covered in scorch marks and smears of ash. When she smiled, her face looked

unnaturally stretched, and the high-voltage light in her eves made me wonder if

she was blind.

 

"Oh, my dear boy!" She hugged Nico. I was trying to figure out why she thought

Nico was Luke (they looked absolutely nothing alike), when she smiled at me and

said, "Luke!"

 

She forgot all about Nico and gave me a hug. She smelled like burned cookies.

She was as thin as a scarecrow, but that didn't stop her from almost crushing

me.

 

"Come in!" she insisted. "I have your lunch ready!"

 

She ushered us inside. The living room was even weirder than the front lawn.

Mirrors and candles filled every available space. I couldn't look anywhere

without seeing my own reflection. Above the mantel, a little bronze Hermes flew

around the second hand of a ticking clock. I tried to imagine the god of

messengers ever falling in love with this old woman, but the idea was too

bizarre.

 

Then I noticed the framed picture on the mantel, and 1 froze. It was exactly

like Rachel's sketch — Luke around nine years old, with blond hair and a big

smile and two missing teeth. The lack of a scar on his face made him look like a

different person — carefree and happy. How could Rachel have known about that