Garrick.

The realization hits me so hard, I don't know why I didn't see it the moment I first glimpsed the Keres the night it attacked Lexie. There is only one person in the mortal world right now who would know more about Keres than I do. Only one person here who had access to them before we came.

Only one person who could have known how to bring it here. . . .

"It's not fair," Garrick says as he and Dax enter the mansion via the garage. "When are you going to let me drive?"

I hear them coming and stand up from the couch, where I have been waiting for them to return.

"Sorry, kid. You've got to be at least sixteen here to get a driver's license." Dax tosses a grease-spotted paper sack onto the coffee table. "Dinner," he says to me.

"Dax picked," Garrick says. "So I hope you like deep-fried fat."

"They're called chimichangas. And they're awesome. Almost as good as tacos." I wrinkle my nose at the smell. "I'm not hungry."

Garrick flops onto an armchair. His leg dangles over one of the arms. I a.s.sess him for a moment and notice how he's dropped the small, cowering mannerisms of a Lesser. He has become too comfortable here. "Can't you get me one of those fake ID things you got Haden?" He leans over and digs into the paper bag. He takes out two bundles wrapped in grease-spotted paper. He tosses one to Dax, who catches it without looking up, and then offers the other to me.

"I don't want it." I wave off the foul-smelling food. Garrick doesn't even notice me glaring at him.

"I could get you an ID, but I won't. You're too young. I wouldn't let you near Venus."

"Venus?" he asks, mockingly. "Is that what you call your car?"

"She's my little G.o.ddess. And I'm not letting you near her again. You tried to eat a chimi in the front seat."

"What's that?" Garrick asks, with a mouth full of meat and cheese, pointing at the guitar Daphne gave me. It's tucked under the coffee table.

"It's nothing."

"It's something." He bounces up and grabs it out from under the table. His greasy fingers leave prints on the black gloss paint. "What the Tartarus is this thing?"

"Put it down," I say, but he doesn't listen.

His filthy fingers are on the strings now.

"Don't touch that." I reach for the guitar just as Garrick slides his fingers over the strings and a discordant jumble of notes fills the air.

"Harpies," he says, almost dropping it. The clatter of notes as it smacks against his leg makes me cringe.

"You dung eater!"

"That thing makes music," Garrick says. I can see the panic in his eyes. Finally, an expression that belongs on a Lesser. "What are you doing with it?"

"Give it back."

"It's forbidden. If King Ren finds out . . ."

"He's not going to find out."

Garrick squeezes the neck of the guitar hard in his hand. I can feel the pulse of electricity building in his body.

"Don't you dare."

"We should destroy it."

"Give it to me. That's an order, Lesser."

"No."

I can't tell if he refuses because he's concerned about my wellbeing, or just because he wants to be defiant. Because he thinks he can be. He raises his free hand, tiny wisps of blue light crackling in his palm. I've never seen a Lesser use his lightning power before. The electricity is weak, but still strong enough to cause damage to the guitar.

I lunge at him.

Garrick squeals and scrambles up onto the armchair, but he can't get away from me. I wrestle the guitar from his hands and thrust it at Dax, who tries to stop us from fighting. I grab Garrick by the collar. I raise my other hand. The energy that pulses through me would be enough to knock the teeth from his mouth.

"Why did you do it?" I ask.

"Music is forbid-"

"Not that," I snarl into his face. "Why did you bring it here?" Garrick's eyes go wide. His mouth quivers. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do!"

"Haden, stop," Dax says. "What is this about?"

"The Keres," I say. "Garrick brought it here."

"What?" he says. "That's impossible."

"Think about it. He works in the Pits. He has access to them. He must have brought one with him." I shake Garrick by his collar. "But I want to know why. Did you think it would be amusing? Did you do it to distract me? Why, you little harpy?"

"Stop this," Dax says, trying to pull me off Garrick. "Listen to yourself. Garrick didn't know you were going to choose him to come with us. How could he have planned it? How could he even get a Keres out of the Pits? The barriers of the pithos prevent it." Dax's reasoning edges at my rage. I've acted again without thinking it through.

"It was an accident," Garrick says softly. He cowers, holding his hands in front of his face defensively. "It must have attached itself to me. They can do that. Like a second shadow. It was a stowaway, like how you suggested to Dax that first night. I had no idea it was here until I heard you tell Dax and Simon that you saw it. Then I realized what I had done."

"You idiot. Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because I knew you would react like this."

"I don't understand," Dax says. "How is any of this even happening? The Keres can't get out of the Pits. Only Hades himself could summon them through the barrier. I wouldn't believe any of this if Haden hadn't seen it himself."

"The locks on the Pits are starting to fail. The barrier that keeps the Keres out of both the Underrealm and the mortal world is beginning to fall," Garrick says. "Pandora's Pithos is opening."

"But that means more could get out. They could all get out." One Keres is a dangerous thing on its own. But one can become more when it becomes strong enough to multiply. The Keres are kept weak in the Pits to keep their numbers low. But even a handful of Keres, which hunt in packs, could rip through the Underrealm in a matter of days. If more get into the mortal world, especially depending on the type of Keres-disease, fear, violent death, war, pestilence-they can destroy a state, a country. Unchecked, they can multiply and multiply until they destroy this entire realm-and then move on to the others.

