hundred times, the women in my family are psychic."

"I didn't think you were serious!"

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. It sounds sort of crazy!" All of the emotions from tonight are pouring out of me like lava from a volcano. I can feel my wings nudging against the fabric of my dress, dying to rip through it and expand.

His face seems to say, That sounds crazy? He jumps and looks down at his hand holding Vanessa's. Her hand flexes almost imperceptibly, and then her eyes flutter open to reveal black pupils ringed with bright blue. I take deep breaths to calm myself.

"Max?" she croaks. "What happened?"

"You had a vision. Then fainted," he tells her, placing his other hand behind her head to help her sit up.

"I had a vision? Oh, God," she moans and claps her hand to her forehead. "I'm so embarrassed. I'm really sorry," she says to me. Her brow furrows in confusion. "Sorry, who are you again?"

"I'm Siobhan. Max's...friend."

"Friend?" Max echoes through gritted teeth. Stalker Max stirs behind his clear blue eyes. I ignore him.

"Are you okay?" I ask Vanessa. "This is my sorority house. Would you like to come inside and get a glass of water or a snack or something?"

"Thanks, but no. I'll be fine." Vanessa carefully stands and brushes herself off. "I'm used to it. You must think I'm crazy," she realizes, suddenly clamping her mouth shut as if she's said too much.

"No. No, of course not. I've seen some strange things. Much stranger than this."

"Hope I didn't say anything about my super-secret identity." Vanessa gives a weak smile and a short, uncertain laugh. Max looks at me in panic.

"It was nothing," I assure her. "You just told me I had something really important to do."

"Oh." She doesn't look convinced.

Max places a comforting hand on her back. "We'd better get back to the dorm. I'll see you later?" he asks me. Vanessa starts out, but he lingers behind, waiting for my answer.

I look him straight in the eye, so that there's no doubt over what I'm about to say. I shake my head. "No, you won't. Max, I hate to do this now, after what's happened, but...it's over."

He frowns, his lower lip trembling like he's holding back tears. "Alright," he concedes. "I'll leave you alone. But it's not over," he adds before turning to follow his cousin. I open my mouth to call out to him—to say what, I don't know, maybe his name—but only a hoarse breath escapes my mouth. I purse my lips back together until they meld into a frustrated white line. Deep in my gut I know what I just did had to be done, but an image of Max gazing down at me in bed, his face flushed with reverence and desire, floats up from my memories.

"What was all that about?" Jimmy's question jolts me back to the present. "Did you just break up with your boyfriend?"

"Max isn't my boyfriend!" I erupt. I pull away from him and stomp back up to the front door of the house.

"Hey! Hey," he says, holding up his hands in surrender.

"I know, I'm sorry," I say. Tears well up in my eyes. These wings wouldn't be such a problem for someone who wasn't so damned emotional about everything. "Did you hear what his cousin said?" I ask. My stomach churns at the thought of her white eyes and demonic voice. "She told me I'm in danger. That I need to get out."

"You're not actually taking her seriously," Jimmy exclaims in disbelief. "She probably just had a fit or a break down or something."

"But I run into Jasper for the first time in six years, and now this girl who's supposed to be psychic tells me it's not safe for me here? This can't just be a coincidence."

"You think this has something to do with—" The front door swings open with a loud squeak, and Jimmy and I jump.

Farrah walks out into the hazy porch light.

"Here she is," Farrah says to someone behind her. "Just out here chatting with one of her many admirers." She gives Jimmy a sickeningly sweet smile. "I'm Farrah. Siobhan's already mentioned me, I'm sure. I'm the one holding the girls to a new schedule."

"Jimmy." He nods at her. I catch his eyes appreciating the flimsy pale pink dress clinging to her trim figure. I can't blame him, but I also can't help the pang of annoyance shooting through me.

A man appears in the doorway behind her. He's looking back at something over his shoulder, so at first I can only see half of his face. But it's a beautiful half. Smooth black skin, high cheekbone, square jaw and a shaved head, which I don't usually go for, but it works on him. He has broad shoulders and bulbous arm muscles straining against the fabric of his tight white t-shirt. I wonder if Jimmy notices me checking him out. As my eyes trail down his body, I notice one of his large hands clasps the end of a gold cane.

I glance down at my phone. It's twenty after two. "No boys allowed in the house after two." I beam innocently at Farrah.

"I'm showing Hef out now," Farrah assures me. "Hef, this is Siobhan, our amazing social chair. This is Hef, my boyfriend." I cringe inwardly. I hate it when old people call each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Okay, they're not that old, but still.

Hef turns to me and smiles, and I have to swallow my gasp.

"It's nice to meet you," he says to me, his voice rich and deep. "Goodnight, Farrah." Hef pecks her on the cheek. He drags himself down the doorstep with his cane, and Jimmy and I part to let him through.

"I guess I should be off, too. I'll text you." Jimmy looks like he's going to kiss me, but then glances at Farrah and thinks better of it. He settles for an awkward wave.

Farrah holds open the door for me, and we go inside. Meeting Hef makes me see another side to Farrah, a side I don't want to admit is there. I want her to be the gorgeous, prying, deceptive house mother that I hate, that I expose to everybody who flocks so blindly to her assuring words and venomous smile. The left side of Hef's face is damaged beyond recognition. The dark skin is covered with welts and scarring, and the eye is almost sealed completely shut. It's hard to believe it belongs to the same face as the other half. He's like the Phantom of the Opera or something, without the luxury of a mask. If Farrah loves him, maybe she's not as shallow and uncompassionate as I'd hoped.

"Am I in trouble?" I ask her before she goes into her room.

Farrah shakes her head. "I'll give you a pass. But next time, I won't be so generous. I like Victoria, but she's been too lax in her duties. You girls lack discipline. I'm trying to remedy that."

"Discipline? We're a sorority, not the army."

"In the times ahead, you're going to need it." Her words send a chill down my spine. They remind me of Vanessa's. For once Farrah looks and sounds like—well, maybe saying like she cares is too much to ask for—more like she's being straight with me. "You're going to have to trust me on this one," she adds before disappearing into her room.
Chapter 11

"Isn't it strange..."

The familiar voice fades into the heavy silence, now punctuated only by a faint, rhythmic beeping sound. I can't tell who the voice belonged to; my eyes are squeezed shut as I concentrate on trying to breathe instead. As hard as I try, I can't take even a small breath; my throat is closing up. I keep grasping for consciousness, but it's like someone is dangling it just out of my reach.

The tips of my fingers brush something cool and metallic, and I open my eyes and glance at my limp, outstretched hand. A copper goblet rolls back and forth on the floor like someone has just dropped it. Burgundy red liquid pools on the white marble. Slender but firm arms slide under my back to cradle me like a baby.

"Isn't it strange how the very thing that keeps us beautiful, keeps us strong and invincible, is the very thing that can be our undoing?" The voice is as menacing as it is soothing, like a thousand tiny needles bristling underneath cashmere. I look up under hooded lids at its source. Two icy jade eyes meet mine...

"Turn it off!"

I wake up to the sounds of my phone alarm and Tanya's grumpy voice.

"Sorry." I blindly feel around for it on my nightstand and almost knock it onto the floor. Tanya groans into her pillow again. "I'm trying." I finally scoop the phone up and shut it off.

Tanya rolls over to look at me, struggling to keep her eyes open. "It's Saturday. Go back to sleep."

"I can't. Sam wants to go early to buy stuff for tonight." Sam is Sigma Iota's social chair. "Then we have to set up." I don't get up right away. Instead, I sit upright in my bed, my mind desperately trying to salvage the ghostly tails of my dream as they fade away.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just had a weird dream."

"About what?"

I pause, bringing my hand to my throat as I recall the feeling of not being able to breathe or swallow. "About Farrah trying to kill me."

I hadn't meant to say this out loud. But when I look up, Tanya is breathing deeply again, her eyes closed. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I slide to the floor and plod soundlessly to grab a towel and my shower caddy. After my shower I throw on dark gray yoga pants and our black Greek Sing t-shirt from last year. I go outside to meet Sam.

"You look snazzy!" I call out. Sam emerges from the Sigma Iota house just as I'm coming out. His usually flaming carrot red hair is muted and wet like he also just got out of the shower. Unlike me, he looks ready for tonight's Black and White party. Sam and many of his Sigma Iota brothers are business majors, and they're well-known on campus for their suits. He smiles at me and waves.

"And you look like you just got up," he teases me. "So, where to first?"

We walk to the parking garage and get in Sam's sleek red convertible. Our first stop is the party store at the mall, followed by the supermarket. We drive back to campus loaded with the supplies necessary to transform the smelly, sticky Sigma Iota basement into an elegant cocktail lounge. After I've supervised the party committee for a few hours, Sam takes over so I can go home to get ready.

"Are you going to be okay here?" I ask.

"I think I can manage," Sam assures me.

I nod and start climbing the stairs, but I stop three steps up. "Are you sure?" So far we've swept, mopped, disinfected and set up round tables with chairs on one side of the room, but all of the decorations still need to go up.

"What, don't you trust me?" he asks me, parting his lips to feign astonishment.

"Of course I do. I'm sorry. I guess when it comes to our social events, I'm kind of a control freak," I admit.

Sam's look tells me that this is definitely the case.

Back at the house, I change into a black strapless cocktail dress and heels. At the bathroom sink I curl my hair and gather half of it back with a fake pearl hair clip, letting a few curls loose to frame my face. I give my eyes what I hope is a sultry, smoky look using gray shadow and charcoal eye liner. At eight, I meet my sisters downstairs, and we all walk over to the SI house together.

The risk managers from our respective houses stand at the front door giving wrist bands to those who are twenty-one and over. They check me in first, and I hurry to the basement to do a frantic, last-minute review of the room before my sisters follow me downstairs. The black beads of the curtain hanging in the doorway clack against each other as I part it with my fingers and step inside.

Sam sees me coming in and walks over, grasping two glass goblets filled with red liquid.

"It looks great," I tell him. Black and white puffs made of tissue paper dangle from the ceiling, and clear holiday lights twinkle along the walls. Each table is draped with a black polyester tablecloth and illuminated by a centerpiece of white flowers and tealight candles. The Sigma Iota pledges are stuck with serving duty and circulate the room in black suits juggling platters of hors d'oeuvres. Next to the bar, a buffet table offers a selection of fruits, pretzels and cookies for dipping into the molten chocolate rippling down the fountain in the center. Jazz music thumps pleasantly in the background.

"A toast to our awesomeness," Sam says, offering me one of the wine glasses. I grimace but take it anyway. Our glasses clink, and Sam takes a gulp of wine.

"What, don't like red wine?"

I shake my head. "Hate it. Sorry." He has no idea just how much I hate it. The sight alone makes bile rise in the back of my throat.

"No problem." He takes the glass from me and cocks his head toward the bar. "I'll get you a cocktail instead."

As the night goes on, the D. J. eventually replaces the soft jazz soundtrack with loud, throbbing techno, and the basement hums with tipsy chatter and laughter. Hips sway to the music and lips interlock as people pair up for the evening. I'm sitting in a back corner sipping a cosmopolitan and playing Assassin with Tanya, Sam and some of the other SI brothers. Movement out of the corner of my eye makes me look over my cards at the buffet, where Liz talks to someone as she drenches a strawberry with chocolate. A large grin spreads on her face, and she giggles at something her companion has just said. Elegant fingers reach out to briefly touch the smooth mocha skin of her shoulder. The sleeves of his black dress shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing lean forearms. My eyes travel up to his broad shoulders and shoulder-length, slightly wavy dark hair. His midnight blue eyes meet mine just as I'm finally realizing who it is.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

I throw my cards on the table and stand up.

"What are you doing?" Tanya wonders.

"Sorry, I need some air," I tell them before running as fast as I can in my heels up the stairs.

So much for getting some air. When I burst through the front door, the night air is stifling and heavy with the promise of rain. Lights and music pour from the Saturday night parties going on at other houses. I slow down to an amble, the heels of my shoes clicking angrily along the driveway. Behind me, a door groans open and slams shut again.

"Siobhan, wait!" Jasper's voice calls out to me. His shoes smack against the sidewalk as he jogs to catch up with me.

"Leave me alone!" I toss back without breaking my stride. But then I whirl around, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"First the concert, now the party?" I explode. "What are you doing? Stalking me or something?"

He catches up with me but keeps a few feet of distance between us. "I know how this looks, but no, of course not. I'm an SI alum."

"An alum," I repeat slowly. That's unlikely, but sure enough I see the Sigma Iota badge—a gold shield set with two garnets and one black opal—glinting from his shirt collar.

"I knew you were a Gamma—I should have mentioned it to you. I'm sorry."

I search his eyes for the truth, also taking this opportunity to admire the marble white planes of his face and the sensuous curve of his lips. We're standing just where the edge of the porch light fades into darkness, and out here his eyes take on the color of night, glinting like black diamonds. They don't seem to be lying, but then again, they're not shining with honesty, either. With those eyes Jasper can delve into my soul, but I can't even skim the surface of his.

This has given me a good excuse to look at him, but now I'm finding it difficult to look away. Or stay annoyed. I sigh and uncross my arms.

"I'm sorry, too. I overreacted," I insist, deciding to go along with his excuse—at least for now. "I shouldn't have assumed—that was really self-centered of me."

"I do think we need to talk," he says. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

I look past him at the Sigma Iota house. As social chair, it's pretty rude and irresponsible of me to just up and leave in the middle of a mixer. But as far as they know, I'm still with one of the brothers. We shouldn't be gone for long.

To be honest, I'm dying to hear what he's so eager to tell me.

"Sure," I concede.

At first, Jasper and I walk side-by-side in tense silence. After only a few minutes of this I can't stand it anymore.

"So, how do you know Liz?" I wonder.

"I've had her in class," he explains. "She's a nice person. I'm setting her up with one of the brothers."

From the look Liz was giving Jasper, I think there's only one Sigma Iota brother she's interested in.

We lapse back into silence. I watch my feet clomp over the ground, but I can sense Jasper's eyes on me.

"What did you want to talk about?" I look over at him and still give a start when I realize that he is, in fact, staring at me. Our eyes meet, and he smiles almost shyly.

"Sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable. It's just...you have blossomed into an even more beautiful woman than I could have imagined."

It's such a cheesy line—the kind that would usually make me burst out laughing. But instead my breath catches in my throat, and the slow, deliberate way he says "beautiful woman" makes heat gather between my thighs. I find myself falling into his penetrating gaze. I'm not sure I like the feeling. It's what I imagine sky diving must feel like—an exhilarating, scary plunge into the unknown.

"What did you mean at the bar?" I persist.

"Hm?"

"I told you I remembered you from the forest, but you said that's not what you were talking about. So what were you talking about?"

Jasper hesitates. "Siobhan, what I have to tell you is going to be hard to believe. I know you don't remember me, don't know me, but I hope as time goes on I can earn your trust again."

Again? What the heck is he talking about? I hide my incredulity with an encouraging smile.

"We've met before—before you and your friends found me in the forest," he clarifies. "You knew me in a past life.

Part Two

Surrender

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."—William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream
Chapter 12

"A past life?" I try to stifle my laughter, but it still comes out through my nose. I cover my nose and mouth with my hand and clear my throat.

"Yes. A past life on another world. My world."

"Just when I thought it couldn't possibly get any better." I shake my head, my mouth opening and closing like it yearns to say more, but I have nothing left to say. I turn around and walk back toward the Sigma Iota house.

"What are you...where are you going?" In two swift steps Jasper is walking alongside me again.

"All I want are some answers!" I exclaim in frustration.

"I know. And I'm trying to give you some."

"No, you're not." I stop abruptly, and Jasper takes a few steps past me before he realizes it and comes to a stop himself. "I want to know how you gave me these wings. And why?" I demand, marching up to him and getting in his face. Well, as much as a five-foot-two girl standing on the tips of her toes can get in anybody's face. "Why did you give them to me and then just...leave? What are you doing here?"

"Sorry, your wings?" he asks me. His eyes narrow with concern. Even though I know I shouldn't doubt myself, for a brief moment I'm humiliated, afraid that I've been under the wrong assumption for the last six years, that Jasper didn't do anything to me, that I was always a freak...

Jasper laughs, but it falters when he sees my face, which I can feel is scarlet red. "It was just a joke," he mumbles.

"These are the questions I want answered," I continue as if he hadn't just made that lame attempt to lighten the mood. "Instead you feed me some garbage about knowing you in a past life. Oh, and on another planet." While my own incredulous laughter rings out into the night, whispers of doubt massage the back of my mind: You dreamed about him before you even met him. Maybe he's telling the truth.

"You want to know why I'm here?" Jasper grabs my chin with his hand and brings my face closer to his. His eyes drill even more deeply into mine, if that's possible. "I'm here for you."

The color drains from my face, and I stagger backwards without really going anywhere because of his unrelenting grasp. "Is that supposed to be a threat? You're going to need to try harder." My hoarse whisper betrays my fear. The flesh of my back ripples as my wings stir underneath it.

Jasper releases my face. "Of course not. That came out wrong." He turns away from me, digging his hands into his pockets.

"You wanted to know why I'm here," he says, facing me again. "I'm trying to tell you. You're someone very important back home."

"Your home."

"Our home," he corrects me. "I gave you your wings back because I thought they would help you remember who you are."

"Great plan. Too bad it didn't work. So, how did you give them to me?" I ask again.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "When you reached out to me, touched my hand with your own, I transferred them to you through the magic of my touch."

"Please don't give me this 'magic' crap. I'm a biology major."

Is that a flash of annoyance crossing his face? It's gone so quickly I'm not sure if I imagined it or not.

"There's a fruit on our world whose nectar contains a special compound," he explains rather reluctantly. "Its effects are most potent if you consume it, but exposure through skin contact works well enough. It gave your body its ability to make wings."

"Like a mutation?" But this wouldn't make sense, either. If this mysterious alien compound did mutate my DNA, it would most likely impair the proteins I already have, not give me the ability to make new ones—ones needed to grow wings. I'll have to think about this some more. Right now, I have another, more pressing question for Jasper.

"How could you do that to me without asking first?"

"Do what? I gave you a gift." Jasper puts a hand to his chest, looking deeply offended. "After which, from what I recall, you and your friends left me for dead."

My memories of that night resurface, and I can see him sprawled on the ground, a sheen of sweat on his pale skin. I can hear his voice, how he struggled to speak to me, as if pain sliced through him with every word.

"I felt sick and ran off. My wings were about to emerge, but I didn't know that," I explain. "Anna and Jimmy were worried and went after me. We came back to help you, but you were already gone. What was wrong with you?"

"Our world is in a universe parallel to this one. It's forbidden for us to cross over to Earth. Others tried to stop me."

"Who? The Fringe Division? Does crossing over cause the breakdown of both our worlds?"

"What?"

"You've never watched 'Fringe?'" Jasper's response is a tilt of the head and quizzical slanting of his eyes. "It was a TV show," I tell him.

He shrugs. "I don't watch a lot of television."

"My people are difficult to kill," he continues. "We're virtually immortal from a human's perspective, but death does not completely elude us. I was quite sure I would die that night. As a last effort I sent up a signal for help."

"How did you know I would see it?"

"I didn't." He smiles as if this is the most beautiful realization of all. "I had just gotten to Earth—I had no idea where you would be or how I would ever find you. Fate let you and your friends see my signal—brought you to me that night."

"I don't believe in fate." Even so, his assertion makes me shiver.

Again, a fleeting look darkens his face—this time of disappointment—but he quickly returns to storytelling mode. "You and your friends left, and that's when Eric found me."

"Wait—you mean Dr. Mars?"

Jasper nods. "He took me to one of your hospitals. The warmth, rest and fluids revived my self-healing abilities. My condition and unexpected survival were something of a mystery to the hospital staff." He smiles at the memory. Meanwhile my mind has latched onto "self-healing abilities." Jimmy. If what Jasper says about me is true, why does Jimmy have them, but I don't? Actually, why does Jimmy have them, at all? I don't ask him, though. He doesn't need to know about Jimmy.

"Eric took me in. I enrolled in his department—"

"How did you manage that?" I wonder. Jasper sighs at the interruption, but I go on. "You don't have a high school transcript."

His lips curl into a wicked grin. "I can be very persuasive. Anyway, I blew through undergrad in three years and am three years into the PhD program. Just biding my time. My plan was to seek you out again once you were older. Then you showed up in Eric's class, and I didn't have to."

"Please," I beg him, holding up a cautionary hand, "do not tell me it was fate." I manage to say this around the hard lump of fear congealing in my throat. This can't all just be coincidence, but right now it's the most comforting explanation. If there are any other more rational, less creepy alternatives to his account, none are coming to mind.

He doesn't reply, but his expression tells me he believes it was fate, indeed.

I glance back at the Sigma Iota house. We've been in such deep conversation I almost forgot why we were standing in the middle of the Quad in the first place. The SI brothers are escorting my sisters out the front door.

"I guess the mixer's over," Jasper says. We walk the rest of the way to the black-and-white clad crowd lingering on the lawn.

"Have dinner with me tomorrow night," Jasper asks me abruptly. When I don't respond right away, he adds, "I think you still have questions for me. And I'd really like to get to know you better."

"I thought we already knew each other so well. You know, in my past life." Jasper flinches as I splash him with this next round of verbal acid. He's bringing out my sarcastic side. I'm starting to sound like Carly.

"We did. But it was foolish of me to assume you'd still be that same person," he admits. "Your experiences in your new life have shaped you into the woman you are now. I want to get to know you, Siobhan." The intensity with which he voices this final wish makes me wonder exactly how we knew each other in the past—if we even did. I push this unsettling thought to the back of my mind.

"Okay," I reply. "Mind if I bring a friend?"

"I don't really think we need chaperones." Jasper sounds annoyed, but then he follows it up with, "If it makes you more comfortable, please do, although it kind of defeats the purpose. We won't be able to talk candidly."

"I'll bring Anna."

He nods. "I see. Well, in that case, I'll bring a friend along, too. I know someone who wants to meet her."

This strikes me as odd, but I don't press him because I see Victoria coming out of the Sigma Iota house, hiking up the floor-length skirt of her black dress to avoid tripping. While she says something to Liz, her eyes dart from me to Jasper a few times, her brow furrowed. Liz follows her gaze.

Liz's jaw hits the sidewalk, her eyes popping out of her head in fury.

"You stupid bitch!" she growls. Liz takes off at full speed in my direction, leaving an even more confused-looking Victoria in her wake.

I'm frozen as I watch Liz barrel toward me.

She's about to plow into me when Jasper steps around me and reaches out to halt Liz with one firm grasp on her shoulder.

"You don't want to do this—" Jasper's words of caution are cut off when Liz knees him hard in the crotch. He gasps and, although it doesn't look as painful for him as it would be for a human, she succeeds in startling him. It frees her from his grasp and she knocks into me, pushing me to the ground.

"You stay away from him! Slut!" She lashes out, her arms swinging like pendulums. Victoria rushes over and tries to pull her off of me. I writhe and kick, but Liz's holding me to the ground with almost inhuman strength. I mean, I know I'm tiny, but I would never have thought she was this strong. She doesn't even work out.

"Liz, please." It comes out as a croak. Her legs straddle me to keep me down while she clutches my neck with her hands.

"Stop it, Liz!" Victoria shrieks.

"Get out of the way!" Jasper snaps at Victoria. "I've got this!"

"Oh, I think you've done quite enough!"

I actually feel the air starting to go out of me. The world is fading in and out, and Liz's crazed eyes and snarling lips are the only things I can see when it blinks back into existence. I have the strangest sense of déjà vu.

"Please, get out of my way!"

Jasper swiftly picks Victoria up and sets her aside as easily as if she were a paper doll. His hands grab Liz's and pry them off of me. He wraps his arms underneath her armpits and drags her the rest of the way off.

But it might be too late.

I hear myself moan, and then everything goes dark.
Chapter 13

"Siobhan!"

"Do you think she's alright? Should we call an ambulance?"

"She'll be fine. Look, her eyes are opening."

"Siobhan!"

My eyes flutter open. Blinding artificial light greets them, and they squeeze shut again. There's something wonderfully soft underneath my head. It feels like a cloud. I open my eyes again halfway until they adjust to the light. The three faces floating above me flood with relief. Tanya sits at my feet, twirling a lock of fried blonde hair around her pointer finger. Victoria stands over me, her amber eyes even larger and rounder than usual as she looks at me with concern. Jasper crouches next to my head, smoothing the hair back from my face. I'm lying on the couch. The cloud is a pillow.

"How are you feeling?" Victoria asks me.

I rub my neck and collarbone. "Sore." It still hurts where Liz tried to strangle me.

"Do you want us to call Student Health? They have an emergency number," Tanya says.

I shake my head. "No. I'll be okay. I want to sit up." Victoria reaches out to help me, but Jasper beats her to it, his hands clasping my forearms with gentle firmness. Her eyes narrow as she watches him guide me into an upright position.

