Angie's hand was framed around the doorknob to Zeus's palace when everything began to shake out of control. She fought to maintain her balance, and seemed to be winning for a second, before another violent tremor sent her tumbling, arms flailing in a futile attempt to catch herself.
"Angie!" Clio hooked an arm through hers, helping her to her feet.
"It's not—this can't be," she said, and turned, looking back at Hades. "What's going on? Are we too late?"
He swallowed, his hair in disarray and his glasses slightly askew. "I don't know," he stammered. "I don't know. But Persie...Persie's in there."
"We're going in," said Conny, gun gripped so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were a mottled pinkish-white. With a sharp exhale, he blew a strand of his hair from out of his eyes. "We have to. You first, Angie. We'll all be behind you."
She nodded at him, then at Clio. Her sword felt strange and warm in her hands, almost like it was buzzing. She stepped forward to push the door open, just as the palace began to crumble, one crack forming, then splitting into two, six, too many to count. Dust flew into the air, stinging Angie's eyes, making her cough. She thought she heard screaming, somewhere over the thunderous thuds of marble and stone crumbling away.
The bulky shadow of a golden spire loomed above Angie's head. Before she could make sense of it, vines had curled around Angie's waist, flinging her backwards with enough force to send her stomach into her throat and yank the air from her lungs. She skidded across the ground, only stopping when Conny caught her, sweeping an arm around her back.
"Clio," she said, forcing herself up onto her elbows. "Where's Clio? What was—"
A familiar voice, cool and collected and thus twice as unsettling, interrupted the panicked storm of Angie's thoughts. "Where's the zombie?"
Esme stood like a vengeful witch among the rubble, black dress rippling behind her. Something about her was different, Angie thought. Something in her face had changed—the eyes dimmer, the smile more unhinged, like somewhere, somehow, she had lost a part of herself. No. That she'd killed it.
Angie struggled to her feet, pushing Conny away when he tried to steady her. "Go look after Hades," she said as he looked at her, grayish eyes wide and dazed. "I'll handle this."
He shook his head, hair falling lank into his eyes. "Angie—"
"Go, Conny," she snapped, and couldn't keep the frustration from her voice. "I'm not—I'm not letting anyone else get hurt, okay?"
She could tell by the tense furrow between his eyebrows that it was the very last order he wanted to obey. Nevertheless, he nodded at her, turning back and going after Hades, who had disappeared somewhere amongst the rubble of the former palace.
Angie's eyes flicked anxiously about, skimming the grim scene before her. The sky and clouds were a deep, ash-like gray, the air thickened with dust and tiny bits of crushed stone, enough that she could hardly see into the distance. Where were the other gods? She thought she could make out moving shadows somewhere beyond her, but it wasn't enough to dispel the chaos. None of it was enough to tell her what she wanted, needed, to know.
"It's so unlike you to abandon your friends," said Esme, and when Angie's eyes flickered towards her again, she was lowered in a crouch, peering at something amongst the rubble. "Not very godly of you, to be honest. Or maybe, based upon our current definitions of a god, it's the pinnacle of godliness, in that sense."
Angie inched closer, the grooves of her switchblade handle digging painfully into her palm, her heartbeat running away from her as she recognized the weakened shape Esme was examining: the lovely hand, skin like porcelain, painted with blood.
Clio, trapped beneath a bed of rubble, the heavy-lidded look to her slate-colored eyes revealing that she was barely conscious.
"Clio!" Angie dashed towards her just as the ground quivered again, sending her flailing to her knees. Her eyes stung, blood on fire with the beginnings of rage.
"She saved you." Esme's voice was closer now. It was twisted and wrong in Angie's ears, a damaged record. "How nice of her. I was going to let the falling rubble get rid of you, but now because of her kindness I get to take care of you myself."
Angie stood, dragging the back of her hand across her forehead, mopping away the sweat and grime. "Is this what you want, Esme? Really? To destroy everything before you've taken the time to understand any of it?"
"What more is there to understand? You and I have both lived on this Earth, Angie, while they've just been passive observers," Esme sneered, tossing an arm up, gesturing at the turmoil she'd created. "They get bliss, we get hell. How is that fair?"
At that, Angie couldn't help but scoff. "It isn't all hell. And if there weren't hell, how would we know what was good?"