We've been lucky with this Keres that is loose on Olympus Hills, I realize. This one is merely a reaper. I've only ever heard of one other Keres escaping into the mortal world since their imprisonment. Humans called it the black plague.

"How can the Heirs stop the Pithos from opening?" I ask.

"They can't," Garrick says. "Not without the Key of Hades." I finally let go of him. Dax and I exchange a look. We are back to the Key once again. No wonder the Court is so desperate to find it. Bringing the Cypher-bringing Daphne-to them has more importance than just restoring the Underlords' ability to move freely between the realms, even more than restoring their full powers-it is needed to stop the five realms from ceasing to exist.

"That's just a worst-case scenario," Dax says, as though he can read the thoughts that have slammed through my brain. The gravity of it all must be written on my face. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"How do you kill them?" I ask Garrick. "How do we stop this one before it gets strong enough to multiply?"

"You can't," he says. "That's why Hades locked them away."

"You have to know something."

"I don't," Garrick says, and pushes me away from him. "I don't know anything. I'm just a Lesser, remember?"

"You brought this thing here. Accident or no accident, you are responsible for what it does. The lives it takes are on your head. You have to help me stop this thing."

"No," Garrick says. "This isyour responsibility. You brought me here, which means you brought the Keres here. It's not my fault it was attached to me. That's the hazard of living in the Pits. And you and I both know the real reason I was banished to the Pits in the first place. Which means what that monster does is on your head. Not mine."

So he does know his banishment was my fault. . . .

He raises his fist like he wants to blast me. Tiny threads of blue light encircle his hand. My shame prevents me from trying to stop him.

Dax grabs Garrick's fist. He winces as Garrick's lightning shudders up his arm but he doesn't let go.

"Do not forget your place, Garrick. Haden is our Champion. Your insubordination is a crime, even in this place."

Garrick's face clouds over with the look of a h.e.l.lcat. Then he drops his head like a scolded kit.

"Fine."

Dax lets go of his fist. "Go upstairs."

Garrick grabs the grease-spotted bag, taking the rest of the food with him, and huffs up the stairs.

"Garrick," Dax calls after him. "That's Haden's dinner."

"Let him go. I'm not hungry."

Dax sits in the armchair that Garrick vacated and looks at me. "What did he mean by all that?"

"It's nothing," I say in a tone that makes it clear I don't want to talk about the things Garrick said.

"Haden?"

"I'm respecting your secret. You can respect mine." Dax is the last person in all the realms I want to know what I did to Garrick. Dax is the only one who doesn't look at me with disdain because of what I did when my mother died, but if he knew what I did to Garrick two years later, to get rid of the walking reminder of my shame, he may not be able to look at me at all anymore.

I sit on the couch with the guitar. I want to distract myself, like the way I feel when I sing with Daphne, so I play a few bars.

"That sounds pretty good," Dax says. "I take it things are going well between you and Daphne?" I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I mean, I got her to help me with preparing me for the festival, and she trusts me enough to loan me a guitar." I wipe at the fingerprints Garrick left on the finish. "But it all seems like such small steps. What if it doesn't add up to enough before the Eve of the Return?" The night I have to tell her the truth and ask her to come with me through the gate.

"Don't let the weight of the importance of your quest make you feel like you have to rush-it'll only scare her off. There's a reason we're given six months-other than the confines of the gate-it takes time and patience to win her affection. She'll come around. All the little things will build on each other. Like that song you're playing. It works because you let the tune build as you go. You don't try to play all the notes at once."

I look down at my hands, not realizing I'd started playing an actual song. It's the one Daphne first taught me.

"I can't make it sound like she does, though. I do all the right movements, hit all the right notes, but it still doesn't feel right."

"That's because music isn't just about precision and mimicking movements. It's an emotional experience. True music comes from inside. I heard someone say once that the ability to create musical expression from emotional experience is a uniquely human trait."

"Then I probably shouldn't bother," I say, zipping the guitar into its case.

"Don't forget, Haden. All of us Underlords are part human. Your mother . . ."

"Don't," I say, standing. Why would Dax try to remind me of her? Why would he encourage me to tap into my human side when, all my life, I've been taught to repress it?

I hear the garage door open. Simon has returned from wherever he goes during the day. I don't feel like dealing with him. And I don't want him to try and stop me from dealing with the Keres again.

"Where are you going?" Dax asks as I head out of the room.

"Hunting," I say.

Because Garrick is right. It's my fault the Keres is here.

And now it's my responsibility to figure out how to stop it.

I return to the school parking lot with the idea of inspecting the scene more closely in hopes of finding clues as to where the Keres went next. But I am too late. The humans have already found the body, and the area is cordoned off by Olympus Hills security. I stand in the shadows and watch as they load what remains of Mrs. Canova into the back of the OHMC vehicle-until I notice that someone else is watching me.

I see him at the far end of the parking lot, idling on a motorcycle. He wears the same full-coverage helmet that hides his face, but I am certain he is the rider I saw outside the mayor's party. The same one that seemed to be watching me then, too.

Was he working for Simon or something?

There's only one way to find out. I start making my way toward him, sticking close to the perimeter of the school, but he must sense me coming because he revs his engine and peels out of the parking lot before I close in.

I chase after him, running at top speed over the bridge that leads off the school's island, but my legs are nothing compared to his motorcycle. He speeds away and disappears into the night.

chapter thirty-eight.

daphne

I wake to the smell of burning.