CHAPTER SIXTEEN
FINLEY        BRIGGS

Finn hated Ding Dongs. She hated snakes. She hated wine. She hated sobriety. And she hated her life. Not necessarily in that order.

The whole time Finn trudged up the hill, she was nauseous, sweating, and jittery. She wanted to drink so bad, but then she would curse at herself for the all-consuming urge. She couldn't anyway—the legion's officers prohibited her from doing so.

The thing was, Finn made it seem like she drank alcohol because she wanted to. Because it was fun. That way no one took her seriously—they assumed she had no clue what she was talking about, that she was disrespectful, that she wasn't worth caring over. Finn always told herself it was easier that way, and she was better off.

But it was times like these, in her most vulnerable moments, that the festering darkness inside wanted to drain her until there was nothing left but blood and tears.

Finn's carefully built stage was burning down to show that the alcohol controlled her, not the other way around. She had no hold over her own life. Finley Briggs had never just been Finley Briggs. She was Isla's, then she was Gaea's, then she was Lupa's, then she was Jason's, then she was the alcohol's. She was nothing if not a mindless idiot too afraid of herself to create a significant purpose.

The clearer her head became in her sobriety, the more vividly she could see the blood tainting her hands. The blood that had been there since the age of six. It made the termors of her body worse—the mixture of uncontrollable physical reactions and mental punishment was terrible.

It only made Finn sicker.

"Come on, Finley," Hazel pleaded, readjusting her grip. "At least try working with me."

Finn didn't want to cooperate. She wanted to drop onto the floor. Maybe Gaea would consume her whole, or maybe the heart palpitations would take her out before that even happened.

Hazel didn't let either thing happen. Unfortunately.

As they got closer, Finn was grateful to find that the store was no longer bursting with rainbow light. Brightness was sure to make her pounding head worsen, so it was nice to see that the building stayed dark.

They were twenty yards from the porch when something hissed in the grass behind them.

"Go!" Frank yelled.

Finn whimpered. Percy stumbled. Hazel helped him up. Frank turned and nocked an arrow.

Finn wasn't the most considerate in the first place, so she didn't try to help Hazel much in walking towards the store. She didn't even think she could help if she wanted to. She was just as pale and weak as Percy's sick ass—what a fine duo the two of them made.

"Please, you two," Hazel grunted. "Let's go faster."

"I need wine."

"I need Sylvie."

Hazel threw her head back for a moment, pausing in her dragging of Finn and assisting of Percy. Finn thought she heard Hazel whisper, "Gods, help me," but Finn's mind was also very discombobulated right now.

The three of them climbed the steps of the store, the sound of their feet making heavy, jumbled thumps. It didn't matter if whoever was inside was a goddess or not—she still would've heard them coming from miles away.

"Frank!" Hazel yelled. The sudden rise in volume made Finn groan again. "Come on!"

Finn looked behind, so miserable that she wished they wouldn't wait for Frank. But Hazel wasn't moving until they did, and she was a child of Pluto who Finn really didn't want to mess with. Instead, she watched three snake-like creatures circling in the grass, breathing fire and turning the hillside brown with their poisonous touch. They didn't seem able or willing to come closer to the store, but that wasn't much comfort to Finn—Give Finn a glass of wine and then maybe she'd reconsider.

Suddenly, a snake sprang at Frank. It sailed through the air so fast, he didn't have time to nock an arrow. Instead, Frank swung his bow and smacked the muster down the hill. It spun out of sight, wailing, "Screeeee!"

Frank's wooden bow was steaming where it had touched the snake. It crumbled to dust in his hands.

There was an outraged hiss, answered by two more hisses farther down hill. Frank dropped his disintegrating bow and ran for the porch. Percy and Hazel pulled him up the steps.

"We'll never get out of here," he said miserably.

"Then we'd better go in." Hazel pointed to the hand-painted sign over the door: SOMETHING FINN COULDN'T READ BECAUSE SHE WAS FAR TOO DYSLEXIC!!

Whatever it said, it couldn't be worse than poisonous snakes. Hazel dragged her inside first, with Percy and Frank following in after.

As they stepped through the door, lights came on. Flute music started up like they'd walked onto a stage. Finn winced as the thrumming in her head pounded. The wide aisles were lined with bins of nuts and dried fruit, baskets of apples, and clothing racks with tie-dyed shirts and gauze Tinker Bell-type dresses. The ceiling was covered in wind chimes. Along the walls, glass cases displayed crystal balls, geodes, macramé dream catchers, and a bunch of other strange stuff. Incense must have been burning somewhere. It smelled like a bouquet of flowers was on fire.

