Feeling like the worst daughter in history, I walk to the kitchen.

“Something has happened to my daughter,” Dad continues, “and if you don’t send someone to help us search, I’ll—” He sees me and freezes.

I try to look as apologetic as I feel.

The look in his eyes shifts quickly from shock to relief to pure fury.

Mom gasps and rushes me, pulling me into a suffocating hug.

Dad looks like he wants to explode.

“Never mind!” he barks into the phone. Then, after hanging up on what I can only assume is the police department, he roars, “Where the hell have you been?”

“I was so worried,” Mom sobs. “I sent you to take the garbage out and you never came back. That was hours ago. I imagined the worst.”

“You had your mother scared half to death.”

They look at me, their expressions angry and accusing and, I’m sure, relieved. But mostly angry. I never even thought about the fact that Mom would be expecting me back, would be wondering where I went.

I know I was a little preoccupied, what with almost getting killed by a giant bear and then blown up, but that’s not really an excuse. I had time after the fight at Gretchen’s. After my shower, while Greer and I were giggling over the binders. I had plenty of time. I could have called home to check in.

If I’m being honest, I was too caught up in spending time with my sisters.

Even though I didn’t have my phone with me, since I’d only been taking out the garbage, I could have found a way. I should have found a way.

“I’m sorry,” I say lamely. “I didn’t even think—”

“You’re sorry?” Dad echoes. “You should be sorry.”

Mom lays a hand on his arm. “This is so unlike you, Grace. To just disappear without telling us. What’s going on?”

“And look at you,” Dad says, his gaze sweeping over me. “Your jeans are drenched. And your hair. Everything but that tee.”

“Weren’t you wearing a blue shirt when you left?” Mom asks. She shakes her head. “What happened?”

“I—” What can I say? That I found my sisters, that we’re triplets and we’re destined to hunt monsters who, apparently, want us dead? Who tried to kill us twice in one night? No, that’s not fair to Mom and Dad. I can’t share that burden with anyone but Gretchen and Greer. It is ours alone.

It’s not like it would reassure them anyway. Either they’d think I’d lost my mind or, on the off chance that they believed me, they’d be scared to death about me being in danger. If I stop to think about it for too long, I’d be scared to death.

No, I can’t tell them any of it. I have to protect them however I can.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I had some things to think about and I just kind of ended up walking around.”

On the scale of cover stories, I’m sure that’s pretty low. But it’s the best I’ve got. I glance down at myself, wishing I had some believable explanation for the state of my clothes and appearance.

Mom frowns, as if now she’s more worried about whatever it was I needed to think about. Before meeting Gretchen—before she tossed me over her shoulder and carried me out of that nightclub—I had no secrets from my mom. Oh how I wish I could tell her everything now.

Dad shakes his head. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

I bite my lip to keep from crying as he turns and walks away. I know I’ve screwed up, but there’s no way to fix this. I’m going to have to face the consequences. Another one of my new responsibilities.

“He’s just worried,” Mom says, trying to make me feel better, even when she probably shouldn’t but should be just as angry as Dad. “Let him sleep on it and you two can talk in the morning.”

I nod and let her hug me. Then she turns and follows Dad to bed.

I lean against the counter and try to process this situation. There’s no win here, really. Either I tell my parents the truth and they forgive me for turning into a flake but worry that I’ll be eaten by a mythological monster. Or I lie to them—I keep my secret and let them think I’m turning into a problem child, but the worst thing they imagine is falling grades and boy troubles.

As much as I want my parents to think well of me, to respect and trust me, I want to protect them more. And that means keeping them in the dark as much and for as long as possible.

Decisions like this stink. But I guess it comes with the destiny.

Pushing away from the counter, I head for the shower to wash off the bay water stink and then I’ll collapse in bed. Maybe things will look better in the morning.

And maybe flying monkeys will bring me a magic broom.

Even through my closed door and theirs I can hear Mom and Dad arguing about me. It’s the middle of the night and I’m so tired I just want to cry, but sleep isn’t coming. The guilt over what I’m doing to my parents is eating at my stomach, so I lie there staring at the shadowed ceiling.

It’s such a change for them to be arguing over me. Sure, there were lots of long nights and late discussions when we were talking about moving to San Francisco, when I got the scholarship offer from Alpha—thanks, I know now, to my immortal ancestor, the Gorgon Sthenno, in an effort to bring me and my sisters together. To reunite the Key Generation.

That was the most discord I’d ever caused in our house.

My brother, Thane, is usually the troublemaker.