"I think it's time for you to go. We have a curfew. Sorry." Victoria's smile is anything but apologetic. There's a note of familiarity in her condescending tone. It's the same tone Anna uses when she disapproves of something Jimmy does.

"Siobhan's had a rough night. I'm sure you can make an exception," Jasper counters. Victoria opens her mouth to argue, but then we both look up at the same time to see a dark figure appear on the stairs. She steps out into the living room light.

"Liz." I know my voice is panicked, but I don't even care. I clutch the pillow to my chest and try to back further into the couch, as if I can disappear there.

"Just leave us alone for now," Victoria says. Liz ignores her warning, but her pace is slow and hesitant as she crosses the room to us. She hasn't changed out of her black and white checkered dress. Her cornrows are slightly frizzed and look like they're starting to come undone.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," she says, stopping a few feet away. "I don't know what got into me. I feel terrible."

"You should," Tanya reminds her. "You tried to choke her to death."

"It's fine," I mumble, but I avoid meeting Liz's hurt, pleading gaze. "Let's just forget it ever happened."

"I know it's not 'fine.' I don't know what I can do to make it better. I..." Liz trails off and looks at Jasper as though she's only just realized he's there. Her eyes follow his hand as he strokes the back of my hair to comfort me.

"Let me know what I can do," she adds quietly through gritted teeth. She turns away and heads back up the stairs. I don't know if it's because she's really ashamed of attacking me or if it's because she's resisting the urge to do it again.

Liz is gone, but just then someone swipes their key in the front door. As the door swings open, I catch a glimpse of two long legs in tightly woven black fishnet stockings.

"Victoria, I just saw your text," Farrah's saying as she enters. The sequins of her black mini dress send spotty shadows along the floor. "What happ—"

She falters when she sees Jasper.

And it's as if two planets soundlessly collide inside the space of our sorority house.

Jasper had his arm around me but abruptly pulls away from me. I watch him stare at Farrah. Jasper, who is usually so sure of himself, so calm and collected, is now silently screaming Are you shitting me?! as he looks at our house mother. A moment later his dark blue eyes become black pits and his body trembles with pent-up rage. In the next, he relaxes, his eyes clear again, and he looks confused and almost hurt.

I'm so transfixed watching Jasper that I forget about Tanya and Victoria. I look over at them, but they're both still fussing over me. I think I'm the only one who witnessed what passed between Jasper and Farrah.

Farrah's rosy lips are parted in quiet uncertainty, but she recovers herself quickly and politely offers Jasper her hand. "I'm Farrah, the girls' house mother."

He takes her hand and gives it a brief, stiff shake. "Jasper."

When their hands touch, the temperature in the room plummets about a gazillion degrees. I suddenly feel small and insignificant, like I'm looking up at the Milky Way in the night sky trying to comprehend the vastness of the universe. A power I don't understand is filling up the room, pushing against me from all sides, pushing me away, pushing me out...

"I should go," Jasper says. Victoria shoots him a look that says, Ya think? Jasper gets up, but then leans back down to whisper in my ear, "I added my contact info to your cell while you were out. Text me and let me know how you are."

"Goodnight," he says to the rest of the room. He gives the back of Farrah's head one last, long menacing look before he leaves. Farrah takes his place on the couch beside me.

"Please tell me exactly what happened."

When I just sit there quietly, staring at my hands in my lap, Victoria takes over and recounts Liz's freak out. "Liz almost choked her to death," she finishes. "Siobhan was unconscious for about ten minutes, but then she came back."

"Yeah, she does that," Farrah mutters. Or at least I think that's what she said.

"I didn't know she felt so strongly about him," I finally say, my voice shrill and defensive. "We weren't even doing anything!"

"You two were gone for quite some time. You missed the rest of the mixer," Victoria points out. I know she probably thinks I misrepresented Gamma Lambda Phi by disappearing, but she also realizes that now really isn't the time to scold me. Especially not in front of Farrah, whose expression I can't even read. I was just assaulted by one of my own sorority sisters. I would have thought she'd be freaking out or overflowing with concern. Instead her face is impassive as she listens to our account.

"We went for a walk," I insist. "It's not like he was going to get in my pants."

"Of course not—" Victoria hurries to apologize, but Farrah talks over her.

"Have you talked to Liz since then?"

I nod. "She was just down here before you came in. She said she was sorry."

Farrah claps her hands on her thighs. "Well, then it sounds like you girls worked everything out on your own." She stands up. "You don't even need me."

I glance at Victoria and Tanya. Their faces look how mine feels: Mouths gaping, eyes wide in astonishment and confusion.

"It's not resolved at all!" Victoria exclaims. "How can Siobhan possibly feel safe living with Liz after that? Farrah, we need to put her on probation."

Farrah arches a skeptical eyebrow, but asks me, "How do you feel about the living situation? Do you feel safe?"

Despite my initial surprise over Farrah's nonchalant response, what could they really do about it if I don't feel safe? They can't just kick Liz to the curb.

"Yes. I don't think she'll do it again." And this is the truth. I can't explain Liz's outburst, or why I'm not scared anymore, but I'm not. Just shocked. I want to blame it all on Jasper, but that's unfair, too. I saw them talking and stomped away like an angst-ridden teenager who saw her boyfriend flirting with another girl. At least that's probably what it looked like to Liz. Of course he was going to chase after me. So it was probably partly my fault. Not that I deserved to be strangled, but still.

Victoria and Tanya still look uncertain, concerned—like they want to argue with me, but their lips stay sealed.

"See?" Farrah says to Victoria. "I'll have a talk with Liz, but I think it's best if we move on." She gives a dainty yawn, covering her mouth with her hand. "I'm worn out. Goodnight, girls." Her black hooker boots pound the floor as she walks to her room.

"You should probably go upstairs and get some rest," Victoria advises.

I lower my head back onto the pillow. "I'm too tired to get up. I think I'll just sleep down here."

"I will, too," Tanya says. Before I can tell her I don't need a bodyguard, she bounds upstairs to get her stuff.

"If you change your mind about anything and want to talk about it, you know my door is always open," Victoria reminds me.

"Mmmhm," I mutter, curling up underneath the afghan and closing my eyes.
Chapter 14

"You don't have to go to Chapter today," Victoria says from the doorway to my room. I'm looping a thin black patent leather belt around the waist of my charcoal gray dress. "Maybe you should rest."

"I've been resting all day. I'm feeling much better now." Today was the epitome of a lazy Sunday. I stayed in bed and watched videos on YouTube all day until it was time to get ready for our weekly chapter meeting. Plus, tonight is my dinner with Anna, Jasper and his mysterious friend. I couldn't skip chapter and then leave for that.

Victoria gives a resigned sigh. "See you downstairs." She disappears. I take my badge out of my jewelry box and fasten it to my dress. Our badge is a gold horseshoe-shaped laurel wreath, ancient Greece's symbol of victory.

"Siobhan!" Someone—I think it's Carly—shouts my name from the stairs. "There's a boy here to see you!"

Crap. A boy? Chapter starts in just a few minutes. Who would drop by without telling me? Is it Max? Jasper?

"Coming!" I slip on my black pumps and hobble downstairs.

When I get to the bottom, the living room is packed with sorority girls wearing business formal, and Jimmy sits on the couch, watching them all with wary eyes. His head perks up when he sees me. The big, happy grin spreading on his face erases my panic and brings a smile to my own.

"Hey," I say, joining him on the couch. "What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to come by and check up on you," he explains. "Anna told me you had a rough night." I nod. This morning I texted Anna about dinner and vaguely mentioned that I had "fainted" last night. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm fine now." I glance over to where Liz is standing by the TV cabinet. I felt her eyes on me, but when I catch her she quickly looks away. "I'll tell you later," I promise. "Look, it's sweet of you to stop by, but we're about to have a meeting."

"Sorry!" Jimmy quickly stands up. "I was wondering why everybody was so dressed up."

"It's no problem. I really am glad you came. I just feel bad having to kick you out."

He takes my hand as we walk to the door. "Anna also told me about your double date tonight," he adds, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I scowl. "It's not a double date. It's an information-gathering dinner."

"How romantic." He smirks, but then his face grows serious. "I want to take you out later this week."

"I'd like that." He pecks me on the cheek, and I gently close the door behind him.

"Oooooo!" Tanya and a few of the other sisters sing at me as I join the circle they're forming around the room.

"Shut up," I mutter, but I'm still smiling and my heart flutters in my chest. To my left I clasp Tanya's hand, and to my right, Carly's. Victoria leads us in the secret ceremony with which we open our chapter meetings. Afterwards, everyone sits down in the chairs lined up in the middle of the room, and Victoria stands in front of us, getting down to business. One-by-one, she calls on each executive board member to stand and give pretty much the same report we gave her at the beginning of the week.

"Siobhan has a very important reminder," Victoria prefaces when it's my turn. I go into social-chair-mode, hopping to my feet and beaming with excitement.

"This coming Friday is our annual 'Find Your Sister a Mister' party!" I exclaim, and the room erupts in a flurry of snaps and cheers. "You only have one more week to find your big sister a date if you haven't already! And if you're like me and don't have a little—no worries! Someone else in your family tree will set you up." I look pointedly at Tanya. "All sisters and blind dates must be at the house at six. Promptly at six thirty, we'll board a shuttle that will take us to the Riverfront Bar and Grill. There will be lots of great food, music, dancing—and then the shuttle will pick us up again at eleven."

"Everyone must take the shuttle," Victoria jumps in. "Due to liability issues no one is allowed to go separately."

"Also, I need volunteers to help set up and decorate. Any takers?" A handful of arms go up in the air. I count ten and jot their names down.

"Thanks for volunteering, guys. Anything else, Siobhan?" asks Victoria. I shake my head and sit back down. "Great. Thank you for your report.

"Now, before we break: As Farrah announced a few days ago, we're going to end chapter each week with a little bit of ritual practice."

Farrah, who exercised unusual self-restraint throughout this entire meeting, rises and disappears into the kitchen. Chairs scrape against the floor as the rest of us get up, and we reform our circle around the room. Victoria hefts a massive, worn leather-bound book I've never seen before onto the podium and carefully peels back page after thin, yellowed page until she finds the one she's looking for. Words printed in a miniscule serif font scuttle across each page like hundreds of tiny black insects.

She stoops again, this time resurfacing with a fistful of incense sticks, a diffuser and a translucent pink lighter. One swift flick of her thumb produces a dancing yellow flame, which she holds to the ends of the sticks. After letting them burn for a few seconds, she gently blows on them. The flames diminish, leaving behind a soft glow. Smoke curls from the smoldering tips. Shudders ripple through the sisters standing closest to Victoria, their faces turning a grayish green. They stumble toward the center of the circle away from the undulating smoke, hands clamped over their mouths. Their muffled shrieks of panic and disgust shatter the calm anticipation that has settled over the room.

"What the heck is that?"

"It smells terrible."

"Really? I think it smells good." Carly says it as though she's done something wrong.

I like it, too—I'd even go so far as to say its blend of honey and vanilla smells enticing. A distant memory prods me in the back of my mind, but the conflicting reactions of my sisters to the aroma—or stench—filling the room consumes my attention. About half of the room is like me, Tanya and Carly, breathing in deeply and smiling with contentment, while the others gag into their hands.

Farrah returns holding a large bronze goblet and comes to stand beside Victoria.

"If the smell of the incense is bothering you, you may leave." Even though their eyes bug out of their green faces, the girls don't leave right away, just look at Farrah with uncertainty. "Please leave. You may wait outside." This sends them racing for the door, squeezing out of it two and three at a time. The rest of us take a few steps forward to fill in the gaps left behind and tighten up the circle.

"Tanya, please lower the lights." Tanya obediently reaches back and flips off a few of the switches to the ceiling lights. "I'm going to teach you a new ritual today. A very important one called The Guardian Ceremony." Farrah gives the cup to Carly. "Each sister must take a drink from the chalice before passing it onto the next—"

"No! Don't drink it!"

All eyes shift from Farrah to me. I've taken a few steps forward, my hand reaching for Carly, whose lips are paused on the metallic rim of the chalice.

I feel myself flush as I lower my hand. "Sorry. I don't know why I said that."

"It's just water." One look at Victoria's patient, encouraging expression reassures me—well, almost. There's still something odd about this ceremony. This must be what non-Greeks think we do—burn incense, recite oaths from ancient-looking texts and drink from ornate goblets.

"Drink of the nectar of Olympus to obtain strength of the mind." Victoria's strong voice rings out clear and commanding in the otherwise silent room, reciting a slightly different version of our motto as we pass around the cup. When it comes to me, I roll the cool water around on my tongue for a moment before letting it slip down my throat. I expect to feel different after drinking it, but it's anticlimactic. I give an imperceptible shrug of my shoulders and neck, but everything seems normal, so I pass the cup to Tanya.

"Drink to obtain strength of the body. Drink to obtain strength of the heart."

Eventually the empty cup returns to Farrah, and she sets it on the coffee table behind her.

"Now, please repeat after me." We go back and forth—Farrah reciting chunks of the ceremony from memory, the rest of us repeating it, stumbling over the words as we struggle to recall what was just read to us. In my mind, I bring the segments together, and the resulting poem is bizarre and unlike any ritual we've ever done:

"Sisters we gather,

In answer to the call,

To fulfill our destiny

As guardians this side of the wall.

"Where the fabric wears thin,

And our enemy's at hand,

We must thrust him back

Into his own land.

"We honor our legacy

And before the night is done,

Sisters past, present and future

Will unite as one."

Again, I keep expecting something to happen—the floor to start quaking, Victoria's book to start glowing, something—but after we say the final words, the room grows quiet and still. The book closes with a thump, and Victoria jumps and covers her mouth with her hand as if she didn't mean to slam it that loudly.

"Thank you, ladies. That will be all for today," Farrah tells us.

We stand there, hands linked, for a moment longer—everybody thinking that ritual practice couldn't possibly be over. Although some confused whispers rumble around the room, nobody asks the questions we're all thinking: What was the point? What's the ritual for? Finally we disband and start folding up and putting away the chairs. I check my phone—and it's a good thing, too, because Anna texted me ten minutes ago to let me know she was here.

sorry we just got done. coming, I reply.

***

"Sorry," I say again as I crawl into the passenger's side of Anna's truck.

"It's okay. I wasn't waiting for that long." She turns the car back on and pulls away from the curb. Haunting orchestra music and the rich tones of a mezzo-soprano fill the car.

"What is this?"

"The soundtrack to 'Faust,'" she explains. "We're having auditions this week. I'm trying out for Marguerite. So, where are we meeting them again?"

"Isabela's. It's in Willow Park."

"Willow Park? Isn't that where all the rich people live?"

I shrug and search for it on her GPS. "It's not far. Make a right here."

Fifteen minutes later, we roll up to a tall iron gate at the entrance to a towering stone mansion.

Anna cranes her neck out of the open car window and gapes. "I hope this dinner's on them." A teenager wearing a black suit and navy blue silk tie strolls up to Anna's window, and his smooth freckled face smiles.

"Good evening, and welcome to Isabela's European Cuisine at the Willow Park Hotel. I can take your, uh—" his eyes give her banana yellow pickup truck the once-over—"truck for you, Miss."

"Oh! Yeah, sure." Anna and I get out, and she hands her keys to him. "Thanks. I feel like a redneck," she adds as we watch the valet take the truck around back. We gaze up at the Willow Park Hotel. The architecture reminds me of a castle and of another mansion my family and I toured once in East Laurel, my hometown's posh neighbor—the style is called Elizabethan revivalist, I think. The floodlights on the manicured lawn cast a romantic glow over its glittering granite face and stained glass windows. Two young ash trees stand guard on either side of the concrete porch steps. Climbing the stairs, we pause for a moment on each step to look around and take in our grandiose surroundings. One of the heavy black doors is propped open, and the faint strains of violin music drift outside.

In the foyer, our shoes hit white marble tiles. A crystal chandelier dangles from a soaring ceiling, and colorful tapestries decorate the pale gold walls. Behind an oak wood podium stands the host, wearing a tuxedo and maroon bowtie. His piercing black eyes regard us expectantly from behind the round, wire-framed glasses perched on his prominent nose. Anna and I walk up to him.

"Hi, we're meeting someone here," I tell him. "The reservation is under Jasper Hart."

He looks down at his leather-bound notebook, light from the chandelier glinting off his smooth, bare head as he shakes his head. "I'm sorry, we don't have a reservation under that name. What time is the reservation for?"

I glance at Anna in confusion. "Seven."

He scans the page again. "The only reservation we have for seven is for a party of four, under a Dr. Eric Mars."

I stand there speechless for a minute, staring stupidly at the host and his fastidious reservation booklet. "That has to be them," I say finally. He nods and motions for us to follow him, but hesitates when I tell Anna, "Come on, let's go." I sigh and turn to leave, but I don't hear the click of Anna's silver shoes behind me.

"Why?" she wonders as she adjusts the straps of her sea foam green dress and combs her fingers through her long, silky brown hair.

"Because we can't go on a double date with my teaching assistant and a professor."

"He's not my professor. And anyway, like you keep saying, it's not a date."

"Anna!" I call after her in a loud whisper, but she ignores me, practically skipping as she follows our host into the dining room. I scramble to catch up with them.
Chapter 15

Unlike the reception area, which was opulent but had the cold, impersonal feel of an art museum, Isabela's is surprisingly small and intimate. Art deco sconces cast pale white light along the burgundy walls. The only other light comes from the garnet red candles encased in round glass jars at the center of each table. The rich reds along with the polished dark wood of the floors and furniture create an atmosphere of dark romance. A string quartet plays with soft ardor in the back right corner.

The host leads us to a table tucked away in the back. Jasper sprawls languidly on the side that faces us. Dr. Mars sits across from him, so I can only see the thick jet black hair of the back of his head. Jasper sees us coming and stands, pulling out the chair beside him so that I can sit down. Dr. Mars does the same for Anna.

"It's nice to see you both again. Outside of class," Dr. Mars adds with a broad smile at me. There's a bottle of uncorked champagne on the table and four already filled glasses. I pick mine up and take an unladylike gulp. I can already tell this is going to be the most awkward dinner—ever. It fizzes on my tongue, cool and sweet and tinged with an unusual flavor, like honey or something. Like steady, liquid magic, it twists and spreads throughout my body, soothing my frayed nerves.

Jasper leans into me to whisper, "You look lovely." His warm breath and the way his lips briefly brush against my ear send a shiver of excitement down my spine.

"Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself." Even in his usual black dress pants and white shirt, Jasper looks like he's about to walk the runway at Fashion Week. A gold pin winks at me from his shirt collar. "You're wearing your badge?" I groan almost in disgust. He starts and glances down at the miniscule gold shield as though he forgot it was there. "You Sigma Iotas take badge attire so seriously."

Jasper relaxes back into his chair and smirks. "You do your best when you look your best."

We peruse the menu as Dr. Mars asks us about our majors and hobbies. The menu doesn't offer anything earthshattering but is outlandishly expensive. Our server returns to the table to take our orders. I've decided on the wedding soup for an appetizer and filet mignon. Jasper orders a house salad and the rack of lamb, Anna a Mediterranean salad and Eric grilled salmon almondine. After our waiter leaves to put in our orders, Anna resumes talking about the auditions for Faust.

"Well, good luck—or break a leg, I guess I should say," Eric tells her. "When is the actual performance?"

"There are four scheduled for the second weekend in October," Anna says.

"I'll have to mark that on my calendar. Our students always put on fantastic shows. And you'll make a beautiful Marguerite."

Anna blushes and chokes on her champagne. "I have to get the part first," she mumbles into her glass.

Other than these uncomfortable moments—well, they make me uncomfortable, Anna relishes every word of Eric's excessive compliments—dinner is not as bad as I had feared. Mostly we make small talk between bites of food. My filet mignon and side of cooked squash and zucchini melt in my mouth and are worth every penny. Well, as long as someone else is paying.

Jasper dabs the corners of his mouth with his white cloth napkin before setting it on the table. "I'd like to take a walk out in the garden before we leave," he announces. "Does anyone want to join me?"

Eric shakes his head. "I think I'll stay here and see what's for dessert." He flips to the back of the menu, but I can't help wondering if his words have a double meaning.

Anna looks like she might say yes, but one sideways glance from Eric impels her to pick up a menu as well. "Dessert sounds good." Jasper turns to me, eyebrows raised in expectation.

"Sure." I guess this will be our time to talk in private.

"We'll be back shortly," Jasper says, standing and offering me his arm. I hesitate before taking it. We pass the string quartet on our way to the back door. Jasper holds it open for me, and I walk out into the courtyard first, the door closing with a gentle click behind us.

"It's beautiful out here," I breathe. Japanese lanterns float above us, bobbing in the breeze and shining like miniature suns against the night sky. They cast a magical glow over the cobblestone pathway and surrounding garden, which blazes with the colors of late summer: orange mums, goldenrod, bright yellow black-eyed Susans and red coleus.

Where the path forks, we pause at a grayish white sculpture of a sinewy man and voluptuous woman—they're both naked, of course—embracing each other, their faces twisted in agony as they peer between the bars of an ornate domed cage. With one hand, the woman reaches up to caress her lover's face; she grasps the bars of their enclosure in desperation with the other.

I place my hand against the cool, chalky stone. "This looks really old."

"It's just made to look that way," Jasper says. I drop my hand, feeling pretty silly. "There's a brochure inside which talks about the sculptor," he explains so I know he's not patronizing me. "It's a series of statues made especially for the hotel—'The Lovers of Olympus.'"

"Ares and Aphrodite," I read, the names carved into the granite base of the statue. I raise my hand as though we're in class.

Jasper looks at me strangely but goes along with it. "Yes, Ms. Elliot?"

I lower my arm. "What's their story, Mr. Hart?"

He chuckles and stands beside the sculpture, gesturing to it while he lectures. "Well, Zeus forced Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, to marry Hephaestus, the ugly, crippled god of fire. During their marriage, Aphrodite is unfaithful to him a number of times. One of her affairs is with Hephaestus's half-brother, Ares.

"When Hephaestus finds out, he tells Aphrodite he's going to be gone for a few days, but he sets a trap for them—an enchanted net that drops on Aphrodite and Ares when they're in bed together, exposing their affair to Hephaestus and humiliating them in front of all the Olympian gods."

"That's kind of sad," I say, looking again at her outstretched hand. When Jasper looks skeptical, I elaborate, "I mean, I know Aphrodite was adulterous and all, but it would be hard to be married to someone you didn't love."

"Aphrodite is a manipulative, jealous, heinous bitch." Once the accusation has dripped from his lips, Jasper's mouth snaps closed, and he looks at me as if dreading my reaction.

"I didn't know you felt so strongly about fictional characters," I reply, laughing nervously.

"I guess I get carried away sometimes," he admits. "Let's go this way." He beckons me down the part of the path bending to the right. "There's something else I want to show you."

On our way, we pass another sculpture: this time of Hades and Persephone. In his stone hands Hades offers her a flower with six petals surrounding a crown-shaped protrusion, which Persephone stoops to sniff. When I stop in front of them, Jasper sighs with impatience, but tells the story anyway.

"Hades watches Persephone picking flowers one day and falls in love with her from afar. But he knows, out of all the Olympians, he is the most reviled by both his fellow gods and humankind, so he devises a plan to lure her to the Underworld." The rational part of my brain knows that this story should be creepy, but once again Jasper's milk chocolate voice and expert story-telling have me hanging on his every word.

"The next time she's out gathering flowers, she finds a daffodil that absolutely mesmerizes her—but when she plucks it, the ground opens up, and Hades rises out of it in a golden chariot. He seduces her and abducts her to the Underworld." Jasper pauses and walks to where I'm standing beside the granite Persephone. My heart beats faster in my chest as he holds my gaze steady and closes the gap between us. He towers over me, and for a moment I think he's going to bend down to kiss me.

"When Persephone's mother, Demeter—goddess of the harvest—finds out, her anger incites a drought that destroys every crop on Earth. Zeus sends Hermes to rescue Persephone. She returns home but is forever tied to the Underworld and must return every winter."

This time, Jasper lowers his face until his lips are millimeters from mine. Only minutes ago I was wishing I had brought a light sweater, the cool night air coaxing the hairs of my arms to stand on end, but now with Jasper standing so close to me I'm sweating. Can he tell? I hope I'm not getting pit stains.

But again, he doesn't kiss me, just smirks and asks, "Can we move along now?" I nod, and just as quickly as he came up to me, he leaves me standing alone, flushed and perplexed. I watch him disappear around a dark corner. Shaking myself out of my mindless daze, I hurry after him.

"This is what I wanted to show you," he's saying when I catch up to him. He stands before a statue of a third couple. In this scene, the woman is crushed against the muscular chest of what looks disturbingly like an erotic angel. Disturbing, because—well, I'm not very religious, but my Bible thumper roots in Laurel make me cringe at anything that seems blasphemous. Like the way Jasper looked lying on the forest floor that night six years ago—all dark, feathery wings and rolling muscles. Angels shouldn't be sexy. Then again, these couples aren't Biblical. I read the inscription out loud:

"'Eros and Psyche.' Like in the story you told us," I say, recalling his lecture at office hours.