Esme inhaled, a vein in her neck bulging like a snake beneath her skin. This close, Angie realized red was bleeding slowly into the whites of her eyes, the skin on her hands puckered with black sores. This power, wherever she had gotten it from—though Angie had a sickening hypothesis—was destroying her, eating her from the inside out.
The rage quieted inside of her, if only a little, adjusting to match instead the beat of pity.
"You poor thing," Esme said. "They've manipulated you into thinking that this is the only proper way of things. In another life, we could have worked together, you and I."
"Yeah." Angie swung her hand down, sword zipping from its sheath. "In another life."
The ground once again began to tremble as if they stood upon a fault line, but Angie had planned for that. She jumped, sword arcing towards Esme's shoulder, but the girl was nimble, stepping aside so that Angie's blade met only dust. Squinting her eyes against the plumes of small debris, Angie sunk into a lunge, aiming instead for Esme's side. She hopped backwards, knocking over a flaming torch as another crack formed amongst the cobblestones between Angie's feet. Angie let out a grunt of annoyance, staggering to safety, watching the flames build.
"Does it frustrate you?" Esme taunted. "That me, a mere human, could threaten you like this?"
"For the last time," Angie said, a loud sching piercing her eardrums as she held up her sword, level with her face. "I'm human, too. The difference between us isn't in our celestial make up. The difference is I'm not fucking crazy."
Esme's cackle carried on the wind, and it was enough to curdle Angie's blood. "I think we hold too much value in being sane, anyway."
Esme shrugged, and that was when Angie noticed it—her right hand was furled tightly into a fist, the puckered skin of that arm dark and leaking blood. It was a guess, Angie supposed, but if she could take away whatever she was holding, could she end this?
The ground rumbled again.
Angie closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in.
The second the ground was still, she darted forward. Lunging at Esme's left side, she thrust her blade forward. Esme whirled to block her, and Angie was sure she had her. The sword was not a sword at all. Once again, it'd become only a switchblade.
Angie grinned, whirling towards Esme's now open right side, blade unfurling. It cut thinly through the air, whistling in Angie's ear—and then stopped.
Stopped, entirely, Angie unable to jerk it backwards or forwards no matter her strength.
She turned, straining to look into Esme's eyes. They were blue, all blue, swallowed by a capricious sea.
"Poor thing," Esme said again, before she snapped Angie's sword in half.
Conny found Hades leaned against the remnants of a marble fountain, now just a headless carved body clutching a cracked lightning bolt. Persephone was crouched in front of him, her hand framed tenderly upon his face.
Conny ignored the shudder that shook him as he edged closer, fighting to keep his balance as heaven itself quivered beneath his feet. "Persephone, Hades, you're okay," he said, though Hades looked dazed, like he wasn't on exactly the same plane as the rest of them. "Do either of you happen to know what the hell's going on?"
"Esme and Poseidon asked Zeus to make her a goddess. He said no, so they did this," Persephone answered, gesturing at the ruins that now surrounded them.
Hades coughed, struggling to sit up straighter. "Poseidon must have...must have given her a talisman."
Conny frowned at him. "Talisman?"
"It's exactly how it sounds."
The trio looked up as another figure made his way towards them, expertly hopping over a pile of destroyed stone. Dread built in Conny's chest at the sight of him, how bright he was, even amongst the dimness. "Apollo," Conny said, as a warning, trigger finger tensed.
Apollo lifted his hands, palms facing Conny. "Whoa there, little man. At least listen to what I'm telling you first."
"As if you ever tell anything but lies? And what did I tell you about calling me little?"
"Apollo," said Persephone, calmly, her eyes dark and knowing as she regarded him. "Where is Poseidon? Zeus? Why are they just letting this happen?"
"Most of the pantheon fled as soon as Esme started destroying the palace, Zeus included, if I had to guess. After all, the only reason she's able to do this is because of the talisman Poseidon gave her—an object he imbued with his power."
"Fighting Esme means fighting Poseidon," Hades croaked, his eyes closing. "And that means war."
"So they're just gonna let Olympus be destroyed?" Conny snapped. "Cowards, all of them."
"A shame they didn't stay to see the show." Apollo glanced off at something in the distance, and Conny followed his gaze. Though the mounting clouds of dust obscured his vision, he could still make out Angie's silhouette, the strong set to her shoulders as she raised her sword against Esme standing before her.
Go, Conny, she'd told him. That's all anyone ever told him—Angie, Alex, it didn't make a difference. He could never do anything but run.
