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He closes his eyes.
For another pounding, thundering heartbeat, nothing happens.
Then a crease appears in his forehead. It’s the only outward sign that this is costing him anything at all.
I don’t know how that could be possible, because Ifeelit. The intense, unrelenting pressure of his mind. His power? Whatever it is, I don’t know how he survives it minute after minute. It’s the weight of the world, crushing, crushing, crushing.
And that—that can’t be the solution. I don’t need to destroy that stone room, or the gates, I need him toget there.I need him to bring Hercules back to life, and that won’t happen by crushing his heart.
“Persephone.” My dad doesn’t open his eyes.
Mom’s at his side in an instant, leaning in close, her head on his arm. Her silver eyes meet mine as she reaches for his hand. She doesn’t smile at me. Doesn’t say a word. But her eyes, which have been soft and warm and gentle all my life, are steely.
The moment she touches my dad’s hands, I feel her, too. This time, I can’t hold in the gasp. It’s like gold thread through my veins. Roots tunneling into the earth. The wild thrash of flowers opening. It’s equal and opposite to my dad. Every bit as intense, and it’s all flowing directly through me and into Hercules.
“Follow it,” my mom murmurs.
“I can’t,” I say.
But she’s not talking to me. My dad lifts his head and rests it on hers.
I hold my breath.
If this means it’s my fault that he dies, too, then—
I don’t know what I’ll do. Scream for the rest of my life. Cry until I’m dead.
Understand exactly how Hercules felt.
But my dad keeps breathing, even as his brothers arrive to hold him upright, to keep him from crushing my mom.
“Please.” Everybody in this room is already doing as much as they can. I’m not talking to them. “Please, come back.”
18
HERCULES
Daisy was right—nothinghurts here.
For the first few seconds after I stop rolling, I don’t move. Everything about this place is peaceful, and not in an ambush kind of way—actually peaceful. My nerves have been trained by years on the street and in battle to constantly scan for threats. I do it once out of habit and know that I’ll never have to do it again.
I’d been focused on Daisy before. Daisy and her dark, nightmare beauty. Daisy and the incredible strength of will it takes to turn that inward instead of letting it out. She lasted a long time, doing that, and in the end when her strength failed, the effects were mostly on me. That’s okay. I’m strong enough to handle it. Better me than anyone else.
Better me here than her.
They need her. And for once, I didn’t fail them.
I lie on my back on soft grass. Not a single piece is withered or sharp, and the ground cradles me like I was born from it. I’m so comfortable that I think the dirt is making it happen, or the grass, but eventually I decide that while the grass is incredibly soft and the dirt beneath is as springy as the most expensive mattress, it’s my body that’s different.
My shoulder has bothered me since I crushed it trying to save Ollie, but the pain is gone. All the small hitches and tugs from the scar tissue have vanished. There’s no referred pain in my back, no soreness in my scapula from forcing my posture into a position that would take off the pressure. No nagging pains in my ankles or knees. No surprise phantom pains in the scars on my hands, which were made when I tried to drag Ollie somewhere, anywhere, he could be saved.
There is no threat to respond to. There is no call to answer. I’m as free as I ever have been, lying in a field of daisies, looking up at a blue-gold sky. At the morning, coming to life.
I run my palm over the tiny flowers. They’re silky under my skin, fresh and new and safe.
The one disconcerting thing is the lack of a heartbeat.
I felt it fade when we were both here, but there were more pressing things to worry about.
