The Grace took her last gasp of air just as Panacea appeared.
Hermes felt it when Pasithea’s life slipped away, her powers of relaxation and hallucination flowing from her lifeless body, returning to Chaos. But there was something else. A foreign power that snapped out of existence the moment she died. Its signature was too faint to place, but Hermes knew what its presence meant.
Someone had been pulling her strings.
The clue to who was after Iliana was right there, but he didn’t have time to pursue it. Didn’t have time to wonder who would manipulate a desperate Grace into attacking Iliana.
All he had time for was the dying mortal lying so still in his arms.
Panacea didn’t spare the goddess a glance, her eyes going straight to Iliana. Her friend.
“Fix her,” Hermes snapped. “She’s not dying.”
Panacea knelt close to them, her hands over Iliana’s head and chest. “Hold back your power if you want to keep her soul intact,” she warned.
She didn’t need to explain further. As a psychopomp, his instincts would urge him to fulfill his duty when she neared death. One wrong spike of his powers, and he could tear Iliana’s soul away from her body.
“I know,” he said gruffly, then turned his focus to Iliana, his fingers stroking her arm gently. “Stay with me, sweet girl,” he begged. “It’s not time.”
He didn’t dare touch her damaged face, already swollen and discolored. The delicate bones were shattered underneath her soft skin. He wasn’t sure what else to do with his shaking hands, so he held her, hoping she could still feel him there. He hoped that, though she had faced a goddess alone, she wouldn’t feel alone now.
“Iliana!”
Hermes looked over to see Thanatos and Anubis bursting from the entrance of the home, with Hypnos staggering through behind them.
Thanatos was across the room in a moment, brushing away blood-matted hair from Iliana’s forehead. “No,” he said brokenly.
Hermes clenched his teeth, wanting to pull her away from him.
Death had left her at that pathetic excuse of a safe house. He’d let those things crawl up and attack their girl. From the look in his eyes, Hermes knew the god was suffering more than any barbed words or accusations could cause.
It wasn’t as if Hermes was blameless either. Staying in that yurt would’ve been the smarter move, but he’d chased a cure for her curse instead. He left her with only one protector.
That had been his call.
Even after that mistake, he’d pulled her out of the yurt and left her alone. Again. He should’ve known Iliana wouldn’t listen. She’d been desperate to help Hypnos, ready to fight for what she believed was right.
He carefully pulled Iliana closer. “She’s holding on,” Hermes forced out. “Pan, is she…?”
Thanatos flinched at the unspoken question.
Is she going to die?
Panacea didn’t look up, concentrating on Iliana as her healing powers made her hands glow. “Cheekbone. Jaw. Detached retina. Brain bleed…”
Hermes wanted to ignore her words, but they were carving themselves into his brain.
“I’m stabilizing her first. Then I’ll repair what I can.”
Anubis joined them, his jaw set in a firm line as he clutched Iliana’s limp hand in his own. “What can you not fix?”
Panacea didn’t answer him. Didn’t even look at him. She just kept working on Iliana’s broken body.
Anubis tensed. Hermes watched the god battle between rage and fear, but there wasn’t anything to fight. No enemy to punish. Only the wreckage Pasithea left behind.
Crunching footsteps announced Hypnos’ approach as he took a staggering step forward. His breathing was ragged. His eyes were transfixed. Not on Pasithea’s body. Not on his ex-wife lying dead mere feet away, but to Iliana, who was lying unmoving in Hermes’ arms, broken and bloodied.
Hypnos collapsed, as if nothing could hold him up any longer. He reached out—stopped inches from her—then jerked back as if she’d burned him. “I should’ve…if I’d just—” He didn’t finish. Instead, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob tore through his throat, raw and broken. Pure self-loathing.