"Fortune-teller's shop?" Frank wondered.

"Hope not," Hazel muttered.

Percy joined Finn in leaning against Hazel. He looked worse than ever, like he'd been hit with a sudden flu. His face (like Finn's) glistened with sweat. "Sit down..." he muttered. "Maybe water."

"Yeah," Frank said. "Let's find you and Finley a place to rest."

The floorboards creaked under their feet. Frank navigated between two Neptune statue fountains.

A girl popped up from behind the granola bins. "Help you?"

Frank lurched backward, knocking over one of the fountains. A stone Neptune crashed to the floor. The sea god's head rolled off and water spewed out of his neck, spraying a rack of tie-dyed man satchels.

"Sorry! Frank bent down to clean up the mess. He almost goosed the girl with his spear.

"Eep!" she said. "Hold it! It's okay!"

Frank straightened slowly, trying not to cause any more damage. Hazel looked mortified. Finn shook all over as she stared at the possible water she could turn to wine. Percy turned a sickly shade of green as he stared at the decapitated statue of his dad.

The girl clapped her hands. The fountain dissolved into mist. The water evaporated. She turned to Frank. "Really, it's no problem. Those Neptune fountains are so grumpy-looking, they bum me out."

She was short and muscular, with lace-up boots, cargo shorts, and a bright yellow T-shirt that read Finn still didn't know because she could barely read. She looked young, but her hair was frizzy white, sticking out on either side of her head like the white of a giant fried egg. Her irises changed color from gray to black to white, and they made Finn so nauseous that she gagged and doubled over.

"Uh... sorry about the fountain," Frank managed. "We were just—"

"Oh, I know!" the girl said. "You want to browse. It's alright. Demigods are welcome. You're not like those awful monsters. They just want to use the restroom and never buy anything!"

She snorted. Her eyes flashed with lightning. Finn hated lightning. The sight of it made horrible memories bloom in Finn's mind.

From the back of the store, a woman's voice called: "Fleecy? Don't scare the customers, now. Bring them here, will you?"

"Your name is Fleecy?" Hazel asked.

Fleecy giggled. "Well, in the language of the nebulae it's actually—" She made a series of crackling and blowing noises that reminded Finn of a thunderstorm giving way to a nice cold front. Finn hated thunderstorms. "But you can call me Fleecy."

"Nebulae..." Percy muttered in a daze. "Cloud nymphs."

Fleecy beamed. "Oh, I like this one! Usually no one knows about cloud nymphs. But dear me, he doesn't look so good. Neither does she. Come to the back. My boss wants to meet you. We'll get your friends fixed up."

Finn doubted that, but she let Fleecy lead them through the produce aisle, between rows of eggplants, kiwis, lotus fruit, and pomegranates. At the back of the store, behind a counter with an old-fashioned cash register, stood a middle-aged woman with olive skin, long black hair, rimless glasses, and a T-shirt that read: Guess what? Finn didn't know! She wore amber necklaces and turquoise rings. She smelled like rose petals.

She looked friendly enough, but Finn still felt so shaky, like she wanted to cry. So it didn't really matter how nice the woman was. It didn't make Finn feel any better.

"Hello!" She leaned over the counter, which was lined with dozens of little statues—waving Chinese cats, meditating Buddhas, Saint Francis bobble heads, and novelty dippy drinking birds with top hats. "So glad you're here. I'm Iris!"

Hazel's eyes widened. "Not the Iris—the rainbow goddess?"

Iris made a face. "Well, that's my official job, yes. But I don't define myself by my corporate identity. In my spare time, I run this!" She gestured around herself proudly. "The Rainbow Organic Foods and Lifestyles. Or, R.O.F.L. Co-op—an employee-run cooperative promoting healthy alternative lifestyles and organic foods."

Frank stared at her. "But you throw Ding Dongs at monsters."

Iris looked horrified. "Oh, they're not Ding Dongs." She rummaged under the counter and brought out a package of chocolate-covered cakes that looked exactly like Ding Dongs. "These are gluten-free, no-sugar-added, vitamin-enriched, soy-free, goat-milk-and-seaweed-based cupcake simulations."

"All natural!" Fleecy chimed in.

"I stand corrected," said Frank.

Iris smiled. "You should try one, Frank. You're lactose intolerant, aren't you?"