He lowers his gaze to the ground. "Really look at it," he says, his voice suddenly quiet yet pleading.

"Um, okay." I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking for, only that I have been ogling Eros this entire time, so I turn my attention to Psyche. Her head is tilted up toward Eros's face, but there's something across her eyes. I guess it's supposed to be a blindfold since, as Jasper told us, Eros forbid her to see his face. My eyes drift to her exposed back, where her own pair of wings protrudes. They stand upright, perpendicular to her back instead of spread to their fullest extent, but they remind of something. She resembles what I would imagine a fairy to look like: a petite, dainty girl with dragonfly wings. No, they're not dragonfly wings. More like...

Jasper finally turns to face me just as the revelation rushes over me like an unexpected storm. Phrases uttered to me as he lay dying, since forgotten, click together and settle back into place in my mind.

"Psyche, you came back to me."

And Vanessa's whispered prophecy:

"The butterfly goddess has returned..."

Our eyes meet, and I think my heart actually stops for a fleeting moment when I see Jasper's glisten with tears.

"When I told you that you were important," he says, swallowing a sob, "I meant that you were important to me." He takes a step forward. I take an automatic step back, and he flinches as though I've slapped him.

"Jasper—" I feel like I'm sinking in an ocean, water flooding my mouth and nose, drowning me in dread. My wings prepare to erupt through the back of my dress. He talks over my cry of warning.

"In your other life, on Olympus, with me, your name was Psyche. And you were my wife."
Chapter 16

"Say something," Jasper pleads with me. We've been standing in silence for what feels like forever. His brow is creased with worry. My face feels numb, but I'm sure whatever expression I'm wearing, it's not reassuring him. I wasn't able to regain my composure, and my wings have ripped through the back of my dress. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch shimmers of blue and purple in the dark.

"I don't know what to say. So I'm some kind of goddess. The goddess of cheerleading and biology?" I try to joke, laughing weakly.

His shoulders fall. "You don't believe me."

"It's not that," I assure him quickly. "I want to believe you. I do. It's just I have no idea what you're talking about. All I know is this life—my life. I don't remember Olympus."

I don't remember you. My unspoken words hang in the air between us, an invisible but insurmountable barrier.

"Yes, you do," he insists. "Your dreams."

Panic descends on me like an arctic blast. "How do you know about those?" I demand through gritted teeth, my voice deadly quiet. "Can you read my mind?"

"No!" he exclaims, but then he falters. "I mean, sort of...we can pick up fragments of thoughts—"

"Well, stop!" I clutch the sides of my head with my hands as if to keep him out.

"I can't help it, it just happens sometimes—"

We both jump as something whizzes past us and collides with the gray bark of a birch tree behind Jasper. The trunk erupts in flames.

"Hide. Now!" Jasper shouts. Without waiting for my response, he leaps toward me and pushes me behind Eros and Psyche—behind us, I guess. I peer around...myself...but I don't see anything or anyone else besides Jasper in the garden. Jasper takes a few steps forward on the cobblestone path.

"Hephaestus!" he yells into the night. "I know that's you! Come out and face me like a man, you crippled idiot!"

Now I do see a dark figure limping along the pathway. Moonlight illuminates the scars and mottled flesh on the left side of his face. Hef gives a hearty chortle.

"This coming from my wife's pretty bastard child," he taunts. He snaps his fingers, and another fireball appears, orange tongues of flame licking the air as it hovers above the palm of his hand.

Jasper doesn't recoil from the insult, but his reaction—to rip off his shirt without bothering to unbutton it and toss it to the ground—is a little unexpected. "You know better than anyone that my mother has screwed half of our world—and this one." The strip-tease makes more sense when his magnificent black wings spring from his back.

"Going somewhere?"

"Yes. Aren't you forgetting? I have these." Jasper pumps his wings once. Twice. The motion creates a tremendous popping sound, similar to the kind you make if you whip a sheet over a bed really hard, only much louder.

"Fine. Fly away, little bird."

Jasper snarls, but his feet remain rooted to the ground. "Mom's the one who sent you here, I presume?"

"Aphrodite doesn't 'send me' anywhere." Hephaestus tosses the fireball straight up in the air and "catches" it, like a baseball. It stops just above his outstretched hand. "She wants to use the girl against you. I have...other methods."

Jasper opens his mouth to reply, but Hephaestus heaves the fireball in his direction. Jasper dives to the ground and mostly avoids it except for a few singed feathers.

"Who else crossed-over with you?" Hephaestus barks, conjuring yet a third fiery orb. "We know Apate did. Where's that pesky brother of hers? Dolos?"

There's an edge of wariness in Jasper's disbelieving laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really—" Hef starts to scoff, but a quick flick of Jasper's wrist sends a weapon of his own hurtling toward Hephaestus in a silver-blue blur. Hephaestus drops his cane so that he has a free hand with which to catch it. His fingers open to reveal a sharp metal dagger, but a moment later I watch with wide eyes as the knife dissolves into a metallic pool in his hand. Shiny silver droplets bleed onto the ground.

"The next time we meet, I'm kicking your ass all the way back to Olympus." Hephaestus throws the last fireball but seems to purposely miss Jasper. Instead, the ferns behind him catch fire. Picking up his cane, Hephaestus points it in the direction of the crackling flames and sweeps it dramatically through the air in a semi-circle. An instant later, he's gone and the entire garden burns, gray smoke twisting into the night sky. I crouch lower to the ground, but not before gagging from the smoke invading my mouth and nostrils. Suddenly, two strong, reassuring arms scoop me up, and Jasper launches us into the air.

"Hush!" he yells at me above the whoosh of air rushing past us as we ascend higher and higher. That's when I realize I'm screaming. I clamp my mouth shut, even though no one but Jasper can hear me. I squeeze my eyes closed and only open them when we've stopped moving.

We hover there in midair, Jasper's wings beating rhythmically behind him. My body is completely molded into his, which I'd be enjoying more if we weren't just ambushed by the alleged god of fire and weren't presently hanging thousands of feet above the ground. Although I can feel he's relishing it.

"How can you be horny after that?"

My exasperation coaxes a smile onto his face, but only for a second. "Are you okay?"

"I guess so." I chance a glance downward but only see the silhouettes and pinprick lights of the buildings below. Not for the first time tonight, abrupt terror seizes me. "Anna and Eric!" I gasp. "What if they're still inside? We have to go back!"

"Eric texted me. They left a while ago," Jasper tries to assure me.

"Eric whisking Anna away somewhere. Gee, that's comforting!"

I might as well be an annoying but harmless fly buzzing around his ear. "Let's go." His grip on me slackens, and he starts to try to shift me. I squirm in resistance.

"Stop doing that!" he cries fearfully.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get you onto my back."

"We are not flying back." I thrash even more. "Take us back down. We can take a bus. Or walk."

"Flying's faster. Just stop moving," he cautions, "and hold onto me."

I cling to him the entire way back, horizontal beneath him, my arms and legs wrapped snugly around him. My purse is squashed between our bodies, and I can feel my wallet, phone and a tube of lipstick digging into my stomach. Cold air bites my back through the rips in my dress where my own wings dangle uselessly. Mostly I keep my eyes closed, but sometimes I open one to peer at his solemn face. His eyes focus straight ahead, his mouth set in a thin, determined line. As soon as his feet touch down on black asphalt, I push out of his arms, falling backwards. His hand darts out to steady me.

"Watch it." It's only then that I look around and notice we're on a flat roof, not the street. The leaves of a tree peek just below its edge, and two other rectangular brick buildings loom on either side of this one.

"I thought we were going back to campus," I tell him. "Where are we?"

"Greenview," he says. "At my place."

I suppress my initial response, which is to completely freak out, and instead calmly remind him, "I have a curfew now, Jasper. I need to get back to the sorority house."

He shakes his head. "I shouldn't have left you there last night. It's not safe for you anymore."

Vanessa's eerie warning ricochets around my head. "Why?"

"Because of your house mother."

"Farrah?" I ask, skeptical at first. Then, another realization smacks me. "She's Aphrodite. Your mother," I mutter almost to myself. I remember her cold, cruel jade eyes as they were in my nightmare, watching me dispassionately as I fought to breathe. I know what Jasper's going to say before he comes out with it.

"She's the one who killed you."
Chapter 17

"So she's here to finish me off again," I realize. Jasper turns and strides toward the edge of the roof. I follow him, my steps careful and less assured than his. "Where are you going?"

"Jasper!" My shriek pierces the peaceful night as I watch him leap over the side.

I hear the clang of metal. He looks up at me, his feet planted firmly on the fire escape. He holds out a hand to me.

"Come on," he says, but I shake my head. "You don't have to jump like I did. Use your wings to...flutter down to me." His verb choice makes him grin.

"I can't."

"Of course you can!"

"No, really—I can't," I insist. "I've tried before." It's true, although I'm not sure trying only once really counts as a concerted effort. I didn't think they'd be powerful enough, but I did it anyway: climbed to the lowest branch of the maple tree in our backyard and jumped, but my wings couldn't carry me. Instead of landing gracefully like Jasper did only minutes ago, I hit the ground and broke my leg. That would have been the perfect time to have their super-platelets, or whatever allows their bodies to heal so quickly.

"Try it now," he urges me. "If you start to fall, I'll catch you. Trust me."

Still, I hesitate, silently gauging the distance between the roof and the stairs. It's not a far drop. I flex my wings, feeling the muscles in my shoulders and back bunch up, then relax. They do feel stronger, somehow. I continue pumping them and feel my feet leave the rough rooftop. I can't believe I'm doing it—I'm fluttering down to the top landing of the fire escape.

"I did it," I gasp, the metal ringing as I make impact.

Jasper looks satisfied, "I told you so" scrawled across his features, but he doesn't say it. He simply unlocks a heavy-looking door, white chips speckling its dark green paint, and tugs it open to reveal faded plum carpeting and a corridor of wooden doors with brass apartment numbers. I duck under his arm as he keeps the door propped open for me. His footsteps plod behind me over the plush carpet, and the door thumps closed. We walk until we reach unit 6C.

"I still can't believe it. It's just there's never seemed to be any point to my wings," I babble excitedly as Jasper opens the door to his apartment, "except to be pretty and shiny and pop out whenever I'm scared, angry or turned...on." I drop my voice at the end. I didn't intend to mention that part.

"That's normal." When I look doubtful, he says, "They're in part a defense mechanism. They may not be as powerful as mine, but they give you some advantage over an opponent and can get you out of a stressful situation quickly." He drops his keys in a porcelain dish on top of the hexagonal, maple wood table right inside the door.

"I don't know. I feel like I can only barely control them most of the time. Is that normal?"

Jasper tilts his head to one side, considering this. "That may be hormonal."

"Because I'm a girl?" I squeak the last word in offense.

"Not where I was going with that," he assures me. "I was thinking more because you were in puberty when I gave them to you. It'll be easier and easier to control them as you get older."

I purse my lips, nodding. "Okay. So what's the other part?"

"What other part?"

"You said they're partly a defense mechanism. That makes it sound like they have another purpose."

"They're a mark of beauty. Of being special."

"Oh. Well, I'm not anyone special," I grumble, putting my purse on the same table and taking out my cell phone.

"Of course you are." Two fingers slide under my chin and push it upward so our gazes lock. My breath hitches in my throat, and for a moment I forget what I was going to do.

"I'll stay here. For tonight," I emphasize. "I just need to let our house manager know."

He nods rather reluctantly and trails his fingers down my neck and collarbone as he lowers his arm. My lower abdomen clenches, but I distract myself by scrolling through the contacts on my phone for Carly's number. It's already eleven thirty; I'm cutting it close. Carly picks up after several rings.

"Hey, Siobhan."

"Hey. I hope I didn't wake you up."

I can feel Carly giving me a skeptical look through the phone. "Please. I'm still doing this homework for Concepts of Math. What's up?"

"Look, I'm sorry for the last minute notice, but I was out with Jimmy, and I think I'm just going to stay at his place tonight." I wouldn't care if Carly knew where I was really staying, but if it gets back to Farrah I don't want her knowing I'm having a sleepover with her son.

"You know that's fine with me," Carly says. "Thanks for calling, though. See you tomorrow!"

"Bye." I end the call and turn back to Jasper. He stoops to get something out of the fridge.

"Milk?" he asks me. He smiles sheepishly. "It's all I have."

"Sure." While he fills two glasses I wander around his apartment. It isn't anything like I imagined it would be, although it's more realistic for someone living off of a graduate student's stipend. The efficiency apartment and meager furnishings don't at all reflect the sensual, elegant presence that permeates it. There are really only two separate rooms: a bathroom packed with a shower, a toilet, and a sink that's too big for it, and a living room/kitchen. A pale wood room divider separates his full-size bed and bureau from the rest of the living room. What remains is only enough space for a love seat, small coffee table and a television. There are several TV trays folded up in the corner.

He nudges my shoulder, and I turn to accept a glass from him.

"Are you hungry?" he asks me. "I don't really have a lot here, but I'm sure we could scrounge something up."

"I'm fine. Still full from dinner." Right...I can pretty much eat whenever, but I don't know him well enough to divulge all of my darkest secrets. Sipping my milk, I grimace slightly but swallow it anyway.

Jasper notices my frown. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, really. It just tastes really sweet," I explain. "Not that I'm anti-sugar. It just surprised me."

"Sorry, I should have mentioned—it's lactose-free. Sometimes I forget it tastes different than regular milk."

So the paragon of love and desire has a lactose sensitivity? For some reason this makes me happy. I guess even a Greek god isn't utterly perfect.

"You asked me why Aphrodite's here," he recalls, sitting down on the love seat's glossy black cushions. I already forgot, but nod to encourage him to continue. "As I mentioned before, it's forbidden for us to cross universes," he says after swallowing a big gulp of milk. "Aphrodite and Hephaestus are here for me. But she's insanely jealous of you. She always has been. I'm concerned for your safety."

"I see." I use my hands to sweep back flyaway strands of hair out of my face as I think back to our confrontation with Hef. "Who are Apate and Dolos?"

"Olympians. Brother and sister. Why?"

"Hephaestus asked you if Dolos came with you."

"Ah, that's right. I don't really know what that was all about." The way he shrugs it off makes me suspect he does know. He drains his glass and takes my empty one. He walks back into the kitchen and sets them in the sink. "Do you mind if we turn in soon? It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

"Sure. Do you have extra sheets?" He raises his eyebrows. "For the couch," I explain.

His lips curve into an amused, wicked smile. "Why do you think I'd make you sleep on there? You're sleeping in the bed. With me."

"I'm fine. I'm small—I fit. See?" I curl up on the love seat, only bending my knees slightly.

"We can sleep together without sleeping together," he points out. His expression grows serious. "I won't touch you. Look, if it makes you uncomfortable, take the bed, and I'll sleep on the floor."

From the tone of his voice, you would think it's really no big deal, but my reluctance has dulled the glitter of hopefulness in his eyes. He assumes an inscrutable mask, but I know he's hurt. Pouting, like a child. Even so, I concede, "No, you're right. We're both adults here. We'll just...go to sleep."

He nods but doesn't perk up again at my change of heart, just disappears into the bathroom and slams the door shut behind him. I hear running water. Sighing, I perch on the foot of his bed for a moment. I don't think I can do this. Not the sleeping with him in his bed part—the rediscovering our love part. Maybe it's true that I'm Psyche, his deceased wife reincarnated, but I honestly don't know how she put up with him. Even though his fervent gaze and teasing caresses are hard to resist—he's a black hole of insatiable sexual energy, sucking me in—it only takes seconds for his mood to switch from flirty and playful to dark and resentful. Can Olympians be bipolar?

"Can I borrow a shirt?" I shout when the sink turns off. When he doesn't answer, I get up and slide the door of his closet open. It's sparser than I imagined, with only a few pairs of dress pants, shirts and suit jackets hanging inside. I reach up to the shelf and grab a plain black t-shirt. When I put it on, it comes down to just above my knees. The bathroom door clicks open, and Jasper comes out. He looks me up and down with renewed interest.

"Seeing you in my shirt is pretty sexy," he admits. Although his mischievous grin has returned, worry flashes in his eyes, as if he's wary of my reaction.

I smile to let him know it's okay. "Excuse me," I tell him, ducking into the bathroom.

Minutes later, we lay side-by-side on his bed without touching each other. The rest of the apartment might be minimalist, but there's a touch of Jasper in the dark red satin sheets covering the bed. He's turned on his side, his back to me. I stare at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep even though my sore muscles welcome the soft firmness of the mattress and my eyes feel heavy. Thought after thought tumbles through my mind, distracting me from sleep.

"Do I look like her?" I whisper into the dark. I don't even realize I've said it out loud until I hear Jasper's questioning grunt beside me. He rolls over to face me.

"Do I look like Psyche?" I repeat. "Is that how you knew I was her?"

Jasper shakes his head. "Not exactly. You share some features with her—your stature, pale skin, blonde hair. But you don't look like her any more than you look like any other petite blonde girl.

"Except for the eyes." He shifts closer to me. In the darkened room, his eyes glow like black marbles. The streetlight filtering through the blinds on the window send stripes of alternating light and dark over the bed. "You have the same eyes. I could see her in them."

"Was she prettier than me?"

"Siobhan—"

"Did she have bigger boobs than me?" A snort of laughter escapes from me before I can turn it into a girlish giggle, and now that he knows I'm kidding he joins in.

"Seriously, though," he says after our laughter has subsided, "you are beautiful, but it's not just about that. You have her charm, her grace. Her caring heart."

Suddenly, he breaks his "no touching" promise, pulling me into his chest. His face is so close I can feel his minty breath on mine when he says, "Maybe you don't remember me, remember us—and maybe you never will. But I hope you can learn to love me, as we are now." His lips on mine prevent any reply from me—not that I was ready with one, anyway. It's a soft, closed-mouth kiss, but filled with a gentle passion and a desperate yearning that makes my body sink further into him. When it's over, I stay curled up beside him and fall asleep with my head on his chest.
Chapter 18

It's still dark outside when I wake up. During the night, Jasper and I drifted apart to our respective sides of the bed. I feel it move as Jasper sits up, then gets up. I look over at the blazing red numbers of the digital clock on the nightstand. I hug my pillow and moan into it.

"It's six o'clock. Why do you have to be up so early?" I ask him, my voice still groggy with fatigue.

"Some of us have to be on campus by eight," he says. "You don't have to get up—stay here, if you like."

I blink back the sleep threatening to take me over again and sit up. "I should get up, too. I need to stop by the sorority house. All my stuff is there," I remind Jasper when he shoots me an alarmed look. "I'll be careful."

He doesn't look convinced but says nothing, except "I'm going to take a shower." Draping a forest green towel over his shoulder, he disappears into the bathroom. I get out my phone to check in with the world, even though most of the people I know probably aren't up yet. Anna is first on my list. I feel bad for not having texted her sooner.

you get home ok last night?

Next I check my email. There's nothing important except for the minutes and reminders from yesterday's chapter meeting. While I'm skimming over them Anna texts me back:

yep! everything's fine. you too? Before I can reply, she sends me another message: did you see this? there was a fire at the WPH after we left?!!! I select the link she included and glance over the news article: Firefighters were able to contain the "fire of unknown cause" to the garden, the hotel itself remaining unscathed.

I look up to the sound of the bathroom door opening. Jasper emerges with the towel wrapped around his torso, his hair damp, stray droplets of water glistening on his chest. I turn my attention back to my phone. My libido can't handle this much sexy so early in the morning. I go back to my email and hit "compose" to send out another reminder about the dance on Friday.

"Crap," I mumble as I'm pounding out the message.

"What's wrong?" Jasper asks.

"We're supposed to set our big sisters up with a blind date for our dance on Friday. I haven't found anyone for Victoria yet."

"That shouldn't be too hard. You don't have to look very far."

"What do you mean?" Without thinking I look up, forgetting about the towel. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed to see he's since put on pants.

"I think she has a little crush on you," he explains, buttoning up his shirt.

"How did you know she's—"

"I didn't, until I saw her hovering over you after your fight with Liz."

"Like a mother hen," I insist.

Jasper shrugs, his mouth set in a skeptical frown. "If you say so. Anyway, I'll find her a date," he assures me.

"You will?" I sigh gratefully. "Thanks." It occurs to me that, knowing a houseful of Sigma Iota brothers, it should be easy for him to find Victoria a lavender date. "You like playing matchmaker, don't you, Cupid?" I realize, recalling Liz, and Eric and Anna.

Jasper grimaces. "You can call me anything you want. Anything except that."

"Got it, Cupid," I tease him and take my turn in the bathroom. I splash my face and change back into my torn dress. I'll shower when I'm back at the house.

"Do you have a jacket I could borrow?" I ask him later.

"Sure." He comes up behind me and engulfs me in one of his black suit jackets. The sleeves stop just above my fingertips. "Ready to go?"

"How are we getting there?" I ask, suddenly suspicious.

"Relax. I have a car."

***

We sit in silence as Jasper navigates the side streets to get back to campus, but it's a comfortable, contemplative silence rather than a tense one. The suburbs are waking up under the gray dawn as people get in their minivans to drive their kids to school or go to work. Just like with his apartment, I pictured Jasper behind the wheel of a sleek, black sports car—not this wheezing, tan station wagon that looks like something my grandparents might drive. Still, it's better than flying.

"Thanks," I tell him when he rolls up to the Quad. "See you in a few hours."

He takes my hand and pecks a kiss on my knuckles. "Thanks for staying over last night." Unsure of what to say, I give him a shy but contented smile before getting out of the car.

Swiping my card key in the front door, I push it open to the sound of Tanya's high-pitched, angry voice shattering the peaceful morning.

"You can't do this!" she screams as I come inside. I close the door loudly behind me, but she doesn't look up. Her eyes are trained on the open door to Farrah's room.

"Tanya, calm down." That's Victoria, a note of warning in her otherwise reassuring tone.

"I'm not going to calm down! She can't do this!" Tears streak down Tanya's tan cheeks. She's still in her pajamas, her blonde hair sticking up at odd angles around her head. "We're a sorority—we try to retain members, not kick them out! Recruitment's in two weeks! How are we supposed to recruit anybody with only half our chapter?"

Half of our chapter? Farrah wants to kick out half of our girls? "What's going on?" I call out, making my presence known, but no one turns to me.

"I can't explain everything right now." Farrah's calm, sweet voice is the hardest to hear, further muffled because she's inside her room. "All I can say is they don't represent the ideals of the sisterhood. They don't belong here."

"You never explain anything!" Tanya erupts, wiping at her bleary eyes with her thumbs. "And how dare you say that! You just got here—you have no right to make that judgment! This is bullshit!" With that final exclamation, Tanya spins around and runs upstairs.

"Twin, what happened?" I ask, hurrying after her.

She stomps into our room and growls. "Our stupid House Monster has decided to suspend twenty five of our active members. And Victoria's taking her side!" She plops down on her bed and puts her head in her hands. When she next speaks, her voice is quieter, more confused than angry. "Why would she do that? They love this sorority."

I shake my head. "I don't know," I tell her, although I have a sinking feeling that something else is going on—something neither Jasper nor Farrah will tell me, something beyond her supposed personal hatred of me. Something deeper, more disturbing.

Tanya dries her eyes with a tissue and then blows her nose noisily into it.

"I need to take a shower," I tell her. "Are you okay?"

She nods and sighs in defeat. "I guess I'll go eat breakfast."

When she's gone, I shed Jasper's jacket and my ripped dress, wrap myself in a terrycloth robe and plod to the bathroom. The cool, gentle spray from the shower wakes me the rest of the way up. I put on a pair of black leggings and an aqua tunic. Into my messenger bag I stuff my books for class before slinging it diagonally over my left shoulder so it's resting on my hip. I fold Jasper's jacket over my arm and decide to return it to him now, before class.

Downstairs, Tanya sits cross-legged on the couch, stuffing her mouth with brightly colored cereal. The door to Farrah's room is closed again, and Victoria is nowhere to be found.

"We'll figure this out," I tell her as I'm heading out the door. "I promise."

"Thanks," she says, milk dribbling onto her chin.

Outside, the sky remains overcast in typical Shadesburg fashion. It looked like it was going to rain all weekend, but the sky still hasn't opened up. I take my time crossing campus to the humanities building, watching as the zombie-like faces of those unfortunate students with nine a.m. classes pass by me. I bring up the World Myths and Legends syllabus on my phone to double-check Jasper's office number: Room 2B.

Inside Frasier Hall, I walk up the hardwood stairs to the second floor and wander the hall until I see a pair of glass doors stamped with History Department in gold letters. I'm about to go up to it when I see a group of people emerging from the depths of the suite—a group that includes Liz, with Jasper bringing up the rear. None of them have seen me yet, and for some reason instinct sends me diving for cover just inside the doorway to the women's restroom.

