“Griffin!” I shout. “Run!” Mother can’t kill him with magic, but she can bring the burning house down on him.
He jumps for me again, and his fingertips brush my boot. I strain downward, stretching myself. If he can catch my foot, he’ll pull me down. There’s no way Mother and the crows can hold both our weight.
Griffin crouches down low and then springs up, trying again. While he’s in the air, stretched out and vulnerable, Mother uses her magic to sweep up a half-destroyed table and send it spinning into his ribs. He falls backward with a harsh grunt, breaking through a smoldering chair. The wood shatters, showering him with sparks. He hits the floor flat-out on his back and doesn’t move.
Fear twists my stomach into a hard knot. “Griffin!” He’s not invulnerable. He seems like it. He usually acts like it. But he’s not, and right now, he’s scaring me to death! “Get up!”
Fire glows all around him, closing in. My heart beats furiously. Lightning sparks—then fizzles. Useless!
“Griffin!”
He stirs, rolling over, but then Mother’s green cyclone starts burying him under the destroyed and blackened contents of the room again.
My frantic pulse drums in my neck. My arms and scalp throb to the same hammering beat. “Get up!” I shout, my voice hoarse from yelling and smoke. “Get out of the house!”
Cursing my trapped position, I watch, praying to the Gods that Griffin will listen. The pile shudders as he starts to break free, and I exhale in relief. He finally rises, staggers, and then grimaces, clutching his right side. He doesn’t look good, but he’s up. He’s conscious. He’s breathing. And that’s enough.
And I have got to do something! Where is the warrior who took down Piers like a ghost on the wind? Where is the woman who climbed a Cyclops and threw Poseidon’s trident into its eye? And where is the Gods damn soothsayer who sometimes dreams of grave danger before it happens? A warning would have been nice!
Snarling, I close my eyes and dive headfirst into that place where my magic lives, pulling with all my might. Lightning pops from my hands with a loud crack, startling everyone. Thunder booms in my ears, and the crows closest to each hand drop dead, freeing my wrists. I fall a few feet with a shout.
Bouncing and swaying, I try desperately to break free before new birds can swoop in to help carry my weight. Too soon, though, more crows dig their claws into my hands and wrists, hauling me back up. Mother’s talons scrape like burning sticks across my scalp, and I grit my teeth in pain, a roar building in my chest.
“I’m coming!” Griffin’s ragged yell reaches me through a haze of agony and smoke. There’s no way he can jump high enough to grab my foot now, not after that broken table rammed into his ribs. He looks around, his eyes frantic.
Limping, he gets behind the heavy kitchen table—the only thing down there that’s still intact. He starts shoving it through the wreckage. If he can get it under me, he can climb on top. He’ll be able to reach me then with only a small jump.
But the fire… Two walls of the house are completely ablaze. Pretty soon, the door will be cut off, and we’ll be trapped.
“Griffin!” I shout, wincing from the heat. “Get out!”
“Griffin! Get out!” Mother mimics in her grating bird’s voice.
He ignores us both, his burned and soot-covered face a mask of concentration and pain.
My arms feel like they’re being ripped apart and pulled off, and the way I’m hanging makes it hard to breathe. The heat from the fire is nearly unbearable, the smoke blinding. I blink blood and sweat from my eyes. Griffin’s hair is plastered to his neck and temples. Groaning, he digs in and pushes the massive table along. My chest aches for him.
His feet suddenly slip out from under him, and he crashes to his knees. I suck in a sharp breath, choking on it. He stands up again, bracing himself against the edge of the table. A final, herculean effort gets the huge slab of wood underneath me. His breathing labored, Griffin starts to climb on top.
Mother squawks a command, and the crows and she fly me just out of range.
“Very entertaining, watching him work for nothing.” She caws along with her crows, laughing.
Griffin slams his fist down on the table. He glares up at her from his crouch, his eyes feral and his face covered in burns and blood.
“No more lightning? What a disappointing show,” Mother criticizes. “Where’s that ichor now? You never understood anything about magic. Want it. Cultivate it. Have it!”
That sounds just like compulsion. Is that how she does it? Her magic only seems to grow.
“There’s no one left like us. The perfect mix of Titan and Olympian. And yet you’re useless!” She shakes me, pulling my hair until I cry out.
“There’s Ianthe,” I growl back at her. And my younger brothers, but I know little about them.
“Elementals are tied down. Earth. Air. Water. Fire. They’re linked to something’s essential nature, bound by its limitations. They don’t conceive with the mind.”
“Conceive of atrocities?”
“Conceive of whatever.”
Why is she telling me this? She’s always fancied herself my teacher as well as my tormenter, but why share knowledge at this point? Because she’s sure I’m about to die?
“If that’s true, then why aren’t you spewing lighting?” I bite out.
Her bird-shriek laugh tells me how stupid she thinks I am. “Lightning is Elemental Magic. The fifth element. Supposed to be Zeus’s alone.”
“But I’m no—”
“You are!” She spits the words out like a curse. “You’re both. You have everything.”
Does she mean… “I have more than you?” I ask, stunned.
Mother doesn’t answer, and the truth hits me like one of her backhands across the face. Magic. The mind. I’ve always known they were connected, but not to the extent Mother is implying. If she’s right, that means that if I can conceive of it, I can do it.
The problem is, I’ve never been able to conceive of beating Mother. In my mind, she always wins.
But this time, there’s Griffin. This time, I have Little Bean to protect.
Gathering my strength and doing my best to breathe through the pain, I swing my legs up and try to kick the enormous crows off me. They flap and caw, and I bob wildly, my arms and scalp pulsing in agony.
“Cat!” Griffin shouts my name over the bellowing fire. He moves the table, chasing us across the room. He’s almost underneath me again.
I thrash and yank, frenzied to break free, even if it means ripping my hair out. I can’t stand Mother touching me; she’s so polluted. I need to get her away from my baby, and I’ll fall all the way to the floor and break both legs if I have to.
Mother curls her talons inward, tightening her hold on me. The sound that erupts from my mouth is raw and inhuman.
“I’m here!” Griffin leaps for me just as the crows yank, Mother leading the way with my head. His hand closes on thin air, and I yelp as we race toward the towering, east-facing window.