There was only one bandia everyone saw at the party. One angry bandia who let a fifteen year old human girl get under her skin and sent a ball of blue fire right through the middle of the backyard to the pool. A second later, another fireball lit up the house. The math is easy. If I can't rule out the most obvious cause of the fire, how can I expect Blake to?

Because I would never do something like that.

Would I?

"You're American, right?" The woman says, completely oblivious to how close she came to meeting the business end of a ball of fire.

I nod. That much is obvious, so there's no point denying it.

"Our ways must feel very strange to you." She reaches across the s.p.a.ce between us and places her hand on my wrist. "Can I look at your bracelet?"

There's no preventing the heat that fills me now. "I'm sorry." I stand up and pull my roller bag from the overhead bin. "My stop is coming up."

I walk away from her as quickly as I can, moving toward the door to the next car. I glance over my shoulder. The woman is texting away on her phone again. I'm overreacting. I take a breath and count in exponents of seven until my power cools down. I hustle off the train when it stops five minutes later, wanting to put as much distance as I can between me and creepy corporate Tinkerbell.

The "station" consists of a few stone benches on a raised cement platform and an automatic ticketing machine. A schedule on the side of the machine indicates there won't be another train for an hour, so I settle in on one of the cold slabs. The air isn't as damp this far from the ocean, but the wind blows just as hard, and I shiver against it. I glance over my shoulder. The station is empty.

This is what alone feels like, cold and gray, with a dash of paranoia to remind me that there are worse things. But there are better things too.

I flip on the phone Mick gave me. It's after midnight back home. Haley's probably figuring out how to sneak into her house without waking her mom. Christy is probably interrupting with a dozen text messages about her latest crisis over her boyfriend Matt. Then Haley will talk her down and Matt will send some psychotic poem that will melt Christy's heart and all will be good again. I never thought I'd miss Matt's pretentious spoken word poetry, but I kind of do.

I fight the urge to text them. The less communication I have with my old life, the safer we'll all be.

But it's hard to embrace this new life with my b.u.t.t growing numb against the stone. A week ago, my life was messy, but it was mine. It wasn't all Sons and breeders and trying to maintain a fragile truce. I had friends, and parents, and a boy I loved. Now all I have is heartbreak and strangers and the looming threat of my own murder.

I may not be able to do anything about the heartbreak, but I can get my family and friends back. I can take out the threat.

Once made, the decision seems so clear, so right, that I can't believe it took me so long to figure it out. Austin was right about one thing. We are not so different. I would kill to protect those I love. For my right to love them.

I don't get on the train to Dublin. I wait another forty minutes for the train headed back the way I came. As the train heads west, the pounding in my chest eases a little, the rhythmic beats slowing to a softer thrum. By the time I'm back inside a taxi in Tralee and on the road toward Cath, I feel almost normal. It's not until the taxi stops at the gates of Lorcan Hall that I start to question what I'm doing. I can't just sit around and wait for the Sons to find me first. And I'm not stupid enough to think I can take out the Sons alone. I need allies.

It's time to make peace with the enemy of my enemy.

TEN.

Mick meets me in the driveway and takes my bag. He doesn't say anything, but I can almost make out a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth as he rolls my bag back into the house.

I don't follow. I'm not ready to face Austin. What would I even say?

You win.

Not a chance. Maybe if I play it cool, make him think I'm less certain than I am, I could make him promise not to hurt Blake. Austin may be a manipulative G.o.d with an agenda, but as far as I can tell, he's never lied to me.

The wind blows across the bluff, carrying drops of moisture that spatter against my cheek. My blood pulses erratically, mimicking the cacophony of waves in the distance, power moving through me in bursts and shocks. I walk away from the house and pick my way down the switchback trail to the rocky beach below.

The water mirrors the black clouds overhead, creating a colorless landscape where water and sky blend together, separated sporadically by white caps as the waves crash against the rocks. I feel like I've stepped into a black and white movie, everything distinguishable only by their varying shades of gray.

Foam coats the rocks at the water's edge in a blanket of bubbles before dropping back and surging forward again to cover more ground. The dark water is so much more than two parts hydrogen and one part oxygen, and for once I'm glad for it. For a girl who spent the last three years trying to explain the world by breaking things down to its barest elements, there's an unexpected freedom that comes with embracing its magic.

Some choices are made. Some are made for you. I didn't choose to be a bandia. I didn't choose to be a part of a war with the G.o.ds. But I won't run from it either. If the Sons want a fight, they will d.a.m.n well get one.

