Where You Go ― Jason Grace

x. a trip down (fake) memory lane

You cannot outrun them, Ophelia, Lupa growled. The gifts you inherited from your father will not negate the curse you inherited from your mother. They are two separate entities—you must treat them as such. 

"I don't want her curse!" dream-Ophelia protested, tears streaking down her cheeks. "It's not fair! I didn't do anything wrong!" 

You will learn quickly not to expect fairness from the gods, Lupa snarled.

The ghosts' voices continued to assault dream-Ophelia's mind, until they were all she could hear. Only one rang louder than the rest, and she focused on that one. 

Find an anchor, the masculine voice instructed. Real-Ophelia recognized the sound, but it was a mystery to her younger self. Let it bind you to the earth. We are dead—you are not. Do not let us control you.

Dream-Ophelia huffed in frustration, letting her hands fall away from her ears. She glared at the translucent figures crowding around her, a mob of ghosts screaming for her to hear them, to avenge them, to free them. She dug her fingers into the dirt at her sides, clinging to the grass. 

You command us, the voice told her. We do not command you. 

"Leave me alone," dream-Ophelia growled—not to the she-wolf, not to the voice, but to the ghosts crowding around her. Their translucent forms wavered, but they remained, clinging to the life her energy, her curse gave them. It was her spirit that made theirs stronger, that they wanted to steal for themselves.

Her spirit. 

"Leave me alone," she commanded again. This time, the words had their intended effect. The ghosts closest to her vanished into thin-air, the ones on the outskirts of the mob backing away with varying looks of fear and apprehension. 

Among them was a man in a suit, his face stern but his eyes soft. It was the same ghost who'd spoken to real-Ophelia in her dream the night before. He nodded at her, as if in praise. 

The remaining ghosts did not try to approach. 

Good. Lupa growled in approval. Now, onto your next test.

❖

Ophelia woke to the feeling of weightlessness. It only took a second for her to register that she was no longer on Festus's back—instead, she was plummeting toward the ground, the dragon several hundred yards below them, his wings limp. 

Seconds after Ophelia came to, Jason's arms were around her, slowing their fall. Biting back a flurry of vulgar Latin at the tip of her tongue, she adjusted herself to wrap her arms around Jason's neck, looking around for Leo and Piper. 

Piper was a few yards below them. Leo shot past her—screaming and frantically grabbing at clouds. "Not coooooool!" 

"Piper, level out!" Jason called below them. "Extend your arms and legs!"

Ophelia held onto Jason as he rocketed down, securing one arm around his neck and reaching her other one out to grab Piper's hand, pulling her closer. She clung to Jason's other side, a look of pure terror on her face as the three of them fell unsteadily toward the ground.

"We have to get Leo!" Piper shouted above the roaring sound of the winds around them.

"Gonna get rough," Jason warned. "Hold on!"

Both girls locked their arms around him, Piper's hand finding Ophelia's and squeezing tightly. They shot down toward the ground after Leo.

After a moment of rocketing down, they slammed into another body—Leo, still wriggling and cursing in what sounded like Spanish.