“Impossible,” he wheezes. “The safeguard blocks powers usage in the chamber and the corridor.”
Standing over Damian, I say, “That’s pretty inconvenient.”
I offer him my hand.
He takes it and lets me haul him to his feet. “Inconvenient, but necessary,” he says, dusting off his suit. He glances at his watch. “I need to get back to your mother. I trust your friends will see you home safely.”
“Of course,” I say, sad that he’s leaving already. “I guess you can’t tell Mom I say hello.”
He smiles, like he can sense my sadness. “I’ll tell her.”
I give him my best smile—but I bet it comes off pretty weak.
“Is everything else all right?” he asks. “Your running. Your friends.”
“Yes,” I say, glad I can honestly say things with Griffin are fine now.
“And your powers?” he asks. “They are less erratic. Are you feeling more comfortable with your control?”
I bite my lip. It’s not like I can lie to him—he’ll read my mind and know it’s not true. “It’s getting better. But not perfect,” I admit. “I’m still having trouble.”
“You will get there,” he says, laying a hand on my shoulder. “I trust in you.”
“I know.” And I do, really. It’s not like I ever expected instantaneous control. “I’m working on it. Stella and I are working on it.”
“Good.” He steps back and smiles. “And stop worrying about the test. I regret ever having mentioned it.”
“No, I’d rather know,” I say.
Better to know the demons you face, right?
Oh gods, I hope there aren’t demons. What if I have to fight monsters or gorgons or something? What if I—
“Phoebe,” Damian interrupts my crazy thoughts, taking both my shoulders in his hands and looking directly into my eyes. “Stop. Worry will only impede your control. Just keep practicing and keep training. You will get there.”
I take a deep breath and try for some of Nola’s Zen calm.
“You’d better go,” I say, thinking calm, calm, calm so he won’t read that I’m still freaking out. “Mom will worry.”
“Of course.” He nods and starts to glow. Then stops and says, “Oh, and tell Miss Matios that if she returns the record she borrowed from the archives to my office before I return, there will be no detention.”
Then he glows and is gone.
Only Damian could know that a student broke the rules from thousands of miles away. Some principals have eyes in the back of their heads . . . he has eyes everywhere!
We’re lucky he never found out about the time Nicole and I switched places to take fall finals. If he knew she had taken my physics exam and that I’d taken her history test, we’d be in detention until graduation.
Griffin is pacing back and forth on the Academy steps. Troy and Urian are sitting on the top step, watching him like spectators at a tennis match. On one particularly long pass, Troy notices me in his peripheral vision.
“Phoebe!” He jumps to his feet and starts toward me. “Did you—”
Griffin shoves past him and grabs me by the shoulders. “Are you all right?”
“Of course. Didn’t they tell you?”
From the dark look in his normally bright eyes, I’m going to guess no.
He twists to look back over his shoulder and practically growls, “They didn’t tell me anything. Except that I had to wait out here.”
“Um, I need to go,” Troy says, backing down the steps. “I have class in the morning.”
“Coward,” I taunt.
“Right.” He stumbles when he gets to the last step, tripping back in his hurry to escape Griffin’s wrath. “That’s me.” With a gulp, he adds, “Later.”
Then Troy turns and rushes around the corner of the Academy, probably heading for his dorm.
Urian, realizing that he’s been left to fend for himself, says, “I’ll just make sure he gets home without incident.”
I cover my mouth to keep from laughing as Urian follows Troy around the corner at light speed. They clearly don’t know Griffin like I do. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. But—he turns his attention back on me and I’m presented with the full focus of his fury—he is a descendant of Ares. He does a decent god-of-war impression. If I didn’t know he had the heart of a teddy bear, I might run away, too.
Instead, I laugh.
“What,” he bites out, “didn’t they tell me?”
“The identity of the secret e-mailer.” I didn’t think his eyebrows could furrow any deeper, but they do. “It was Damian.”