when she says, “Our kind is shifting, moving like the plates beneath

the earth.”

That’s the second time I’ve heard that. Eternity. Shifting.

Kurt said his oracle was supposed to be at the Vanishing Cove, in

the Well of Memories, and she wasn’t there. Eternity. Shifting. If the

oracles are physically shifting…

“Shelly,” I say, “Is Eternity a place?”

She nods once.

“So the nautilus maid’s home was in Eternity?” I say slowly. “And

then she switched with the oracle that belongs in the Vanishing Cove?”

Shelly stares at me curiously. “Yes. Chrysilla’s true home was

Eternity.”

I swallow the dryness on my tongue. “Can you tell me where it is?”

“I can’t.”

I’m about to argue, offer anything. And I mean anything . But she

holds up a finger to my lips and traces it along my face in a motherly

gesture. “I was never allowed. My sisters and I, we were given our

destinies and our homes. I have not seen them in ages. My magics, they

are naught but a sigh in the breath of the world.”

I take her hands in mine. “Thank you, Shelly.”

She holds up her hand. “This does not mean you do not have the

means of getting there.”

“How-”

“This championship is orchestrated. I do not pull the strings.

Those around you have the answers.”

I rub my face. I’m tired of riddles.

“Though,” she stands, taking my hand, the one with the palm gouged

out an hour ago. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’ve

already been to Eternity and back.”

In the train, my legs are shaking.

Racing from Central Park, on the 6 train, all the way down to the

Brooklyn Bridge.

“Old drunk pervert,” I mumble. “I knew he was hiding something.”

Thalia pats my arm to placate me. “It’s not our way to give up our

secrets. That isn’t who we are.”

“His shelf was lined with it. Water from Eternity. No wonder I

feel so stupid! I drank it and that’s the reason for my super healing

ability.” I wave my hand in her face.

“It’s a good thing you did drink it,” Thalia says. “Or your

fighting hand would be useless.”

“Greg knows where Eternity is,” I say. “Find Eternity, find the

next oracle.”

“I wonder…” Thalia says. “Why is Greg here? Why is he not at

court? Before tonight, I’ve never heard of such a place as Eternity.”

The doors ding open and we get out. Manhattan twinkles on the

other side of the bridge. Despite it being past midnight, dozens and

dozens of cars speed hungrily to their destinations. We take the same

turns as before on the Brooklyn streets. The same cars on the same

empty parking lot. The same silence on this dead-end road.

I march up the steps to Greg’s withering house. I knock, and it

feels as if the whole structure will shatter like glass under my fist.

On the sidewalk, Thalia is frozen. Nose turned up to sniff the

air.

I want to ask her, “What is it?”

But I hear the shuffle of feet crunching over the dried leaves in

the backyard. Thalia’s face is suddenly lit by a blue flame. The force

that pushes us is like a powerful gust of unstoppable wind. Glass

shatters and falls like rain. Brick crumbles to ash. Greg’s house

erupts into blue fire. I land on the sidewalk, ears ringing. Hands try

to pull me up from the ground. My head is shaking, split in two. I

hear Thalia’s voice, muted and far away.

Debris pelts all around.

There’s Thalia again, tugging on me, but the blue fire is

mesmerizing and consuming. It’s alive, like hands reaching out to me.

“Tristan!”

My ears pop. Thalia is screaming at me. I get up and take her

hand. We race back up the street in the direction we came from. I can

hear the booming wail of the fire truck in the distance.

We stop after a few blocks to check our bodies for missing parts.

We’re intact, although covered in dirt and sweat. Then we keep

running, and when I look over my shoulder, I can still hear the

crackle of flames, as if they’re following me all the way home.

***

When I dream, I dream of the silver mermaid.

I hate saying her name, even in my mind. Nieve. Nee-ehv. In my

dream, Layla is sitting on a white beach. It’s snowing. She’s speaking

to me in Spanish, and I can’t figure out what she’s saying because

even in my dreams I can’t understand it. In my dream, Layla is a

mermaid. She has a golden tail that matches her eyes. She shifts in

the water and I’m chasing after her until the musky Coney Island water

turns navy blue and cold. There’s a whale eating silvery fish by the

ton, and I swim beside it until I reach the surface.

Above us, the sky is a clean white. It hurts to look at so much

snow, and everything is so pristine that I don’t even notice her

sitting on a block of ice until blood trickles from the head of a

silver fish. It dots the snow like a constellation and spills into the

clear sea in muddy clouds. When she sees me, she smiles. The lovely

angles of her face are marred by a nasty set of razor sharp teeth.

“You’ve found me…” Nieve’s voice is a tired breeze.

She loses interest in her meal and dives in for me. Her voice is

thin and weak, like her body. I know I can swim faster than she can,

but when I turn around, she’s still swimming right at my tail. Her

jagged nails touch the tip of my fins. I can hear her all around me,

like an echo.

“You’re mine, Tristan. You’re going to be mine.”

When I wake up, I’m in a tight embrace with someone.

I hug the warmness to me and rest my forehead on the warm back-

When I open my eyes, I notice the broad shoulders. Soft, wavy

brown hair, just like mine. At the same moment, he turns around and we

roll over. I fall out of my bed and curse at pain from my toes to my

temples.

But I manage to laugh and say, “You pervert.”

Kurt groans. There’s a sickly green pallor on his face. I’m afraid

he’s going to throw up on me so I get up and throw some clothes on.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Why are you shouting?” He picks up the closest shirt on the floor

and puts it on.

I bat my hand over his face. “Sweet baby Zeus, I can still smell

the beer in your pores.”

My laugh is cut short when I remember yesterday. My craptastic

date with Sarabell. My parents and their new baby. The arrow piercing

my hand. Midnight poker. The prophecy. Eternity. Gregorious. Blue

fire.

Kurt rubs his eyes slowly. I throw a pillow at his head. “Come on,

Captain Lightweight. You slept through all the good stuff.”

***

“Why do humans do this to themselves?”

Kurt holds on to the kitchen counter for dear life.

My mom comes in and makes tea. She holds it up to Kurt’s face and

he drinks it slowly.

I take the black marker and draw a big X on Monday. Dad’s already

at work and it’s Tuesday morning. I feel about a hundred years old.

Then I flip on the news. A great blue fire ought to have gotten

someone’s attention.

Eighty-five degrees and partly sunny with a storm warning for

Thursday is followed by the morning news. Behind a frazzled newscaster

is the great blazing fire, and farther behind that, the Brooklyn

Bridge is backed up with traffic. Firemen blast the house with water

but the flames are violent, living things like hands reaching up,

climbing up the tree and fanning out against the open space on either

side of the crumbling brownstone.

“That’s our combat flame,” Kurt says. “How in the world did it get

here?”

My mom gapes at the same time I drop my spoon on the floor. Layla