"How did you—"

"I know these things. Being the messenger goddess... well, I do learn a lot, hearing all the communications from the gods and so on." She tossed the cakes on the counter. "Besides, those monsters should be glad to have some healthy snacks. Always eating junk food and heroes. They're so unenlightened. I couldn't have them tromping through my store, tearing up things and disturbing our feng shui."

Finn leaned against the counter. She felt like she was going to throw up all over the goddess's feng shui. "Monsters marching south," she said with difficulty. "Going to destroy our camp. Couldn't you stop them?"

"Oh, I'm strictly nonviolent," Iris said. "I can act in self-defense, but I won't be drawn into any more Olympian aggression, thank you very much. I've been reading about Buddhism. And Taoism. I haven't decided between them."

"But..." Hazel looked mystified. "Aren't you a Greek goddess?"

Iris crossed her arms. "Don't try to put me in a box, demigod! I'm not defined by my past."

"Um, okay," Hazel said. "Could you at least help our friends here? I think they're sick—Well, I know she is, but he..."

Percy reached across the counter. For a second Finn thought he wanted the cupcakes. "Iris-message," he said. "Can you send one?"

Maybe Finn was still drunk. She was sure she hadn't heard Percy correctly.

"Iris-message?" Frank questioned.

Oh. Finn wasn't the only one confused, then.

"It's..." Percy faltered. "Isn't that something you do?"

Iris studied Percy more closely. "Interesting. You're from Camp Jupiter, and yet... Oh, I see. Juno is up to her tricks."

"What?" Finn groaned.

Iris glanced at her assistant, Fleecy. They seemed to have a silent conversation. Then the goddess pulled a vial from behind the counter and sprayed some honeysuckle-smelling oil around Finn's and Percy's faces.

"There, that should balance your chakras. As for Iris-messages—that's an ancient way of communication. The Greeks used it. The Romans never took it—always relying on their road systems and giant eagles and whatnot. But yes, I imagine... Fleecy, could you give it a try?"

"Sure, boss!"

Iris winked at them. "Don't tell the other gods, but Fleecy handles most of my messages these days. She's wonderful at it, really, and I don't have time to answer all those requests personally. It messes up my wa."

"Your wa?" Frank asked.

"Mmm. Fleecy, why don't you take Percy, Finley, and Hazel into the back? You can get them something to eat while you arrange their messages. And poor Finley needs detoxifying water more than anything. Experiencing withdrawal like this at sixteen... Well, you're far too young. And for Percy... yes, memory sickness. I imagine that old Polybotes... well, meeting him in a state of amnesia can't be good for a child of P—that is to say, Neptune. Fleecy, give him a cup of green tea with organic honey and wheat germ and some of my medicinal powder number five. That should fix him up.

Hazel frowned. "What about Frank?"

Iris turned to him. She tilted her head quizzically, as if Frank were the biggest question in the room.

"Oh, don't worry," Iris said. "Frank and I have a lot to talk about."

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Finn was throwing up in a communal restroom.

Look, this wasn't her proudest moment. None of it was. She didn't want to be an alcoholic feening for wine amid her withdrawal. She didn't want to be hunched over a toilet, body overcome with incessant shivers and clamminess. She didn't want to be staring back at her own vomit, probably smelling like it too. She didn't want to be anything. She just wanted to be gone. 

Why couldn't her father have given her the ability to disappear from existence? Why had he passed down addiction instead?

Finn knew this was where she would end up the moment Fleecy brought out everything Iris asked. Healthy food, healthy drinks, detoxifying water for Finn, and medicinal green tea for Percy. She was so nauseous that she was searching for a bathroom the moment she took a bite from Fleecy's fruit plate (all natural!).

Which, yeah. Finn could tell it was all natural—all naturally regurgitated into the toilet bowl she leaned over.

The mental effects were just as bad as the physical ones, if not worse. Her brain still felt keyed up as if she were drinking, but it was so clear at the same time. The combination whirled her thoughts, and suddenly Finn's throat was lurching again. She let out more bile into the toilet.

All she could think about when she was sober was everything she didn't want to think about drunk. She thought about Gaea, and how she'd been tormenting Finn's life since she was little. She thought about Isla Briggs, and how she didn't deserve the cruel end of her life. She thought about Camp Jupiter, and the people in it that would never accept her.

She thought about Jason.

"Fuck off," Finn grumbled, as if he was there with her.

