The Return

 

CHAPTER

 

 

32

 

 

WHEN I opened my eyes, I was staring up at fluorescent lights. For a couple of moments I didn’t move or think beyond those lights. I recognized that I was in some kind of hospital room, but there were no sounds of an IV dripping fluids or of a blood pressure machine or a heart monitor. My mouth was dry and my chest a little sore, but other than that I felt okay. No. I felt more than a little okay. I felt kind of awesome, like I could get out of this narrow bed, and I don’t know, kick some butt or something, which was strange—

 

Holy crap.

 

My chest.

 

Pushing up into a sitting position, I knocked down the thin blanket and found that I had on some kind of horrible bright-pink hospital gown. I yanked the collar out and gaped.

 

Apollo—my father—had thrown a knife at me. The knife had hit me, square between the breasts. A kill shot if I’d ever seen one, but it hadn’t killed me. It had done something else entirely, and now there were faint white marks on my chest, and those marks formed a shape.

 

A straight line about five inches long with two lines looping around it—at the top, the design almost looked like tiny wings.

 

Smacking my gown back in place, I squeezed my eyes shut. Okay. “That’s not a normal scar.” “No. It’s not.”

 

A shriek erupted out of me at the sound of Apollo’s voice. My head whipped to the side. He sat in a chair next to my bed, one leg hooked over the other, and there was no way he’d been sitting there a few seconds ago.

 

At least I hoped he’d hadn’t been when I’d been checking out my boobs.

 

“It is my mark. One of them,” he said, smiling slightly. “Kind of like a rite of passage.”

 

I stared at him for a moment, and then I exploded. “You threw a knife at me!”

 

“I did,” he replied calmly.

 

“You hit me with the knife!”

 

“I did.” He leaned forward, dropping his foot onto the floor. “As I told Seth, unbinding you myself would not be easy. I wish I hadn’t had to do it that way. The last thing I wanted was to cause you pain. I didn’t enjoy any part of that—well, besides the look on Hyperion’s face—but the only way for me to finish unbinding you was to pass you through a mortal death.”

 

My head got tangled up on that, but there was something else important he’d said. “Seth. Where is Seth?”

 

Apollo stared at me with eyes that matched my own, and when he didn’t respond, I tossed back the thin blanket. “Where is he?” I demanded, my heart rate picking up. I remembered seeing him down on the floor. I remembered crawling to him. Knots twisted up my stomach, and I tasted fear once more in the back of my mouth. “Apollo.” My voice cracked.

 

He closed his eyes briefly. “He’s in the very next room, sleeping. He is fine, my daughter.” When I started to swing my legs off the bed, he raised a hand. “I know you are eager to see that for yourself, but trust in me, he is okay. He is the Apollyon. You will not be able to kill him.”

 

Relief loosened my shoulders. “Thank God.”

 

The look on his face said he felt differently. “I hope one day that relief never turns to dread.”

 

Staring at him, it felt like someone had reached around my neck and squeezed, much like Hyperion had. I swallowed— swallowed hard, but I held myself back and pushed that feeling away. I knew everything about Seth. It wasn’t surprising that Apollo would have some…misgivings. Several seconds passed. “What about Erin? She was hurt very badly. He…”

 

“Seth freed her. She’s in Olympus. Healing.”

 

I closed my eyes, but was unable to un-see the condition she’d been in, the damage Hyperion had done to her. “Will I see her again? Soon?”

 

“Yes.”

 

That was a relief—kind of. I hurt for her, and I needed to see her with my own eyes to believe that she was okay.

 

“Daughter…”

 

I opened my eyes, focusing. “I’m a…a demigod now?” “You know the answer to that.”

 

Of course I did. People didn’t levitate off the ground and have solar flares erupt from them if they were mortal.

 

“Your powers are not complete,” he continued. “Hyperion is not entombed. You basically put him in a time-out. When he comes back, he’s going to be very, very upset.”

 

For some reason, I got stuck on what was probably the least important part of all of this. “I’m not going to age anymore, am I?”

 

His golden brows furrowed.

 

“Sorry,” I sighed. “It’s just that’s kind of a… It’s a big deal.”

 

“It is.”

 

“Mortal death. So I…I died?” My voice pitched on the last word.

 

“Yes. And no. Your mortal self passed on. You are a demigod, now immortal in most ways. You still can perish, but it will not be easy. Human illness will no longer touch you. Mortal wounds will not kill you.”

 

I slowly shook my head. I had no idea what to say to that. I felt the same, only a little different, so it was hard to fully grasp what had happened to me. Part of me wanted to, I don’t know, jump out of a window and see if I’d land on my feet.

 

He reached up, rubbing the palm of his hand across the center of his chest, the movement weary. “But there is more that you must do. There is an icon of mine you must find, as the rest of the demigods will need to find theirs. Once unbound and with all of the icons, you all will be able to face the Titans.”

 

“An icon? What does that mean?”

 

“There’s a certain librarian I think you should speak with,” he said mysteriously, and then he rose, exhaling raggedly. Fine white lines appeared at the corners of his mouth, and a nugget of concern wiggled free. He looked…tired. I hadn’t thought it possible that gods could get tired.

 

Apollo leaned forward, pressing the tips of his fingers against my cheek like he’d done in my dorm, but now his touch was cool. Unbinding me had weakened him. It took something from him. But if he hadn’t made that choice to unbind me, I would’ve died, or worse. With Hyperion—with the Titans—there were things far worse than death.

 

“Thank you,” I said, clearing my throat, but the words still rasped out. “Thank you for saving my life.”

 

His eyes met mine, and he lowered his hand as he straightened. He shimmered a brilliant blue before disappearing.

 

I stared at the spot where he’d stood as I reached up, placing my hand against my cheek. Tears burned my eyes. I don’t know why I wanted to cry. Probably because I had a lot of reasons to do so.

 

Drawing in a deep breath, I swallowed those tears and pushed off the bed. The tile floor was cool under my feet. I wiggled my toes, and then I took a step, and then another. I opened the door, and somehow, I just knew to take a right, like by some weird instinct.

 

The next door didn’t have a window, but I turned the handle and slowly opened it. My breath caught, and my knees suddenly went weak even though I felt more energized than I had in…well, in forever.

 

It was like I was seeing him for the first time. As if a thin film had been removed from my eyes.

 

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