"We're still on for Friday," Jasper reminds them. I peer around the wall. "We'll meet up here at six p.m." Besides Liz, Genie, Sam and several of his Sigma Iota brothers are there. The rest I don't recognize. "Do you think you'll be able to get the stones?" This question is for Liz.

"Yes, Master," Liz twitters. She gazes up into his face, and the unwavering reverence I see in her deep brown eyes makes me feel numb.

"Please don't call me that."

"Yeah. Grow up," says Genie, her breath fluttering her shiny black bangs as she emphasizes the last word.

Liz crosses her arms, her lower lip jutting out in a childish frown. "The next time Farrah leaves the house, I'll get them," she assures him.

"Thank you. We saw this coming," Jasper confesses, "but this is just a hiccup, guys. Once they're out of the picture, we can continue with our work. Thanks again for your hard work and patience, everyone."

The group continues to roll down the hall, a ball of anticipation and excited chatter, but Jasper lingers in front of the glass doors for a moment. His eyes dart in the direction of the women's restroom, and I flatten myself against the wall, palms sweating, heart pounding. It feels like an eternity before he finally goes back inside. I wait a few minutes before creeping out and take off in the direction of the stairs, his jacket still draped over my arm.
Chapter 19

I sit on one of the benches outside Frasier Hall to wait until class starts at ten. My stomach rumbles, and I remember I didn't eat any breakfast at the house. When I dig around my messenger bag, my hand emerges with a vanilla flavored protein bar. I usually save these to eat before I go running, but it's better than nothing. I unwrap it and take a bite while I try to reorder my thoughts. I've got one House Monster, as Tanya so lovingly called Farrah, who has not only come here to haul her son back to Olympus, but also wants to jeopardize Gamma Lambda Phi by kicking out half of our members only a few weeks before recruitment. Why would a beautiful, powerful, practically immortal being have any interest in the quality of members in a measly sorority—especially when ours happen to be some of the smartest, cutest, nicest women on campus? I know this is self-centered, but is this all because of me? Because she hates me? I don't care what she does to me, but dragging my sisters into this is crossing the line.

I've also got a gorgeous if unpredictable ex-husband who still adores me; a man the Ancient Greeks worshipped as the embodiment of virility, of love and desire. Even though he tells me he understands that, in this life, I can't be the exact same woman as his wife, he wants me to magically become her and succumb to him, which I'm finding harder and harder to resist. It's difficult to tell if this is, deep down, a manifestation of my undying love for him, or my body's reaction to some pretty potent pheromones. He also hasn't told me about his secret club with Liz, Genie, Sam and the other minions. Why does he need Liz to steal these stones from Farrah? I'm assuming they have something to do with kicking his ass back to Olympus, as Hephaestus would say. But then why not tell me about it? And why do I feel this sudden urgency to get to the stones before Liz can?

My phone buzzes in my bag, interrupting my thoughts. Seeing the name on the caller ID brings a smile to my face.

"Hey, Jimmy."

"Hey. What's up?

I shrug even though he can't see me. "Just waiting for my class to start. You?"

"Just going into work." He breathes heavily into the phone. "I was running a little late this morning. Anyway, I still really want to take you out this week. Are you free tonight? I know it's last minute. I just realized, between bartending and playing a few gigs this week, I don't have as much time as I thought. I mean, I know you're busy too, it's just—"

"It's okay," I assure him mid-apologetic rambling. "We have our board meeting Mondays, but I'm free after. What do you have in mind?"

"Dinner at The End?" he asks, sounding embarrassed. "Sorry, I know that's lame, it's just I have to work until six, and then we're playing a set at nine."

"Sounds great. I should be free by six thirty."

"Cool. I'll pick you up then. Anna said I could borrow her truck while she's away."

"Away?" I echo. "Where did she go?"

"She's at some retreat for the next couple days. I'm not really sure what it's for. She just told me about it before she left this morning. Well, I should get going. My boss is giving me the evil eye."

I laugh. "Yeah, my class is going to start soon. I'm looking forward to tonight."

"Me, too."

I'm smiling even after the call has ended. Anticipation for tonight bubbles up inside me, displacing my anxiety over Jasper and Farrah. I devour the rest of the protein bar and toss the wrapper in a nearby garbage can before heading back inside Frasier Hall.

Most of the class is already seated when I walk into the auditorium. Dr. Mars isn't here yet; instead Jasper stands behind the lecture podium, hands clasping its sides as he skims a page in the book open before him. Glancing up at me as I walk by, he doesn't smile but finds my gaze and holds it steady. A second or two later I break eye contact with him to go find a seat. At least I have that excuse. After spending the night at his place and what I saw this morning, I'm not really sure how to act around him. I'm still holding his jacket hostage, but it would just be awkward if I gave it to him now, in front of everyone.

"Let's get started," Jasper says a few minutes after ten as the last students trickle in. "Eric will be out for the next few days, so I'm taking over his classes. As you know from the reading, today we're going to discuss the differences and parallels between flood stories from various ancient cultures.

"So, let's start off simple. Can someone give me an example of what the Sumerian and Hebrew flood stories have in common?" Enraptured, wide-eyed faces surround me, but no one actually volunteers an answer.

"Anyone?" Jasper comes around to stand in front of the podium. "You guys did the reading, right?" He draws out the last word, his tone coaxing rather than scolding. Heads bob. "Okay, then. Amritha," he says to an Indian girl sitting in the front row. She straightens up as he walks up to her. "I know it's hard sometimes to speak up in front of a big class like this, but don't be shy. We value everyone's opinion here. So. Can you give us an example?"

She clears her throat quietly before answering him. "In both stories, birds were sent out to find dry land once the flood was over."

"You're exactly right, Amritha." Jasper's smile is appreciative. I can't see Amritha's face, but I'm sure she's beaming at him. "Can someone give me another one?"

Class flies by. Probably because it senses I want to talk and not talk to Jasper at the same time. Jasper's lecture-style is different from Eric's—and I'm not sure it's necessarily in a good way. Both men have that larger-than-life quality. Eric's sheer size makes him difficult to ignore, but even outside of class, his every word is direct, laced with a shot of aggression, and demands all of your attention. A quieter, more insidious intensity infuses Jasper's words. Although people are initially reluctant to participate, his tactic of sympathizing with them followed by discreet flattery eventually draws them forward in their seats and their hands into the air. On the surface it seems innocent enough, but something sinister lurks beneath it. He's manipulative, and I'm starting to realize he's like this with everyone. I couldn't actually hear his conversation with Liz at the Black and White party, but I could see it in his face and in his actions. He's even like this with me. Does he realize it?

I thought I was supposed to be special to him, so it's like someone dumps a bucket of icy water on me when I admit to myself that, yes, he probably does.

"Well, I think that's enough for today," he says, ending class a few minutes early. "Remember to read chapters three and four in the Walt book for Wednesday."

I wait until the auditorium clears out before approaching him at the front of the room. He's busy stuffing his books and notes into a brown leather briefcase, but this time when he finally does look up at me, he sends me a loving smile. The warmth of it softens his features, sands down his dark, dangerous edge. My heart, which seems to have cut all ties with my brain, gives an excited leap as I hand him the jacket.

"Thanks again," I tell him. "Great class today, too."

"I'm a little surprised to hear you say that," he says. He slips the jacket on, picks up his briefcase and starts the walk toward the door. "You seemed a little preoccupied. You should try participating more in class."

"Sorry, Dr. Hart," I tease him lightly. He chuckles. We pause in the middle of the hall, both tense and uncertain.

"Want to hang out in my office for a bit? You can watch me grade papers." I realize he's joking, but he even makes this sound like an appealing option. "Or we can go grab an early lunch."

"I'd love to, but I have to stop back at the house before my next class," I say. "I don't think it would give us enough time." Actually, my next class isn't until one, but he doesn't have to know that.

"Okay. Well, what about dinner tonight?"

I sigh inwardly, hoping he can't tell that I'm starting to get annoyed. Isn't this what every girl wants after spending the night at a guy's place? Would I really rather he ignore me? Well, in his case, I guess I would. He's going to make it really hard for me to avoid him, isn't he?

"I can't. I'm having dinner with Jimmy at The End. It's not a date." For some reason I add this in a rush even before he responds, and even though it probably is a date. Heck, I want it to be date. Just because I'm confused about Jasper doesn't mean I don't like Jimmy anymore.

"I get it," Jasper says, but his jaw is stiff, his usually sensuous mouth set in a thin, white line. "We'll see each other later in the week. I'll call you. Just promise me you'll be careful around Farrah, okay?"

"I promise."

We back away from each other slowly, Jasper toward the stairs, me toward the front doors. I give him a small wave before running through them, the sky splattering my face with a few sprinkles as I walk out onto the lawn. I forgot an umbrella, but I don't mind rain, except when it's that stinging cold rain we get in late November.

At the Gamma Lambda Phi house, I open the door to a deserted downstairs. The door to the guest room is closed. I go up to it and knock.

"Farrah?" I call.

No answer.

It's only been a few hours. Could Liz have gotten to the stones already? I go to the entertainment console and open the back of the wood table clock, where we keep the master card key that opens all of the bedrooms.

"You can use my key."

I jump at the sound of Tanya's voice on the stairs. As she walks down the last several steps, she pulls her room key out of her wristlet.

"I don't need it for our room." My eyes betray me by wandering over to the closed door of Farrah's room. Tanya follows my gaze, and understanding dawns on her bronze face. Her lips curl into a mischievous smile.

"Best idea ever," she proclaims. "Let's see what skeletons House Monster has hiding in her closet." She claps her hands eagerly. "I'll go get Carly! She'll want to help!"

"No! I mean, let's just keep this between—"

"Help with what?" Carly asks from the landing.

"We're going to go through Farrah's stuff!" Tanya tells her in a loud whisper.

"Sounds naughty," Carly says. "I'm in!"

She and Tanya beat me to Farrah's door. "What do you think we'll find? Drugs? A sex tape?" They look back at me, my roommate motioning me forward. "Come on, Twin! You're the one with the key!"

As well as being a conniving, two-faced bitch, Farrah is also apparently a neat freak. If it weren't for the sheets on the bed, the clothes in the closet and the books aligned neatly on the desk, you might think that no one lived here. She's left the window open a crack, and a light breeze ruffles the pastel blue curtains. Otherwise, it doesn't look like anything's ever been moved or touched.

"We have to be really careful to leave this the way we found it," I say, but Carly and Tanya are already descending upon the closet.

"One of us should be lookout." And not me, I want to add, but they're acting like they don't hear me. I survey the lifeless living room one last time before closing the door, leaving it open just a crack.

When I turn back to the bedroom, regret and hopelessness overwhelm me. What was I thinking, snooping around Farrah's room? I glance again at the bare, dust-free surfaces and perfectly made bed. I don't know where to start looking. I don't even really know what I'm looking for. How big are these stones? How many of them are there? Will I know when I find them?

The best place to start seems to be the desk. I rummage through the contents of each drawer, being careful not to disturb them too much. The desk is less severe than the rest of the room, but it's still organized better than mine, which I basically use to hide stuff so that Tanya thinks I'm neat. Each drawer is lined with blue and yellow plaid shelf paper. In the first are her combs, brushes, curling iron and other hair necessities. Stationary, envelopes and notepads are in the second.

"Oh, my God! Better than a sex tape!" Tanya sings excitedly behind me. I look up from where I'm crouched to see her and Carly peering into a pretty pink and lavender box, its contents cushioned by a white silk lining.

"What's this?" Carly wonders. At first I'm not exactly sure what the object is clasped in her small, dainty hand, although it reminds me of something. It's about six-inches long and made of a cheap-looking peach-colored jelly rubber—

I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter.

Tanya is less successful at hiding her own and gives a loud snort. "You might want to put that down."

"Why?"

"It's a dildo."

Carly shrieks and drops it. It lands with a smack on the hardwood floor and rolls up to Tanya's feet.

Tears of laughter streaming down her face, Tanya bends down to carefully pick it up, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger. She tosses it back inside Farrah's special box. In the box there's also a bottle of lubricant, a black feather tickler and something else none of us recognize. Carly and Tanya finally return the box to its spot on the top shelf in the closet, and I rummage through the last drawer in Farrah's desk.

"Find anything interesting on your end?" Tanya asks me.

"Nope."

No pet rocks here.

I plop down in Farrah's desk chair and reevaluate my strategy. I suppose I could go through her bureau as well, but I don't have the impetus anymore. I know I'm not going to find them there. There probably isn't anything to find—if they're important enough for Jasper to want, she probably keeps them on her person at all times. The big gold bag she carries looks pretty heavy.

"This might be something," Carly says, pulling a red satin bag cinched with a white ribbon down from the closet shelf. Whatever's inside of it clicks against each other as she feels the bottom of it before opening it up. Tanya coaxes the lip of the bag further open with her finger.

"It's just a bunch of rocks."

"Rocks?" I dart up from the chair.

"You sounded way too excited just now," Tanya informs me.

I take out one of the stones. It's oval-shaped, the pale gray surface smooth under my fingers, except for where there's a swirly Greek letter "gamma" etched into the center. The gamma glows a faint white.

"It looks like some sci-fi thing," says Carly. "Maybe Farrah's a closet nerd."

"It does look like something out of Stargate," I muse. Carly and Tanya look at me strangely. "How many of them are there?" I ask it, but I already suspect there are three in total: a gamma, a lambda and a phi—

"What are you guys doing in here?"
Chapter 20

Victoria pushes the door open a little further and steps inside. I drop the stone back in its pouch.

"You're going through Farrah's room," she realizes, a dumbfounded expression on her angular features.

"It was my idea," I confess hastily. "Tanya and Carly didn't want to, but I talked them into it."

"Please. You don't have to cover for us," Tanya says. She comes up to stand beside me, hands on her hips. "We were willing participants." Carly nods in agreement.

"I don't care whose idea it was..." Victoria's face is getting red. Any minute now I'm pretty sure she's going to breathe fire. She shakes her head. "Put that back," she says, pointing to the red bag, and Carly immediately slides it into its spot on the shelf. "Let's just get out of here." She holds open the door for us and waits for us to march through it before flipping off the lights.

"I don't even know what to say. I am so disappointed in you three."

Carly crosses her arms and gives an obvious eye roll. "Sorry, Mom."

"This isn't funny!" Victoria looks around in momentary panic after this outburst. She takes a deep breath to recover herself. "I know that having Farrah around hasn't been easy, but she's on our side. She needs to know that we're on hers."

"On our side?" Tanya scoffs.

"She has a funny way of showing it," I put in.

Victoria turns her round, piercing amber glare to me. "Look, I know you haven't liked her from the beginning—"

"Because she hates me for no reason! I don't trust her."

"Do you trust me?" Victoria reaches out to clasp my shoulder and give it an earnest shake, or something. I never find out because I take an automatic step back as I watch the hand come toward me. I jump, feeling just as startled as Victoria looks. Her arm drops, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Of course," Tanya says, coming to the rescue. The three of us nod eagerly in unison.

"Then please trust that this will all make sense soon. I promise," Victoria vows, still looking at me through narrowed eyes. "In the meantime, let's try not to piss her off." She cocks her head toward the now firmly shut door to Farrah's room.

Victoria goes into the kitchen, and I return the master key to its hiding place. I wait until Tanya and Carly leave for class, then join my big sister at the stove, where she watches tiny bubbles start to form in a saucepan of hissing water.

"Keep an eye on Liz," I tell her. She probably won't have any idea what I'm talking about, but I have to warn someone.

"Okay. I will," she says without looking up at me. I drum my fingers on the counter, reading the back of a box of granola, but she doesn't say anything else, her eyes never leaving the pot. Finally I go back out into the living room. I guess I'm being paranoid—Victoria probably didn't even notice my reaction earlier. A pang of guilt curdles my stomach. This is Victoria, my big sister, my friend. Of course she doesn't like me in that way. Even if she did, she knows I'm straight. Still, I can't seem to silence the whispered memory of Jasper's casual observation: I think she has a little crush on you...

***

While everything this morning happened very quickly, the afternoon drags on. Endless rainfall pours from a steel gray sky. At four thirty I return to the house after my last class, shaking out my leopard print umbrella before going inside. My purple rain boots make squelching noises on the hardwood floor. I tug them off and leave them by the door. I head upstairs for some big-little bonding time with Victoria before our board meeting, to make up for earlier today. I knock politely on the half-closed door and peek around it only to find out everyone is already there—even Liz.

"Did we change the time?" I ask uncertainly, closing the door behind me.

Victoria shakes her head "You're fine. Today is all about you," she adds as I sit down on the bed next to Carly. "What do you need us to do for Friday?"

"Oh, right," I say, opening my notebook on my lap and uncapping a pen. "So, my committee is decorating the venue in shifts from one to four Friday afternoon. Carly and Rachel said they could drive—" A wide-eyed look of alarm from Victoria makes me stop.

"Rachel won't be able to drive," Victoria says cryptically.

"In other words—she didn't make the cut," Tanya explains.

"Farrah wants to help out in any way she can," Victoria assures me. "I'll let her know we need another driver to shuttle committee members that afternoon."

I nod helplessly and move on. "I think we have everything we need, actually. All of the decorations are ready to go. We'll give out wristbands here before we get on the bus." The distant chime of the doorbell sounds from downstairs. "We're going to have the sisters line up and put on blindfolds, and then each guy will take the blindfold off his date." When the doorbell rings again, we give a collective sigh.

"I'll go," Tanya says, getting up and whisking out the door. A beat later, my phone vibrates beside me on the bed.

"Oh, shoot," I say. I look up. "That's Jimmy. We're going to dinner, but he got here early."

Victoria's shoulders heave in an annoyed sigh, but I can't tell if it's because of the interruption downstairs or because she's jealous I'm going on a date with Jimmy. "The only other thing is I want to make sure every sister has a date."

"I'll personally double check with everyone, but I'm pretty sure everyone has been set up," I tell them. "Well, except for me," I add as an afterthought.

"I'll get on Tanya's ass about that. Alright. It's already been a long day, and I don't really want to be here anymore, so this meeting is over."

Everyone murmurs gratefully and files out of the room. I brush my hair quickly in front of the mirror in the hall and retouch my eyeliner and mascara before going downstairs. Tanya sits with Jimmy on the couch, talking at him while he nods intermittently.

"Oh, there she is." Tanya hops up. She gives me a wave from the stairwell. "Have fun."

"You look good," Jimmy says, his eyes admiring my skin-tight leggings and the black high heels I slipped on upstairs.

"Thanks." I glance out the picture window. "It finally stopped raining?" Jimmy nods. We go outside to the truck and take off for The End.

When we enter the bustling bar, it's packed with the same offbeat crowd; this time with a little vegan hipster mixed in with the Goths and glam punks. Jimmy and I sit at a table tucked away in the corner. Our server walks up to us.

"Hey Emmett," Jimmy says.

"Hey guys." Emmett is short and thin and wearing what looks like a pair of women's jeans and a snug plain black t-shirt. His spiked hair is dark except for a shock of blonde in the front. "Do you know what you want to drink?" He has a hesitant, coy way of speaking.

I glance at the back of the menu. "I'll have a lemon drop."

"A gin and tonic, please," Jimmy tells him.

"Awesome. I'll bring those right out for you guys."

"Thanks, man."

Suddenly, a body with long legs and spindly arms drapes itself over the chair between me and Jimmy. Peter groans dramatically and buries his head in his arms on the table.

"I'm so glad you guys are here," he says, the table muffling his voice. His head pops up again, his careless blonde hair sending a shower of water droplets onto the table. His silver shirt and pants are stained dark with water. "I've had a bloody terrible day. My art professor nixed my idea for my semester project this morning. I wanted to rehearse for tonight but all of the practice rooms on campus were taken, and then I got caught in a monsoon when I—"

"Really sorry to hear that," Jimmy interrupts him, "but we're supposed to be having a date here, so would you mind taking your dramatic monologue elsewhere?"

"I'm so sorry!" Peter exclaims, slamming both of his hands down on the table. "I had no idea! Of course, I can just—"

"It's okay," I insist, casting Jimmy a resigned look. "Stay, Peter. Eat with us."

"Thanks." Peter settles happily back into his seat just as Emmett returns with our drinks. "Could you get me that raspberry vodkatini thingy?"

"No problem."

"Thanks, love!"

"Are you guys ready to order or do you want more time?"

We exchange glances around the table and determine that, yes, we are indeed ready to order. Jimmy and Peter both request burgers cooked medium rare, and I order the Cajun chicken sandwich. We get a large basket of fries to share.

"This looks good," Jimmy says when Emmett brings out our food. "What?" he asks, catching my confused sideways glance.

"That's exactly the same inflection you used when you told me I looked good," I tease him before nipping off the end of a hot, salty fry. Jimmy winks at me and takes an enormous bite of his burger.

Peter drains the last of his fuchsia colored drink before saying, "So, tell me about this new boyfriend of Anna's."

Jimmy chokes on his sandwich at the same time I ask, "Anna has a new boyfriend?"

"Uh, yeah." Peter's twinkling blue eyes flicker between me and Jimmy. "She went away with him for the week."

"Sh-she told me she was going on a retreat!" Jimmy sputters.

"I saw her leave with him," Peter insists. "Big guy. Kind of looks like a..." He strokes his smooth chin with his fingers as he searches for a fitting description.

"A sexy lumberjack?" I reluctantly finish for him.

He points at me. "Yes," he says as though I've just suggested how to unify the theory of relativity with quantum mechanics. "I didn't think he was her type. I thought she had more refined taste." Peter straightens up in his chair.

"Don't tell me you're jealous," Jimmy says. "It's been months since you broke up."

"It's been four months, and she broke up with me," Peter reminds him.

"Because you're gay."

Peter flicks his hand like he's waving away an invisible fly. "Don't come at me with your labels. I like everyone. It was the strangest thing," he continues. "One minute I hear them talking in her room—"

"Her bedroom," Jimmy cries, covering his face with his hand.

"—and the next thing I know, I walk past her room on my way to the bathroom, the door is open, but they're gone. I didn't hear them go downstairs or anything. It's like they vanished." Peter snaps his fingers. "Poof."

"This is bad," I mutter, but I'm starting to feel the effects of my drink, and it comes out through a hiccup of laughter.

Jimmy throws up his hands and brings them back down hard on the table, rattling our plates and glasses. "So where did they go?"

"Olympus." Even though it's a serious suggestion, the absurdity of it makes me giggle into my drink.

Peter thinks I'm joking and picks up the gag. "Atlantis. Space." We're both clutching our sides, laughing so hard we're barely making a sound anymore. Jimmy just stares at his half-eaten burger, shaking his head. Emmett comes to check on us, and I try to recover myself.

"Does anybody need anything?"

"She doesn't," Peter chuckles, jerking his thumb at me. "She needs cut off. But can I get another one of these?" He thrusts his empty cocktail glass toward Emmett. "Pwease?" he implores in a babyish voice, puffing out his lower lip.

A pink blush creeps up Emmett's cheeks as he takes the glass. "No problem. Anybody else?"

"I think we're good," I tell him, sinking down in my chair and trying not to look up at Peter, who has wrapped a napkin around his head like a kerchief and is shouting in a voice a few octaves higher than normal.

"Oh, please, Mr. Sexy Lumberjack Man! Please take me away from here! My evil, over-protective brother keeps me locked up in this house—"

"Hey, Jim!"

Peter swipes the napkin from his head and lays it back on his lap as someone tall with the build of a linebacker looms up behind Jimmy and slaps him on the back. He's flanked by a group of six or so guys. "You guys going on soon?"

"Hey, man." Jim glances at his phone. "Yeah, in about twenty. We should start setting up," he adds to Peter.

"You gotta play 'Serena' tonight."

"Oh, well—we're not really taking requests." Jimmy tries to turn back to the table, but their fan doesn't let up.

"Ah, come on!" he groans.

"I just don't really think there will be time—"

"You have to. You guys never play your old stuff anymore."

Jimmy glances at Peter for help, but the keyboardist just shrugs.

"It's not a big deal," Peter says. "We should be able to fit it in."

"Okay. Maybe," Jimmy concedes, but he still looks uncomfortable.

"Yeah!" The guy punches the air in triumph.

Peter has a huge, fake smile plastered on his face that disappears when the guy and his friends turn away to sit down at the next table over. "Who was that?" he asks Jimmy.

Jimmy shakes his head in bewilderment. "I guess I must know him from somewhere, but I don't remember."

"What's 'Serena?'" I wonder.

"A song I wrote a long time ago. A really long time ago." Jimmy gets up and pushes his chair under the table. "We'd better go. I feel bad leaving you here by yourself."

"Don't worry about me. This is great." I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. "I feel like a groupie." Jimmy laughs and leans down to kiss me.

