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Mr. Goldstein bled normal blood, just like the clone, just like Rebecca, and just like what Ben had told her about Lucian. All of them were the same in some way. Meaty and covered in flesh, filled with ideas and thoughts and this weird gusto to keep fighting. But Harper's father had only been screaming for the better part of thirty seconds, and all she'd done was drive the fountain pen deeper into the back of his hand. If he kept bucking under her knee, she might end up screwing this up and forcing it so deep that she'd pin his fat, swollen palm into his thick shag carpet.

But Bianca didn't want to hurt him so badly that he couldn't focus on her questions. An unconscious man is a man not worth keeping around, and right now, with a good kick to his ribs, Mr. Goldstein's eyes fluttered open.

"Ask him about what he knows about Arkathians," Ben said, standing beside her. His arms were folded and his face was serious, and so was his voice—harder than she'd ever heard it, denser than she'd ever remembered it. It almost echoed through her brain, making mulch of her swimming thoughts. "Hurry. We don't have all day, right?"

"Gayne," Bianca said, almost through her teeth. Mr. Goldstein whimpered as she crouched over him. "Talk about the man from the stars who could've killed R— Olympia. And let's hurry this up, you've still got work to do."

He panted like she'd broken his ribs, lying there sweating and moaning and so pale the sunlight coming through the window was almost a waste on someone like him. Bianca tore the fountain out of his palm, and he would have shrieked if her hand hadn't flown onto his mouth and kept it shut. Mr. Goldstein swallowed his cry and began whimpering against her palm. Bianca sighed heavily and grabbed his hand. Worms broke free from the layer of purple and black flesh covering her body. They dug into the hole in his palm and knitted together the skin and the meat until all that was left was the pale scar of an accident that never happened. He stared at her, she stared at him. Slowly, Bianca pulled her hand off his mouth and stood over him, then offered her hand so he could get up.

Like the idiot he was, he shakily took it. Bianca dragged the man onto his feet, and then shoved him so hard that he crashed into his large leather office chair and spiralled onto the carpet. Bianca took her time circling his desk, watching him try to crawl away. Pointless. He could run, and she'd still find him. He could teleport, and she would hunt him down. The worms were inside his body, and in just a few minutes, if she wanted to, he'd be paralyzed, and he'd be fully at her mercy. And then her nose twitches. Something tugged hard in her stomach. Hunger. It was a voice as much as it was an urge, one so violent she froze, sniffed the air, then searched his desk.

She tore one drawer out, then the next, finding files and hard drives and discarded birthday cards.

Until, in a tiny brown bag, she smelt it—sickly sweet, slightly burnt, reeking with such a strong stench that her stomach snarled and she tore the bag open like a dog looking for meat in old newspapers. The tiny golden vial dropped onto the floor. Goldstein stared at it, then at Bianca. She plucked it off the floor and held it to the light.

It sparkled like crushed gold, because that's what it was—rare. Nothing like the ones Cassie sold.

This was purer Ambrosia. Reserved for the rich, with none of the side effects.

"Think bigger," Ben said, crouched beside her. "Why would Goldstein need this stuff?"

She echoed the question to the billionaire, then licked the saliva off her lips.

He stuttered and stammered over his words until she lowered her hand and stared at him. He slowly sat upright, sweating so badly his shirt was damp. "I—" He swallowed hard. "It's only for emergencies. It's not for—"

"Who, me?" she whispered, slowly standing up again. "What kind of emergency?"

"You keep this up, you keep fucking threatening me, and I'm going to—"

The flesh hardened into claws, so sharp it split open the mahogany desk, peeling apart the varnished wood. Tongues of oak spilled onto the floor, and then she waited, because he was a smart man—smart enough to try again.

"Them," he gasped, tugging at his collar. "Those…those people. The ones in the sky."

