The minor goddess searched the earthen plane for a suitable locus of power to hide the disease. Hygieia's prayers were eventually answered by one of the Olympians. The Olympian goddess assured her that obtaining the disease would now be more difficult than trying to catch smoke with one's bare hands. And very few things could allude to being more evasive than smoke from a fireplace... a fireplace, or a hearth.


"Guys. There's nothing there."

Neil tore his eyes from his mirror. Theresa's face was grim, but there had to be a note of levity somewhere in her voice.

In all fairness, Neil had reserved himself for practically the entire mission, not uttering a single word that would set his team mates off. But seriously, they could be such killjoys sometimes. And they never took anything lightly.

"Good one, Theresa. No, really," he said snarkily, "I'm laughing so hard I'm not making any sound."

"Theresa, there are pages of the formula right here," Odie scrunched up his brow in concentration as he held the almost indecipherable squiggles out for her to see.

She shook her head adamantly. "You don't see it." With a tentative step forward, Theresa made contact with the folder. Whorls of purple fog danced around her fingertips as an eerie, pulsating light played across her face. "Look."

Neil blinked, and the pages flickered like a flame.

"The folder is empty," a bite of frustration crept into Jay's tone.

"Maybe Hera only wanted the folder. There could be, like, a world-wide manilla paper shortage." As per usual, no one gave Neil a second glance.

"We came all this way!" Atlanta slumped forward as she spoke.

"Great, so now what?" Herry's muscular arms were pulled taut as he folded them across his chest.

With mounting irritation, Archie muttered out, "I bet Apate took the real pages."

Jay jerked his head sharply. "Apate?"

"She's the girl Neil spotted earlier. The one Odie caught on camera," Atlanta explained.

"No," Jay said, "Apate is the Greek personification of deceit."

"That," Archie said, remembering how he'd felt compelled to trust Apate, and how her hypnotizing eyes had changed colors, "makes a lot of sense."

"So she stole the file and left us with an empty folder?" Odie guessed.

The group, save Neil, exchanged a worried glance.

"Maybe not," Theresa said eventually, habitually biting her lip. "All magic has a unique fingerprint. In order for us to have seen any fake pages, Apate would have needed to cast a spell. If I reverse it, I might be able to uncover the formula. It's just," she paused uncertainly, "this kind of magic usually takes a lot of prepping."

"You can do it, Theresa."

"I might not be able to control my powers."

Jay's hands brushed her shoulder with a feather-light touch; gentle and reassuring.

Neil rolled his eyes and turned his fleeting attention back to his mirror. His team mates were melodramatic about everything, and—wait —was that a finger-print in the top-right corner of his mirror? He'd need to clean the smudge off as soon as they got back to the dorm. Ugh, and his hair lacked its usual lustrous sheen; the impromptu wake-up hadn't left him enough time to shower. He continued to survey his reflection, and only when Theresa let out a shuddering gasp did Neil's eyes flick back to her.

Her skin had taken on a purple hue and her pupils were dilated. "Threeeightpointtwoseventwosixeightnine. Twothreepointtwonineonezeroonesix. Threeeightpointtwoseventwosixeightnine. Twothreepointtwonineonezeroonesix," she repeated the numbers as if on a constant loop.

"Odie," Jay ordered, "write this down."

"I-I didn't pack any paper... or pencils for that matter."

"Seriously?" Atlanta asked. "Gatorade, but no—?"

"—Threeeightpointtwoseventwosixeightnine. Twothreepointtwonineonezeroonesix," Theresa's voice was laced with pain, as if each breath was being ripped painfully from her throat. "Threeeightpointtwoseven-"

"Oh, you guys so owe me," Neil whined, pulling out his liquid eye-liner. He began writing the numbers on the surface of his mirror as fast as his hand would allow, but even then he couldn't keep up with Theresa. Undettered, he waited for her to start again before resuming where he'd left off.

38.272689.

23.291016.

"I've got them," he announced minutes later.

"Go, Neil!" Atlanta cheered, punching him lightly in the arm.

"Uh, ow." Neil veiled his genuine surge of pride at her words with a cocky grin. Rubbing his arm, he added, "Good thing you guys have me around."

"Threeeightpointtwoseventwosixeightnine. Twothreepointtwonineonezeroonesix."

"Theresa," Jay gripped her by the arms as he tried to rouse her from whatever state she was in. "Theresa, snap out of it."

"Maybe you should kiss her?" Neil suggested helpfully. Oh, sure, he thought. Now someone took his advice.

With another breathy gasp, the purple aura enveloping Theresa receded. She held out her arms to let everyone know she was okay. "I'm fine... just a bit dizzy," she added as an after thought.

Jay nodded, his soulful brown eyes wide with concern. "Neil, hand me your mirror."

Neil opened his mouth in protest, but reluctantly handed it over.

"These are just numbers. How can this be the formula?"

"Well, when Athena sent me mental images of the disease, I never actually saw a formula." Theresa ran an absentminded hand through her auburn hair. "Maybe these numbers are related to the disease."

"Like a death-toll?" Archie asked.

"Then why are there two sets of numbers?" Jay asked.

"Deaths in the northern and southern hemisphere?"

"No," Odie whispered, as if afraid to say the words out loud. His voice carried like the chink of a pin dropping in dead silence as he held up a miniscule device. "The numbers are coordinates. Latitude and Longitude coordinates."