"She'll run out of steam eventually," said Apollo, frowning. "Esme, I mean. I told Poseidon this wasn't a good idea. She's a mortal, with no godly blood in her whatsoever. She can only wield a power like that for so long before it kills her."
"So that's what everyone is betting on," Persephone mused. "They figure they don't have to fight her if she exhausts herself first."
Apollo shrugged. "And is that so wrong?"
"Apollo, you fucking idiot." Conny shot to his feet. Persephone and Hades both looked at him, concerned, but Conny tuned them out. "You stand there, all suave, like this isn't your fucking fault. See all of this? The ruined palace, Olympus burning? It's all because you refuse to stand up to Poseidon, to treat him like the complete fool he is. No one will! They all run instead of facing him. Tell me, is he really worth that kind of fear?"
Apollo was unfazed. "To be fair, I did my best to warn you that it might come to this."
"Oh yeah?" Conny scoffed. "How so?"
"I thought if I sent a little dream to that human—oh, what's his name, Vikram, I think? I thought that maybe you'd figure it out."
A wave of shock struck Conny, stunning him enough that for a moment he couldn't even find the words to respond. "That dream was from you? I don't get it. Why give it to Vik?"
"Because he'd be the last person you expect. Because he was so far from the problem. It gives it more weight, don't you think?"
Conny's hands had begun to tremble. From what Alex had told him, Vik had worried over that dream for nights on end. How many nights of sleep had Vik lost just for Apollo's half-assed little experiment? "I know what you were trying to do," Conny said, and Apollo blinked at him. "You thought that if you gave us an advantage, you wouldn't look as bad when it all went to shit. You were trying to save yourself."
"Oh, come on, I—"
"Did you think Hermes would forgive you then, or something?"
Apollo went still. Silent. The radiant smile on his face dimmed, and for once, he matched the grayness that surrounded them.
"You're even more of a fool than Poseidon," Conny spat, mouth curled in a sneer. "No one will ever forgive you for that."
Another violent tremor in the ground knocked Conny off his balance, and he faltered, going to one knee. An anguished cry echoed in his ears, and it terrified him, because he knew that voice. The word came out in a gasp: "Angie?"
He turned his head, searching frantically, his heart sinking when he found her. He didn't know the details, but could understand more than enough from what he saw before him—Angie, without her sword. Angie, Esme's hand closed around her throat.
Go, Conny.
What could he do against a divine power like the one Esme wielded? He, who had nothing to his name but a former syndicate reputation and a blog that had lost half its followers in the past two weeks? You're a fucking nobody.
Conny let the words echo in his mind until they numbed him, until he no longer knew how to care.
Then he turned to Hades. "Is Poseidon the only one who can bestow talismans, or whatever?"
"Conny," Persephone warned. "What are you thinking?"
"Just answer the question please, somebody."
"N-No," Hades stammered. "In principle, any god could do that. But it's dangerous for both the gods and the mortals involved, so it's not common anymore."
"Give me one," Conny gasped, spitting the words out all in one breath. "Let me borrow your power, Hades. You can't fight like this, and Angie's going to die. I need you to do this for me."
Angie's going to die. Alex's going to die. Clio's going to die. This was the only way he could save them. He wasn't running away anymore.
Persephone laughed, but her face was rife with terror. "Conny, you're kidding. It could kill you."
"And if it doesn't kill you, it would...change you," Hades said, wide-eyed. "Irreversibly."
"This is nonsense," Persephone said after a moment, getting to her feet. "I'll go help Angie. You stay here with—"
"No." Conny surprised himself with the authority, the conviction, in his voice. He was even more surprised when Persephone stopped and listened. "I'm tired of staying here. She's my friend. She's more than that; she's my family. I have to do this. Hades, you have to let me do this."
Hades heaved a long sigh, an exhausted, sorrowful noise. Coal black eyes stared at Conny, boring a hole into him, holding him captive.
"Constantine," Hades said. "If you do this, if I give this to you, you will die. So I have to ask you: are you sure this is what you want?"
Sure.
Was he sure?
If he didn't, he risked proving that he was what everyone already thought he was: utterly useless. If he didn't, he risked losing everyone he loved.
There was no choice to make at all, really.
Alex. Mom. I'm sorry. But maybe one day soon you'll understand.
Conny held out his hand. "I'm positive."