The Arkathians, she thought to herself, glancing at the vial. So small. So fragile. And this was going to save him? It smelt different from the normal strains. Richer, huskier, able to fill her throat so much that, when she swallowed, she could feel it cling to her spit. He thought that a new strain of this would keep him safe from them?

"How?" she said, her mouth dry, tongue fat. She was starving. Nauseas with hunger.

"It's better!" he said, the moment she got closer again. He was heaving, as if he was close to having a heart attack. She moved the worms inside of him closer to his heart, just to make sure it would keep beating. He shoved his back against the bookcase and Bianca crouched just inches away from his face. "It— It's not like the other stuff. The ones we sell. That stuff is what we've had for years. Back of the closet stuff." Another hard swallow. He grabbed his chest and kept panting. Bianca narrowed her eyes. "That? Oh, you can have that. T-tell you what. Y-y-you can even have it, have it all!" He was whimpering. Pathetic. But his eyes were sparkling, and before she knew it, he was angling himself on the floor, trying to make himself seem bigger. "Me and you, we can work together, you know? I can tell you where to find the pure stuff, and…and you let the clone go, how about that? I'll throw in cash, too. How much d'you need? Superhero work doesn't pay what it used to. Blank cheque. One…no, five hundred grand, huh?"

"Money?" Ben said quietly, shaking his head slowly. "These people would burn the Bible for a dollar."

"I'm not here for money," Bianca snarled. "I'm here because you knew the Arkathians were coming. You knew they would hunt down Olympia and you fucking knew"—her fist slams into the book case, pulverising tomes and wood into shards of broken wood; Goldstein cried out and grabbed his face—"and what did you do? Nothing. You watched it happen. You watched them tear through the atmosphere, through the sky, and you watched them nearly murder Olympia." Bianca stared at him. She was so close to his face she could almost count the long, strafing wrinkles dancing across his brow. "I'm here because that won't happen again. The clone stays with me until Cassie Blackwood returns to New Olympus. I know she ran off as soon as those monsters came here, and she can rip her billion-dollar mistake out of my hands herself." Bianca stood up. "You call her right now, and I won't hurt you."

Goldstein scrambled onto his feet and lunged for his phone. He dialled quickly, hands shaking so violently he dropped his phone three times and stayed on his knees when it rang in his hand. And it rang. And it rang. Until, finally, Cassie Blackwood picked up her phone. Silence filled the office. Nothing mattered beyond Bianca and the phone in the billionaire's hand. He offered it to her, arm outstretched, eyes begging her to take it.

"Sis," Ben said, squeezing her shoulder.

Bianca nodded. Then nodded again. Goldstein had broken so easily that she was almost surprised, but then again, not really. He was an aging man whose wife didn't sleep in the same bed as him and whose banks were slowly getting swallowed up by other Olympus funds. Besides, the economy was pretty shit right now. Who knew aliens threatening to split the planet in half in one year's time could crash the stock market before they had to freeze it? If anything, Bianca was almost Goldstein's lifeline. This slim chance of him making it out the other side, because he was slimy, he was smart, and he knew that if he danced and clapped just like she said, he'd like to see the clock hit doomsday, because he'd done everything she wanted. It was almost sad, seeing Harper's father crawling to her on his knees, offering his phone with begging hands and a quaking smile, like he was begging for Bianca's approval.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She took the phone from him and pressed it to her ear. "I know you're listening, Cassie."

The sound of her own voice surprised her. Heavy. Darker. An edge to it so sharp she almost winced.

This was one of the world's richest people she was talking to.

The moment was lost on her almost instantly.

"You might've been slightly before my time, but I've been around Lucian long enough to know that he got rid of you." A chill raked down her spine. A flare of anger burst through her veins, not hers, but something hot and foreign and almost painful. She gripped onto the phone tighter. Clenched her jaw harder. "So what exactly am I talking to right now? Or whom? Must be the sister. God, what is it with you hero-folk and keeping it in the family?"

"Cassie," Bianca said, forcing her name out of her mouth. "Where is Zeus' body?"