"So tell me more about this 'sexy lumberjack' Anna was with..." I hear Jimmy ask Peter before their voices fade out as they leave to set up. I drain the rest of my lemon drop and surf the web on my phone.

Ten minutes later, the lights in the bar get even dimmer, and Jimmy quickly introduces his bandmates before they start their first song. I recognize all of the songs they play in the first half from the other concerts. Thankfully Jimmy isn't cutting himself this time.

"My friend over there," Jimmy announces, pointing at Linebacker's table, "has requested a song we haven't done in a while that I wrote about a girl named Serena." He glances nervously in my direction while Peter plays a haunting intro on his keyboard. Why is he so anxious? Is Serena an old girlfriend? Jimmy starts to sing, his voice deep and trembling, and at first I let the music wash over me as it saturates the atmosphere at The End with angst.

"From behind her pompoms she flashes you a pretty smile," Jimmy whispers, and the line pricks my ears. I really start to listen to the lyrics. "But when she's with her friends you will only hear denial..." If Jimmy hadn't been so reluctant to play the song—if he didn't keep looking my way while he was singing it—I probably wouldn't have realized it.

The song is about me.

I'm Serena.

I get up when he's still in the middle of it and stomp out of the bar. Jimmy fumbles the lyrics, and the guitar melody dies.

"Siobhan, wait!" he calls into the microphone. I keep walking, not looking back. The rest of the band stops playing, and desperate footsteps sound behind me.

"Siobhan, I told you!" Jimmy catches up with me outside. It's pouring again, the rain making a tinny sound as it falls on the awning. "I wrote that song in high school. I'm not angry at you anymore!"

I hesitate, then turn slowly around to face him. "You're not angry at me anymore?"

"Come on. You have to admit, you kind of deserved it," he says bitterly.

"You know what? I know what I did was wrong, and I've always regretted it. A day hasn't gone by when I haven't thought of you and wished things had turned out differently.

"But I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only one who screwed up." I go up to him and jab him in his hard, bare chest with my finger. "You kept secrets from me, too. You could have told your friends to stop making fun of me. And you didn't have to play the damn song."

"This is stupid." He takes my hand and gives it a tight, earnest squeeze. "It's in the past. We both need to get over it if we're ever going to—"

"I slept over at Jasper's last night." I don't know what makes me say it. I wasn't planning on telling him, but suddenly the confession is flying off my lips, and I can't take it back.

For a moment, he doesn't say anything. He just releases my hand, crosses his arms and shakes his head in disbelief.

"Did you hook up with him?" He asks it softly, as if he's afraid of my answer.

"Of course not!"

"You're right—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. That's not the point anyway. It's that I hurt you by playing the song, but instead of trying to work it out, you tell me something that you know will hurt me." Jimmy frowns in disgust. "That's really low."

"You're hurt?"

"Of course! I love you!" For an instant, Jimmy looks like he's surprised himself, but then he reaches for me, like he's going to pull me into an embrace. "I always have."

I step back, holding out my hands to stop him. "I can't deal with this right now."

"Where are you going?" he calls after me as I walk out into the torrential rain.

"Home," I tell him.

"Come on. I can drive you."

I shake my head, pursing my lips. I hope the droplets of rain skimming down my face conceal the fact that some of them are tears. "I'll take the bus."

"Siobhan!"

I run as fast as I can in my heels in the direction of the bus stop. When I get there I sit down on the bench under the shelter and slick back my wet hair out of my face. I wipe at my cheeks with my hands, the pads of my fingers turning up black from my melting mascara. I let out another choking sob and cover my face with my hands.

"Siobhan?"

I start at the sound of my name, knowing who it is even before I look up.

"Are you okay?" Jasper asks me. He closes his black umbrella and sits down beside me. "Did something bad happen?" Reaching into the pocket of his trench coat, he pulls out a white handkerchief, because of course he would have one of those. I'm feeling too sorry for myself to make fun of him for it. Sliding closer to me, he dabs my wet cheeks with it.

"Is there anything I can do?" he wonders, retracting his hand.

I study his face: his worried frown, the creases in his forehead, the unreachable dark pools of his eyes. Grabbing his face with both of my hands, I pull it closer to mine so that I can kiss him, pouring all of my anger and frustration into it. Jasper gives into it gladly, dragging me onto his lap as rain slaps the roof above us.

Part Three

Withdrawal

"Everything I've done, I've done for you. I move the stars for no one."—Lyrics Within You, David Bowie, Labyrinth Soundtrack
Chapter 21

As soon as Jasper and I go inside his apartment, his lips find mine again, and he picks me up and carries me to his bed with ease. He sits on the edge of it with me straddling him, rocking myself against his erection. Breathing hard, he reluctantly breaks our kiss to ask me, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I crush my lips against his in answer. Although my mind's still fuzzy from the alcohol, that's not what's driving my sudden abandon. It's him. And somewhere in my Jasper-addled brain, Rational Siobhan tries to poke through the haze with words of warning, but I shove her back. I don't want to think; I just want to feel Jasper's hands possessing me, to hear our moans of frustration between kisses. I want to taste the salt of his skin and the metallic sting of his blood when I accidentally nip his lower lip too hard.

In one swift motion he pulls my shirt over my head and throws it to the floor. His breath hitches in his throat as he drinks me in.

"God, you're gorgeous," he says, his voice raspy and husky with need. His greedy lips move from my mouth, down my neck to my chest as he unhooks my bra and flings that aside, too, allowing my wings to unfurl. I lean back and continue to grind against him as his mouth claims one of my breasts, rolling his thumb over the nipple of the other.

His free hand is supporting my lower back and tugs at the waistband of my leggings. "Let's get these off of you," he murmurs against my breast. He lifts me up and lays me down beneath him on the bed. He slides my leggings down over my hips, buttocks and legs. I've found that undressing is usually the most awkward part of sex, but not with Jasper; his every move is smooth and expert, and in seconds we're both completely naked.

"Jasper." I shudder as his fingers plunge into me suddenly and forcefully. I think I'm going to come already, but then he slows down the motion, sliding them out and teasing my clitoris with this thumb. His kisses become lighter and more deliberate as well, and when I try to pick up the pace again he chuckles.

"Just relax. Let's take our time." He says it as he's still teasing me down below.

"But I want you." My voice is barely above a whisper.

"What do you want, Siobhan?" His expectant stare lets me know he wants me to tell him exactly what I want.

"You." I grab him and glide my hand eagerly up and down his shaft. "Inside me." He throbs underneath my touch, growing harder, which I didn't even think was possible.

His wings emerge, enveloping me in a black, feathery curtain as he finally plunges inside me. My fingers dig into his back. His thrusts are deep and furious and quickly bring me to orgasm—much faster than Max's. As he watches me come again and again, he looks at me with a mixture of fascination and something that could be triumph.

Like waves pushing up against the beach, roll after roll of explosive pleasure racks my body. I lose track of time, but Jasper eventually finds his release. For a moment he stays on top of me, and we cling to each other, panting and sweating. He eases off of me and pulls me into his chest. I nuzzle up against him and close my eyes.

When I open them again, we're spooning on the bed, and the room is completely dark. I crane my neck to look over at him. Watching me through hooded eyes, he realizes I'm awake and presses his lips lightly to mine. Our hunger reignites, and I can feel him growing hard against my behind. He crawls on top of me and leaves a trail of kisses down my neck, across my breasts and over my abdomen until his head disappears beneath the covers.

***

The second time I wake up, sunlight strains against the closed blinds, and I'm alone in his bed. The top sheet has come loose from the mattress, and the cozy charcoal gray comforter has fallen to the hardwood floor. I stare up at the milky white ceiling lamp, blinking back sleep from my eyes. In a dream-like state, last night slipped by like sand through my fingers. We could have been making love for days, even weeks, and I wouldn't have sensed time's passage. But I know it's only been the one night.

I look over at the digital clock on the nightstand—it's ten in the morning—and see a note on his pillow. I reach over to grab it and bring it to my face:

Went to campus. You looked so content, I hated to wake you. Thanks for a beautiful night. Use anything you need, and see you later. —J

I stretch, roll out of bed and pick the sheet up from the floor. The soft kiss of the sheet against my skin as I wrap it around myself reminds me of Jasper's satin touch. I plod barefoot to the bathroom. It's not until I get in the shower, turn it on and have to jump back from the ice cold spray battering my face that it really hits me:

Jasper and I had sex.

And I feel...

Well, mostly I feel pretty glorious. Heat still gathers between my thighs as I recall our lovemaking and, although I got lost in every delicious, carnal moment, it held a note of intimacy I hadn't been expecting. There was desire in his touch, but also tenderness. Last night Jasper was Eros making love to his long lost wife.

If I wasn't confused before, I definitely am now. I know in a past life I was supposed to have loved him, but whoever Psyche was I'm not that same woman. And except for the memories that resurface as dreams, I don't remember my life with him. Circumstances are different now—maybe even he's different. Jasper is still the guy who left me with an uncontrollable ability that made my adolescence miserable. The guy who's been keeping his little spy club (or whatever it is they're doing) a secret from me.

And what about Jimmy? I know we had a fight, but he told me he's in love with me—that he's always loved me. A part of me never stopped loving him, too. I didn't want to screw it up this time, but I probably already have after the way I acted yesterday; plus I've gone and done the very thing I told Jimmy didn't happen.

I get out of the shower and pat myself dry with one of Jasper's dark green towels. I don't have a toothbrush here, so I open the cabinet above the sink in search of some mouthwash. It's virtually empty except for his toothpaste, a bottle of Listerine and an amber-colored bottle with an eyedropper cap. I guess Olympians don't need cough syrup or ibuprofen. I take down the Listerine and the glass bottle, turning it around to look at the white label. Ambrosia is scrawled across it in dark pencil. I've heard of ambrosia before—I just can't remember what it was in Greek mythology. I thought it was supposed to be their food or something. Unscrewing the cap, I bring it up to my nose and take a delicate whiff: sweet, like honey.

My mouth minty fresh, I place everything back where it was and close the cabinet door. I sigh when I go back into the "bedroom" and see my clothes from yesterday crumpled on the floor: Did I really just take a shower without having clean clothes to put on afterwards? I go commando in my leggings and cloak myself in another one of his black t-shirts—only this one has the Rolling Stones tongue stamped in red on the front of it. Does he actually listen to the Rolling Stones or does he just want to be trendy? What's his favorite kind of music? Does he even like our music? Sadness and uncertainty creep over me, but I shake them off, grab my things and go outside to catch the bus.

On the bus I finally check my phone. I have a dozen angry text messages from my sisters—Tanya, Victoria, Carly—all asking me where the hell I am. Curfew—just another thing that completely evaporated from my mind while I was with Jasper. The thought of going back to the house and facing Victoria, or worse, Farrah, makes my heart thud in my chest. Maybe I'll just stay on campus all day until I absolutely have to go back.

The last text message is from an unfamiliar number:

hi this is sam. jasper told me about the blind date thing and i'd love to take victoria. let me know the details. thnx

Sam? Perfect. Jasper may have gone overboard with the whole Anna and Dr. Mars pairing, but a Sam-Victoria set up kills two birds with one stone: Victoria gets a date, and as president it gives her an opportunity to build a relationship with Sigma Iota's president. Okay, I guess thinking of it that way zaps all of the romance out of it, but it's not like my big sister's looking for a boyfriend, anyway.

While I'm on my phone, I google ambrosia and follow the first link to its Wikipedia article. I'm right: "Ambrosia was considered to be the food or drink of the Olympian gods, thought to bestow immortality." Of course, that's in Greek mythology—maybe it's really some kind of supplement or drug to them. The bus pulls up to the stop on campus, so I put my phone away and join the line of students waiting to get off.

Despite the morning shower, my gross-feeling increases as the day wears on, but I avoid going home until lab is over at five. As I creep into the sorority house, I hear the hum of voices behind Farrah's closed door. I carefully take off my shoes and tiptoe toward the stairs, but just as my foot touches the first step, Farrah's door swings open, and she herds the entire executive board into the living room. Victoria sees me first, her eyes bugging out of her face.

"There you are!" she exclaims. "Where were you last night? We were worried about you."

"Apparently not worried enough to not have a secret meeting in Farrah's room," I point out. Victoria grinds her lips together before opening her mouth to reply, but Farrah's sharp voice cuts her off.

"In here," she says. A furious scowl twists her lovely face. "Now."
Chapter 22

My sisters watch me walk to Farrah's room as slowly as a criminal walking toward the electric chair. Once I'm inside she slams the door behind us.

"I let you off the hook last time," Farrah hisses, getting right to the point. "And what do you do? You must have complete disregard for authority."

"Just yours," I fire back. "Why should I follow your rules? Why should I trust you? I know who you are." I don't know if I'm being brave or stupid, but I continue, "You're the one who killed me."

Farrah's answering smile is smug. "I see my son has told you some things. What exactly has he said to you?"

"That he and I were husband and wife, once, back on Olympus. When I was Psyche," I reply, my bravado faltering. "He said you were always jealous of me and murdered me." Amusement mingles with pity on Farrah's features, making me second-guess myself. Is it all a lie—has Jasper actually tricked me into thinking I'm a reincarnated goddess?

I'm not doing a very good job of concealing my doubt from Farrah because next she assures me, "Oh, no, that's all true. But did he tell you why he's here? On Earth?"

Flooded with relief, I nod earnestly. "He told me he came back for me." This makes Farrah burst out into uproarious laughter. "What's so funny?"

Farrah wipes a tear from her eye. "And humans think we're conceited? You foolish girl. Eros didn't come here for you."

"Don't get me wrong," she continues, perching on her bed. She gestures for me to sit down in her desk chair. "Now that he's been reunited with you, his desire to repair your relationship is sincere. My son has always been inexplicably drawn to you." I balk at her emphasis on "inexplicably," but she doesn't give me a chance to be offended. "But as far as he knew, you were dead. No, something else brought him to Earth—something he wouldn't want his precious butterfly to know about.

"Let me back up. It's time for a little history lesson." Her sick joy over my seeming naiveté vanishes, replaced with gravity. "I'm about to change your view of your world and its history. Are you ready for that?"

Can a person ever be ready for that? I nod anyway.

"This isn't the first time my people have visited this planet," she begins. "In fact, we used to visit Earth regularly. The Ancient Greeks called us gods to try to explain our superior intellect and abilities. We gave them a nudge here and there to keep their intellectual and technological progress moving.

"But many of us interfered in other ways—myself included, although I'm not proud of it." Her neutral tone of voice doesn't betray whether she means this or is merely trying to make herself look good for my benefit. "We tricked them. Seduced them. Finally many of us realized that it would be in humankind's best interests if we left and allowed humans to develop on their own. But still, a few of us resisted. They didn't think there was any harm in toying with you. They believed humankind was and always would be inferior.

"With the help of our human allies, those of us who wanted to cut all ties with Earth were able to seal the portals between our worlds." She stops to consider me, as if waiting for my reaction, but I sit unmoving with my hands folded in my lap, my face stoic. "As you may have already worked out, we left a little something behind: our DNA. Hundreds of thousands of little demigods, so to speak, running around Earth. Blind to their Olympian heritage because only exposure to a specific compound from my world awakens it."

Ambrosia. Jasper must have had some of it on his hand the night we found him. At the mixer he acted like he had given me something back, bestowed this gift upon me, when really all the ambrosia did was turn my silent, Olympian DNA back on. At last Jimmy's self-healing ability makes sense—he and Anna must be part Olympian, too. "What does this have to do with Jasper's return?" To my chagrin, I choke on the question, giving away how deeply her chilling rewrite of history is affecting me. I wish she'd stop the build up and get to the point.

"My son was...distraught after your death." Farrah chooses the wording after a lengthy pause in which she again appears perplexed over the depth of his feeling for me. "He was hopeless. Morose. I guess you could say he started hanging out with the wrong crowd. Rumors circulated around Olympus that some of the young people were plotting a rebellion, but the other Elders and I didn't take them seriously. The rumors mostly involved troubled siblings Apate and Dolos—none of their peers actually sided with them. Finally they, along with Eros, figured out how to cross over to Earth, breaking our sacred promise to no longer interfere with this world.

"We were forced to send a few others across to find out what they were doing here. From the intelligence we've been able to gather, it looks like they're awakening the demigods to build an army—an army they can bring back to Olympus to overthrow Zeus and Hera."

My first instinct is to scoff at this ridiculous story, but then I remember Genie's gills and scaly skin, the group coming out of Jasper's office and the bottle of ambrosia in his bathroom.

I cross my arms over my chest and raise my eyebrows in skepticism. "Why should I believe you? You killed me, and you enjoyed it. You really expect me to believe you give a crap about Earth?"

"I've always had a soft-spot for humans, especially the halflings—it's you I don't like," she clarifies, her jade eyes narrowing at me. "And yes, I liked killing you—I enjoyed it immensely—but I only gave into the urge because I suspected you'd come back." This gets another eyebrow raise out of me.

"Every Olympian has a quality, an essence unique to them," Farrah explains. "It's why humans used us to explain or personify certain concepts. Usually a demigod inherits the essence of his or her ancestor, but yours seems to be unique—or at least we don't know who your power originated from." Farrah's lip twitches. "I bet that pleases you, knowing you're special." She couldn't be more wrong. My wings never made me feel special—just lonely.

"Your essence is that of the spirit, the soul. When an Olympian dies, she simply vanishes." Farrah snaps her fingers on the last word. "Same goes for the demigods. We don't have souls. Except for you. I thought you might come back. You're a biology major. Think of it as an experiment."

"An experiment?" I repeat through gritted teeth, but then I think about all the E. coli, Drosophila flies and other lesser organisms I've tampered with in bio lab.

"I'm not planning a second trial, if that's what you're worried about," Farrah says, although her voice doesn't sound too reassuring. "Even if I was, I wouldn't off you just yet. I need you."

I hesitate before asking, "Why?"

"To help Hephaestus and me send Eros back to Olympus."

"What?"

"He loves you. Trusts you. He won't expect you to turn on him."

"Why should I help you prevent rebellion on your world?" I ask. "I barely remember Olympus. I don't care what happens there."

"He's bringing Earth into what should be a war amongst Olympians," she says almost in exasperation. "Brainwashing humans to fight his battle for him in exchange for awakening their Olympian heritage—bringing them as close to immortality as any being can come.

"You won't be alone," she adds. "Your Gamma Lambda Phi sisters will be there to help you."

"Wait." I close my eyes for a moment, an ache blossoming on my forehead, probably from information overload. "What does my sorority have to do with this?" I ask, looking at her again.

"Some of your sisters are descendants of Nike. They helped her seal the connections between Earth and Olympus those many years ago. Today, only a select few of the women at Headquarters know about Gamma Lambda Phi's original purpose: to guard the connections and keep them sealed." I think back to the bronze chalice filled with water, the unusual ceremony we practiced after our chapter meeting:

Where the fabric wears thin/And our enemy's at hand/We must thrust him back/Into his own land...

"The girls you kicked out," I recall. "They're normal humans."

"That's right."

"Kind of sounds like ethnic cleansing, or something."

For once, Farrah looks genuinely offended. "I'm trying to protect them. The task ahead of us may be dangerous—I don't want to endanger human lives."

"Your sisters will perform the ceremony." She ignores my distrusting stare and gets back to the plan. "All you have to do is get Jasper to come with you to the house." Farrah gets up and crouches down in front of me. I instinctively push back in the chair. "What do you think? Will you help us?"

I swallow hard over the lump congealing in my throat. "I need some time to think about it," I tell her quietly. Despite Jasper's lies, his secrets, I'm not sure I like where this is going. How can I use his feelings for me against him? That would make me no better than him—than any of them.

"I understand," Farrah insists in a tone suggesting she doesn't understand, at all. She rises to her feet. "As soon as you decide, let me know." She walks to the door, hinting that our meeting is over, but I have one last question.

"What about his followers?" I press. I recall the look of reverence on Liz's face, and her calling Jasper Master. "How can we make them see what Jasper and his friends are doing is wrong?"

"I think once we've sent them back, restored order between our worlds, the people Eros, Apate and Dolos have transitioned will be easy to convince."

I shake my head. "How could that be easy? Who wouldn't want to be more Olympian than human if they could? More beautiful, stronger, just...better. Who would turn down immortality?"

Farrah twists the knob and pushes the door open. "Trust me, Siobhan—you don't really want to be like us. Despite our obvious strengths, we have manipulative tendencies. Even when we're well-meaning, we only end up causing upheaval."

Thankfully over the next several days, I don't have to make up excuses to avoid seeing Jasper outside of class; he's preoccupied taking over Dr. Mars's schedule while the history professor is away. The absence of beard and brawn at the front of the classroom leaves a gaping hole that even Jasper can't fill. There's a knot in my stomach that only grows tighter with each passing day that doesn't bring the return of Eric and Anna. I believe what I told Peter at The End: I don't know how Eric fits into all this, but he's taken Anna to Olympus. I highly doubt there are cell towers there; Anna has no way to let me or her brother know she's safe.

In the meantime, I immerse myself in homework and the sorority, especially preparations for Friday's Find Your Sister a Mister dance. I can't really say I'm surprised that Jimmy hasn't texted or called me after our argument. At the end of Friday's World Myth's class, I take out my phone for the hundredth time to message him, but just like the last ninety nine times, end up staring at his name on the screen instead before tucking my phone back in my purse.

"Siobhan!" I feel the light but desperate touch of Jasper's hand on my arm as I'm leaving the auditorium. "I've tried to catch up to you every day after class, but you always seemed like you were in a hurry. Sure you're not avoiding me?" he asks playfully.

I answer with a laugh, albeit a nervous one. "This week has just been crazy. Planning this dance has taken over my life."

"Sounds like you need a break. I want to take you out tonight." He takes my hand in his, and the tender brush of his fingers sends a tingle of anticipation throughout my entire body. "Dinner, just the two of us."

I shake my head. "Like I was saying, the dance is tonight. You can be my date, if you want," I add. I already know he won't because Farrah is chaperoning. Just as I expected, he grimaces.

"Come out with me instead." Today his eyes are the color of shining sapphires rather than the blue-black of a night sky. I quickly look down at our entwined hands, unable to look into his eyes without falling.

"I can't. I really have to be at the dance. Speaking of which—" I release his hand—"I should get going. There's a lot to do."

"Tomorrow, then. I won't take 'no' for an answer." He says it with a mischievous smile, but his eyes have clouded over again. I give a start as he sweeps by me without waiting for my response. Pushing through the double doors, I leave Frasier Hall and walk out into the dry but gray late morning, the sky a thick stew of charcoal storm clouds. As soon as I open the door to the sorority house, I hear panicked footsteps coming down the stairs and Victoria's manic voice.

"Siobhan, I hope that's you!" She runs up to me, waving a packet of papers in my face.

"Panhel just called," she gasps. "They claim Liz never turned in the paperwork to approve our third party vendor."

"Does that mean we won't be able to drink?" I hadn't noticed Tanya sprawled on the couch, a text book open on her lap. The book slides to the floor as she bolts upright.

"What does Liz have to say about this?" I wonder.

"Liz isn't answering her phone. They're letting us turn it in last minute, but I need you to help me fill out and sign the forms," Victoria tells me.

"Of course." I pluck the packet from her hand and settle down at the kitchen table, uncapping a pen as I skim the front page. "Organization," I read out loud, scribbling Gamma Lambda Phi on the corresponding line. "Name of venue...number attending...event ID number. What the heck is that?"

Victoria comes up behind me and leans over my shoulder, reading silently. "Don't worry about it. I think that's something Panhel assigns."

I skip over it and go to the next line. I can still sense Victoria's head floating next to mine. "You're in my bubble, Big."

"I'm not trying to make out with you," she jokes lightly, standing up straight. A frown flickers at the corners of her mouth as she walks around the side of the table. "If you don't need me for this, I'll go help Carly load her car."

I flip through the rest of the pages. "I think I'm good. Thanks," I say as I write down the name of the vendor. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Victoria hesitate before turning around and calling her roommate's name on the way upstairs.

I fill out the rest of the forms to the tune of the front door squeaking open and close as Carly and Victoria go back and forth carrying boxes of streamers, balloons, table cloths and foil centerpieces out to the car. Once I've finished, I have to wait over an hour for Panhel's risk manager to get out of class so she can meet me to sign off on them. This leaves me with probably the only chance I'll have to get ready, so I shower, slip into my strapless red cocktail dress, and curl my hair. Panhel approves the forms later that afternoon, and Carly and I head over to the Riverfront Bar and Grill to put the final touches on the room.

"We're almost there," Carly announces, switching her foot to the accelerator and rolling through the green light onto the Beaumont Bridge. The twenty minute drive feels like it's taking an hour. "Stop it, Thumper."

I tear my gaze away from the window, where I've been watching the pewter waters of the Ohio River rush endlessly underneath the bridge. "Stop what?"

"That." She points to my left leg, which is bouncing so furiously you'd think I was on my way to take the MCATs. I place a firm hand on my thigh to stop it.

