Page 144 of Blood of Olympus

“Or perhaps you win that, after all. It’s impolite to stare, you know,” she jeered. Only the twitching corner of her red lips gave any indication that she might be joking. “And you’re still not asking the right questions.”

I blinked. “What questions am I supposed to be asking?”

She rolled her eyes. “If I have to spell that out for you, then this is going to be very boring for both of us.” Her gaze flitted around the buildings only to land back on me. “Let’s start with the obvious, shall we?”

Obvious. Right.

“Who are you?”

Her face brightened considerably. “There you go! Excellent question, your grace.” She waved her hands with a flourish, dipping sarcastically into a shallow bow. “I am Hekate, at your service.”

“Hekate,” I breathed, slowly dragging the puzzle pieces together.

“Yes, Hekate. The witch.”

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Now, you’re asking the right kinds of questions.”

Hekate straightened, then in the next heartbeat, evaporated.

Her form transmuted, and like the buildings, bled at the edges. It swirled in the air — reminding me of a cloud trapped in a whirlpool. A second later, she stood before me, a third of her original size, in a shape that, yes, was someone I had met from afar.

Hekate’s dark eyes blinked up at me from the face of a large, black dog with a white-tipped ear. Even in this form, a white patch of fur followed her.

Looking at her felt like squinting. Like trying to catch something in your periphery, but every time you moved your eyes, the thing moved too.

I blinked, and she turned into that swirling wisp once more — a heartbeat later, she was witch-sized and solid.

“You’re the one who led me to Orpheus.”

She grinned, nodding. “Yup. Did it help?”

“That remains to be seen,” I answered, my brow scrunching in consideration. “What’s with the hair?”

“Wrong question. Try again.”

I canted my head. “You’re helping us… You’re helping me?”

She nodded, gesturing for me to keep talking.

“Why?”

“Excellent question!” Hekate beamed, her teeth perfectly straight and white in the eerie darkness surrounding us. “Because Kronos is a dick.”

I snorted, finding myself amused by the witch’s antics.

“The Fates have allowed me to intervene and aid you, but only if you ask the right questions. So, ask!”

I pursed my lips, thinking. “Have you helped in other ways?”

Her smile slid into something resembling admiration. “Yes.”

How had a witch otherwise guided me?

Hekate… her name was vaguely familiar.

Hekate… the witch. The sorceress. The guide.