A pause, then she heard stifled laughter. "That's what you want to know? Wait, it must be that thing. Your brother had a name for it. I've got to ask Lucian later what it was that Benjamin always used to call it. I know I'm not talking to the sister right now, creature. I'm talking to you. But if you want a word of advice, Bianca, here's just a little bit of it: that thing is making your head spin. It's a parasite that wants you to feel all these fucked up things going through your mind so you can justify doing these terrible things. What you did last night was just horrible."

Bianca's mouth opened and closed. She blinked slowly. Breathed shakily. "You're talking to me. Bianca."

"Cute, you think you're the one in control. Do you know what the leucochloridium paradoxum is?" She didn't. She kept her mouth shut. Something inside of her tensed, feeling like ice was clawing into her brain. "It's a parasitic flatworm that, in its most basic definition, turns its host into zombies. It's a rudimentary term, one that I find a little childish, but it's horrifying in all of its aspects. I mean, that thing is festering inside of you, just eating up your brain and your bones and your muscles, and eventually, it'll discard you, just like it did your brother, just like it did the countless other hosts before you. Heck! I spent so much money trying to figure out what exactly it was that you were, and I came to the same conclusion—you're a pest. As harmful to Arkathians as you are to us." More silence. Bianca's chest tightened so painful it almost hurt. "I suppose whatever you are, you've got some kind of story." Ben shook her shoulder. Mouthed at her to get on with it, to take command of the conversation. But her mind was spinning, and her brain hurt so badly it felt like her skull was being split in two. "The Arkathians must've wiped out your home planet, something along those lines, right? You were a threat to them, and then they killed you, and now all that's left is this perpetual rage to bring justice to your home. That's not going to happen. Not on Earth. You're going to give me back the clone, and you're going to whither away and die in my lab, because I know you care about Rylee Addams, and I know you'd rather not one day want to pass this virus onto your parents, too."

Bianca shut her eyes, breathed for a moment. "Where is Zeus' body? Where the fuck is Lucifer?"

"Can you imagine that?" Cassie said softly. "Your brother. His girlfriend. Rylee. And now you. Just how many people can one person get killed, Bianca?" She stopped breathing, almost suddenly. "Your mom now, too?"

Bianca stared at the large windows, at the beams of pale, cold sunlight. She gnawed on her tongue until she tasted blood sliding down her throat, so bitter she almost spat it out. But she didn't. She swallowed, and she hated the taste, but it grounded her. It meant she was here, she was present—and she wasn't some host body either.

She was Artemis, she was a hero—and nobody else was going to die because of her.

Not if she could help it.

"If you want the clone back," Bianca growled, tightening her fist to the point the tiny golden vial shattered, gushing ambrosia onto the floor and down her leg. The purple flesh fluttered, almost harmonizing in her skull as the powder soaked into her flesh—no, wait, into its flesh. The hunger was still there, but…lesser. Not as harsh. But still as painful. She shook her head and continued. "Then you'll tell me where Zeus is. It's that simple."

For a moment, Cassie said nothing. She listened to the sound of her own breathing, to the shuffling ache and wince as Goldstein slowly climbed back onto his feet. Someone knocked on the office door, asking if he was—

"Well, she was useful for a while, but I've got bigger things I'm working on. Kill her." Bianca blinked, opened her mouth. Cassie spoke over her. "Look, building her was expensive, and I've had such a headache trying to justify her existence to the government that it's almost cheaper for me to file her as a tax write off. They were never sold on having another Olympia running around, especially not one so young and brash. She was too close to the real thing, but I thought that would sell her better to the public. So far, it's been mixed results. She's like… a dog that once did a cute trick, but after the first ten times, it gets old. She's getting slower. Her muscles are degrading. I'm not sure she's got the natural shelflife to even reach what should technically be eighteen years old. She is a massive failure, by all accounts, just like Adam—but unlike them, Zeus is a base, a foundation, and so will the other clones be, but I need him more than I need the girl, so do as you wish with her so I can curate a funeral package that'll air on Olympus News in a few days' time. Whatever the case, thank you for your service, and if you ever call me again, Bianca—or whatever the fuck you are—I'll dig up your brother and use him as a base for another clone."