As we pull up, I see Tanya and the other committee members sitting outside the restaurant. She and four other girls are crammed on an iron bench. A fall of blonde hair hides Tanya's face as her fingers fly over the keypad of her phone. Propped against the bench beside her is the banner we put up every year, rolled up into a snug white tube. The rest of the girls are sitting on the sidewalk, surrounded by boxes brimming with red and black crepe paper and deflated balloons. Bubbling voices and laughter float through the open car window. I get out before Carly even has the chance to turn the car off.

"What the heck have you been doing here this whole time?" I explode as I stalk up to them. "You haven't put a damn thing up!" I peer over at Tanya's phone screen, which is lit up with rows of jewel-colored digital candies. "Are you playing 'Sugar Rush?!'"

Carly winces at my strident tone. "I'm pretty sure only dogs could hear that."

"Maybe these are signs." I shake my head slowly, in bewilderment. "Maybe we should just cancel the dance."

"I see someone's wearing their crazy social chair hat," Tanya says. "We have plenty of time, so we thought we'd just wait for you to get back and tell us what to do. Oops," she adds when she notices the time on her phone. She stands up and claps her hands. "Let's go, ladies! Grab a box and head inside!" Recovering from my daze, I pick up the banner and follow the others through the side door leading directly to the formal dining room.

"Where should we put this?" I wonder, softening my voice and looking around. The entire back wall is really one long window with a tranquil view of the river. The dark wood of the other three walls and decorative rafters zigzagging across the ceiling give the dining room an elegantly rustic feel. Double doors connect it to the casual part of the Riverfront. Beyond them I hear the buzz of voices and clatter of dishes and pans.

"Up there," Carly suggests, pointing to the rectangle of wall above the doors.

"We don't have a ladder."

"We can pop you up there!" Tanya squats down and cups her hands side-by-side, palms up. "Let's go Gamma Lambda Phi!" she cheers in a clipped voice. "Woo!"

"Great idea!" I take off my red suede platform wedges, placing my right foot in her hands and bracing myself on her shoulder. "Get over here, Carly."

Carly's baby blue eyes bounce from Tanya's outstretched hands, to me, to the wall. Her curls jostle like a mass of dark gold springs as she shakes her head. "It's not a great idea. It's a very, very bad idea. I know you're super tiny, but I have absolutely no upper arm strength."

"You can do it!" Tanya insists.

"I trust you," I assure her. "I can balance myself. Just make sure you get a good grip on me." Carly meets my eyes, her lips parted in uncertainty. After another moment of hesitation, she walks over and mimics Tanya's stance.

"We bounce together, on three," Tanya instructs. "Down on three, up on four. Ready?" Carly gives a stiff nod. "One, two, three, four!" On four I place my other foot into Carly's waiting hands. She and Tanya steady their grips while I carefully straighten my back. I reach up, my fingers brushing the thin gap between the top of the doors and the wall.

"I need to be higher," I tell them.

"Full extension!" Tanya exclaims. "This takes me back."

"Are you okay, Carly?"

"Y-yes," Carly's voice quivers from below.

"On three, we're going to bounce, then straighten our arms out completely as we push Siobhan's feet above our heads." Tanya counts again. My left leg wobbles a bit as they lift me further into the air, but I keep my back ramrod straight. Fixing my eyes to the wall in front of me helps me maintain balance.

I snap my fingers twice and hold out my hand. "I need the banner. And some tape."

Tanya whistles for attention. "Hey! Siobhan needs the banner and tape!" I hear the frantic shuffle of feet. A pair of hands thrusts the banner and reel of masking tape into mine. Iridescent glitter showers the floor as I unfurl the sign, which shouts "Find Your Sister a Mister!" in bold shimmering letters. Letting one end hang, I curl pieces of tape on the back of the other and stick it to the wall. I smooth out crinkles in the paper as Tanya and Carly inch me along to the other side. Every once in a while Carly's arms waver, but she keeps them locked.

"Done," I call down. "See? That wasn't so bad."

"We're going to bring her back down to a half extension," explains Tanya. While she slowly but steadily lowers her arms, Carly's elbows sag, and I feel myself stumble in that direction. I throw my arms out as I struggle to regain balance, but my foot has already slipped out of her hands.

"Siobhan!" Tanya screams.

As I plummet backwards, my life flashes before my eyes in fragmented scenes: Anna's long brown hair swinging in front of me as we run out onto the football field to do a routine. Jasper sprawled on the ground, skin glistening with sweat, reaching out to me with one pale, weak hand. Jimmy's hunched shoulders walking away from our lunch table as he throws one final infuriated look my way. Watching the ground zoom up closer and closer as I tumble out of the tree in my parents' backyard. Clasping Tanya's and Carly's hands as we form a circle around the living room, Victoria's clear voice reciting passages from our ritual book. Spiraling into Jasper's hypnotic blue eyes as he cups my chin in his hand, bringing his face down to kiss me.
Chapter 23

Two solid arms catch my back before it can hit the floor.

Another pair of hands grabs my left leg, leaving the other dangling freely in the air. There's a sickening crack as my ankle smacks the wood floorboards. My ears ring with shrill screams and the stampede of footsteps across the floor.

"Siobhan!" Tanya's voice is close to my head, her arms resting on the floor while she cradles my back. My eyes flutter in her direction. Shock fogs up my brain, making everything feel slow-motion and hazy. Through slits I see my ankle is twisted at a nauseating, impossible angle. When I try to move it ever so slightly, white hot pain slithers up my leg. I scrunch up my face, shouting a series of imaginative expletives.

"Oh, my God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Carly blubbers. Her fingers still clasp my other leg.

"I'll call nine-one-one," someone else says. The voices of my sisters are dream-like and faraway. After the burning pain, something cold and sharp explodes in my lower back, making me call out again. I feel desperate hands seize my arms and worried voices, but I can't understand them above the icy sensation spreading up through my back and neck and down through my legs. By the time it's reached my hands and feet, the sensation has changed to pleasantly warm and tingly. When it dissipates completely, so does the pain. I clench my teeth in apprehension as I give my ankle a test roll, but the hideous break is gone, the bone mended. I get swiftly to my feet.

"You're—you're okay?" Carly asks uncertainly.

"I'm fine. I..." My eyes roam from her, to Tanya, to the rest of the faces staring at me in quiet astonishment. No one could have missed the sickening position my ankle was in only seconds ago, but it's shifted back into place, and now I can stand and walk on it easily.

"Jasper." My lips whisper his name before the thought is fully formed.

"What?" Tanya asks.

There's a fruit on our world whose nectar contains a special compound. Its effects are most potent if you consume it...

"Nothing," I tell her while another rapid series of memories bombards me. I lean down to take a whiff of the glass ambrosia bottle, my nostrils filling with a delicious sweet scent reminding me of honey. It smells how the champagne at Willow Park tasted—and the glass of milk at his apartment. Lactose intolerant, my ass; it was probably regular milk. He's been dosing me with ambrosia, trying to complete my transition, to make me as fully Olympian as possible. My wings didn't just seem stronger that night after dinner; they were stronger. Now my body can heal itself, just like Jimmy's.

"Let's finish up here."

Carly gapes at me. "Are you sure?"

I nod resolutely. "And then there's something I have to do."

***

Carly drops me off behind Frasier Hall. "Do you want me to wait for you?" I shake my head. "We're supposed to be at the house right now," she reminds me.

"I just don't know how long this is going to take. Look," I plead as she gives a huge sigh, "there's something I really have to do. I'll explain everything later. Please trust me. If I miss the shuttle I'll call a cab."

"You know we're not supposed—"

"I know. Don't worry about me." I open the car door but pause with one leg out of it. "Thanks for covering for me."

"Of course. I'm so, so sorry—"

"It's not your fault," I reassure her for the millionth time before getting out and shutting the door.

Upstairs, the door to Jasper's office is closed, but I hear eager voices on the other side. I knock. The chatter fades, but no one comes to open the door. When they still don't answer after the second knock, I try the door knob. It's unlocked.

"Oh, look. Princess Siobhan is here," a familiar voice says. Liz perches on the corner of Jasper's desk, casting me a withering glare as I walk in. She's wearing her gold sequined top with the plunging back—the one she usually wears when we go dancing—to make room for the pair of broad, dove-like white wings sprouting from her back.

"I remember you." I turn my head toward this second voice, which belongs to a girl with milky skin, long, thick obsidian hair, and feline green eyes. The stench of blood and roses invades my nostrils. "You're the one our Eros is so fond of." I flinch when she takes a few locks of my hair and runs them through her fingers, then flicks them away, wiping her hand on her black leather pants and wrinkling her nose. "I don't get it."

"Apate," Jasper snaps from the doorway. Apate thrusts her chin defiantly in his direction. Her pale fingers fiddle with something at her neck. The fluorescent lights bounce off the gold shield, set with two garnets and one black opal, dangling from a delicate chain—the Sigma Iota badge in pendant form.

"Tonight's going to be so much fun," she giggles to me before turning and slinking away. She throws herself in a chair, kicking her legs up on Jasper's wood desk.

Jasper comes the rest of the way inside and closes the door. He pecks me on the cheek but keeps a wary eye on his gang. "What are you doing here?" he whispers in my ear.

"We need to talk." I pull away from him, catching a glint like orange flame out of the corner of my eye: Sam's carrot red hair. He's standing against the back wall next to Genie. Panic twists itself into a knot in my stomach. Even though the Sigma Iotas seem to wear suits every day, for almost every occasion, Sam has on an uncharacteristic pair of dark blue jeans and SI letters. He obviously doesn't have any plans to go to our dance anytime soon. How could he stand Victoria up like this?

"Can it please wait?" Jasper asks me, his voice still low.

"No!" I shout as loudly as possible.

For a moment Jasper looks like he's going to argue with me, but then he sighs and addresses his minions instead. "You have your orders. Does anyone have any lingering questions?" Fifteen heads shake "no."

"Wonderful. Then this meeting is over. Apate is in charge tonight." Apate straightens up and beams in response to Jasper's announcement. "Listen to her."

"Yes, Master." The speaker walks up to Jasper and gives his hand a brief but firm shake on his way out the door. It's the linebacker from The End.

We only end up causing upheaval...I clutch my stomach, the knot tightening, congealing into a lead pit. Bile rises in the back of my throat, and I think I'm going to be sick. Every time something falls apart, Jasper lurks in the background, tuning and tugging strings like a puppeteer. The encounter in the woods ended my friendship with Jimmy and Anna—ended it in the worst possible way, with us hating each other. Liz attacked me in a jealous rage because she thought he wanted her. I get caught snooping through Farrah's stuff only because I overheard what he told Liz, and I wanted to get to the stones before she did. And now even my second falling out with Jimmy is because of Jasper.

"You've activated all of these people," I blurt as I watch the minions file out of the room, one by one. I instantly regret it—maybe I shouldn't let on just how much his mother has told me—but it's not Jasper who answers me.

"He's given us his gift." Liz says it almost with a hiss. Her expression dares me to challenge her assertion. "It's wonderful, isn't it? Who would have thought that this all really meant something? That the gods are real?" She brushes the back of her hand along his jawline then plants a goodbye kiss on his cheek. Her lips linger there before she withdraws and leaves the room. I feel a pang of jealousy, which I inwardly scold myself for, but it must show on my face because a pleased expression crosses Jasper's face.

"Don't be jealous. You're the love of my life."

His words jolt me back to the reason I came here in the first place.

"Jasper, I need to ask you something. And I need you to be honest with me."

He purses his lips but nods, going to close the door.

"Have you been...dosing me with ambrosia?"

A short, nervous laugh escapes his lips. "Well, when you say it like that—"

"How else should I say it?" I cross my arms in front of my chest. "You've been slipping it to me without my consent."

"It's only because I..." His excuse falters. He puts his head in his hand and turns away from me.

"Because you knew I wouldn't take it otherwise!" I finish for him.

He whirls to face me again, his eyes dark with disbelief. "Because I love you!" he counters, cupping my face on either side with his hands. I gape at him, but I'm too stunned to shrink out of his grasp, to speak. "What, you don't believe me?"

"I believe you. I just can't believe you think that's a valid reason to roofie me."

He drops his hands to his sides. "Stop saying things like that!"

I open my mouth to shout at him again, but hesitate as the question Farrah posed to me in my dream floats into my mind: Isn't it strange how the very thing that keeps us beautiful, keeps us strong and invincible, is the very thing that can be our undoing? I see a bronze goblet rolling back and forth on the floor, red wine staining the white marble.

"You could have poisoned me. Killed me. That's how Farrah did it, didn't she?"

My voice was so low I wonder if Jasper even heard me. Finally, he says softly, "You were never in any danger. I would never do anything to put you in harm's way. You have to know that. You're right—that is how my mother did it. At large doses, ambrosia is one of the few things that can kill us. But in smaller amounts, taken every day...it's a wondrous substance. I guess our universe has a pretty twisted sense of humor like that.

"I was only making you better. Stronger. Bringing out more of the Olympian in you." Suddenly he's reaching for me again, tipping my face up to his, his eyes burning into me with intense yearning. No man's ever looked at me the way he does. Not Max. Not even Jimmy. "Getting my wife back."

My face flushes. Heat blossoms in my abdomen, but I manage to croak, "Leaving me without a choice. What if this isn't what I want?"

Jasper pulls back as though I've physically struck him. "You don't want me?" Like blowing out a candle, my words have snuffed out the desperate desire shining in his eyes.

"I—I didn't mean that..." I trail off and close my eyes to gather my thoughts. After a deep breath, I open them again and continue, "You say you love me, but this isn't love. You don't manipulate the person you love. You don't lie to them; you don't keep secrets from them."

"Se-crets?"

"Come on. You never told me about this little club," I say, gesturing to where his fledgling army once congregated. "Or the real reason why you're here. I had to hear it from your mother."

A deadly silence permeates the tiny office. When Jasper next speaks, his tone is hollow. "Do you know what it's like to lose someone you love?"

"No," I admit quietly.

"Then you can't even imagine what I went through when Psyche—when you died. How I felt when I walked in that door only moments after it happened and saw you lying dead on the floor." Tears spill down his cheeks, and I have to bury my urge to run up to him and kiss them away. "My whole world died that day. My wings used to be white, you know. I woke up the day after your death, and they were black."

"Because of Aphrodite."

"Yes. Because of my mother. Did she tell you why she did it?" I nod again and repeat Farrah's explanation. Jasper chuckles and shakes his head as if something doesn't surprise him. "But she didn't tell you who asked her to do it. Zeus. You're a woman of science. Zeus is sort of a scientist himself. A mad one. He wants to know why, how you retain your soul when the other demigods don't. So that one day we can achieve true immortality."

"That's why you want to overthrow him," I realize.

"Well, it certainly helps to ease my conscience. Zeus and Hera have been in power ever since any of us can remember. Humankind has risen up against unfair rule countless times in history. War is the only answer. You must see that."

"Maybe war is. But the answer does not include using innocent people to help you."

"You think I'm using them?" Jasper looks genuinely astonished. And hurt. "They're not mere humans—they're part Olympian. I'm helping them realize their full potential. And unlike you, they want this." Is he manipulating me again, or does he actually believe this? Neither alternative is comforting.

"I know I've been making a lot of mistakes with you," he suddenly says. "Please forgive me, Siobhan. I can't do this without you." He scoops me into his arms, but I keep my own glued to my sides. "He told me I would be the one to rule when this is all over. I want you to come back with me. To rule beside me on Olympus." His eyes, now dry, blaze with fierce determination and misguided conviction. Who told him he would rule? Did I—did my death really do this to him? Did it drive him insane?

"You belong to..." You belong to me. I know that's what he wants to say, but after a pause he corrects himself. "We belong together. I love you. You believe me, don't you?"

"I believe you think you do." I try to squeeze back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes, but one traitorous drop rolls down my cheek. Jasper brushes it away with his thumb. "But you don't lie to the woman you love. And you certainly don't send her friends to do your dirty work for you." I squirm out of his arms and sidestep around him to get to the door.

"This is it, then," he says bitterly.

"No." I look back at him. "I just...I have to go. The dance," I remind him. "It's going to be half over by the time I get there." I turn again to leave, but Jasper's insistent hand grabs my arm.

"You can't! Please, don't go," he pleads, trying to cover up his initial outburst, but it's too late; I've already caught the glint of alarm in his midnight blue eyes, felt it in his unrelenting grasp. "Stay. Let's talk through this." This is the second time today he's tried to convince me not to go.

You have your orders. Apate is in charge tonight...

"You're sending them after Farrah. After my sisters." Even after all of his lies, I want him to tell me I'm wrong. That of course he wouldn't send them to attack the sorority—Nike's guardians of the partitions between our universes.

The corners of his mouth turn down into a stubborn frown. "It's the only way. Otherwise she'll have them send me back."

Without another word to Jasper—I have nothing left to say—I run downstairs and out of Frasier Hall, calling the cab company on the way.
Chapter 24

On the ride over, I grimace at myself in my compact mirror. Clumps of limp, damp blonde hair hang around my face, all of the curl gone, and smears of mascara stain the delicate skin below my eyes. I dab my cheeks with a tissue, rub some berry red gloss on my lips and comb my hair with my fingers. That's as good as it's going to get, and I don't really care, anyway. All I care about is making sure my friends are okay.

By the time the cab pulls up to the Riverfront Bar and Grill, the black sky has opened up. Rain bleeds down the cab windows in silvery rivulets. "Thanks," I tell the driver, handing him a crumpled wad of fives and ones for the cab fare and tip. I get out and attempt to shield my head from the incessant rain with my black sequined purse. Thunder crashes just as I dive under the green awning of the restaurant. White lightning flashes out of the corner of my eye. I race inside, past a startled-looking hostess, and I don't pause until I reach the double doors leading to the formal dining room. The muffled bass of a techno song strains against them. I yank one open, the music hitting me like a punch in the chest.

The house lights are down, strobe lights briefly illuminating patches of the room in red, blue and green as they bounce off the walls and floor. They splash a kaleidoscope of color over Tanya's white strapless dress as she dances with her date in the corner. I see Carly and her boyfriend among the crowd hugging the bar, waiting for drinks. A breath I hadn't even realized I was holding rushes out of me. There's no sign of Liz, Genie, Sam or the rest of Jasper's ragtag army. My eyes circle the room again, this time in search of Farrah so that I can at least warn her, but a slouched figure sitting at one of the tables catches my eye first. Staring into his drink, Jimmy taps his foot absent-mindedly to the thumping bass.

"Jimmy!"

He looks up at the sound of his name and jumps to his feet.

"What happened to you?" he wonders, looking me up and down with concern.

"Is it that bad?" I reach out to smooth the collar of his white shirt. "You look handsome." Even though his black suit jacket is draped over the back of the chair and the knot of his red tie sits low on his chest, he looks refreshingly sophisticated. Well, as sophisticated as a restless punk rocker can get.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I had the worst afternoon—"

"It's okay," he assures me. "Tanya told me."

"She invited you," I guess. He nods. "I'm really happy you came." Tears spring to my eyes again, and I divert my gaze to the floor. "I would have understood—"

Jimmy gently presses two fingers to my lips. "Of course I came. I acted like an ass the other night. We shouldn't have played the song."

I shake my head. "It's not your fault. It's...oh God, Jim, I've been such an idiot. You and Anna were right to warn me about Jasper. He sent that guy to the bar to request the song. He was trying to come between us."

"Let's just forget about it for tonight." He takes my hand in his. "Dance with me?" The techno song has ended, and I see my sisters cuddling up to their dates as a slow song starts—I think it's a duet between Rihanna and some guy, but I can't remember the name of it. I smile, and we walk out onto the dance floor. Jimmy wraps his arms around my waist, I sling my arms around his neck, and we sway to the music middle school dance-style. Halfway through the song Jimmy pulls me closer to him, and I lay my head on his shoulder.

A tentative hand on my back makes me lift my head up. Jimmy's hazel eyes narrow at something behind me. I crane my neck to look over my shoulder.

"Max!" I exclaim, slipping out of Jimmy's arms so I can turn fully to face him. A blast of red light catches Max's quivering jaw and unblinking blue eyes. Even in the darkened room, his knuckles look white as he clutches a clear plastic box.

"Sorry I'm late," he says stiffly, thrusting the box into my hands. Inside it is a wrist corsage of velvety, blood red roses. "Glad to see it didn't stop you from having a good time."

"I—I didn't know you were coming," I admit, trying to catch Max's gaze, but he and Jimmy are locked in a staring contest.

"What are you doing here?" Max asks Jimmy.

Jimmy throws his hands, palms out, in front of him. "Tanya invited me."

"Tanya invited me."

"I'm going to kill her." I whip my head back and forth between Jimmy and Max. "Oh, this is ridiculous! Just make out already." I might as well be talking to a wall. Neither boy even flinches at the joke. "I need a drink." I toss the box with the corsage on a table on my way to the bar.

"Vodka cranberry," I tell the bartender. While he's mixing my drink, I grab a small pink plate from the buffet table and build a short tower out of a triangle of cheesecake, a brownie and a couple of cookies. Beside me, a long fingered hand darts out to snag a mini spinach and cheese quiche and add it to a plate already piled high with nachos and cocktail weenies.

"You girls have quite the spread here," Peter says. Tall and thin in a powder blue tuxedo, he looks like one of those gel pens I had in middle school. "Look at this." He holds up a cocktail hot dog by its toothpick. "It's a hot dog, wrapped in bacon. I love America!"

I take my drink from the bartender. "I'm afraid to even ask what you're doing here," I tell him.

"I'm here for the free food." He slides the hot dog off the toothpick and pops it into his mouth. "Jimmy called me," he explains around his food. "I came to Victoria's rescue when her date fell through."

"Victoria!" I blurt, smacking a palm against my forehead. "Do you know where she is?"

Peter licks the grease off his fingers, smacking his lips together. "She told me she was going to the ladies' room. That was like an hour ago. Red wine, please," he calls over to the bartender. "On second thought, I wouldn't go looking for her if I were you. She's not very happy with you right now. Can you hand me my drink, love?"

Holding my breath, I get the glass and pass it to Peter. At least now I know where my disdain for red wine comes from. "You always seem to know more about what's going on with my friends than I do," I realize, thinking back to Jimmy after he cut himself on stage, and Anna and Eric's disappearance. I know Victoria must be upset because Sam stood her up, but why is she mad at me? Because I was late?

"Just think of me as your messenger boy," Peter says before he tosses back a sip of wine.

"There you are! Where have you been?" Tanya rushes up to us just as Peter brings the glass down from his lips. She knocks into his arm, sending a stream of wine flying through the air. Time seems to slow down as she, Peter and I watch the burgundy liquid splatter the front of her white dress. At first, the only sound that escapes Tanya's flamingo pink lips is a hoarse gasp.

"My dress!" she shrieks, gaping down at the spreading red stain. "You ruined my dress!"

"Love, I am so, so, so sorry—"

Tanya's date looms up behind her. "You ruined my girl's dress, faggot!" he bellows. One of his beefy arms swings out, the fist on the end of it cracking against Peter's jaw. Peter loses his balance and stumbles backwards into the buffet, the fold-out table collapsing underneath him. He slides to the floor along with an avalanche of hors d'oeuvres.

"Hey, douche bag!" Jimmy barks, stalking up to Tanya's date. "Lay off—"

"My dress!" Tanya's sob drowns out Jimmy's voice. Tears pour down her tan cheeks.

"It's okay." Carly materializes beside her and places a reassuring hand on her arm. "It's just a dress—"

"Just a dress!" Tanya grabs Carly's puffy sleeve and makes to rip it from the rest of her pale pink dress. They stagger as one mass of clawing fingers, taffeta and glitter into the closest dancing couple.

I stay silently frozen as I watch the room explode into chaos.
Chapter 25

Arms lash out like black tentacles as the boys pummel and wrestle each other. My sisters tear around the room in a rainbow blur, slapping, kicking and scratching each other. At last I feel my feet moving underneath me, like they have a mind of their own. They carry me back out into the hall and around the corner to the women's restroom. I collapse through the door, and it swings back and forth behind me a few times before finally closing with a click. Above the rhythmic drip issuing from one of the porcelain sinks I hear muffled sobs.

"Big?" My voice echoes along the white tiled walls. The whimpers falter. "Victoria, is that you? We have a little problem."

An auburn head peeks around the pale green door of the last stall. "Hello there, little sister." Victoria emerges fully, her silver satin flats plodding soundlessly over the floor as she inches toward me. Her silk dress shimmers like the surface of a sapphire blue lake. "Nice of you to make an appearance." Although her freckled cheeks are damp, her mascara smudged like mine, her voice is steady and scary calm. I find myself taking a step backward.

"Peter told me something was up." I'm unable to keep the nervous quiver out of my own voice. "What's wrong? Is it because Sam stood you up?"

"Oh, no. Samantha Carson showed up at the house, right on time."

My mouth goes dry. "What?"

