“Look at us, Henry. Look at what we’re doing. None of us knows what’s going to happen. Not even Cassandra, and she’s frickin’ psychic.”

Cassandra opened the car door and stepped out. The day was bright and cold. The parking lot of the travel plaza they’d stopped at was already busy, filled with the sounds of idling engines and the scents of oil and gasoline. She stretched her back and legs and cracked her neck.

“Look who’s up. Want to go in and grab something to eat? Aidan’s in there already, but he never knows what to get you.” Andie gestured behind them, toward the Sunoco convenience store.

“Sure.” Cassandra smiled. “You coming, Henry?”

“I’ll stay with the car. Can you grab me a Chuckwagon sandwich?”

They walked through the aisles of motor oil and cold medicine, toward the cold cases in the back. Andie craned her neck toward the hot chocolate and cappuccino machines. It felt too early for soda, but they stocked up anyway, grabbing bottles of Mountain Dew and Diet Coke. Aidan walked up holding both a Grape and an Orange Crush. Cassandra could never decide which she wanted.

“I’ve got a couple of breakfast burritos in the microwave. We should really eat on the road.”

Cassandra nodded, even though the thought of getting back into the car so soon made her want to scream and kick her feet. She’d better get used to it. They had days and days of car ahead of them. Who knew how far they’d have to run before they felt safe enough to get a motel room? Who knew how far they’d have to go before Aidan felt safe enough to sleep?

There was a short line for the cash register, and it took extra time as the guy in front of them wanted to cash in scratch-off lottery tickets and buy several more of each different type. Cassandra took the opportunity to stretch and flex her legs as much as she could. She wouldn’t even have noticed the footage playing on the TV mounted in the corner had the clerk not taken it off mute and turned up the volume.

At first she thought it was a rebroadcast of the Chicago explosion. The piles of debris and clouds of dust looked so similar. But this structure was more twisted; there was more iron to it, and the destruction hadn’t been as complete. The frame of half of one of the buildings was still visible, charred and jagged. And the “live” tag blinked in the corner of the screen.

“My god,” she heard someone say. The camera panned over fire trucks and ambulances, flashing red and yellow lights everywhere. People were panicked and crying. On the periphery of every camera angle there was blood: someone walking with gauze pressed to their head, paramedics running past with stretchers.

“Where is that?” asked Aidan, and the guy with the lottery tickets said, “Somewhere in Philadelphia.”

Philadelphia. The same way they’d been heading.

Aidan threw two twenties down on the counter and nudged Cassandra and Andie toward the door. “It’s more than enough for what we got,” he said when Andie looked worried. She needn’t have bothered. No one even looked their way when the bell dinged to announce their exit.

Andie jogged ahead with Henry’s Mountain Dew and Chuckwagon.

“It was them, wasn’t it,” Cassandra said.

“I think so.”

“Of course it was. It was just like Chicago.” She clenched her fists, felt heat behind her eyes. “How many people do you think died this time? Were they people who knew, like the witches, or were they just regular people?”

“It doesn’t matter if they knew or not. She killed them.” Aidan’s face was a mix of blank and terror. “She’s insane.”

Cold fear clamped around Cassandra’s heart. If Hera found them, they wouldn’t have a chance.

Walking back to the Mustang, her feet felt like lead. She couldn’t hear anything. The images of smoke and blood took over her senses. She didn’t see the figure shuffling toward her until he was close enough to touch. Close enough to smell.

He stank of urine and something faintly medicinal. He wore the clothes of a vagabond, stained and torn, just a green sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. The sides of his Velcro tennis shoes had burst. He giggled and pointed at her. Stringy brown hair trailed along his hollow cheekbones, and underneath the shock she felt sadness. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.

“She’ll have you.” His grin stretched, showing every black-stained tooth in his mouth. “She’ll have you now.”

“What?” Cassandra asked. “Are you all right?”

The man’s eyes widened, stretching impossibly until it seemed that his lids had retracted into his skull. His hazel green eyes trembled and skittered wildly back and forth—until all at once, they were blue.