Daughter of Zeus ✔

4.3

As they drove from the house, Ada resisted the clichéd last look, but she did wonder if she would ever return. She doubted she would be allowed to see much after completing her mission. The thought of leaving her mother's home barely hurt, because it hadn't been Ada's actual home for years. The relocation to her old neighborhood was temporary from the beginning. Her real home was gone. Burned. Dead.

A place she no longer recognized. Brontes Corentin had killed her home, and she meant to return the favor.

Hate lived inside her. It eclipsed her other emotions, influencing her decisions. Gemina's quip of love your enemies, it'll make 'em crazy was not advice Ada wished to follow.

Growing up, she had lived for her mother's corny sayings: Silence is golden but duct tape is silver. And, Love thy neighbor but don't get caught. She used to imagine passing on the tradition of cornball humor down to her own children. Children. A memory shoved Ada's thoughts to the background.

A man gripped her hand. She didn't want to hold hands, because his skin was so clammy.

But he insisted, like he insisted on everything. No one had to know, and she believed him.

"Stop."

"You want me to stop?" Kressick set a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

It was an early memory, one she wished she could erase. The lack of context certainly didn't help. At his touch, the pictures left her head. She shoved them deep down, until her mind settled on the comfortable position of seeking revenge.

"Yeah, just drive."

They were near the highway. Several food shops beckoned, but resisting the urge was important. Most stops near or off the interstate were tourist traps, as in literal traps. Those who stopped were likely to be robbed, killed, or both. Gas stations were the only safely patrolled areas. With her new car battery, they would have to stop once a day to recharge for a minimum of thirty seconds.

For the first half hour of their trip, they sat in silence. Kressick eased the discomfort by turning on the car interface panel. "Radio please."

"Selections?" the computer asked.

"Why are you polite to an interface?" Ada wondered.

"I'm polite to anyone or anything I talk to. You should try it."

"I did not recognize your selections," the computer said.

"Classic rock, please."

Music that Ada could have done without came pounding through the car's speakers. With little effort, she mentally connected with the car interface. Indie rock. The music changed from harsh tempos to more melodic beats.

"Classic rock," Kressick said slowly.

His music selections returned until Ada thought, No, indie rock.

Again, her music interrupted his. He tapped on the screen, which continued to read "Indie Rock."

"The machine is broken."

"Must be." Ada turned her head to hide a smile.

"Don't suppose you can work your magic on it while we're driving?"

"My magic?"

It was the second time he asked her to fix an electronic, and casually at that.

"Yes, your tech-hacking hands. Can you fix the radio?"

She shook her head. "No, it'll have to be when we park to charge."

"All right."

At random moments, she missed Gemina. She messaged Cybil, who replied that Gemina's condition hadn't changed.

As the road stretched out before her, Ada remembered another of her mother's sayings:

A day without sunshine is like, well, night.

~*~