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I squeeze, because for the first little while, that’s all I can do.
“Daisy,” he says, and he sounds terrible, like he’s been awake for days and days and days. I hope he hasn’t.
Another hand—my dad’s—brushes my hair off my temple. He puts the pad of his thumb gently at the corner of my eye, and when he discovers that my eyes are open, his whole body sags underneath me.
“Daisy.” My dad sounds worse than Hercules.
I clear my throat. “Hi.” Then there’s hair in my face and a light, flowery scent, and feathery kisses. One of them almost goes into my eyeball. “Hi, Mom.”
“Fuck,” Uncle Zeus says from an unknown place in the room.
“Hold it together,” Uncle Poseidon says, and then there’s aslap.
“Jesus, Poseidon, that was myneck.”
“I was trying to clap you on the shoulder. Brotherly shit.”
“Go slap Hades in the face, then.” Even Uncle Zeus, who is the king of sounding like he’s at a party at all times, sounds like he’s filling out paperwork at the DMV.
“I don’t want to die,” Poseidon chokes, and…
It’s starting to sink in that this was, maybe, really, really bad.
I mean…Hercules is sitting next to my dad on a couch somewhere in one of our housesandholding my hand, so…
My lips feel clumsy, like my brain doesn’t want to connect. “Does someone want to tell me why you’re all in here, talking about me?”
Mom keeps running her fingers through my hair, arranging it as much as she can without making me pick up my head. My dad’s heart isracingin his chest, which doesn’t seem right. He’s sitting down. His heart should be resting.
“Do you remember the dream?” Hercules runs the pad of his thumb over my knuckles.
“It was the same as always.”
“No.” A heavy sigh. “It wasn’t. Tell me what was different.”
“Nobody likes to remember bad dreams.”
My dad takes a breath. “Was Conor in it?”
The entire thing, start to finish, comes back in frightening clarity. Usually, I try not to dwell on the nightmare. It’s always been the same one, as long as I can remember. The only thing that’s changed over the years is the kitten, and lately, the kitten going through those gates.
“Yes,” I admit.
“He wasn’t in it before,” Hercules says. “It was only the kitten.”
There’s a soft sound, like Zeus rubbing his hands over his face. “Take us through it again.”
“The first dream that made her have a seizure—”
“Wait.” I try to get up, get out of my dad’s arms, but I can’t. I’m too tired. Even attempting to lift my head makes me dizzy. “You’re giving out my personal information?”
“Yeah. We’re kind of past that being personal information,” Hercules answers.
“Why?”
An awkward silence.
“Should we…leave?” Poseidon asks.
