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“Jake?” she called out. “Jake?”

There was nobody around. The corridor was empty. Gaia walked all the way to the elevators, looking for him, but he was gone.

Somehow the threat was even scarier when it wasn't explained.

“Dear Old” Uncle Oliver

SAM MOON HAD EXHAUSTED ALL HIS
options. He'd tried calling Gaia's house at least ten times. He'd even tried going to her apartment on Seventy-second Street, but the doorman had insisted that she wasn't there. No one was there, he'd said. Which somehow didn't surprise Sam, given the nomadic nature of Gaia's life.

But that was fine. Sam was used to not knowing where Gaia was. It went with the territory. Besides, he had a new approach in mind.

He'd tried to talk to Gaia alone about it, but she wouldn't listen or even leave Jake's side for a moment to discuss it. He'd tried talking to Gaia and Jake about it together. No luck there, either. They were too busy being contented lovebirds. So that really left only one other option:

Talking to Jake alone.

It was the only other thing Sam could think of to do. Because one way or another, Sam's point needed to be gotten across. He was not about to let it go. No way. Gaia needed to understand.
Someone
besides Sam needed to understand what was really going on with “dear old” Uncle Oliver.

Sam couldn't get the image out of his head as he walked purposefully down lower Broadway. He kept
picturing Oliver, or rather
Loki,
flipping that coin through his fingers again and again during their disturbing little meeting in the park. The look in his eye had been so clear. And so had the bizarrely shifting tone of his voice. Gaia might want very badly to believe that Loki was gone—that there wasn't an ounce of that evil bastard left in her dear sweet uncle, but Sam knew better. He'd seen it with his own eyes. He'd felt it seeping out of Oliver's pores. All the dark and deranged thoughts—all the rage that he was just barely managing to repress. Loki was just biding his time behind that kind facade. He was just waiting for his moment, waiting for the right moment to creep back into Gaia's world and systematically rip it to shreds. Sam didn't know
how
Loki planned to do it or when. He didn't know what exactly Oliver was planning. But he knew it was only a matter of time before they were all suffering again—Gaia, her father, Jake. . . and Sam, too. Sam had never been spared by Loki before; why would this time be any different?

So maybe Jake would listen. Maybe if Sam could talk to him like a man, then Jake would be man enough to listen to reason.

Sam had gotten Jake's number and tried to reach him at home. Jake's father had answered the phone and told Sam that Jake was at his gym, sparring. Sam got the gym's address and was out the door.

Spotting Jake at the gym was incredibly easy. Once
Sam had climbed the stairs to the third floor, passing all the trophies and posters of various karate champions, he had found Jake rather difficult
not
to spot. He was basically devouring his sparring partner in the center mat as various kids in karate uniforms looked on with admiration and envy.

Sam couldn't help but be a little awed himself by Jake's fighting prowess. He was a bit envious, too. But it was an envy of an altogether different kind. He did his best to keep that in check, as it would only get in the way of this very important conversation.

The moment Jake stepped off the mat for some water, Sam moved in.

“Can I talk to you?” Sam asked, trying not to seem like he was sneaking up from behind.

Jake turned around and faced Sam with a look of mild confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I know,” Sam said, nodding. “I know it's a little weird, but I can't find Gaia, and I wanted to talk to you alone anyway.”

“Well, you can't find her because she moved. I guess she didn't tell you.”

If Sam wasn't mistaken, he could swear Jake was taking a little pleasure in knowing that Gaia hadn't even bothered to inform Sam of her move. But he tried to get past it. He didn't want to have that kind of conversation. That wasn't why he was here. “Moved where?” he asked, as nonchalantly as possible.

“Some kind of boardinghouse on Bank Street. Colling-something. I don't remember. I'll tell her to give you a call.” With that Jake turned right around and began to walk away. Things were already a little more tense than Sam had hoped for. But he had to try and stay on good behavior.

“No, wait,” Sam said, grabbing Jake's shoulder. Jake turned around and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the towel around his neck. “Can we just—can we talk for just a minute? Please?”

