TW: Blood

- SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE -

The woman was called Gladys. She had offered to let Adela sleep in her caravan bed, but Adela took the couch instead. It was nice to sleep somewhere warm anyway. Another nice surprise was that Gladys was definitely telling the truth, because she didn't try to kill Adela in her sleep.

It was the first time in months she'd slept somewhere warm, with a roof. The last time was during the summer solstice. She tried not to be out in the open when monsters were more agitated than usual. But waking up to a ceiling was nicer than she'd expected it would be, even if that ceiling had a hole in it.

There was a sweet, homey smell filling the whole caravan. The last time Adela had experienced having food cooked personally for her was when she was little, with her father's personal chef, Linda, who had always made the penthouse kitchen smell amazing.

"Ah! You're awake!" Gladys smiled from where she was hunched over the stove, cooking something, which explained the smell.

"I'm making cinnamon toast. Whole grain bread alright with you?" Gladys asked Adela.

Adela nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." She just hoped she didn't destroy it like the last time she'd got her hands on any bread.

"Would you like a knife and fork?" Gladys asked.

Adela nodded, cracking her shoulders as she sat up from the couch.

There was a cork board on the wall above the kitchen counter, nearly crammed with photos. There were older, grainy ones of a woman who was clearly a much younger Gladys, smiling and giving a thumbs up as she stood in front of various national landmarks. The photos got newer as Gladys got older. The smile grew thinner until it wasn't a smile at all.

Gladys smiled at Adela now, though. "I've been to every state except Nashville. Always wanted to visit the Parthenon replica, but, it's a monster hotspot even with the necklace. Eh, I'll go sometime before I kick it."

"Is the caravan an... heirloom?" Adela asked, glancing at a section of the wall, where the flowery wallpaper was peeling to reveal a rusty sheet of iron.

Gladys laughed. "Oh, no, little one. I bought this old hunk of junk when I was nineteen years old, and it's been my home ever since."

Adela wondered if Gladys had ever gotten it redone. The furniture did look very... worn. But it didn't matter. She was just grateful for the comfort of a safe place to sleep.

She frowned, realising she'd probably have to leave. The necklace might keep monsters away, but it wouldn't work on Mason Ray. Awful as he was, he technically didn't qualify as a monster.

"I should go. Thank you for everything." Adela smiled at the old woman, who was still serving up the toast.

Gladys frowned. "So soon? But I hoped we could go get ice cream... I haven't had company in so long..."

Adela bit her lip, conflicted. "Okay. I can stay for the morning, I guess."

Gladys put down the cinnamon toast and clapped her hands. "Wonderful! You look like you could use some good food."

Adela sat down, scooting as far away from the old woman as she could. She hadn't told Gladys why, but she didn't seem offended. She knew that Gladys was a daughter of Tyche, but Adela didn't want to trust divine luck to keep her alive. Divine luck wasn't a guarantee, after all.

She used a knife and fork to eat the toast, which tasted amazing. She didn't get to eat much sweet stuff. She hoped that Gladys really meant it, about the ice cream...

After breakfast, Gladys bustled around the caravan for a while, putting things away in boxes and chatting nonsense to Adela as she went. Like how apples were not a good food to eat with ketchup when drunk.

Then, true to her word, Gladys took Adela out. They went to a store called Polly Ann Ice Cream, in a street just off of Sunset Boulevard. It was a little place, with a menu shaped like a circle and a bored-looking adult at the counter. The store was quiet enough to shelter them from the loud noises of the city itself.

Gladys ordered mango sherbet, whilst Adela chose Raspberry. When the waiter went to hand them the ice cream, Adela refused to take it from her, waiting until she put it down and removed her hands from it. It garnered her a few very strange looks. Gladys didn't seem fazed, though. Adela wasn't sure why, but she was grateful all the same.

They found a padded booth in the corner and sat down with their desserts. Gladys smiled as she took a bite. "I love this place. They do the best sorbets. I don't like actual ice cream, you see. Makes me feel sick."