I walk between the boulders to the small beach beyond. The tide is high enough that only a narrow path of rock along the edge of the cliff wall remains dry enough to walk on. I follow it to the place where the earth opened last night, letting my fingers trace the crack. My hand goes right through a s.p.a.ce that's too small for it to be remotely possible and I jerk it back.

The gateway.

I could slip through the crack to Avernus, a barren wasteland full of waterfalls that converge in a powerful river, the bearer of souls on their way to their final resting place. Before I knew what Avernus was, I had thought it beautiful, unspoiled with its stark rock landscape and rushing water. Now, I shrink back from it, remembering the three huge wolfhounds with razor sharp teeth that patrol the perimeter.

A flash of white light burns through the dark sky. I've never connected with lightening, but the electricity tickles the edges of my own power, igniting it. I close my eyes against the light. The hum of power that flows through me is achingly familiar, a hint of what it feels like when Blake touches me. I open my eyes abruptly. Spots dance in front of them.

"Ah, a welcoming committee." The voice comes from nowhere and everywhere.

I spin around, but see no one. As I drop my hands, the air goes suddenly still. Even the ocean seems tame as it slides into the rocks. My blood is quiet, my power muted.

"Here, Love."

As the spots in my vision fade, I make out the shape of a man leaning against one of the large boulders that mark the path to this beach. Not a man exactly. He looks about my age, maybe eighteen, but he's definitely not human.

Freezing water swirls around my ankles as the tide rushes in to meet me. My blood runs just as cold.

He's bathed in his own cold light, casting shadows that only serve to accentuate every beautiful cut of muscle and bone in his chest and arms. His long dark hair flows past his shoulders, tied back in a ribbon of green plaid that matches the cloth draped around his waist. His blue eyes flash with white. I've only seen one G.o.d before, but even if I hadn't, I would recognize him for what he is.

"Where are the others?" His voice is melodic, royal.

"Others?" I look around me. We're alone on this rapidly disappearing sc.r.a.p of beach. Is he expecting more G.o.ds? Impossible. They're trapped in the underworld.

Like Austin had been. And wasn't.

"You can't be the only one who felt my call to arms." His accent is not as refined as Austin's. He rolls his 'r's in a way that sounds vaguely pirate.

"Call to what?" The water swirls at my calves now, the current pulling at my legs. I need to get off this beach before it disappears completely. I step toward him, though every instinct tells me to keep far away. This isn't right. Even if Austin found a way back, only the G.o.d of the underworld can cross over.

Unless the Sons are dead.

Blake.

My pulse jumps in time with my panic. I shouldn't have left him. In the past week, I've had plenty of time to think about him, and I have, but I haven't once worried for his safety. It never occurred to me that Blake might not survive. Shouldn't I feel something if he's dead?

But I can't feel Blake anymore. I would never know if something happened to him.

The man wrinkles his nose, destroying the perfect lines of his face. "Call to arms? That's still an expression, is it not?"

Sharp, icy stabs p.r.i.c.k at my skin as the water covers my knees, soaking through my jeans. The water curls around me, grasping and not letting go. I lean on the boulder to keep from losing my footing. I have to stay calm. He wants to talk, and I need answers. "And you would be?"

He throws his shoulders back even though he's already standing perfectly straight. He looks p.i.s.sed that I have to ask. "I am Pwil. You can call me Liam."

The water comes in faster. I wedge my numb foot against the boulder for support. "Well Liam, I suggest you move out of the way before we both get sucked out to sea."

He laughs. "Perhaps if we were mere mortals, I would agree with you." Then he tilts his head at me. "But then, you are mortal, aren't you? Pity. No matter how powerful you are, your human side will rob you of your youth and then your life."

He knows what I am. Of course he knows. He thinks I answered his call to war.

The water reaches my thighs, tugging with such force, that I grab onto Liam's arm without thinking.

He pulls me against him roughly. "You don't need my help, bandia." His fingers tighten on my arms. "If you are going to fight for me, you will have to be stronger than this."

Fire fills me, heating my skin so quickly, he lets go with a start.

I fall back into the water and the flames in my palm disappear in an instant. The current s.n.a.t.c.hes me in one swift pull. I gasp at the cold. Water rushes in before I can close my mouth. I fight the urge to swallow, slamming my jaw closed and trying to push the water out before it can make its way down my throat. The cold stings so much it burns, crackling against my skin. My legs start to go numb, relieving the pain, but slowing my fight against the current. I roll and twist with the water, making it difficult to tell which way is up. My shoulder smacks against a wall of rock, sending a welcome burst of pain to distract me from the freezing water. It takes all my strength to kick away from the rock. I push off, but I'm thrust back into it a second later.