Jake took his sweet time considering it, and then finally he gave a slight nod and led Sam back into the locker room for a little more privacy. He tossed his towel into the bin by the showers and then leaned his back against his locker, giving Sam his somewhat reluctant attention. “What's up?”

Sam leaned against the opposite locker and tried to get to the point as quickly as possible. “Look, I know I've tried this once before with you two, but I was kind of hoping you'd hear me out again. You know. . . one-on-one.”

“About what?”

“About Oliver,” Sam said. “You have to understand, Jake. You have to listen to me about this. That man is not right in the head. Loki is still there. He's lurking inside Oliver's head. No, I don't even want to call him Oliver, because that's not who he is. There is no Oliver. He's just Loki with this kind smile pasted over his face, and if we don't—”

“Oh, man,” Jake interrupted, “we've heard this stuff, Sam. We've been through this already. You're just off base—you're paranoid. Oliver is an incredible guy. He's, like, a genuine hero. You just don't know what you're talking about.”

Sam dropped his head and shook it slowly. Loki had Jake snowed even worse than Sam had thought. That man? The sickest man Sam had ever encountered? A
hero?
God, this was bad. This was really bad.

“No, Jake. Just. . . no.” Sam took a deep breath and tried to shake off his frustration. He lifted his head, locked his eyes with Jake's, and tried a different approach. “Look. . . I know that Gaia won't listen to me on this. I know that I'm. . . not the one she listens to anymore.” He took a deep breath for his next statement, because it was still a little hard for him to accept. “
You
are, Jake. You are the one she listens to now. And you are the one who needs to protect her. You know that. We both know that's a huge part of being with Gaia: protecting her from all the freaks out there. So that's all I'm asking you to do. I'm asking you to protect her. Protect her from Oliver, Jake. You need to do that; you need to understand it—”

“Hey, Sam,” Jake interrupted. He threw his hand out in front of Sam's face, basically telling him to shut up. “Look. . . I really don't want to be an asshole about this, okay? Seriously. But Sam. . . you're right, dude.
I'm
the one who's going to protect her now. Not you.
I'm the one who's going to worry about taking care of her now. Not you. You see my point?”

Sam was feeling more and more deflated by the second. This conversation was going nowhere near where Sam had hoped it would go. And Gaia was no closer to being safe. “This was a bad idea,” Sam uttered. “You're not—you don't get it.”

“Don't worry about her, Sam. I would never let anything happen to Gaia. Never.”

Sam had to accept the fruitless nature of this little visit. But still, he found himself compelled to at least leave Jake with a bit of hard-earned wisdom.

“Don't kid yourself, Jake,” he said. “I've made all the mistakes already, and there's one thing I've learned for sure. No one
lets
bad things happen to Gaia. They just happen. And there's not a thing you can do about it. You never know where it's coming from, and you never know who's doing it. Not until it's too late.”

“Well, if that's true, then what are you even doing here, Sam?”

“All I said was that there's nothing anyone can really do. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying.”

Jake finally relaxed his shoulders a bit and nodded. Whether he got the point about Oliver or not, he obviously understood exactly what Sam was talking about.

And with that, Sam turned away and headed for the door. He just had to figure out what the hell he was going to try next.

Miles of Green Grass

THE LIMOUSINE SPED NORTH
.

Gaia could barely see out, because the windows were tinted glass. But she knew that they were back in her old neighborhood—the Upper East Side. She could see the tall stone apartment buildings along Fifth Avenue, across from Central Park, as the car smoothly hummed past them.

“I'm so glad you're coming,” Chris said. “You're going to love talking to my dad.”

“Well, thanks for the invite,” Gaia said.

The limousine was slowing down. It pulled up to the curb and stopped. Gaia saw a doorman hurrying over to open the door for them.

She got out first and looked around. It was nearly dark now, a beautiful New York night. The car had stopped on Fifth Avenue in front of a big, old-fashioned apartment building with a dark red awning. Looking up, she could see balconies stretching around the building's upper floors, facing Central Park.