Adela nodded. "Are you in San Francisco a lot, then?"

Gladys nodded. "I haven't been travelling as much recently, and I like to stay near Ca- near where I grew up."

Adela squirmed. Did Gladys expect her to add something to the conversation? She'd only been at Camp Half-Blood for a few months before... before things changed drastically. She had no idea what it was supposed to be like now, although she really hoped they'd gotten rid of that stupid climbing wall.

She zoned back in when Gladys reached over to pat her hand. Panic filled her brain and her breath clogged in her throat like a hair caught in a drain. In a flash, she jerked her hand away just in time, then sat on it for good measure. Gladys frowned. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine. Don't touch my hands," Adela stammered.

"Of course." Gladys smiled and nodded at her, but it wasn't the easy smile she'd shared when talking about mango sherbet. It was tighter. Forced.

Adela felt bad.

She knew she didn't have to accept uninvited affection; her dad had always told her that. But she wouldn't have minded Gladys patting her hand. And now, to top it off, she'd upset her.

"You can pat my forehead, if you want." Adela offered.

Gladys frowned but it wasn't a mean frown. Instead, she just looked confused. Confused was better than hurt, right?

"What a strange request. I'll have to ask people for head pats in the future, if you think they're better then hand pats." Gladys reached out and touched Adela's head, smiling. Adela gulped. Nobody had deliberately shown her affection in a long time. The most she'd gotten was that one police officer who hugged her and told her they were going to get her home when she was little and new to living homeless. She'd killed him.

"Adela?"

Adela froze. She knew that voice. It couldn't be... Her father lived in a penthouse, on the other side of the city. He had never even visited ice cream shops near their home. He was obsessed with healthy food. Why would he suddenly decide to visit this one, where she happened to be sitting? There was a reason she'd stayed on the opposite side of the city from her father. She couldn't see him here. It would never end well.

Adela lurched out of her seat, not noticing Gladys reaching for something in her pocket with a serious look on her face. Turning around, towards the sound of her father's voice...

There was nobody there. "¿Papa?¿Dónde estás?" Adela called.

"Estoy fuera. ¡Ven aquí!" her father called back.

Adela swallowed and stayed rooted to the spot. She couldn't. If she were to go to her father, and hug him... it wouldn't end well.

"¡No puedo!" Adela told him. There was a pause. Adela noticed that apart from Gladys, who was trying to say something to her, the ice cream shop was completely empty. That was strange.

All the customers were eating outside.

Even the waiter at the counter was gone. Didn't she have to stay for her shift?

It must have been her lunch break.

"¡Por favor! Te extraño..." Her father hiccupped as he spoke.

Adela faltered. If she just told him she was safe, that wouldn't be bad, right? She could just, say hi, see his face again. She'd nearly forgotten what her Dad looked like.

Legs shaking, Adela walked towards the door of the shop. "¿Estás bien, Papa?"

Gladys ran up to her, looking more panicked now. Just as Adela was about to open the door, Gladys slapped the back of her head. Adela frowned. Why was she being so mean? It didn't matter. She'd see her Dad, and he'd make everything better.

She pushed the door open, to an empty street. Huh. That was weird, too.

It was probably nothing.

Adela walked along the sidewalk, to a back alley where she knew her father would be waiting. A small part of her heard alarm bells going off. She shouldn't just know that her father would be waiting for her, how would she have known that?

It doesn't matter!

Adela turned the corner, Gladys following behind, out of breath.

Where was her father? He was supposed to be there.

"¿Papa?" Adela called out to him.

There was no response.

"¡Papa!" Adela tried again.

"There you are," a voice called.

Adela froze. It sounded kind of like her father, but different. It was like two people were speaking at the same time. Her father, and... a child throwing a fit?

"Come here!" the voice called.

