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“What?” Poseidon whispers.
“It’s about Ollie.”
My dad and Poseidon exhale at the same time, and my dad repositions, letting the arm of the couch take more of his weight. “How much of a problem are we talking about?”
“Significant,” Zeus answers.
“How significant?” whispers Poseidon.
“First.” I can’t see Zeus hold up one finger, but I know he’s doing it. “You’ve made your point. And second, Hades, there’s a fuckload of broken glass on the floor of your weight room, and one of the bars has been quite literally torn out of the studs. Ares thought he was having a panic attack.”
“He was—” Poseidon’s too loud, and Zeus cuts him off with what sounds like a hand over his mouth. After a few beats, Poseidon continues in a voice just above a whisper. “He was in the Special Forces. The man doesn’t have panic attacks.”
“Please.” My dad might be the quietest of all of them, but he’s still the most cutting. And this isn’t even him at hismostcutting. “I know you’ve had men on your crew face similar issues.”
“But he’s Hercules.” Poseidon’s not making a joke. I can hear him frowning. “He was always a tough bastard.”
“Apparently, he has some concern that Daisy is the third person he won’t be able to save,” Zeus says. “He’s never seemed particularly superstitious to me, but it has meaning for him. And regardless of whether his concern is justified—”
“Of fucking course it’s justified,” Poseidon interrupts.
“Regardless,there’s no way we can put him on the train and put her on a helicopter. They both have to go together. He’s under the impression that somebody else can take his place with her.”
“That’s not the case.” My dad’s worried, which makesmeworried. More worried, I mean. I’m already baseline worried, given…the situation.
“He said he didn’t have as big of an effect. That’s what he said.” It’s harder to keep my voice quiet than I thought it’d be. “Was he wrong?”
“What did he say, exactly?” Zeus asks.
“He said all he did was keep the wave in rhythm. Not below the line.”
Zeus sighs. “Then yes. He was wrong.”
“How?”
“The rhythm is as important as the height. It’s hard to see that when there’s seizure activity, because it’s at the top of the graph, but it’s just as important.”
Hercules breathes, his body moving gently up and down. He’s heavy enough that I know he’s actually sleeping. Not faking it.
He’s exhausted.
I’m exhausting.
A witch who puts visions in his head.
This whole thing is too much.
“What are our other options?” My mom is calm, too, and honestly…I’m not sure how she does it. Even at his calmest, my dad feels like an inhuman strength that’s barely being kept in check. Then again, she told Zeus and Poseidon toget the fuck in the house, and that was enough.
Brute strength isn’t the only power.
My mind catches on what Zeus said and repeats it back to me, over and over, as the conversation stirs softly around us.
He has some concern that Daisy is the third person he won’t be able to save.
People saythings come in threesall the time. That doesn’t make it true. The idea that the vastness of the universe results in such a regular pattern can only be an idea. It can’t be reality, because life is too big and chaotic for that.
But…does it matter? If our human experience tells us that the rule of three is a pattern that can be counted on—if weall,in some shape or form, believe that it’s true—then maybe it does.
