I was born to a race of warriors. My training began when I was six years of age. I have fought and bested Underlords who are twice my size. I have killed a hydra with my bare hands. Placed my head on the altar and left myself to my father’s wrath or mercy. I have traveled through Persephone’s Gate into a realm unknown to me. But I have never experienced fear quite like the anticipation I feel: knowing that in mere minutes, I am expected to sing with Daphne in front of the entire town.
I’m pressing hard on my knee to stop my leg from shaking, and in turn, the row of chairs beside me, when Daphne sits down next to me. I breathe out a small sigh. I’d almost been afraid that she wasn’t coming.
“Want one?” she says, offering me an orangish, discuslike thing. It’s speckled with brown spots. “Might help calm your nerves.”
“What is it?” I try not to wrinkle my nose at her offering.
“It’s a pumpkin chocolate-chip cookie, dork.” She makes a teasing face at me. “You eat it.”
She drops the said cookie into my hands. It’s soft to the touch, yet firm. “You made a pumpkin into this?” I sniff it. It smells too sweet to be a squash.
She smirks. “Believe it or not.”
I start to take a tentative bite.
“And, no, I didn’t make it. Lexie and her Sopranos just gave me a whole box of them from Olympus Hills Bakery.”
I pull the cookie away from my mouth and cast it onto the table in front of us. “Are you sure they’re not poisoned?”
She smirks again, thinking I’m joking. “Good point.” She takes a cookie out of the box and takes a bite out of it anyway. I watch, horror-stricken, waiting for any signs of a toxic reaction.
“Mmm,” she says, and takes a second bite. “Lexie and I have reached an understanding.” She looks up as Lexie, Bridgette, and a couple of the other Sopranos call out their wishes of good luck to us. They’re manning something called a Check Your Heart booth as part of the festival. Signs posted around their booth announce free cholesterol tests and blood pressure screening. There’s a long line at the booth. I’m not surprised. With there now having been seven “heart attack” victims—three of which were fatal—in the last few weeks, I’m sure the humans are getting anxious about their well-being. The school principal even announced that they’re banning something called trans fats from the cafeteria, indefinitely.
If they had any idea of what is really causing the attacks, I doubt they’d be gathering out in the open en masse like this. They’d all be at home with their doors and windows locked tight—not that it would do them much good.
Watching the crowd mill about the festival makes my nerves bristle more. This place could be a feeding frenzy for a Keres. I can only hope it isn’t hungry tonight.
Brim and I have gone hunting for the Keres every night for the last two weeks without much luck. Every scent trail has led to either a dead end or another hapless victim. How it manages to keep eluding me, I don’t know. If I didn’t know that Keres are mindless beasts, I’d almost call this one cunning.
The question that keeps nagging at me is what am I even supposed to do when I find it? How do you attack something that has no form? How do you stop something you cannot touch?
How do you kill a shadow?
I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Dax, telling him that I want him to patrol the perimeter of the festival. I wait for a response but none comes. Dax is supposed to be here somewhere, but I haven’t seen him all day. I’ve barely seen him at all in the last two weeks.
I try Garrick next, sending an order to get his ass to the festival to help with patrols, but that message goes unanswered also. Ever since he admitted knowing the truth about my involvement in his banishment, he’s become more and more obstinate to my commands. Like he knows that I know if I push him too far, he’ll go squealing to Dax about what I did. He’s probably glued to that stupid Xbox device he brought home a couple of days ago.
My “entourage” has been anything but attentive as of late.
“Oh. It’s starting,” Daphne says, pulling me out of my frustrated reverie. She squeezes my arm with happy excitement.
How can she be so confident?
We watch as the mayor walks out on the temporary stage that has been erected for the night’s entertainment in the middle of Olympus Row. Each end of the street has been blocked off to make the festival a pedestrian event. The crowd quiets as Mayor Winters announces the lineup for the entertainment. Tobin will perform first, then Daphne and I, followed by a group number by Lexie and the Sopranos, and then a few more students—but I am too distracted to catch their names. Distracted by the look of disappointment that crosses Daphne’s face as she scans the people in the crowd.
I think I know whom she wishes to see.