Adela took a step forward, but stopped. Why was she walking towards the voice? It didn't sound like her father? And... why the Hades was she walking towards her father? She knew what would happen if she did.

"ADELA, DUCK!" Gladys screamed at her. For an old woman, her voice was surprisingly strong.

Adela rolled to the ground, just as something sailed over her, whistling through the air where her head had been not three seconds prior. It was a giant fork? She gaped, as an angry roar echoed from where her father's voice had been coming from.

"NO! OPS WAS HUNGRY! WHERE IS DINNER!"

A huge form emerged from the back of the alley, and Adela froze. That... was not her father.

"Leave her alone, or I'll flay you into pieces!" Gladys yelled, a long, gold javelin in her hand.

A part of Adela wanted to move, to help. But she couldn't. She couldn't do anything except think Not my dad. It wasn't her Dad. She'd been fooled, and like a child, she'd believed it. She'd thought that her Dad was really calling out to her.

Her Dad didn't know where she was. She was such a fool. How could he? She'd been gone for years now. He'd probably forgotten all about her.

"NO! OPS EAT TASTY DEMIGODDESS!" Ops licked his lips, brandishing a huge bronze knife.

"Not if I can help it." Gladys charged at the cyclops.

Adela couldn't see what was happening. She could hear it. Shrieks, though whether of pain or anger Adela couldn't tell, and the sound of flesh being torn off skin. Adela wished she'd never found out what that sounded like.

"And away with you!" Gladys shouted, as an explosion of golden dust surrounded her and her spear shrank into a little knitting needle. She rushed towards Adela, then crouched at her side. "Are you hurt, little one?"

Adela shook her head. Gladys sighed. "I'm sorry. I should have considered the fact that there are monsters here. I thought the necklace keeping monsters away from me would keep monsters away from those around me, but I suppose that wasn't a very safe theory. And you're young, you'd smell like a three course meal."

The old woman reached out, probably to try and comfort her, but Adela jerked away, sitting on her hands. "Don't!"

"It's gone. It's gone, you're safe! It's alright," Gladys tried to reassure her, but Adela shook her head. Her heart was pounding and she felt like even her ears were sweating. Staying in big cities was a bad idea, especially this close to her Dad.

And this close to Luke Castellan and his own personal army... She'd thought maybe hiding in plain sight would throw Mason off the trail. Evidentially she hadn't taken into consideration how city monsters did things. That was fine. She'd just leave and run again...

Gladys was looking at her, like she expected her to say something. Adela gulped. "What?"

"I asked what you heard the Cyclops say. But you don't have to tell me if you want." Gladys didn't try to comfort her again. A part of Adela wished she would, but she couldn't say that. Saying that would end so badly.

"I heard my Dad. He asked me to go home with him." Adela said this so quietly that even with demigoddess hearing, she wouldn't have been very surprised if Gladys hadn't heard her say anything at all.

Gladys nodded. "What was he like?"

Adela scowled. "Is. What is he like. He's still alive."

"Okay. What is your father like?"

When Adela was little, she used to pretend to have conversations with her father and act out his parts to soothe herself to sleep, but she'd stopped doing that some time ago. So she didn't know why she started talking about him again. She just did.

"He's... he's nice. He's obsessed with health food, and when I started preschool he made me these little fruit boxes to take for lunch because I hated animal crackers. He would read his business papers to me in silly voices as a bedtime story." Adela was sniffling and she didn't know if she was going to be able to keep her cheeks dry or not, but she couldn't stop talking. She'd started now, and the words were running out of her mouth faster than she could catch them and pull them back.

"He's my best friend... and I don't remember what he looks like anymore!" She'd never told anybody, anybody that before. Not even herself. She put her head in her knees, still sitting on her hands. She didn't want to look at Gladys.

Gladys leaned back against the alley-wall. "I understand. I have forgotten my granddaughter's face, too. I lost her last summer."

Adela glanced up. Gladys looked a little blurry.

"Your granddaughter died?" Adela asked.

