"And now, behold," the announcer's disembodied voice boomed, reverberating through the theater. The audience sat forward in their seats, leaning over the banquet tables that filled the room instead of chairs, the air thick with anticipation. "The terrible, the fearsome…karkinos!"

Piper watched from her seat as the back of the stage opened up, smoke pouring out in a rather over-dramatic fashion. It was a match for the rest of the room. It was also over-dramatic to pair a sighting of a monster with a black-tie five-course meal. But it was the show they were all there to see, and admittedly she was curious. A monster was a rare sight; she had never been unlucky enough to see one in person – out in the wild, at least. Now, everyone here had paid for the privilege.

The silhouette of the creature emerged from the doors, and as the smoke cleared, Piper began to get a real look at it. The thing resembled something like an oversized crab, towering above the stage, each of its legs taller than, each of its claws surely sharp enough to snap her in half.

The karkinos growled and lurched forward, but didn't make it far. Piper could see thick chains bound around each of its limbs and its body, tying it in place. Accepting that it couldn't move, the monster contented itself with hissing at the people sitting closest to the stage, to plenty of oo-ing and ah-ing from the room.

"And here to face it down," the announcer continued, "please welcome our brave Hunter!"

This time there was applause as a man stepped onto the side of the stage with a considerable amount of preening. He waved, bowing theatrically.

But he wasn't a Hunter, exactly. The basics were there – gray pants and jacket, that H she was so used to. But the material was wrong, something thin and fitted that moved like satin; elegant, yes, but not fit for fighting. It wasn't a Hunter's uniform so much as an artist's rendering of one, a costume.

"Now watch as the Hunter shows us how he slays the karkinos!"

A sword was strapped to the side of the faux-Hunter's belt; he drew it out, leveling it at the creature. It almost reminded her of a circus, this taming of the supposedly wild animal, this anonymous ringleader directing it.

The show was underway immediately. The man danced around the monster, spinning the sword in graceful arcs. It wasn't fighting, not really. Piper didn't know very much – or anything at all, actually – about weaponry, but she could feel how off it was, like someone trying to move against the beat of a song. The karkinos snapped its teeth in his direction, a pantomime of putting up a fight, but without being able to move there wasn't much more of a fight to be had.

From the seat next to Piper, her father nudged her with his shoulder. "What do you think?"

His voice was barely audible over the noise as the actor continued to milk his performance. Coming to dinner and a show had been her father's idea, and while a stuffy dinner and watching a man play-act a fight with a giant crab wasn't her ideal evening, she had jumped at the chance to spend time with him.

Piper shrugged, swirling her spoon through the shallow bowl of soup a waiter had placed in front of her. "It's…" she hesitated a moment before settling on, "interesting." Which was maybe the least interesting thing she could have said.

"Very interesting," her father agreed, using the same careful tone she had. Their relationship was still fragile, but they had both been making an effort – him, with extending Piper the invitations; her, with accepting that this was the time her father had.

On stage, the man continued to circle around the front of the monster, sword aimed directly at it. Its head turned, and Piper could see its beady eyes, black and chillingly inhuman. Though they didn't have pupils, Piper could have sworn they were pointed directly at her.

A strange sensation rolled through her, like an overload of adrenaline, so strong it made her nauseous. It came on so suddenly Piper put a hand over her mouth on reflex.

She was so focused on this that she nearly missed the Hunter drive his sword into the karkinos's stomach.

The monster screeched, howling as it twisted in its chains with what Piper was sure must be pain, but it was much too late for it to do anything. Already it was beginning to disintegrate, the flesh around the stab crumbling and turning to dust. As she watched, the man drove the sword further in, and all at once the monster burst.

Dust exploded outward from the stage, filling the air, then slowly floating downward, coating the guests at the front few tables. A few people let out shocked gasps, but they were drowned out almost immediately by applause.

The fake Hunter stepped to the front of the stage, sheathing his sword with a theatrical twirl, then bowing deeply.

Piper clapped halfheartedly, but she could hardly bring herself to do more. She still felt ill – she wondered whether it was some ability of the monster's.