She hoped he wasn't. Vomit ran below her chin, her skin was pale, her body was convulsing, and she was covered with sweat. As if Finn couldn't look more pathetic in Jason's eyes, this would definitely top everything off.

"That's not nice," came a voice.

Finn groaned indignantly. She banged her forehead on the rim of the toilet seat.

"Jason?" she croaked. "Fuck off."

"Not Jason, fortunately," said Percy as he shut the door behind him. "I think."

Finn turned her head, and her miserable face didn't drop once. It was, in fact, not Jason and, in fact, Percy. He looked better. Finn assumed it was because of the tea and "Iris-message."

(Whatever that meant.)

"Talked to Sylvie?" Finn asked. It came out more as a grunt.

Percy's face wrenched up as if he were still sick. "It, um... didn't work. I don't know. Fleecy couldn't connect the two of us."

"Damn." Finn spat into the toilet bowl. "That sucks."

"Could be worse," Percy shrugged, trying to keep things light. "I could be you right now."

Finn lifted her head up again to glare weakly at him. "Fuck off."

"You say that a lot, you know."

"Maybe because I want you to fuck off."

Percy didn't seem deterred by this in the slightest. Actually, one corner of his mouth rose, and he stepped closer into the bathroom despite the acrid scent. He sat, legs criss-crossed, with his back against the wall facing the toilet. Probably to get away from her vomit's line of fire.

"You left this behind, by the way," said Percy. He held up the flask of water Fleecy had given Finn to go—It would magically re-fill itself with the water so that Finn could properly try and detox. "Figured you could use it right now."

"Fuck off," Finn said, again. She didn't even know why. Percy had done something nice for her.

But sobriety had made her so miserable. Finn couldn't stand it, and she felt like her head was going to implode. If this was what lack of wine intake did to her, then Finn didn't want it. She didn't want the physical tremors. She didn't want the plaguing thoughts.

"I said that to him, I think," she found herself mumbling.

Percy blinked. He set the flask down on the ground in between them. "Jason? He's not... here right now, Finnegan."

Pain flared in Finn's mind as the memories rushed into her. She was thinking far too straight. She was seeing too many flashes of blonde hair and electric eyes and a stupid fucking scar.

"Not right now," Finn mumbled, almost as if she were reminding herself. "I..."

She tried to prolong thinking about it. A feeble attempt, really.

"Was Sylvie the last person who saw you?" Finn asked suddenly.

Percy tensed. Finn probably wasn't helping his whole "healing from memory sickness" thing, but she couldn't help it. She had to know. For some reason, the answer felt dire to her.

"Um..." Percy's eyes screwed tightly shut, as if he were surfing the waves of his very few memories. "I can't remember," he sounded panicked. "I don't know. I hope so."

Finn hummed emotionlessly. The toilet was her only support right now.

"Why?" Percy asked.

I was the last person who saw Jason, she thought. And no one else knows.

Finn didn't know why she was thinking about this. Maybe this lapse of strength was that severe. Maybe she was so weak that the vulnerable thoughts came spilling into her mind, like wine splashing to the floor.

And that... Well, that...

"Fuck off," Finn slurred, because she was far too drunk for this.

She tried wrenching away, but that just made everything worse. Her force was so sharp that her goblet slipped from her hands. It clattered to the floor, along with the wine, splashing it everywhere.

"Shit!"

"Finn—"

"Shut up, Grace!" Finn glared up at him, drunkenly and half-lidded. "This is all your fault! Look at what you did!"

"I didn't do anything," he said. He just sounded tired.

"Get the fuck away from me."

Jason reached out for her, but Finn flinched away again. He sighed at the realization she would just veer from his touch no matter what he did. His hand dropped down to his side.

"Not when you're like this."

Finn's glare narrowed with the fury of her father. The scent in the crisp, October air turned from sweet to sour by just the irritated curl of her fists.

"Oh, that's right." Finn nodded, and her tone was so thick with passive aggressiveness that it just became aggressiveness. "Praetor Grace caught someone out after curfew and has to go tattle-tale to the higher-ups. I should've known!"

"I'm not doing this with you right now," he said. "You're drunk. Let me just get you back to the barracks."

Finn took two steps closer to him, having to crane her head up. "Fuck. Off."

Now it was Jason's fists that curled. Finn felt a thrill of excitement shoot up her spine at the realization—at getting the "perfect Jason Grace" to crack into something more raw.

He tried consoling himself. He tried keeping his composure.