Gladys nodded. "Yes. Emily. She was killed by a flock of Stymphalian birds last summer. They usually migrate in the fall, but for some reason they came early. Heading in the wrong direction, too. She was caught unaware. That's why I haven't been able to travel. I always sent her postcards. Now, I have nobody to send them too."

"I'm sorry," Adela murmured.

Gladys shook her head. "Oh, think nothing of it, little one. I love talking about her. I'm the only person alive to do it, after all."

"What was she like?" Adela asked.

Gladys smiled to herself. "Emily was very rude, actually. I could never get a word in without her calling me names. But I think she just didn't know how to say what she actually felt. She loved in her actions, not her words. She once brought an entire bakery's worth of cakes to the caravan because I mentioned missing sweet things. She was an amazing dancer, too..."

"Do you miss her?" Adela asked.

Gladys nodded. "Of course. Her mother died so long ago... she was the last I had left of my family. But she'd be in Elysium now. And I'm not the one who just heard... what you heard."

Adela nodded. She felt like throwing up, but if she vomited now, then Gladys would probably try to hold her hair back, and that would never go well.

"Do you think he remembers my face?" Adela asked.

Gladys looked away. "You seem like a smart girl, little one. So I won't lie to you. I don't know." She thought for a few seconds. "Why don't you go find him? If he's still alive?"

"I can't." Adela's voice was hollow.

She expected Gladys to say something generic about how she should always try with family, or whatever. But Gladys didn't say what Adela expected her to. "I could, if you want."

"W-what?" Adela wondered if she'd heard that right.

"Does he know? About the gods?" Gladys asked.

Adela nodded. "I think so."

"Well then," Gladys continued. "I could tell him where you are. Why you're gone. Whatever you want. It would give me an excuse to finally travel again, too."

Adela didn't know what to say. Nobody had ever offered that before. Well, she'd never talked about her father before. At all. "I-I don't know."

Gladys didn't seem upset at the answer. "Well, how about you think about it after a rest? You look like you need more sleep." Gladys offered a hand to help Adela up.

Adela shook her head, helping herself up instead. "Ok. Let's go then." Adela tried not to cringe at how subdued her voice was.

They walked back down Sunset boulevard in silence. There were people out again. Honestly, Adela wasn't quite sure where they'd gone in the first place. Maybe that was another Cyclops trick.

Halfway back, she turned towards Gladys. "I should go. I've stayed too long and there are people after me. And I'm drawing monsters here."

Gladys looked sad. "Who's after you?"

Adela frowned. She didn't want to tell Gladys about Mason. It would only worry her more and it wasn't like she would be able to do anything. She was just an old lady, after all. It would do more harm than good. "Nobody. Monsters."

Gladys seemed to believe her. "I know it wasn't a long walk, but have you given any thought as to if you want me to find your father for you?"

Adela shook her head.

Gladys frowned. "Oh. Ok, then. It was just an idea."

"No, No!" Adela hurried to correct herself. "I meant, I haven't thought about it. Not that I don't want you to. And, um, you are so kind. It's just that, well, that I really don't know..."

Gladys looked relieved. "Adela, are you alright with me putting my hands on your shoulders?" she asked.

Adela glanced at her arms. She hadn't ever tested... no, she couldn't risk it. She didn't know how far it went. "No. Please don't."

Gladys nodded. "I don't know why you don't want to see your father. But can I give you some advice?"

Adela shrugged.

Gladys's eyes softened. "I know how hard it can be. But, you have to trust people, Adela. Sometimes they can surprise you."

Adela didn't know what to say. What could she say? When would she even have an opportunity to trust someone? She trusted one person, her dad, and she couldn't ever see him again.

"I-uh-I have to use the bathroom," Adela muttered.

Gladys nodded. "Of course. There's more soap under the sink if it runs out."

"Thanks." Adela trudged over to the little bathroom. She washed her hands and squinted at herself in the mirror.