"Pipes?" Her father's voice sounded concerned this time. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she mumbled, though she wasn't, really. Her head pounding, she glanced toward the back of the theater. "I'll be back, okay?" Piper didn't bother to wait for a response before she stood up from the table. Either no one noticed, or no one cared, because no one tried to stop her as she fled the room.

Once she was outside, Piper leaned against the door, breathing in the fresh air, trying to calm down her racing heart and the mounting discomfort in her gut.

Unfortunately, she had made the mistake of going through the front entrance. Outside, there was a small roped-off area, and beyond that, a small crowd was gathered, most of them with cameras around their necks. Paparazzi. She turned sharply to the right before they could mistake her for some celebrity, heading toward the line of cars lined up in front of the valet booth.

She needed to get out of here, now. She looked along the cars sitting along the curb, but none of them were the sleek black town car her and her father had taken to get here. There was a white hummer limo, a slow-riding red sports car, and…there, at the front. A champagne-colored convertible with white leather seats, keys still in the ignition. Whoever owned that car, they didn't need it, not really. They wouldn't miss it for a day. But Piper needed it.

She marched over to the car, climbing over the passenger side door and stepping onto the seat before sliding into the driver's seat. Her shoe left an indentation in the leather.

"Excuse me!" a voice called. The valet, rushing over to the side of the car. "You can't just take this – I need to see your claim ticket."

"It's my car," Piper snapped forcefully, fully prepared to ignore whatever response the man inevitably gave her.

But to her surprise, he just nodded. "Of course, sorry, ma'am. Have a safe drive."

He backed away, retreating to the valet booth, and before Piper could dwell on the behavior, she saw the flash of lights out of the corner of her eye. Apparently, the paparazzi had figured it was worth it to get a few pictures of her. The thought filled her with anger. Didn't they have anything better to do than to mess with her life? Without any regard for the consequences, Piper twisted the key in the ignition, waited for the engine to hum to life, then slammed on the gas pedal, taking her out into the quickly dimming streets of Los Angeles.


Piper expected yelling. She expected anger, or punishment, or at least some disappointment. Even if her dad hadn't already heard about the stunt she'd pulled at the dinner, she had left the convertible in the driveway in front of their house, and there was no way he wouldn't notice the stranger's car. As much as she was dreading the conversation, having to own up to doing something that was admittedly incredibly reckless and stupid, she couldn't deny that part of her was waiting with anticipation. Here at least was something for them to talk about, something she had done that her father would have to care about.

What she did not expect was her father gently knocking on her door two hours after she'd arrived home.

"Piper," he said softly through the door, his voice laced with concern, "can I come in?"

Piper raised her head from her bed, where she had curled up. "Yes," she called back, and the door swung open.

Her father was still in his tuxedo, his cell phone clutched in his hand. He was spinning it between his fingers in a restless motion.

"Look, Dad," Piper began, sliding off the bed. "I'm really sorry about the car –"

"Never mind that," he said. "I've worked it out with the owner, she's going to pick it up tomorrow and she's not pressing charges."

Piper was momentarily speechless. Never mind? That was all he had to say? "That's all you have – ?"

"Piper," he cut her off again. "There's more important things to worry about."

There was that concern back in his voice. Piper softened her own tone. "What's wrong?"

"Come with me," he said, turning toward the door. Piper followed, stepping over where she had abandoned her dress and shoes in a pile on the floor.

He led them into his office. It was an unnecessary room in Piper's opinion, since he didn't actually work from home, but she supposed he needed a way to fill up the extra rooms. He strode over to the mahogany desk, the central feature of the room, and spun around the computer monitor sitting on top.

It was open to a website, some trashy celebrity blog with a neon banner. The page was dominated by a photograph – of her, Piper realized in shock. It was a shot of her sitting in the stolen car, the valet's figure blurred in the background. But that wasn't the important feature. It was what was around her: a fuzzy outline superimposed over her body, in a light pink. Piper didn't have to guess at what it was supposed to be. The bold title across the top of the page cleared it right up: Tristan McLean's daughter a demigod?

