“Turtle up,” he said, and set the shield in front of them. No time like the present to find out what it was worth.

Ares’ face, smeared with blood, came into view first. There was just enough time for Hermes to think, Oh, shit, before Athena shouted, “Get out of my way,” and pushed past him. Hermes let the shield roll, let Henry scramble to keep it from bouncing down the million or so remaining stairs.

It was Athena. It was his sister.

Hugging her felt so good it seemed imaginary, even if the impact of her rattled all the bones in his body.

*   *   *

When Athena threw her arms around her brother, she thought she’d never let go. She was afraid it was all an illusion, that they’d never escaped the underworld at all and any moment Hermes would dissolve into molecules right beneath her fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Shut up. You’re here. You’re back. I found you.” He squeezed her tighter. “Though admittedly I wasn’t really looking.”

“Odysseus? Odysseus!” Andie shouted and stumbled on jelly legs down the steps to put her hands on his shoulders in disbelief. “You’re alive.”

“Thanks to her.” He grinned at Athena. “And him, if you can believe it.”

Ares tipped an imaginary cap with his mangled hand.

“What are they doing here?” Henry asked, glaring at Panic and Oblivion.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Athena said. She held Hermes at arms’ length. He looked thinner. More pale. And weary. He looked incredible.

“Where’s Cassandra?” Odysseus asked. “And Cally?”

“Finding their way back,” Andie answered. “At least that’s what Demeter said when we went to see her in the desert. We haven’t seen them since the fight on Olympus. We thought they were dead. We thought you all were.”

Athena nodded. So Cassandra and Calypso were together. Good. At least they weren’t alone. And it was good, too, that Cassandra wasn’t with Hermes. She’d have killed Ares if she was, and Athena owed him more than half a trip up the underworld’s stairs. But they would find her. And soon.

I won’t pick sides.

But that felt like a lie.

“If you weren’t looking for me,” she asked Hermes, “what are you doing down here?”

“The Moirae,” he said. “They’re up there with Achilles. In Hephaestus’ house. They’ve got him. We were after the shield and we got it. But we had to run. Athena.” He grabbed her arm. “I stood against them. They’re weakening. Hephaestus told me to come back, if I found help.”

Athena thought quickly, remembering how it felt to have the Moirae in her head on Olympus. How easily they’d forced her to her knee. But Hermes had faced them down.

And I stood, too, when I had to. When Odysseus fell.

“We have to go back up.” Hermes tugged her gently. “Hephaestus was trying to help us.”

“Then we won’t lose him.” She nodded to Ares, and he sprinted ahead at once. Athena choked down the urge to tell him not to do anything stupid. Wasted words.

Odysseus flipped his sword in his hand, but Athena pressed it to his side.

“Don’t face him,” she said.

“Not going to face him. I’m just going to give back this sword, and we’ll call it quits.”

“I mean it. You’d lose.”

“Yes,” he said. “But it’d be closer than you think.”

*   *   *

Athena knew long before she got inside Hephaestus’ house that it was over. Ares hadn’t even bothered to battle cry.

The sight when she reached the top of the stairs was sad and strangely empty. The fireplaces still burned. Hermes pressed a hand to a motorized chair and declared it still warm. No doubt the blood was warm, too, where it lay in streaks and puddles. Everything about the scene felt immediate, as though if they’d gotten there a blink sooner they’d have seen it all. But Hephaestus was gone. Vanished. Not even a twisted body remained for them to mourn.

“I can’t tell if he left alive.” Ares studied the tracks of blood covering most of the floor. If Hephaestus left alive, he’d done so in pieces. “There’s too much corruption to the trail. The Moirae dragged themselves through it. Maybe they dragged him along behind. Or maybe he dragged himself, and got away.” He leaned in and sniffed a spray of red. “Not all of it’s his. Good on him.”

“Will you cut the CSI,” Hermes snapped. “Goddamn it.”