"Just let me help you, Finn. I won't tell anyone I caught you."

Finn sneered. "Don't call me that."

"Gods!" Jason sniped, finally. "Do you have to be so annoying all the time?!"

Anyone else, and Finn would've cursed them into oblivion. But right now, her scowl just grew into the most amused of smirks.

"Oh, I'm annoying?" She raised her eyebrow. "What else am I?"

Finn was baiting him—always baiting him—and Jason fell for it every time.

"You're lazy and you're a drunk and you don't respect anyone here, or take anything here seriously," he spat, taking angry steps closer so now he had to dip his head down. They were really close. Too close. Finn's mind was already intoxicated, so it was getting hard to think. "You're a brat, Finley!"

The breath Finn sucked in was sharp. The step she took back was against her will. Her head spun with something worse than drunkenness. She blinked, and was shocked to find that this was real. Finn was now Finley to Jason, who was still standing here—far too close to her.

"And you're a fucking sham," Finn argued, though her voice was devoid of anger. If anything, it was shaky and choppy, and so not her own that it scared the both of them. "You don't even belong to yourself anymore, Grace! It's pitiful."

Jason swallowed thickly. It was hard to focus because she was so drunk, but she found her eyes glued to his bobbing Adam's apple anyway.

"That's not..." Jason trailed off, trying to dispel Finn's statement, but he physically couldn't when it was so true. "Fuck you."

When he spoke to her like that, it was so hard to believe that they'd ever been anything more than enemies. It was hard not to focus on her tattoo that was once kissed with such genuine care.

But they weren't seven or eight anymore, and they hadn't been for a while.

Finn shook her head, a miserable smile on her lips. They stood in silence for a while, and Finn could almost pretend that they were fine; that Jason didn't say anything stupid and Finn didn't pull the plug on them. They were just two childhood best friends who never grew apart.

Finn couldn't help it. She asked, "Do you hate me?"

Her eyes finally flitted back up to his. Jason was already staring down at her, intensely. He was breathing heavily, but Finn couldn't tell if it was from anger or not. She couldn't read him anymore. If she could, she wouldn't have uttered the embarrassingly vulnerable four words that she just did.

"No," Jason breathed. "No, of course not."

Finn blinked slowly, disbelievingly. Each blink took immense concentration.

"Are you sure?" Finn's voice came out quieter than she'd ever heard it.

Jason frowned, and he readjusted his entire demeanor. This wasn't "stiff, Roman soldier, praetor" Jason. More like "gentle, humane, good friend" Jason from her childhood. Finn watched him carefully.

"I don't hate you, Finn."

She went quiet. Jason's frown deepened. He tried searching her eyes to gauge her emotions, but Finn wouldn't let him. Tragic twinges of purple stared down at Jason's feet instead.

"I hate you."

Finn kept her gaze to the ground, so she couldn't see Jason swallow. Or grimace. Or twist his face up into such an agonized expression that it would've made Finn's cold heart burn up before splitting in two.

"I know," Jason managed out, though not with much ease.

Finn didn't look up at Jason again until a perfectly curated glare was on her face. When your father was Bacchus, acting was easy. She could play the part, even when she was so drunk that this conversation wouldn't even feel real in the morning.

"Stay away from me," she said finally.

Finley Briggs woke up that morning, and Jason Grace disappeared.

She blinked out of it to realize she'd started pressing the heels of her hands against her temples again. She was doing that far too much lately. It didn't even seem to help anymore.

"No reason," Finn mumbled, finally answering Percy's question of, Why?

Percy blinked, expression bordering something along the lines of worried or judging. "Uh, are you g—?"

Finn snatched up the water flask that Percy had brought to her, and changed it into wine. She started chugging the alcohol from it before Percy could even come to his senses.

Goodbye, sobriety! Finn thought as she drank. You lasted about a good ten hours!

"Finley, you're really not supposed to be doing that."

Now Finn could catch Percy's worry.

She didn't answer until every drop was emptied from the magical flask. It filled itself again with water, but that wouldn't last long.

"Well, I live to disappoint," Finn mumbled, meeting his concerned eyes. "You can't tell anyone about this, skipper. Deal?"

Percy shook his head half-heartedly. "I just really don't think it's healthy—"

"Deal?" Finn demanded. Her eyes flamed purple. It was a terrifying sight.

"Fine," Percy swallowed. "Fine, I won't tell. But..."