Piper staggered backward a step. "What is – I don't – I'm not…" She turned toward her father in the vain hope that he might have an explanation. "Dad –"

"Someone took this picture of you earlier tonight," he said, explaining to her what she already knew and dreaded. "It's already up on half a dozen sites."

"No, but…" Piper backed up another step, as if she could escape the image if she got far enough from it. "I don't have an aura," she whispered.

"According to this, you do."

"But it could be fake," she tried to reason, still refusing to accept what was staring at her on the screen, and the larger truth behind it. "It would be easy enough…"

"It doesn't matter, Piper. Not to the Hunters."

Hunters. There it was. Her father's voice was gentle, soft, soothing, but it still landed like a physical blow. She sank back into one of the armchairs by the door. "What am I supposed to do?"

Piper's father sat down in the armchair across from her. "Run," he said earnestly.

Run. Such a simple word, yet such an absurd concept, one she could hardly grasp. "Run where?" she whispered.

It was easy for Piper to read on his face how overwhelmed he was, but he was making a valiant effort at hiding it. "We'll figure something out."

"We will?" Piper asked, and the surprise must have shown on her face, because her father's only became more determined.

"Of course we will," he assured her. "I know planning a…a life on the run isn't exactly quality father-daughter time…"

"Well, it's better than these stupid dinners," she mumbled.

"Really?" Her father looked genuinely surprised. "I thought you enjoyed these events."

Piper was stunned. Did he really think she liked getting dressed up in ridiculous outfits, watching silly shows, shaking hands with strangers and making awkward small talk? He really didn't know her at all. "I like going because it's the only time we get to spend together."

"Piper, you know I'm –" Busy, he probably would have finished, but he seemed to realize there was no real point. Not now. "I'm sorry," he said instead. "We'll find some place for you to go."

He stood from his chair, and Piper followed suit, heading toward the door at the apparent dismissal. She almost wanted to leave, to let her last question go. But she forced herself to stop in the doorway and turn back.

"Just tell me one thing," Piper said numbly. "Is it true? Am I…am I that?"

Her father's gaze softened, his eyes sliding out of focus as if he were remembering something. "Your mother was...a goddess among women. If you were to tell me she was an actual goddess...I wouldn't be surprised. Although I suppose any man in love would say the same thing." He laughed softly, but his smile quickly decayed. "I wish I could have protected you better. If I had known, I would have…But now, this is all I can do."

He hesitated a moment, then put his arms out in front of him. It took a moment for Piper to realize he was gesturing for a hug. She obliged, letting herself fold into the comfort of his arms, feeling herself relax for a moment that didn't last nearly long enough. Then he pulled his arms back away, and Piper retreated from the room, her throat dry and her heart pounding.

In the relative safety of her room, Piper paced from the door to the far window, the longest stretch she could go without turning, to antsy to stand still. Could any of this be true? Could she really be one of them? A demigod. The word bounced around in her mind, the word she'd been taught to fear, to hate.

Piper stopped in front of the full-length mirror hanging over the back of her closet door, steeling herself. If she was really a demigod, she wanted to know. To find out if she was leaving for a reason, or if she was just falsely accused in this crazy, messed-up system. She did want to know, and yet...she didn't. Once she knew, there would be no turning back.

Piper shook her head, trying to clear her head. She had to do this. One way or another, she needed a definite answer. Instead, she focused on her task. Piper knew all about auras. Everyone did. Whenever demigods had a strong emotion, or when they used their abilities, they got a colored glow around them. She had no idea what abilities she might have, but emotion, she could do.

She remembered back to when that picture of her had been taken. What had she been feeling then? Overwhelmed, determined, desperate.

Now, Piper concentrated on a different feeling. She thought about those stupid journalists who'd published the photo that had ruined her already volatile life. She thought about the fact that she would be homeless, on the run. She thought about how awful the whole situation was; hundreds of innocent people being captured, forced into exile, or worse, simply because they had been born with a godly parent.

Anger coursed through Piper's veins, bubbling up to the surface, building behind her eyes. When she looked back at her reflection in the mirror, Piper gasped and stumbled backwards.

She looked the same as ever, except for one thing: a faint pink glow flickering around her body.