Her dark hair was tied back messily, because she'd lost her hair band a month ago and was using an elastic she'd found on the floor. Her lips were chapped and her skin was covered in sweat and dirt. She hoped Gladys wouldn't have too much trouble cleaning the couch.

Splashing water on her face, Adela sighed. She didn't have a change of clothes and didn't feel like showering, so she may as well head back. She just wished she at least had a toothbrush...

When Adela emerged from the bathroom she noticed that her backpack was open. That was weird.

She peeked inside, and was surprised to find it completely restocked. There were packets of dried fruits and nuts, although no mangoes, so Gladys was obviously telling the truth about missing those. There were three bottles of water. There was even a thermos bottle full of what smelled like tomato soup. Adela nearly hugged that bottle. She hadn't been able to carry around hot food in what felt like forever...

"Gladys? Did you do this?" Adela called.

There was no response. That was weird. There was nothing cooking, so Gladys couldn't be distracted by food. Adela couldn't think of any other reason she wouldn't respond. Then again, Adela didn't live in the caravan. Maybe there were others things that could distract Gladys, like knitting or something.

"Gladys?" Adela knocked on the bedroom door. "I thought about what you said, about trying to find my dad. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad-"

THUMP

The impact of whatever hit the bedroom door made a sound that seemed to shake the whole caravan. Adela stumbled, her heart pounding, and jerked the door open, all the while calling Gladys's name. Gladys was lying on the floor and Adela fought hard not to touch her. "What, what are you doing?" Adela asked. "Please Gladys, please answer me, please be okay." She lightly tapped Gladys on the shoulder with her foot, and Gladys's head lolled to the side. "Oh no, oh Gladys, oh no, oh please." Adela was sobbing. Along Gladys's throat, a thin red line was still leaking. Blood was trickling along Gladys's shirt, and a little along the carpet.

"I'm really sorry you had to see that," said a familiar voice. "We should go."

Adela's head jerked up. Mason Ray was standing in the room where Gladys had died, his hand on an open window. Adela wanted to believe that he had nothing to do with this, but then she saw his other hand. In it was a long bronze broadsword. The blade was covered in blood, making another red trail towards the ground.

"Thank you, for leading me to her. Sorry I took so long to actually attack."

"You..."

"Hey, it's alright. I know I've been aggressive, but really. You don't have to be scared. She's dead. You're safe. I figured now you'd realise we're the good ones."

Mason ripped the necklace off Gladys, glared at it, and then crushed it under his foot like it was a pit scorpion. Adela blinked back tears. When she opened her eyes, everything was tinged with the colour red. "What have you done?" Her voice was completely flat.

Mason frowned, looking up from the crushed necklace. "What do you mean? I just saved your life. Come on, Adela, you at least owe me enough to hear me out now. Not that I killed her to deliberately make you owe me. It was the right thing to do. Look, just follow me to the yacht. I swear-"

"WHAT THE HADES HAVE YOU DONE?!" Adela lunged at Mason, kicking him in the stomach and flexing her right finger to summon one of her daggers.

Mason looked like he'd expected a completely different reaction. His nostrils flared and he sprung up, glaring. "What's wrong with you? I saved your freaking life and you attack me? Has the power finally gotten to your head?"

Adela froze. She glanced at her hands. That was a low blow.

Mason Ray seemed to realise that, too. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I'm just a little confused as to why you would-OW!"

Adela threw her dagger at his face.

It sailed along the side of his cheek, leaving a gash behind. Mason hissed in pain and drew his sword again. "You little-"

"You killed her!"

"She deserved it! Just let me explain!" Mason was covering his face with one hand and had his sword in the other. The blood dripping down his cheek looked like a perverted version of crying.

"You killed her! You killed her, you-"

Mason huffed and used her own move against her, kicking her in a mid-air leap. But instead of her chest, he want for her left right hand.