The pain and the cold quickly become secondary to my need to breathe.

I fight down a rush of adrenaline that urges me to swim away one more time, concentrating on the water until the force of it feels different as it rushes through my veins, becomes part of me. Bends to me. The current changes directions. With one last effort, I push off the rock and kick toward what I hope is the surface.

A shadow moves in front of me. Something huge and white swims through the rocks. Are there sharks in Ireland?

G.o.d, I need air.

I keep kicking, but my numb limbs don't cooperate. The white creature comes closer. It's not like anything I've seen on Shark Week. Does it have legs? The lack of oxygen must be going to my head, because in the dark, the animal swimming toward me looks just like a horse. As he reaches me, the horse bares his teeth and grabs at the silver bracelet around my wrist, jerking hard enough to draw blood where the chain hits my skin. I hit the creature in the nose, and he loosens its grip enough for me to yank my wrist away.

Maybe the horse isn't even a boy. The incoherent thought is the last thing that crosses my mind before I open my mouth to breathe in the water.

The dark water turns almost gold. A shockingly warm arm wraps around my waist. There's a bright flash, and then I'm coughing, spitting and retching, sucking in huge gulps of air. I shiver, even though the cold air around me is warm in comparison to how icy the water had been. I'm surrounded in the misty weightlessness of the spirit realm.

The arm around my waist loosens. "Are you insane?" Austin says from over my shoulder. "Entire ships have gone down in that cove."

The nerves in my legs start to wake in shocks of pain. My clothes are weighed down with water, chafing against my skin. All I can do is cling to Austin's warmth and breathe.

He doesn't wait for an answer. "I saw the flash from the house. Who was here? Blake? Jonah?"

I shake my head. "Not a Son." My throat is raw. "A G.o.d."

Austin holds me closer. I tremble as his warmth begins to reach other nerves, breathing life and pain into parts that I would rather stay numb. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. I thought we'd have more time."

Another burst of gold light surrounds us. When I open my eyes, we're standing on the rocks at the base of the trail going back up the bluff. The entire beach is submerged in water. There's no sign of Liam.

My breath comes faster. "He was just here."

Austin nods. "Go back to the house and warm up."

I reach for fire, using its heat to start thawing me from the inside, even as the wind batters my soaked hair and clothes.

It's not until I'm safely in my room, wrapped in layers of blankets with a steaming mug of hot chocolate between my palms, that I look out at the water churning below my window. The water looks ominous, less a part of me than a force to be respected. I may be able to access the power of the ocean, but I'm a fool to think I can control it. That I can control anything.

If it weren't for Austin, I probably wouldn't have made it out alive.

Not good. I don't want to owe Austin any favors. I don't want to owe Austin anything.

ELEVEN.

Austin lounges on an antique chair in the blue sitting room downstairs, his legs draped casually over one ornately carved arm. A fire roars in a fireplace that is taller than I am.

"Thank G.o.d," is all he says when I sit down on the couch across from him.

"You talk to G.o.d?"

"Not literally. He doesn't visit the underworld and he certainly isn't here."

"I didn't mean literally." It's almost a relief to see Austin. The familiar is welcome, even the bad.

He gestures to a tray of hot tea and some kind of pastries that look like little berry pies. "Mikel can't seem to stop feeding me."

I reach for a dainty china cup and pour the hot liquid. "I feel like I've stepped into another century."

Austin's smile catches me off guard. He looks disarmingly like he did a thousand years ago. "Trust me, you haven't."

But I did step into another century, another millennium, up at the ruin. Does Austin remember meeting me back then? I watch him as I sip my tea. He looks deceptively human as he pushes his wild bangs out of his eyes. I catch myself before I smile back. Austin is not my friend. He's a means to an end.

"Who was it?" He asks.

"What?"

The crease is back between his brows. "The G.o.d you saw at the beach? Did he say anything to you?"

"He said his name was Pwil, but he's going by Liam."

"Liam," Austin repeats. "What an a.r.s.e." Austin swings his legs around so his feet are on the floor.

"You know him?"

"I probably don't need to tell you this, since you met the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but this is bad."

"Who is he?"

"My best friend." Austin grabs one of the tiny pies from the tray and bites into the flaky crust.

"You don't have friends." Blake had been Austin's socalled-friend. And then Austin had made sure I killed him.

Austin arches an eyebrow. "There's the rub."

It still doesn't make sense. Austin is the only G.o.d that can cross over from the underworld. "Why is Liam here?"

"Why are you here, Brianna?" He ignores my question again. "You were supposed to be on a plane out of Dublin by now. You promised you wouldn't come back."

"I couldn't just run."