"I had to tell her that there was a misunderstanding, and that she could leave." For every deadly step my big sister takes toward me, I take another automatic step back.

"Victoria, I—"

"Do you realize that pretty much every fraternity on campus is represented here tonight?" she yells, cutting me off. "So thanks, Siobhan, for not only outing me to the entire sorority, but basically the entire Greek community!"

I start when my back hits the cool wall behind me. "I thought you said you asked Samantha to leave," I say to keep her talking, to distract her from punching me with one of the fists balled at her sides. My comment stops Victoria in her tracks. Her cheeks flush blood red in embarrassment.

"Carly tried to help, like she always does. 'Oh there must be some mistake!'" Victoria squeals. Her impression of Carly would normally have me rolling on the floor with laughter if she didn't have me cornered in the ladies' room. "'Victoria's not gay!' I should have played along, but instead I—I choked up. Everyone was staring at me, but I couldn't get the words out." Her brow furrows at me, her amber eyes darkening to a stormy brown. "I still blame you."

"Victoria, I can explain." The words pour out of me in a rush as she takes a few more deliberate steps in my direction. "I kept forgetting about your date, and I brought it up with Jasper. He told me he would find you one. I thought he was setting you up with Sigma Iota Sam." I should have known better. Nothing ever goes right when Jasper meddles.

"Oh! I understand." Victoria's smiling, but it's a wide, crazed smile. "You forgot about me so you got one of your boyfriends to do your job for you. Oh, yes, I understand completely. Thanks. That made me feel so much better!"

"I'm sorry!" I cry out. "I see how shitty it was of me, and I am sorry! I don't know what else to say!"

"There's nothing else you can say. You know, I always saw you as someone I could really trust. Really depend on. But lately..." She shakes her head sadly. "First, you don't come back to the house when I ask you guys to—when Farrah first arrived—"

"I thought you were over that."

"Then you disappear with Jasper during the mixer," she continues as though I haven't said anything. "I catch you going through Farrah's stuff. You've broken curfew twice. And tonight you came late to your own event."

"I'm sorry about all of it!" I yell, which startles Victoria, who became so engrossed in her rant she seemed to forget I was still there. "I want to make it up to you. Just tell me what to do."

Victoria closes her eyes, breathing out in an exasperated huff that flutters hair. When she next speaks, it's in a calmer, more reasonable tone. "Nothing." My shoulders sag with relief, but then she continues, "If I can't trust you, I don't want you to do anything for the chapter. You're suspended from your position and all future social events until you can get your shit together."

Rage bubbles inside of me. At first I'm surprised it hasn't awakened my wings, but then I remember what Jasper said about hormones—that my wings would be easier to control over time. That was probably a lie, too. It's the ambrosia. "You're overreacting," I say through gritted teeth.

"I think you're getting off easy. I could make things a lot worse for you." She brushes past me on her way to the door.

"I see what's going on here." My hand darts out to stop her, and I tug her around to face me. She yelps in pain and surprise and tries to pull away from me, but I only dig my fingers harder into her arm.

"What the hell!"

"You're just mad that you want all of this—" I release her and run my hand in the air alongside my body—"but you can't have it. You will never have it."

Victoria chokes on her laughter. "You think I want all of that." She looks me up and down, her upper lip curling in disgust.

"Don't play dumb. I know you have a crush on me."

Placing a hand on her chest, Victoria says through fake sobs, "I guess I can't hide it any longer. Siobhan, I have a ginormous crush on you, and I die a little more with each passing day that we are not together. Please," she groans, rolling her eyes. She reaches out to open the door, but I grab her arm again.

"We are not done here!"

"Oh, I'm done—"

I hear someone growling.

It's me.

The next thing I know, I've knocked Victoria to the floor and am holding her there with my legs and hands. Despite the burst of strength fueled by my overflowing anger and the ambrosia treatments, Victoria's a seasoned athlete. In seconds she has me pinned to the floor.

"I don't even like blondes!" she yells as she pushes down to restrain my flapping arms and legs.

"Let me go!" I grunt, freeing one of my wrists from her grasp. I reach up and pull her hair as hard as I can. She screams and tries to tear her head away, but it only makes me yank harder. While the pain distracts her, I roll out from underneath her. I rebound and am about to lunge at her again when Tanya and Carly tumble inside the bathroom.

"Carly's sick," Tanya says as Carly disappears inside the first stall, retching into the toilet. Tanya hurries after her to keep Carly's unruly curls out of her face while she pukes.

"Someone should have told the bartender to cut her off," I admonish. Victoria and I both have our arms crossed. We exchange furious glances, our breaths coming out in short, angry gasps.

"She hasn't had anything to drink!" Carly's body heaves again, and Tanya turns back to her. "It's okay, Carly. It's...what in the world?" Suddenly she pulls back. Underneath her pink dress, Carly's back ripples like the surface of a rushing creek. It only takes me seconds to realize what's happening.

"Tanya, get—" I try to warn her as two white feathered wings split through Carly's dress, slapping against the sides of the stall and forcing Tanya out. Tanya gapes at them in horror. Carly shudders and lifts her head up from the commode, her stomach seemingly settled now that her wings have emerged.

"What happened?" she croaks. Feathers rustle as she struggles to turn around in the stall. There's a clap of thunder outside, followed by a buzzing sound—a sizzle of electricity that draws my eyes to the ceiling just in time to see the fluorescent lights blink off, throwing us into darkness.

"Crap," Victoria says. She fumbles around for something on the sink. A moment later, the screen of her cell phone sheds pale light in the darkened bathroom. "Stay here with Carly," she instructs Tanya and pushes open the door with her hip, motioning for me to follow her.

"I—I'm sorry," Victoria stammers as we step out into the hall. The entire restaurant is bathed in blackness. Where dance music once thumped from the dining room, an eerie silence now coils around us. "I don't know what came over me. This isn't like me."

"But it's like me?" I reply in exasperation.

"Of course not. There's something else at work here," she says almost to herself. I'm about to ask her what the heck she's talking about, but Farrah walks briskly out of the dining room, a glimmer of blonde and gold in the dark.

"Do you feel them?"

"Feel what?" I start to ask, but Victoria talks over me.

"A little." She tilts her head as though she's listening for something. "I catch snatches of their thoughts. They're mostly jumbled, but they keep returning to 'water.'"

"The storm?" As if on cue, lightning blazes outside, briefly illuminating the hardwood floor, eggshell wallpaper and potted ferns.

"No." The whispered word is packed with dawning realization and fear. "The river."

"You're coming with me," she tells Victoria. "Siobhan, round everybody up and bring them out front." She turns on her heel and takes off for the front door, Victoria running after her. I turn and race in the opposite direction, back into the dining room.

Although the music has died and the strobe lights have blinked off, the power outage hasn't dampened the spirit of the civil war raging inside. Farrah just might be the worst chaperone, ever. As I race further into the room, dodging bodies locked in combat, my ankle almost gets caught in a tangle of fallen streamers. Upended foil centerpieces and withered balloons litter the floor. Using a chair as a stepping stone, I climb onto a table and cup my hands around my mouth.

"Hey guys! Guys! We have to—" Something drops from the ceiling, and a hard thump in my chest cuts off the rest of my words. I do a backwards somersault over the edge of the table, my tailbone landing hard on the floor. Swallowing the pain, I scramble to get up, but someone wrestles me back down. I hear the flap of wings and see the whites of dark brown eyes.

"Seriously, Liz!" I roll out from underneath her and instinctively kick out with my leg. The heel of my shoe collides with something soft, and Liz shrieks in pain. "Get out of here! Now!" I shout to the others before Liz rebounds, pouncing on me from behind and locking my arms behind my back.

"You are not going to ruin this for Master!" Liz drags me across the floor, but when we reach the double doors they suddenly bang shut in her face. They're locked from the outside with a small but horrible click. Dropping me, Liz leans into them with all her strength, her shoes squeaking against the floor, but they won't budge. "Hey!" she calls out, banging on one of them with her fists. "I'm still in here! Let me out! Let me—"

"Do you hear that?" a voice exclaims from somewhere in the room. Sometime during my fight with Liz, the room lapsed into an anxious silence. "It sounds like the ocean."

Now I hear it: a hollow roar, like the sound you hear when you hold a conch shell to your ear. The building groans just before a wall of water crashes through the glass wall, sweeping us into wet oblivion.
Chapter 26

Before this school year, I had never been knocked unconscious, but for the second time in a span of only a few weeks I emerge from black forgetfulness, this time with water dribbling out of my mouth onto my chin. Breathing quickly, I sit up on my elbows, my skin chafing against the cool, rough granite of the sidewalk underneath me. A white full moon has broken through the dissipating cloud cover and glints off the now tranquil dark silver river. All around me my sorority sisters and their dates, along with the Riverfront Bar and Grill's cooks, servers and other patrons are at different stages of awareness: Some are just coming to, gasping and coughing up water like me, while others are already sitting up, dazed eyes looking from the saturated lawn to the wood and plaster guts of the restaurant.

There's a glimmer of blue in the skeletal doorframe. Her posture tall and regal, Victoria walks through it cradling something in her arms, the pale moonlight creating a halo around her auburn hair. The feathers of her snowy white wings flutter in the chilled breeze. Realization surges forward in my mind, but seeing the body she carries in her arms quickly extinguishes it. Victoria's swift stride jostles Max's otherwise unresponsive body. One of her arms supports his neck and head; his legs dangle over the other. I get to my feet and stagger over the muddy lawn to them.

"He's okay," she assures me once I'm within earshot, laying him carefully on the ground. "He's unconscious right now, but he'll be fine." Dried blood cakes the gash above his eyebrow, and more red cuts crisscross his arms and legs. "Stay with him," she says before turning and walking back into the rubble. Except for a few glistening droplets of water, Victoria's skin is clear and unscathed. I glance down at the smooth, peach skin of my own hands, arms and legs.

A few feet away from Max, a girl is sprawled face-down on the grass. Hair clings like black seaweed to her head and neck, and silver-blue fish scales cover every inch of her slender back and arms. I bend down and place a gentle hand on Max's cheek, feeling his warm breath on my fingers. "You're safe now. I'll be right over here," I tell him before going over to inspect Genie's body.

I gently flip Genie over. Her eyes are closed, the expanse of sleek scales covering her face, chest and stomach as well. Instead of legs, her torso transitions into a long, thick, slippery tail more like an eel's than a fish's except for the forked fins at its end. Crouching next to her, I feel around her wrist for a pulse, not sure exactly where it's supposed to be—but even if I did, I know I wouldn't find one.

"She's gone." Farrah's voice behind me confirms my suspicion. When she kneels down, her dress pools like liquid gold around her knees. "Did you know her?"

"Not really," I admit, an unexpected sadness for the girl whose name I couldn't remember at The End seizing me. I'd seen her several times with Jasper and his gang, but I never even tried to warn her about him or snap her out of Jasper's spell. Now she's dead. This could have been any of them. It could have been Liz. "What is she? I mean—who is her ancestor?"

"She was a Nereid. A water nymph, descended from Nereus and Doris. They're supposed to be protectors of the water, but here her powers have been used to destroy."

"I don't understand...I thought ambrosia was supposed to make us stronger. Bring us as close as possible to immortality." Tears sting my eyes. "But she's dead."

"So you know about ambrosia."

"You told me about the 'compound' from Olympus, Jasper has a bottle of it in his medicine cabinet—I connected the dots. Jasper's been slipping it into my drinks without telling me," I reluctantly confess. "Exactly like what you did."

Farrah smiles wickedly. "I guess the moral is to be wary of any drink an Olympian offers you." I stand up, the damp earth sucking at the bottom of my shoes as I walk back over to Max. Farrah's high heels make squelching noises alongside me.

"I've been treating the executive board with ambrosia to prepare them for the ceremony. With their consent, of course," Farrah adds in response to my look of dismay. "In answer to your question: The demigods will never be quite as resilient or live quite as long as a full Olympian, but the girl would have survived if she had been given enough ambrosia."

"So they used her before she was ready," I conclude quietly.

Suddenly Farrah steps in front of me, towering over me like a gold statue and blocking my view of Max. "I hope you can see now how imperative it is we send my son and his accomplices home. Eros isn't the man he once was. He, Apate and Dolos are going to get these demigods killed, and they don't care."

"Maybe they do," I object, saying "they do" even though what I really mean is "he does." "Maybe they didn't realize they hadn't given her enough."

"Don't be stupid, Siobhan—"

"You said it yourself," I interrupt her. "'Eros isn't the man he once was'—meaning he didn't use to be like this. He can become that person again. I can help him."

Farrah looks at me like she thinks I'm the most pathetic person in the world. "What, you think love can save him? As much as you might like to think you are, you're not a Disney princess, and this isn't a movie. You're dealing with a being that gets off on interfering in the affairs of Olympians and humans. This," she says, gesturing to the dreary scene around us, "is just another extension of his mischievous nature. Once you peel through all the layers of guilt and anguish over your death, you're still not going to find the man you hope to."

"You're wrong." Although all of the evidence up to this point supports her conjecture, I don't want Farrah to think I'm on her side, either. This isn't a case of siding with the good guys or the bad guys—they're all bad guys, as far as I'm concerned. This is a case of saving my friends—and possibly humanity—while still being me. Eros isn't the person he once was, but neither am I—I'm not Psyche, and I'm not mischievous, or two-faced, or manipulative. I'm not like them. "You don't understand: I am going to help you. But I'm doing this my way. I'm not tricking him into doing anything. I'm going to make him see that what they're doing is wrong."

Farrah is silent for a moment, then shrugs. "Fine. Have it your way. As far as I'm concerned, this will be no help to us at all—and with or without your help, we're sending him back to Olympus." With this promise hanging in the air, Farrah leaves me to go talk to the two police officers striding across the lawn. Their car is parked at the curb, lights flashing blue and red, and more are pulling up behind it. The whirr of ambulance sirens approaches, slicing through the eerie calm. What the hell are we going to tell the first responders? How are we going to explain Genie, who hasn't morphed back into her human form yet? Watching Farrah's jade eyes ensnare those of the two male officers, their expressions glazing over, reassures me—they'll believe anything Farrah tells them.

I shiver as a breeze passes over me, one I would normally find cool and rejuvenating if my clothes weren't heavy with water. A solid, comforting arm encircles my shaking shoulders.

"How're you doing?" Jimmy wonders, kissing my wet, stringy hair.

"As good as can be, I guess." I lay my head on his shoulder. "You?"

"I'm okay."

"How's Peter?"

"He's fine."

"Really?" I exclaim doubtfully. "Because the last time I saw him, Tanya's date had knocked him out."

"Peter gets back on his feet pretty quickly," Jimmy assures me. "What do you think that was, anyway? A freak flash flood?"

Lifting my head, I chuckle softly. "That's an understatement." Even though it's an extremely inappropriate time, I find once I start laughing, I suddenly can't stop, my laughs growing hysterical and breathless.

Jimmy pulls away from me slightly but keeps a firm hand on my back. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I clutch my ribs and try to catch my breath, giving a strangled sob. "No. No, I'm not." Then, it all spills out of me—everything I've found out since he, Anna and I talked at the party: about Jasper and Farrah's true identities, about Olympus and our ancestry. About the rebellion, Jasper's army and the real cause of tonight's destruction. I go back even further and tell him about my dreams—and finally, about me.

"He was my husband on Olympus. I think I'm the only one who can bring him out of this."

After a pause, Jimmy says, "So you're still in love with him."

"I—I don't know." Jimmy looks understanding, but I know this isn't what he wants to hear. "I love you, too. I'm just really confused," I try to explain it away. "Anyway, I'm not doing this because I love him now. I'm doing it because, if we loved each other once, maybe I'm the only one who can reach him."

"I hate to say this, but Farrah might be right. He might not be worth saving. I admire you for trying to take the high road, but you should stick to Farrah's plan this time around."

"I can't believe you would say that." I feel like my world is slipping away from me—everything I love, everyone I care about isn't really what it seems. "Tell me I should do something I'm not comfortable with. I thought I'd at least be able to count on you."

"This isn't just about you. Or me. This is bigger than us, and lives are at stake. Genie died today because of him. You still want to give him a chance to leave on his own terms?"

"Yes. Oh, what?" I shout, throwing my arms in the air in frustration at the expression he's giving me. It's the same look Farrah had on her face minutes ago: disbelief mixed with pity. "You think this is stupid. You think I'm being stupid."

"I do." He shrugs. "I think you're being stupid and self—" A groan of pain from the ground cuts him off and makes us both jump. Max has a hand to his forehead and struggles to sit up.

"Here, let me help you. Take it slow," I advise him, using the weight of my arms to guide him into a seated posture. Max's blue eyes balk at me.

"I didn't know you cared so much," he mumbles, rubbing his forehead.

"Of course I care!" I snap, my leftover anger at Jimmy boiling over. "Just because I wanted to break up doesn't mean I want you to die!"

Max winces and hides his face in his arms. "Stop yelling."

"I'm sorry," I sigh, standing back up.

Max looks at me through his fingers. "So we are broken up," he realizes. "You're really choosing him."

"This isn't the time, Max." The tenderness I've been feeling toward him ever since Victoria came out holding his limp body in her arms is evaporating along with the water in my hair and on my skin. "You probably have a concussion."

"When is it ever going to be the time?" he wonders, lowering his hands. He shakes his head ruefully. "You have to choose one of us."

I glance at Jimmy for help, but his arms are crossed, his eyebrows raised as he waits for my response. "Fine. I don't want either one of you." Grief spasms my face as I stalk away from them in the direction of the restaurant's remains. Victoria has reemerged, wings retracted, this time helping along a limping, defeated-looking Liz.

"But you'll choose him!" Jimmy yells after me. He means Jasper. I grind my lips together to keep from screaming back at him, not even acknowledging him with a backward glance.

"The shuttle's here," Victoria says when we meet up halfway. She passes Liz off to me, and I let Liz lean on my shoulder. "I'm staying here to help Farrah.

"I'll help you down to the bus," I tell Liz, "but I'm not going home with you guys. I'm going to Jasper's." Wariness flashes in Victoria's round eyes, glowing more orange than brown in the dark. "Nothing anybody says is going to change my mind," I say before Victoria can start trying to convince me not to go.

Acceptance settles in to replace the look of warning in her eyes. "Do what you need to do," Victoria says. While she joins Farrah and her gaggle of smitten cops, Liz and I make our way slowly to the idling shuttle.

"I'm sorry," Liz says without looking me in the eye, her voice a hoarse whisper.

"I know."

"I understand it if you guys hate me."

"We don't," I assure her. "Not that you don't have some apologizing to do. But I know—and I think the others do, too—that you haven't exactly been yourself lately. You got caught up in a new world, and a tantalizing one, at that. It could happen to anyone. Who could blame you for that?"

Liz nods, but a bleak frown still turns down the corners of her mouth. "I thought they were my friends, but they're not. You guys are. You're my sisters." As she says it, Carly reaches out to her from the shuttle. Liz accepts her hand and takes the steps one at a time.
Chapter 27

"Siobhan," Jasper says, peering at me through the gap between the wall and the door. He lowers the chain and opens the door the rest of the way. "I really didn't expect to—"

I slap him as hard as I can. Even so, he doesn't flinch. He brings a hand up to the place where my hand connected with his cheek, but I think it's just a reflex.

"I guess I deserve that."

"Yes, you do." I slip past him into his apartment. After a moment's hesitation he closes and relocks the door.

"So, what brings you here?" The question lacks interest, curiosity. He almost sounds bored.

"I—" My reply catches in my throat. He's wearing a black terrycloth robe tied loosely at the waist, exposing a strip of marble-hard chest and abs. My eyes linger a little too long on the bulge underneath his robe around the hip and thigh area. When I look back up at him, he's smirking in satisfaction.

I swallow hard before continuing, "I'm here to help you."

I don't know how I expected Jasper to react to this declaration. Surprised? Annoyed? Even anger would have been better than the uncontrollable fits of laughter he lapses into. He's laughing so hard he stumbles and catches himself on the kitchen counter. I watch him in stunned, pained silence until he eventually recovers himself. He gives a low whistle.

"Sorry about that."

"You don't sound very sorry."

"Aw, what, did I hurt your feelings?" His lower lip juts forward in a mocking pout.

"This isn't you." I raise my voice in hopes that will steady it. "The army. The rebellion. Tonight."

"How would you know that? You said it yourself: You don't remember me or us. Maybe I was always like this."

"That's what Farrah said," I tell him. Maybe he'll back off if he knows he's basically agreeing with his mother. "That you were always meddling, always interfering in others' relationships. She said what you're doing now is just an extension of that."

"She's right. I'm a meddler. Always was, until I met..." He clamps his mouth shut, realizing what he was just about to admit.

"Me," I finish for him. "I saved you once. I can do it again."

Chuckling, Jasper wanders into the living room, turning his back to me. "You've been on Earth for too long. I didn't think you'd be the type to subscribe to that clichéd female fantasy of saving the brooding bad boy from himself. I don't want to be saved. I don't need to be saved."

"Of course you need saving! You're doing horrible things!"

"Morality is relative."

"Killing isn't!" I cry out. He glances back at me, eyebrows raised. It's barely a response, but it lets me know he's finally listening to me. "You tried to kill my friends. And Genie is dead because of you, Apate and Dolos. Because you didn't give her enough ambrosia."

"Of course we did!" he scoffs, his blasé façade crumbling, but only for an instant. "Even if we didn't, her death isn't on our hands. She could have said 'no.' There were many instances when she could have backed out."

"In case you haven't noticed, you're kind of a hard person to say 'no' to."

"Am I?" A devilish smile creeps onto his face, his eyes glittering with something I can't quite identify. It's beyond his usual mischief and playfulness. Something deep, sinister and hungry. "Why does the girl always have to 'save' him?" he muses, the grin vanishing, although a dark yearning still smolders in his gaze. "Why can't she accept him for who he is? Is he so unlovable?" Suddenly he's towering over me, our bodies only centimeters apart.

"You would have told me the truth about your plans from the start if you really thought you were doing the right thing," I point out quietly. I've never hated more what the mere nearness of him does to me. I'm trying to maintain my self-control, but I can tell he senses it's caving. He strokes my cheek with two seductive fingers before cupping my chin in his hand.

"Do you think Good Jasper is going to make you feel like this?" he whispers. Before I can answer—not that I had any idea what I was going to say to that, anyway—he grinds his erection against me as he crushes me against his body, his determined tongue invading my mouth. I lose myself in the kiss for a minute or two, but then slam my hands against his chest and try to pull away from him.

"Stop," I grunt against his mouth. I turn my face away, feeling his lips graze my cheek instead. He grabs my wrists and squeezes, hard, to still my thrashing. I struggle feebly against him.

"You're...hurting...me." I put all my might into breaking free, but at the same time he releases me, and I trip backwards. I rub my wrists, holding them to my chest protectively. My pale skin is red where Jasper held me.

"I'm sorry. I..." Jasper stares at my hands and blinks as though emerging from a daze. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I guess everyone's right. You are a monster."

I stomp past him and around the divider partitioning off his bedroom. In my wrinkled cocktail dress and with dry but tangled hair, I crawl on top of the bed, shoving a pillow under my head. I shut my eyes.

"You still want to stay here?" Jasper's uncertain voice comes from somewhere at the foot of the bed.

"I'm too tired to go home," I say into the pillow. "Just don't touch me."

"I won't."

The mattress rolls as he gets in beside me. I drift off to sleep more quickly than I thought I would. The next time I open my eyes, the red crystals of the digital clock on the nightstand blaze three ten in the morning. Jasper sits up in bed, hugging his legs. His skin is ghostly white in the streetlight filtering through the blinds, his hair hanging in his face and swaying as he rocks himself back and forth. He looks like a drug addict in withdrawal.

"What's wrong?" I ask, sitting up.

He must have been crying, because he sniffs and wipes at his eyes. "I'm sorry about earlier. You're right—I wasn't always like this. I'm not this monster. I swear. Please help me, Siobhan." I brush strands of his hair out of his face so that I can look at him. "I accept your help. I don't want anyone to die. I didn't want...Genie..."

I scoot closer to him and take his hand in mine. "I'll help you. Let's just get some sleep, for now." He nods and curls up in the fetal position under the covers. I cradle his head against my chest. We fall asleep like this.

***

The rest of the weekend is a blur of bare skin, tangled limbs and blood red satin sheets.

At night I let myself forget why I'm really here and the questionable things Jasper has done, surrendering myself to him completely. After each time we make love I crash, lying spent in his arms, and I wake up a few hours later only to find him looming over me, his erection urging my thighs apart once again.

During the day, we make meals together, cuddle, talk—almost like a normal couple. Spending this time with him has helped me realize there's something else between us—something that could transcend each of our faults, our mistakes, our darkness. Something that would only become stronger and more real if I can show him what it means to truly love someone.

Late Sunday afternoon I'm still cocooned in bed when Jasper brings over two steaming cups of black tea. I accept mine and sniff its pungent vapors in playful suspicion.

