And by then it was too late.

*   *   *

“Demeter!”

Athena jerked upright in her bed. Her arms struck out, idiotic panic punches at nothing but the warm, quiet air of her room. Had she screamed? She thought she’d heard herself shout as she woke, or maybe that’s what woke her. She felt back for her pillow. It was soaked with sweat. Her hair, too, was wet. And when she made to swing her legs out of bed they were hopelessly tangled in damp sheets. She turned for the bedside lamp and saw a thin, moonlit face standing inside her door.

“Hermes.” She flipped on the light and rubbed her hand across her face. “Did I wake you? Did I scream?”

“We both did.” Hermes was pale. The whole of him was covered with sweat. His T-shirt stuck to every hollow of every rib.

“We both?” Athena extricated her legs from the sheets and slipped her feet out.

“Demeter in the desert,” she said, and Hermes nodded. “She was asleep and they—they cut her apart with their shears.” She saw it again as soon as she said it. Twin silver blades, racing through Demeter’s skin. Clean cuts all. They moved through her like razors through wrapping paper, so fast it took seconds before the wounds realized they should bleed.

“They were so sharp,” Hermes whispered.

She looked at him. He was more than terrified; he was close to crying. She wondered if he could taste the blood and desert dust in his mouth like she could.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she said. “It doesn’t mean it’s true. It’s just a dream.”

“We don’t have just dreams.”

No, they didn’t. And certainly not the same dream at the same time. The Moirae were doing it. They were killing them all. Aunt Demeter … Athena closed her eyes.

“Do you think they did it because of what happened at Hephaestus’ house?” Hermes asked, shaking. “Because I stood against them? Because we fought?”

“I think they did it because they’re mad,” she said quietly. “And I mean mad like nuts. Not because they were angry with you.”

“But they were. They had to be. You didn’t see the way they broke Hephaestus’ bones. The way Atropos smiled—” His breath hitched and he hugged himself. Sweat beaded on his forehead and upper lip.

“Hermes.”

“You didn’t see!” And just like that he collapsed at her feet.

“Hermes!”

He flopped and jerked and bit his tongue; blood shone red and slick on his teeth and lips. She shouted for Odysseus, for anyone as she held him down, ignoring how hot his skin was and how many bones she could feel.

“Is this it?” she heard herself screaming, and it made no sense. He was sick, that’s all. He was sick and he’d upset himself. Any moment he’d be still, and take a breath, and his eyes would roll back the right way.

“Oh, shit.”

She looked up; Odysseus stood over them.

“Help us!” she shouted, and he knelt and took Hermes’ head in his hands.

“He’s burning up. Hermes, can you hear me?” He slapped his cheeks lightly. Hermes bucked in her grip.

“Give him here.” Ares bent and scooped him up, keeping his head clear of Hermes’ flailing arms. “Get ice.”

“What are you doing?” Athena blinked confusedly as Odysseus dashed for the kitchen.

“We’ve got to get his fever down,” Ares said.

Athena darted past them in the hall and opened the bathroom door wide, noting absently that Hermes had found time to fix it since she’d ripped it off its hinges. After the first time she’d heard him fall.

She tore half the shower curtain off its rings pulling it back.

“Cold water,” Ares barked. “Push the plug down.”

Ares set their brother down gently. The water touching his bandaged hand churned pink and Athena winced when he splashed it over Hermes’ thin arms and shoulders. It must’ve been so cold. Such a shock.

But Hermes didn’t shiver. He didn’t take great gulps of air. He lay in the frigid water as though he was dead. But at least he stopped thrashing.

“What’s going on?”

Athena glanced over her shoulder and saw Thanatos standing in the doorway with wide eyes.

“You get out!” she shouted. “Get out of my house! Now!”

He backed out slowly. Goddamned Death.

“Ice,” Odysseus said. He emptied three trays of cubes into the bath before Ares stopped him on the fourth.

“Keep that one. We might need it later. And refill the rest.”