The mention of Walter turned my stomach. “Why can I do it, too?”

James raised an eyebrow. “You’re complaining?”

“Of course not.” I bit my lip. “It can’t be because both of my—my parents—” I could barely force the word out “—are part of the original six. Then Nicholas and Dylan could, too. So why?”

“Because otherwise you’re not going to be very good at traveling through the Underworld, are you?” James untangled his arm from mine and wrapped it around my shoulders instead. “I’m sorry, Kate. Walter should’ve told you ages ago.”

A bitter taste filled my mouth. Sorry wasn’t going to fix anything. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t need him.”

“He is a bit of a womanizer,” agreed James. “Definitely not a good role model for the baby. Thankfully Milo has Henry to look up to.”

For a moment I was silent. James didn’t know whether or not Henry would ever wake up again. We didn’t even know if he’d still be alive by the time we got back. “Your optimism continues to defy reality,” I mumbled.

“I was right about your mother,” he said, and I shook my head.

“No, you weren’t. She died. Her mortal form, anyway, and you had no idea I was going to pass the tests. You didn’t know if I’d ever see her again.”

James waved off my objections. “Either way, this isn’t optimism. This is fact. Henry’s going to make it.”

He was baiting me, the jerk, but no matter how badly I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had me hooked, I couldn’t resist. “Fine, I give. How can you possibly be so sure?”

Grinning, James leaned toward me, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Because,” he whispered, “Rhea can heal him.”

Chapter 5

Underneath

“Did you know?”

I stood beside Milo’s crib, gazing down at his sleeping form as Henry stood across from me. He looked different—more distant somehow, as if he was somewhere else, as well. He barely looked at me, and he stared unblinkingly down at the baby.

“Did I know what?” he said after a long moment. Was he even listening?

“Did you know that Rhea could heal you?” I said, keeping a stranglehold on my temper. Everything that had happened wasn’t Henry’s fault, of course, but still. Had he known this whole time? Was Walter aware? Was my mother?

“I...suspected,” said Henry, and his eyes glazed over again. Wherever he was, I sure as hell hoped it was more important than his own life. “I did not want to give you false hope.”

“Bullshit,” I said. “You didn’t want to give me any hope at all.”

Several seconds passed, and finally his gaze met mine. “Are you going to try?”

“Try what? You’re her son, aren’t you?” I said.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Then why would she say no?”

“She does not like to bother herself with our affairs,” said Henry.

“I’m sure she won’t mind pulling herself away from whatever it is she does in order to heal you,” I said. Why was he being so difficult?

Kate?

I froze at the sound of James’s voice, but Henry didn’t so much as frown.

Kate, come back, said James, the words no more than a whisper. It’s important.

It was always important. I sighed inwardly and leaned over the cradle to give Henry a kiss on the cheek. “I have to go. I’ll be back soon.”

“Of course,” he said distractedly, once again staring down into the crib. His gaze wasn’t focused on Milo’s face, though; it was as if he was looking through him. What was going on?

The nursery faded, replaced by the interior of an airplane. Despite the ample room first class provided, my arm ached from the way I leaned against the window, and I winced. These were the only tickets we could get, and James had insisted Henry would pay him back. During my first summer away, I had been reluctant to spend Henry’s money and forced James to fly coach. This time, I didn’t argue. I’d learned my lesson about spending twelve hours crammed between a screaming baby and a snoring passenger who treated my shoulder like a pillow.

“There you are,” said James. “Hungry?” He sat beside me, and on the tray table in front of him sat two actual plates of cheeseburgers and fries. Fancy. James hadn’t bothered with one of them, undoubtedly meant for me, but on the other he’d stacked the fries into a teetering structure.

“Depends,” I said, stretching my legs. “Did you pull me away from Henry just to ask for my fries?”

“’Course not,” said James cheerfully, and he pulled a plastic bottle of ketchup from his backpack. “If I wanted them, I’d steal them. Ketchup?”

“You really brought a bottle of ketchup on the plane? How did you get it through security?”

He grinned. “My secret.”

I moved my plate onto my tray table. Unlike coach, it came out of my armrest, and on the back of the seat in front of me was a wide screen playing a movie I didn’t recognize. “You’re crazy.”

“I prefer the term resourceful.” He squirted a moat of ketchup around his French fry fortress. “Anyway, I woke you up because you were mumbling something. What were you dreaming?”

I picked up one of my fries and popped it into my mouth. Not half-bad for airplane food. Then again, the few meals I’d had on airplanes before hadn’t been served with white china and silverware. “I wasn’t dreaming. I was with Milo and Henry.”