She didn't have enough time to move away, and fell to the ground, pain blossoming in her fingertips. She looked at her glove, and realised that it was soaked in liquid. Damp, with her own blood. She hadn't even known if her hands could bleed anymore... Mason cursed and lifted his left sneaker. Instead of a rubber sole, thin celestial bronze spikes coated the bottom, small enough that they wouldn't cause him any trouble walking around but big enough to pierce the skin. Adela bit down hard on her tongue to stop herself from crying out in pain. She tasted blood there, too.

Mason held up his hands, to try and placate her. "Styx. Adela, I forgot I was wearing these. I'm sorry."

His arm twitched towards something, in the corner of the room. It was a tin box with a medical-X symbol scribbled on in red sharpie. Why was everything so red? Mason shook his head and looked back towards Adela.

"You know why I can't heal that. I'm not sure I know the right hymn, anyway. Look, you don't have to walk. I'll drive you to the yacht. We'll take the caravan. You're safe, I swear." He nodded to himself and started walking from the room. Adela flinched as he kicked Gladys's body out of his way as if it were trash.

"I hate you," she whispered.

Mason shrugged as he reached the caravan exit. "I know this sounds harsh, but that's not important to me. At least you're alive."

"What?" Adela's voice broke.

Mason turned around as he stepped out of the caravan, pursing his lips. "I thought you knew this, but I guess not. Explains why you attacked me, I guess. That woman was a monster. She'd been luring half-bloods here and killing them. Trust me, I'm doing you a favour!"

"If she was a monster, why wouldn't she evaporate into dust, huh? You're a horrible person and a horrible liar!" Adela spat. Her hand started spasming, and she clutched it to her chest to get it down. She hadn't injured her hands since she was... maybe that was why it hurt so much worse than it should. She could barely get up from the pain.

Mason sighed. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm not lying to you."

"Then you're lying to yourself." Adela tried to get up but the pain in her hand made her dizzy and she stumbled. Mason shook his head at her, like he felt some kind of dysfunctional pity, and closed the doors. He didn't lock them, either because the caravan was so old that it didn't have a lock, or because he didn't think she'd have the energy to get up and leave. He was probably right, anyway.

It didn't stop her from trying. She hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder with her good hand and struggled to stand, using the wall as support. By the time she was fully upright, the caravan lurched forward. The creaky jolt caused Adela to fall back to the ground. Obviously it hadn't driven in a while.

She looked at Gladys again. The old woman's mouth was hanging open, and her eyes were even filmier than before. Her face probably shouldn't have been very expressive, but somehow Adela could tell what it had been conveying as Mason murdered her.

Surprise. Genuine shock.

She hadn't even thought to defend herself.

Adela remembered her words from earlier.

You have to trust people, Adela. Sometimes they can surprise you.

Oh, he surprised her, all right.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I got you killed." Tenderly, Adela closed Gladys's eyes. Touching couldn't hurt her now. Adela reached into her backpack and found fished out two golden drachmas. She only kept them for emergencies. With her good hand, she opened Gladys's mouth and dropped the coins inside. "I'm really sorry." she whispered again. She reached for the quilt, wincing in pain, and dragged it towards them. Then, gently, carefully, she tucked it around Gladys, kissing her on the forehead and smoothing her grey-red hair before covering her up entirely.

She looked back at the wall Gladys had shown her, just an hour and a half ago. All the places... she was never going to visit the Parthenon replica, was she? And that was Adela's fault. She shouldn't have stayed. Then Mason would have never found her. Why did he really kill Gladys, anyway? She wasn't a monster. She was just a harmless old lady.

Her head snapped up as a banging sound rang through the caravan. The door had swung open as Mason drove around a corner. Mason was in the front of the caravan, which meant that without stopping the car, he had no way to stop her from escaping. That was if she could actually get up.