He trailed off. He either couldn't decide what to say, or was too afraid to finish. Either option was fine for Finn. She'd heard enough arguments against her drunkenness to last a lifetime—she didn't need a love-sick amnesiac trying to tell her what to do. He was just as pitiful.

"Would it be so bad to get better?"

Percy's question caught Finn by so much surprise her grip on the flask fumbled. She steadied it before turning the mystical water back into red wine again.

(Judge her all you wanted, but Finn was not making it through this whole withdrawal stage.)

"Sure, it would," Finn said. She didn't know what else he expected her to. She didn't have to be completely vulnerable anymore. She could send him an assholish grin and say, "How else am I supposed to waste all my potential?"

The irony to that question actually made Finn laugh. The term "wasted" was like a double entendre for her. She was both getting wasted and wasting away her life, and neither option seemed to be coming to an end any time soon.

Gods, it really was no wonder why Jason left her behind.

Percy still seemed deeply unsatisfied, but Finn didn't mind, because he held back any more comments. That was different, and definitely refreshing. 

In silence, Percy helped Finn up. He didn't say anything as she rinsed her mouth out at the sink and tried adjusting her appearance in the mirror. The lack of feeling pressured or belittled was foreign to her. It made Finn so grateful that she even almost thanked Percy.

But—

"Guys, we need to go!" Hazel threw open the door, looking frantic.

Finn and Percy jolted. For a moment, Finn panicked at the fact her flask was out for Hazel to see. Then she realized Hazel just assumed there was water inside, like there was supposed to be. The only way she or Frank would figure out...

Finn glanced at Percy. He was keeping his mouth shut.

"What's wrong?" he asked, instead of ratting out Finn.

"Frank," said Hazel. "He's outside. Alone. Fighting basilisks."

Finn shook her head a little, internally wondering how fast it took her to get drunk. "He's... what?"

"Just, come on! We need to help him!"

Before Finn could fully process what was happening, Hazel turned on her heel and ran. She had her spatha pulled out, so desperate to help Frank in his time of need. Finn just stood there, so Percy shoved her back with one hand and uncapped Riptide with the other. She finally got with the program and set into motion. As she ran after Percy and Hazel, Finn stuffed her flask in her back pocket so she could hold her gun.

Together, the three of them headed for the exit. They sent Iris and Fleecy quick goodbyes, expecting nothing to come from it, but they were stopped by Iris before they could leave in a hurry.

The rainbow goddess stuffed a tie-dyed satchel with way too many replenishments that Finn couldn't even keep track. Iris did it so quickly, too—just the slow blink of Finn's eyes, and the bag was being shoved into Percy's possession.

She sent Percy her parting words, but Finn wasn't paying attention. She was too busy trying not to break down at how hilarious Percy looked wearing a hippie purse.

"Not a word," Percy grunted under his breath to Finn.

Finn didn't even try concealing her smirk. She shrugged in mock confusion.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She, Percy, and Hazel sprinted out of Iris's store after that. They didn't stop until they found Frank, out in the clearing, where fires burned all around him and ashes lay at his feet. 

Finn readied her gun to take one of the monsters out, but frowned when there was nothing to aim at.

"Are you okay?" Hazel asked Frank.

Percy turned in a circle, looking for enemies. "Iris told Hazel who told us that you were out here battling the basilisks by yourself, and Finnegan and I were like, What? We came as fast as we could."

"They're gone," Finn analyzed stupidly. She lowered her gun in disappointment. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," Frank admitted.

Hazel crouched next to the dirt that seemed as if it had been tampered with. "I sense death. Either my brother has been here or... the basilisks are dead?"

Finn stared at Frank. "You killed them all?"

Frank swallowed. His eyes went a little unfocused, almost scowling at the ground Hazel inspected.

Out of nowhere, he grumbled, "Thanks a lot, Dad."

"What?" Hazel asked. "Frank, are you okay?"

"I'll explain later," he said. "Right now, there's a blind man in Portland we've got to see."

╰━━━ ◦ ✸ ◦ ✸ ◦ ━━━╯

BAILEY YAPS...

So

Okay

Jinley lore but at what cost

I'm sorry if this chapter is all over the place. But like. Finn is all over the place. So I guess it fits. But I also kind of hate this chapter. So if you feel the same please close your eyes and pretend none of this happened

Thanks 

Anyways Finley "wasting away her potential" Briggs and Jason "wasting away who he truly is to keep his potential" Grace 

Jin "wasted like thrown away and wasted like drunk" ley