Liz and Chris hopped out of the limousine as if they'd been doing it all their lives—which, Gaia figured, they probably had. “Hi, Marko,” Chris said to the doorman. “Nice haircut.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rodke. Ms. Rodke.” The doorman
nodded smoothly at them and then hurried ahead to open the building's front door.

“You'll have to forgive the apartment,” Liz told Gaia apologetically as they stood in the rising elevator. The elevator's interior was polished mahogany. Chris had punched the button for the seventeenth floor, Gaia saw. “We've only been here like a week; there's still construction going on.”

“I wouldn't worry about it,” Gaia joked. There was most definitely nothing to be ashamed of in this ridiculous building. The elevator arrived on seventeen, and the wide metal doors slid open.

Gaia went first. She stepped out into a small vestibule covered with striped wallpaper. As she walked forward, a big black apartment door swung open. A slim, elegantly dressed middle-aged woman stood there, smiling. She wore large gold earrings and a Chanel jacket. It was obvious from her face that she was Liz and Chris's mother.

“You must be Gaia,” Mrs. Rodke said, extending her hand. “How do you do—I'm Blair Rodke.”

“Hi,” Gaia said, wondering if there was some whole batch of etiquette here that she knew nothing about. But Mrs. Rodke smiled warmly, so she figured she hadn't done anything wrong yet.

“Hi, Mom,” Liz said, leaning to kiss Mrs. Rodke's cheek.

Gaia had been in some fairly fancy places in her life.
But there'd been nothing in her experience quite like the Rodke apartment. The word
apartment
didn't really convey what it was like—the place was more like a mansion that had been lifted seventeen stories off the ground and placed atop a Manhattan apartment tower.

“Are we eating soon?” Chris asked his mother. “I'm starving.”

“Sure—not too long now,” Mrs. Rodke said. “Just a few minutes. Gaia, can I get you anything?”

“Oh, no, thanks,” Gaia said, fixating on the huge windows.

They were in an extremely spacious entryway with a marble floor. A glass table in the middle of the room held a shallow bowl of water with lilies floating in it. The ceiling was high and dark. A big curved staircase stood to one side, leading up to another corridor on the floor above. Spotlit paintings hung on the walls. A stack of plywood against one wall showed that the place was still under construction.

Liz and Chris led the way forward. Gaia followed them around a corner into a living room that was the size of a school gym. At least that was how it looked to Gaia. Maybe the room looked bigger because it contained almost no furniture at all. One entire wall was glass, facing a tiled balcony overlooking the park. Gaia found herself walking toward it without thinking.

Chris and Liz walked up next to her, and they stood side by side, leaning on the balcony's stone parapet,
gazing down at the park. It was an incredible view. The sun was just setting, and the towers of Central Park West shone against the sky across the park. There were miles of grass and trees seventeen stories down, and Gaia could almost smell the fragrant aroma of the greenery far below.

“This is just awesome,” Liz said. It was true. “I hope I never take this for granted.”

“It's beautiful,” Gaia said.

Standing there between the Rodkes, Gaia thought for a moment about how much her life had changed. And so quickly—D., her newfound brother; Jake; Oliver. . . the boardinghouse. . . the sudden new attitudes from the FOHs. . . the Rodkes. . . Jake. Maybe Chris was right. Maybe a person really could change.

How many fights?
Gaia wondered, gazing down at the park.
Right down there? How many ass kickings? And what for? What does all that mean?

“Hello, kids.” A male voice came from behind them.

Gaia turned around. A handsome, middle-aged man stood in the open balcony door. He wore a blue denim shirt and jeans. His chestnut hair blew around his kind, square face with its faint wrinkles and crow's-feet. The man was holding a drink and smiling pleasantly at Gaia. He had piercing blue eyes, just like his son.

“You must be Gaia,” the man said, stepping forward and extending his hand. “Robert Rodke.”

“Hi,” Gaia said, shaking hands. It was so immediately obvious that he was a man of substance. Intelligent and accomplished and, most of all, real.