Adela crawled along the floor, using her good hand and elbow to manoeuvre herself. She gasped as she slipped and fell onto her bad hand. Her hair fell in her face, but she finally got to the chair where Mason had put his little first aid tin. She grabbed it and carefully made her way back. Her hand left a blood trail as she went. She scoffed. That was appropriate.

She stuffed the tin into the front part of her backpack with her good hand, biting her tongue again. The pain was getting worse. Why was the pain getting worse?!

The caravan rocked as it left golden gate park, and Adela fell to the floor again. When she got up, she crawled along to the open doors. She was in the middle of the city. If she fell out of the car in broad daylight, she'd probably be found by tourists and taken to a hospital. If she was taken to a hospital, her Dad would find her in a second. If he was still looking. She couldn't risk that.

She planned to wait until they were somewhere with a less dense population, where at the very least she could probably escape before anyone called an ambulance, but a jolt of shock went through her when she realised where they were going. Golden Gate bridge. She couldn't escape on golden gate bridge. Best case scenario, she'd get run over. Worst, she'd get caught, and her Dad would find her anyway. And Mason probably knew it.

"Styx," she muttered as the caravan crossed onto the bridge. There was nothing to do about it now. She'd just have to wait for an opportunity when they got to the other side.

That thought in mind, she leaned against the caravan wall, right by the door. The jolting of the car was probably the only thing keeping her conscious. Why did her hand hurt so much? It shouldn't hurt that much. She scowled. She knew exactly why.

"¿Adónde vamos?¿Adónde vamos?" she muttered to herself. Her heart was pounding again, which probably wasn't good for her health. Or maybe it was. She hadn't been in school since she was six.

The caravan went for about another thirty minutes before Adela saw an opportunity. They were driving up Mount Tam. Adela had always wanted to go hiking here as a child, but her father had said no. She wasn't sure why, but he'd been okay with hiking anywhere else. Just not Mount Tam. She wondered if he would disapprove of her actions now.

She carefully stood up, leaning against the door frame as she did so. It was still swinging back and fourth. Her head spun. She took a deep breath and leapt out of the caravan, rolling as she hit the ground. She dived behind a bush, and kept very still, praying that Mason wasn't looking in the mirror at that moment.

The caravan kept going. "I'm sorry, Gladys," Adela whispered again. "I wouldn't have left you with him if I'd had a choice." The truck veered around a strange black marble building, and disappeared from sight.

Adela swallowed. This was good. Mason didn't hear her escape, or see her escape, so he wouldn't know when she'd left. Most likely, he'd search Golden Gate Park or maybe the surrounding city. And this building would be a good place to hide.

She counted to twenty to calm her racing heart, and then stumbled away from her hiding place and around the building, searching for a door. She found one on the other side, or more like a broken-down archway than a door, but nonetheless, she slipped through it. She frowned. She didn't like the room where she found herself. Something about it seemed like it was... moving. Growing. There was a black marble altar that made her shudder. It seemed like that was the perfect size for... for a person.

On the opposite wall, there was a wooden door. Adela nodded to herself. Whatever was on the other side of it was probably the best place to hide. She could wait there and regain her strength. When she reached the door she noticed something was off about it. It looked like it matched with the rest of the ruins, but where a handle should be, there was a delta symbol instead.

She hesitated for a few seconds, but fearful that Mason would return and search for her, Adela made herself put her hand on the symbol. It glowed blue and the door sprung open. Behind, stretching as far as Adela could see, was a tunnel.

Adela frowned. She was pretty sure this structure didn't have room for a tunnel. She couldn't explain it in any rational way, which couldn't be anything other than bad news.

"WHERE ARE YOU? COME BACK, IT'S NOT SAFE!" Mason's voice rang across the field.

Adela gulped. She hoped that one day Mason would die the same way Gladys had. With his throat slit. It was what he deserved. But right now wasn't the time for that. Right now she needed to be gone. She stumbled into the corridor and shut the door behind her. Mason's voice disappeared, which was good. But what wasn't good was that the door had disappeared too.