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I’m not sure what happens next. Yelling, I think. A lot of yelling. I’m on the bed with Apollo, wiping at his face. He doesn’t seem to recognize me. His eyes start to roll back in his head, and then there’s a lot of shouting, and a high-pitched shriek that I belatedly understand is every alarm in the room going off.
Which is what happens when someone’s dying.
And then someone reaches past Ares and takes Apollo’s shoulder and holds.
It’s Uncle Hades.
I find him in the crowd of my family. “What are you doing?”
Apollo blinks. He blinks again. He focuses on my face.
“I’m crushing his heart,” Hades says. “As gently as I can.”
20
APOLLO
Something feels really weird.
In my chest.
Like my heart is getting punched over and over and over again. But it’s a good kind of punch, because I can also feel my blood moving through my body. Which is not a sensation I would recommend that everyone experience. It’s disorienting. You’re not supposed to feel your own blood.
“Apollo,” says Artemis.
I’ve been somewhere else, but I haven’t left the bed. It takes me years to look at her, though I’m already facing her direction. She’s climbed up onto my bed and is just sitting in what can only be described as a horrifying mess. I’m covered in blood. It looks like I was vomiting up my own organs.
Despite the bloodbath, Artemis is perfect. Still beautiful, even with blood in her hair and on her face and on her hands. She’s holding both my hands in hers.
The room is quiet, but there are?—
People. Breathing. At least three. Someone has a hand on my shoulder. Maybe two people. But I have the distinct sense that if I turn my head to look at them, I won’t have any energy to keep living.
“Is that mine?” I ask Artemis.
“Not all of it,” she answers. “But it doesn’t bother me. Listen.”
I’m hot again.
Hotter.
Less hot.
Ice?
My tongue feels weird in my mouth. Artemis squeezes my hand tight in both of hers.
“Apollo,” she says. “Apollo.”
“Yeah?” I finally manage.
She holds up our hands. There’s her moonstone ring. I remember when she was a blood moon on the aircraft carrier. “We’re engaged. You know what that means, right?”
“Married.”
“Right. Being engaged means we’re going to get married.” Artemis’s voice shakes, but she doesn’t let any tears fall. They’re swimming in her eyes. I love her honey-gold eyes. They’re so bright and sunny. She made a good moon, though. She was beautiful when she was the moon. When she was a bride.
“Apollo,” she says, her voice very quiet. “Stop dying and pay attention.”