"It's ambrosia-free," he assures me. I sit up, propping my pillow between my back and the headboard, and Jasper perches on the edge of the bed at my feet. "Just so you know: You only need one more dose of ambrosia to become as fully Olympian as you can possibly be. Only one or two drops needed. But it's up to you." I shake my head as I take a sip of tea. Jasper sighs. "That's what I figured. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?"

"I won't," I insist. "Thank you for respecting my choice." I jab him playfully in his back with my toes. "I feel like we've just had a breakthrough."

He gives a shy, fleeting smile, looking as though he's about to say something, but then changes his mind, instead blowing on his tea.

"What is it?" I press.

Jasper sets his cup on the nightstand and stretches out on the bed beside me. "So what I'm offering isn't...it isn't at all appealing to you?"

"What are you offering me?"

"The chance to rule beside me on Olympus." He reaches up and tucks a section of my hair behind my ear. "To be my queen."

I straighten up, almost sloshing tea onto myself and the sheets. "I thought we were trying to get past this, Jasper. You told me you wanted my help."

"But I don't know what you want from me." He whispers this fearfully, like a little boy who knows he's in trouble. Until this moment I've been unable to pinpoint what he reminds me of, with the mood swings and the tantrums, but now I can see him clearly, behind the wicked smirk and the black holes of his eyes: the child still struggling within him, who doesn't seem to know right from wrong or understand the consequences of his actions.

"I want you to choose me." It's what I've really wanted all along, this selfish yearning my conscience has kept restrained in the back of my mind. Yes, I want to protect my friends, protect Earth, but when I presented him with this ultimatum, deep down I wanted him to prove his love for me by choosing me over Apate and Dolos, over their mission.

He casts me a confused sideways glance. "I am choosing you."

"No, I mean—I want you to choose me." I lie back down on the bed and put my head on his chest so that I don't have to look in his eyes. "If you really want to be with me, you have to let go of this plan to build your army here on Earth and overthrow Zeus. You have to find another way—"

"Siobhan, I—"

"Or just give it up. Stay here, with me." I lift up my head and meet his gaze resolutely. "We can have a relationship. We can be normal."

Jasper smiles, but sadness and regret tug down the corners of it. "You can't really be asking me to do this. We've been planning this for eons. It's my time. It's my turn to rule on Olympus. Siobhan, I—I want you by my side, more than anything, but if you turn me down, I'm still going through with it."

And there it is. I finally have my answer. I can't say I'm surprised, but hearing him say it still stings. After all of his hyperbole about "getting his wife back" and my being "the love of his life," it's still not enough. His lust for power consumes him, not his love for me—if you can even call it love. I don't know what Psyche was to him, but Siobhan Elliot is his possession, his chosen one, his prize to flaunt before his kingdom if he overtakes the thrown. Ours is a dark, delicious fantasy, but nothing more. It's like grasping at the tendrils of a dream upon waking—one moment you're on the cusp of something incredible, but when the fog of sleep clears you can barely recall what that incredible something was—and if you do, it's not the same. Reality sets in.

My fog lifts.

"I should get going," I mutter, sitting up and sliding off the bed in one fluid motion.

Jasper reaches out as if to stop me, his fingers brushing then sliding off my arm. "Now? We should talk about this."

"Our chapter meeting starts in fifteen minutes," I explain without looking back at him. "I'm going to be late."

There's a pause, and I can feel him frowning at the back of my head. "I'll drive you." He gets up and goes to his closet to get a shirt. I go into the bathroom, splash my face with cool water, and slip back into the dress I wore to the dance. It's not business formal, but I hope it's better than barging in wearing panties and my lover's Rolling Stones t-shirt.

As we're idling in front of the sorority house, Jasper takes my hand before I get out of the car.

"So we're okay."

No. "We're okay," I assure him. He leans over for a loving, closed-mouth kiss. I force a smile when it's over. "See you later." I get out and close the door.

"I love you," he calls out the window and pulls away from the curb. I steel myself before walking into the house, even knocking lightly on the door before cracking it open.

"It's just me," I announce before coming in. The words echo off the walls back to me. "Where is everybody?" I mutter, taking out my phone to double check my inbox, but I don't have any emails or texts saying chapter has been canceled. I don't hear showers running or footsteps pacing frantically upstairs; the entire house is quietly poised, as if it's waiting for something to happen.

"Victoria?" I call out anyway, the heels of my shoes on the hardwood floor sounding especially loud and intrusive as I explore the living room, even peeking into the kitchen. "Tanya?"

"The girls aren't here." Farrah's cool, calm voice behind me sends a chill down my spine.

"O-oh," I stammer as I whirl around to face her. "Are we having chapter somewhere else?" My voice squeaks at the end of the question.

Farrah's laugh is as close to a cackle as I've heard anyone come to in real life. "I sent them away. I realized that, if you're really not going to help us, then I really have no use for you. And killing you is just too much fun." She backs away from me a step at a time, keeping her icy jade gaze fixed on me, and I instinctively lunge forward, my fingers curled and reaching for her slender, pretty neck—

—but instead I collide with an invisible barrier that sends me crumpling like a rag doll to the floor.

I get to my hands and knees, breathing hard and glaring at her. Hef has materialized next to her, a ball of orange fire in his brown hand. I swipe my fingers through the air in front of me, and the cage crackles, a translucent ripple running through it that distorts their figures. Hef tosses the fireball casually at the entertainment console, and it goes up in flames.

"Goodbye for now," Farrah says just as the fire licks the floor between us all the way up to the couches, which are consumed instantaneously. The fire spreads impossibly fast, like the floor and furniture are coated with gasoline. Farrah and Hef meander away from it and out the front door as though they're going outside for an evening stroll. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is a ridiculous and ostentatious way to kill someone, but as the room fills with smoke, fear and panic dispel any rational thought. I lay down on my stomach, gasping as smoke infiltrates from above—I can't get out, and the flames can't get in, but my enclosure apparently doesn't have a ceiling. I'm getting breathless and woozy as I fumble my phone out of my purse, scrolling frantically for Jasper's name through bleary eyes. When I find it, I text one word:

help

I drift in and out of a sleep-like state. Maybe I should just let myself slip into blissful unconsciousness. Maybe it's supposed to be this way. I wasn't supposed to come back, so the universe or some force has been conspiring to make things right, regain balance...

"Siobhan!"

I hear his voice, but it sounds dream-like and faraway. Two arms pick me up and shake me gently but urgently.

"Siobhan, snap out of it!" With every desperate word, Jasper's voice becomes louder and clearer. "What happened?"

My eyes flutter open, meeting his blue ones. Those beautiful, deep blue pools that pull me under like the current of the ocean. Mmmmm...

"Stay with me!"

I peer at him from under heavy lids.

Despite Jasper's pleas, the first thing to really jar me back to my senses is the clean, smokeless air now reaching my nostrils, flowing into my lungs. I open my eyes wider. The room has gone back to normal—the fire quashed, the furniture unscathed.

"The fire—" I say in confusion, but before I even realize what's happened, Jasper has flipped me around so that my back is molded to his front. One of his arms has snaked around my waist while the other is lodged under my throat, where it's pressing into me bit by agonizing bit, suffocating me.

"Son." Farrah appears, pink and golden, into my line of sight. "How nice of you to join us."

Jasper's breath is hot against my ear as he hisses at me.

"You must think I'm a fucking idiot."
Chapter 28

"No," I gasp. I try to get more out, but instead just open my mouth and gag under the pressure of his forearm against my throat. There's a flutter of white cloth and feathers, and then my fellow executive board members file into the room and form a circle around me and Jasper. They're clad in billowing white robes with long, dangling sleeves and hems that kiss the floor.

A feather brushes my skin. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the black down of Jasper's own wings. I keep waiting for him to drop me and make a run for it—he might be able to catch my sisters by surprise and bolt out the door. Then I see the tip of one of Victoria's brilliant white wings send a quiver through the invisible enclosure wrapping around the outside of the circle. Jasper wouldn't make it very far.

Victoria cradles one of the stones we found in Farrah's room in her hands. It glows red like a hot coal, yet she doesn't flinch. Farrah takes two steps back to join them in the circle.

"First we must reaffirm our pledge to Nike," Farrah announces. A few mouths open, no sound coming out, eyes glancing uncertainly between me and Jasper and back to Farrah. "Now."

The first few words of the oath start off shaky, but soon the voices of the sisters of Gamma Lambda Phi blend together in unison, crisp and solemn:

"Sisters we gather,

In answer to the call,

To fulfill our destiny

As guardians this side of the wall.

"Where the fabric wears thin,

And our enemy's at hand,

We must thrust him back

Into his own land.

"We honor our legacy

And before the night is done,

Sisters past, present and future

Will unite as one."

After the final word rings out, Carly takes over. "To Nike we have sworn a promise, to uphold three main duties as her agents on Earth: the first being gregoreuo, to watch."

I spasm in Jasper's clutch as a tearing sound splits the air in front of us. Tanya picks up the oath: "Latreuo, to serve."

The ripping noise is followed by what reminds me of a loud, sharp intake of air, like a giant inhaling through the mouth. It almost drowns out even Victoria's strong, commanding voice as she ends the ritual. "Phroureo, to protect."

Whatever is forming before us seems to collapse in on itself, the hiss fading along with it. A second later, a soundless explosion pummels my face as a silver whirlpool bursts open in the air at our feet, hovering just above and parallel to the floor. Its edges slither out like ghostly fingers, drawing Jasper closer to the brink, but he staggers back just out of its pull without loosening his grip on me.

"Oh, please," Farrah groans above the roar of the whirlpool. "You can't possibly think holding onto her is going to stop me from knocking you into that portal."

"I know it won't stop you, but it'll stop her." I have no idea who Jasper is talking about until Victoria steps forward.

"Let her go, Eros." She says it firmly, although her eyes are pleading. "She's innocent. Leave her out of this."

"Innocent?" he spits. I feel his warm breath on my ear. "I was wrong—you're just like Psyche. One word from your sisters, and you betray me."

"I...didn't..." I look to Victoria for help, but she doesn't hop to my defense, doesn't even try to tell him that I wanted nothing to do with their plan—that I'm being used. Instead, she reminds him of something that does nothing to soothe my pounding heart.

"You know portals only allow one person to cross over at a time."

"I'm counting on it, dear sister."

"You love her!"

"I did. Once."

"She was your wife." Her fearful eyes graze my face before returning to meet his resolutely. "She's my best friend. No harm will come to her on my watch, so you might as well—"

"Enough of this chitchat." Farrah's voice has moved behind us, but I barely have enough time to register this. At the same time Jasper spins around, making me the receiving end of whatever Farrah has planned for us.

"Aphrodite, no—"

Something slams into my stomach like an invisible bowling ball, knocking me and Jasper over the edge of the spiraling portal.

Despite the nauseating pain in my abdomen and the roar of wind in my ears, my brain can only fixate on Jasper's final act of betrayal, of putting me in harm's way in a last ditch effort to save himself. His grip on me has slackened, and I turn my head to meet his gaze one final time, hoping my own eyes reflect the hatred coursing through me. Eyes wide, lips pulled back in a silent scream, his hands thrust forward to push me up and away from him just as his back hits the churning silver pool below us.

"Jasper!" I shriek. His outstretched hands are the last to be swallowed up. I shut my eyes as the suction of the portal reels me in.

An instant later, my body lands with a thud on the hardwood floor.

"Why did you have to do that?" demands Victoria.

"I did what I had to," Farrah insists. "I knew he wouldn't let her die."

"Did you?"

"Didn't you?"

"Guys!" Tanya yells, cutting off Victoria and Farrah's explosive argument. She's the only one who seems to have noticed me crawling around on my hands and knees. I hear wailing, and I know in my head it's coming from me, but I feel dissociated from the girl clawing at the floorboards where the portal vanished, screaming Jasper's name over and over again.

Tanya bends and tries to pry me from the floor. "He's gone. Please get up. Come lay down on the couch."

"It's for the best—" Victoria starts to assure me, but I bat away the hand she offers me.

"I don't need your help!" I get shakily to my feet, my roommate hovering beside me. "You couldn't even tell him I didn't want anything to do with this! And you," I breathe, glowering at Farrah. "You set me up. You made me think I was in danger so that I'd call Jasper for help." A few sharp intakes of breath go up around me as my sisters gape at Farrah.

"It was the only way to get him here," Farrah replies unapologetically. "It is for the best. You may not see it now, but it is."

"Go away." I curl up on the couch and cover my face with a pillow. "I just want to be left alone."

There's a pregnant pause before footsteps creak on the stairs. The door to the guest room opens and closes.

"Let me know if you need anything." Victoria flips off the ceiling lights and then follows the others upstairs.

I'm alone in the dark, sinking into the plush sofa cushions, wanting to disappear. My sobs eventually turn to whimpers, which finally fade altogether as welcome, forgetful sleep overtakes me.

***

I wake up what feels like hours later, my head fuzzy, feeling even more tired than before I lied down. It has to be Monday morning, but when I lift my head, the Quad is dark beyond the blinds on the picture window. Victoria sits on the other olive couch, her feet tucked under her, a book propped open on the arm. Orange and blue plaid pajama pants and sorority letters have replaced her regal white robe. I look at the round face of the clock by the TV: It's only a little after nine.

"How are you feeling?" Victoria asks me as I sit up a little further.

"Okay, I guess." I stretch the sleep out of my arms. The pain in my stomach is gone but has moved to my chest: a hollow ache I suspect isn't from Farrah's attack or my fall to the floor.

"Look, I'm sorry—"

"Don't," I insist.

"No, I need to say this." Victoria sets her book down on the coffee table and comes to sit next to me. "I'm sorry it had to be this way. Truly, I am. Aphrodite believed strongly you were the only person that could lure Eros to us, but since she couldn't get you to go along with it...I wish we could say we'd do it differently if we had to do it again, but..." She shrugs helplessly.

"You did what you had to do."

Victoria looks skeptical. "Are you sure that's how you feel?"

"I just know I'm ashamed for the way I acted when it was over. I don't know what's been going on with me lately. The euphoric highs and the miserable lows. I guess it's all because of him."

"It's not all because of him." She doesn't look like she wants to elaborate, but one exasperated glance from me and she explains, "Our emotions run deep. What a human feels, an Olympian feels one thousand-fold, maybe more."

"Ugh. Isn't there a way to make them go away? To feel like a normal human again?"

"I'm afraid not."

I look away from her and try to make out the title on the glossy cover of her abandoned text book, but glare from the lamplight obscures it. I don't want her, a full-blooded Olympian, to see the hopelessness I know must show in my eyes, to see how badly I don't want this for myself. But apparently it's too late. There's no going back.

"You don't look anything like your picture," I tease her to lighten the mood. My eyes shift to the stained glass portrait of Nike in the window, red hair long and tumbling around a heart-shaped face, full cheeks and curvy mouth.

Victoria follows my gaze and smiles, giving a bark of laughter. "I guess I should grow my hair out. And get Botox. Eros got all the good genes."

"I still can't believe you're his sister."

"Half-sister," she quickly corrects me. "We have different fathers. Which reminds me of something I need to tell Aphrodite—"

"What do you need to tell me?" Farrah's—I mean Aphrodite's, whatever—voice says from the doorway of her room. She emerges wrapped in a pink silk robe, her blonde tresses piled high on her head in a careless bun, and joins us on the sofa. I pull my legs up to my chest and hug my knees.

"I think we've been missing something," Victoria explains. "Now that I've realized it, it seems kind of obvious." Farrah raises her perfect eyebrows. "I started to feel it after—after our fight," Victoria continues, looking at me. "There's another force at work here; one that's turning us against each other. Sure, Eros, Apate and Dolos are mischievous and manipulative, but even combined they can't stir up this kind of upheaval. It's only going to get worse. War is here."

"You think Eros's father is behind this," Farrah muses. "But only three portals were opened the day of the escape. Not four."

Victoria's mouth is set in a grim line. "And only three crossed over: Eros, Apate and Ares."

"No one has seen Dolos back home." Farrah's voice remains skeptical. "We've never come across Ares on our reconnaissance here."

"We've never actually seen Dolos here, either. Because he's not," Victoria insists. "He could be dead for all we know. You know Ares better than most. If he doesn't want us to find him, we won't."

"Eric!" I blurt. "I mean, Dr. Mars. My World Myths and Legends professor—Jasper's dad," I realize, my heart sinking into my stomach. Anna has run away to Olympus with the god of war.

"Dr. Mars? Cute." Farrah rolls her eyes. "Looks like he's been hiding in plain sight."

"Wait a minute." Something else has just occurred to me. "If each portal only lets one person through, how is Jasper planning to bring an entire army back to Olympus with him?" Farrah opens her mouth to answer me, but then two voices float down from the second floor landing. Tanya and Carly plod down the stairs.

"How are you doing?" Tanya asks me.

"I'm okay," I tell them.

"And I'm off to bed." Farrah gets up from the couch. Tanya and Carly squeeze in next to me. "Goodnight, ladies."

"'Night!" we call out, our voices staggered. After tonight's whirlwind events, I'm surprised at how mundane we sound.

Victoria glances nervously past me and starts to rise. "I should turn in, too."

"It's not even ten. Stay!" Tanya exclaims.

"Really?" Victoria sits back down.

"Of course!" Carly chimes in.

"I mean, I would understand if you didn't...you know, if you weren't comfortable with the whole..."

"What, the lesbian thing?" Tanya interjects. "Why would we care about that?"

"Well, I know how you feel about Samantha."

"I don't like Samantha because she's a huge bitch. You could do so much better than her."

Victoria gives a hesitant laugh, a pink blush rushing up her neck and cheeks. "Um, thanks?"

"Why would a badass goddess care what a bunch of sorority girls think about her, anyway?" Carly wonders.

"It's just hard coming from a place where no one cares about that sort of thing to one where it practically defines you, if you let it," she explains. "I didn't want it to get in the way of our mission, of your ability to trust and accept me as your leader." Tanya and Carly seem to consider this for a moment, and then nod in understanding.

"Hold up." Carly props her elbow on the back of the couch, her caramel curls cascading over her arm as she rests her head in her hand. "If we're your descendants, that means you used to sleep with men."

"I guess I wanted to see what all the fuss was about." Victoria's wry reply has the three of them erupting into uproarious giggles.

Carly's observation is a sobering reminder for me. "And I'm not one of your descendants. Now that Farrah's use for me has run out, she's probably going to ask me to leave."

"No! Twin," Tanya cries out.

"You're not going anywhere," Victoria assures me. Their unconditional acceptance brings a smile to my face but fails to melt the frozen cage of loneliness reforming around my heart. I'm not a true Gamma Lambda Phi. I'm not human anymore, but my soul sets me apart from my fellow demigods. I still don't belong anywhere.

We stay up and chat awhile. I welcome the distraction from my bleak thoughts, but around midnight I have to put a hand to my mouth to cover a huge yawn.

"I think it might be time for bed—really, this time," I say. The others murmur in agreement.

"I guess I do have to get up for Concepts of Math tomorrow. Mondays. Ugh," groans Carly. I have to get up for World Myths and Legends and face Dr. Mars, who will be down one handsome, charming teaching assistant.

"Sweet dreams," Victoria bids us upstairs as Tanya and I go into our room, and she and Carly disappear into theirs.

***

And sweet dreams I have.

Sweet, exotic, exhausting dreams.

I dream of him.

Sometimes when I wake up, perspiration beading on my forehead, a fire spreading through my abdomen, I think for a few moments that Eros must have been here, hovering over me in the bed.

Hands gliding over my breasts and torso.

Lips nibbling my throat.

Fingers teasing me between my thighs.

I think I even hear his voice, whispering into my ear.

"I miss you, Siobhan. Let me back in."
Epilogue

As I wait for Anna underneath one of the umbrella tables outside Starbucks, I take off the cover of my caramel macchiato to vent the steam. After a careful sip I check my phone: It's five thirty. Anna's a half an hour late. I cross my arms and recline back in my wobbly chair to do some people watching. Students spill out of the public library across the street, reusable eco-friendly bags swinging at their sides. In the back of the crowd ducks a man's dark head, and as the group parts his other features come into focus: a pale, handsome face and slightly wavy dark hair. Two menacing midnight blue eyes meet mine—

"Siobhan!"

Anna's shining face suddenly bobs into my field of vision, obliterating my view of him. She opens her arms to hug me, but when I don't immediately get to my feet to reciprocate she drops them to her sides.

"Earth to Siobhan." She waves her hand in front of my face. "What's wrong?" At last she takes the chair across from mine. It's too late: I look up and down Hickory Street, but he's vanished.

"Nothing. I just thought I saw someone I know." I haven't gotten the chance to update her on everything that happened last week.

"You look like you saw a ghost."

"You look like you got some color," I exclaim to change the subject. Her naturally tan skin looks extra sun-kissed. I jump when she grabs my forearm, her usually calm face lit up with barely contained excitement.

"Eric took me to the most wondrous place!"

I shake off her hand. Her fingers have left white imprints on my already pale arm. "Where'd he take you?" I ask even though I already know.

"To another world," she whispers eagerly. "To a place more beautiful and brighter than I've ever seen, where we ate the most delicious food I've ever tasted. We made love on the beach. And he gave me this." She plucks an amber-colored glass bottle with a rubber eye-dropper cap from her purse and sets it on the table. Even though it's not labeled, I know exactly what it is.

"All it took was a few drops, and now I sing better than I ever have in my life." Anna demonstrates by belting out a high, clear note, holding it for a good ten seconds. She doesn't notice the other patrons' perturbed glances at us. "And I got the part! I'm going to be Marguerite!"

"Congratulations," I reply warily, still not used to this new, squealing, hyperactive Anna. "Look, we really, really need to talk."

"Hold that thought." She holds up a finger and gets up. "I need to get my caffeine fix."

"I don't think you need...anymore caffeine," I trail off. Anna's already bounded inside the café. Sighing, I pick up my drink to take another sip, but I stop with the paper rim millimeters from my lips. I stare over it at the tiny bottle of ambrosia, its amber sheen winking at me in the sunlight, beckoning me.

Just so you know: You only need one more dose of ambrosia to become as fully Olympian as you can possibly be. Only one or two drops needed...

Without giving myself the chance to change my mind, I pick up the bottle, unscrew the cap and meticulously squeeze one drop of clear liquid into my coffee, then a second. I stir it furiously and then test the surface with my tongue before kicking back a long, warm gulp. And another. Even though I hate these Olympian mood swings, I hate always feeling like the weak, helpless damsel-in-distress more. I want to be ready next time—if there is a next time.

Afterwards I don't feel any different, but then again, I didn't notice the other treatments, either. Anna falls back into her seat and sets a paper cup and lemon poppy seed muffin swathed in plastic wrap on the table. She unwraps it and breaks off a piece.

"So what did you want to talk about?" she asks. "Siobhan. Siobhan!" she barks through a mouthful of muffin, but it's as though I'm hearing her from far away. "What is with you today?"

I want to answer her, I really do, but I'm too distracted trying to make sense of the deluge of memories overwhelming my mind. In one I'm doing laundry by a frothing river and hear a melodious voice call out to me from one of the tree branches overhead—I'm hearing Eros's voice, for the first time. In another I study myself in a bronze-framed mirror, but another face stares back at me: a girl with copious waves of white-blonde hair framing creamy skin, sleek cheekbones, a slightly upturned nose but the same large, deep violet eyes. I remember white and pink beaches, crystalline blue waters, glass palaces, fiery sunsets and two pale gray moons swelling against a black velvet sky. I remember him: dark, careless hair, marble white skin, magnificent feathered wings the color of rebirth rather than death, blue eyes shining with love and kindness instead of mischief.

I remember everything.

Afterword

Thank you for reading Reborn! I hope you enjoyed Siobhan and Jasper's story. This is just the beginning!

If you have a moment or two, please consider leaving a review with your thoughts wherever you purchased the book. Reviews, no matter how short, are the single most important thing you can do to help an author.

Other Books by S.L. Stacy

Relapse (Reborn #2)

Revenge (Reborn #2.5)

Reclaim (Reborn #3)

Rectify (Reborn #3.5)

Sources

All Greek mythology, including the stories of Eros and Psyche, Aphrodite and Ares, and Hades and Persephone came from Wikipedia (www.wikipedia.org). (Somewhere, a librarian is cringing.) For the Greek words used in the Gamma Lambda Phi Guardian Ceremony, I used the New Testament Greek Lexicon, New American Standard (http://www.biblestudytools.com/lexicons/greek/nas/).

About the Author

S.L. Stacy holds an MPH and PhD in environmental and occupational health, none of which has anything to do with writing novels. She loves reading and writing in the paranormal romance and urban fantasy genres and is hard at work on the next installment of the Reborn series.

About the Cover Artist

H.N. Sieverding is an author and graphic designer. She has her bachelor's in art and designs book covers, banners, post cards, ads and book trailers. You can find a few samples of her work here.