Dead. The line goes dead and rings so loudly in her ear she drops the cellphone.

She glanced over her shoulder.

Ben was gone.

Bianca stared at her reflection in the glossy windows, then turned back around and ran her fingers through her hair. Fuck. FUCK. Think. It's fine, just think. Now what? Ok. Easy. How do you find Zeus? The person who took him, obviously—she had to track down Lucian and squeeze answers out of him next. She couldn't get violent with Cassie. We… We? Bianca should her head. She couldn't afford to let the government know too much about what she could do…or something. Whatever. She massaged her temples and nodded to herself. It was going to be fine. All she had to do now was find the devil, beat him half to death for killing her brother, and find where Zeus was.

And once they did that, they would find Rylee and…

"She. Me. I," Bianca said to herself. "When I find Rylee, I'll help her kill the other ones."

And then they'll be happy. Together. Like it was always supposed to be.

Rylee mentioned a girl, the devil's daughter. What was her name again?

Ava. It came so clearly, it was almost a shard of ice through her skull.

She'd find Ava, and everything would be just fine.

"Stand up and get that fucking look off your face." Goldstein did as he was told. Something had rattled him, maybe it was the pen going through his hand and realizing that some people really didn't give a shit who he was or what his name meant—not when a was just meat at the end of the day. "If you're asked what happened—"

"Nothing," he stutters. "Nothing happened."

"Good," Bianca said, as the flesh bled back into her own skin. A chill ran down her spine. She reflexively palmed the back of her neck, trying to get the numbness away. "We'll talk soon, and you'll answer me, got that?"

He nodded quickly. Before she could leave, though, he grabbed her wrist and stopped her dead. She looked at his withered hand and bony fingers, and then him. "You know," he said quietly, "I've always thought that superhumans were the race meant to be in charge." He got closer, licked his dry lips. "Us humans? We're playing a game of low returns at this rate. We all saw those gods, and what they did to Olympia." Bianca glared at him. "We can't do anything without you people. You're our new warheads, our new mobile drone units. The president is going to have to make a decision soon enough, and then there's going to be superheroes everywhere. But Cassie needs his help. Reviving a god is expensive, keeping his heart beating is bankrupting her." Even closer. So close she could smell the stink of aftershave and sweat on his face. "Olympia can be the one," he hissed, his lips splitting into a grin. "She can lead a new generation of superheroes. Not her father. I— I can find him. I know I can find him."

"Why?" Bianca asked, pulling her arm free and massing the chill away. "What do you get from that?"

He smiled. Smiled like he could smell something that was making him hungry. "Olympia is a smart girl. The old way of doing things is old. The new way is different. You people punch above your weight, and I like it. It makes me feel alive." He straightens himself a little more. "And my wife is well on her way to taking half of all I own in our divorce, but investing in Olympia means she won't get anything, and I get to die knowing Harper's trust fund went straight into doing something she might respect me for. I'm on the future's side. Olympia is the future. I sell money to the poor and homes to the homeless, and now I'm paying Olympia to make sure the future isn't run by people like Cassie Blackwood." He patted down his thin hair and offered his hand. "So, is that a deal or what, kid?"

Bianca stared at him, then said, "Harper said you ripped up her Olympia flag."

"I changed my mind the moment you almost broke my jaw and tore my hand in half. Forgive a man for learning the error of his ways, am I right?" His hand was still waiting. "I'm a businessman, let's do business, hero."

She turned her back on him and walked away. "Tell that to Olympia, not me. I've got stuff to do."

Like finding the devil's daughter.

And breaking the news to the clone that she was better off dead, anyway.

All just so very...fun.

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