her alone!” Artemis shouted, fear in her voice.
“Like I would hurt my child,” Horus growled at her as he yanked the arrow from his shoulder.
Horus’s lion leaped over the broken pews and lunged at Menai. Menai shot another arrow. In midair, the lioness transformed into a cat, the arrow missing, and then it was back to the lioness, slamming into Menai. Artemis screamed, struggling against Horus’s hold even as the god fought against Athena, while Dora and more of her horrors dealt with Apollo.
Horus commanded the lioness, and instead of ripping out Menai’s throat, the large beast lay on Menai’s chest, pinning her to the floor. Menai’s curses and struggles didn’t seem to bother the lioness.
“Go, go, go,” I whispered, and we crouched down, hurrying away from the altar.
Dora disappeared, then reappeared in front of us. Athena shot another bolt, and it hit the statue of Jesus perched on the peak of the high altar. It cracked, chunks smashing into the ground next to the altar, and way too close to the Hands. Dora dragged me to the altar, sending Kieran airborne with a wave of her hand.
But Kieran stopped, hovering in the air for a second before slowly being set down. Sebastian, his face and clothes covered in blood, stood in the doorway. He looked like some ancient god of death, his gray eyes burning like molten silver. I knew Zaria must’ve died a gruesome death.
On her feet, Kieran ran to my father, as Sebastian strode down the aisle, ignoring the fighting around him, his gaze locked on mine. But a horror jumped in his path as Dora shoved me at the table.
Athena screamed her fury. She ran for Dora, tackling her to the ground and knocking the table hard as Apollo slammed into it after a punch from Horus. The Hands were hit and went flying high into the air.
Athena was pinned beneath Dora, but her sharp gaze found me immediately. “Do it! Do it now!”
“Yes! Do it!” Dora sneered, throwing Athena off, grabbing my father with an invisible hand. In a blink he was flat on his back on the altar table with a dagger raised at his heart. “Do it!”
The Hands crested in the air and began to fall. In those two seconds, a hundred thoughts went through my mind. I had to be touching the statue. I couldn’t do it from this distance. My father was going to die.
And then Mel’s incorporeal form solidified, holding a soul over her palm. My heart gave a grief-stricken thud at the sight of my mother’s soul. My father saw it, his face breaking in despair, the struggle going out of him.
“Eleni,” I heard him say, the barest of whispers.
My gaze flew back to the Hands. No time. I staggered up and ran, the pounding of my heart the only thing I could hear as my power tore through me, ripping me open. My eyes burned. In my peripheral vision, I saw some shield their eyes. But that was just a blink in time as the gorgon surged up and out of me with a force that snapped my head back and made my body arch.
I screamed through the burn of energy searing through my veins, lashing cruel and complete, finally set free. Through a cloudy haze, I slid beneath the basket, colliding with Athena as she did the same.
The basket landed in my arms.
Sebastian was suddenly beside me, his hand on my arm, concern in his eyes. Mine were dry and hot. I blinked them hard, trying to erase the blurriness. And then I felt the basket change from stone to reeds.
TWENTY-FOUR
THE HANDS HOLDING THE BASKET—Zeus’s hands—began to change as well. I shook the basket and they fell off, landing with a sickening slap on the tile.
Quiet filled the church. The only sounds were heaving breaths, the occasional falling of plaster and debris, and the chaos from outside.
Until Dora’s laughter flowed through the nave, carrying the sick tone of cruelty and delight. Athena crawled over, her eyes big with hope. She tugged the basket to her and looked inside. The child was still stone. Misery twisted her features. “No! It didn’t work!” She lifted her head, her green eyes darkening as she found me. She was laid bare, all of it there, the torment, the grief, the raw defeat. And then the rage came. “You
She came at me, hitting me hard and sending us tumbling down the two sanctuary steps and into the aisle. She straddled me, hands around my neck and squeezing. Sebastian lunged, but Apollo tackled him in a bear hug. I grabbed Athena’s wrists, lungs straining, pressure building in my face, and through all the pain and fear, I couldn’t miss her devastation, her thousand-year-old sorrow coming through her madness. My heart was hammering, and it burned with . . . sympathy . . . because I knew the outcome. I knew as my power uncoiled and snaked through my body, aware, this time not leaping up for a quick strike, but building, slithering down my arms and into my hands and fingertips.
Our eyes met. Her squeezing stilled. She knew too. And it didn’t feel good, to know I was going to kill her, to see the realization, the desolation and acceptance, the weariness in her eyes.
The blast that flowed out of me was hot and all-consuming. She let go and pushed off, stumbling to her feet and walking a few steps away as I sat up. Everyone had gone still. Stopping in the aisle, Athena glanced over at Artemis, who’d been released by Horus and was openly crying, and then at her brother, his arms still around Sebastian, his eyes glassy too.
She loved them. They loved her.
As messed up as Athena had become, they’d stood by her. Then she turned slightly and looked toward the basket sitting on the sanctuary steps as her body began to harden.
A tiny cry echoed in the church.
A baby’s cry.
Frantic horror filled Athena’s eyes and my heart.
Carefully I lifted him from the basket and took him to his mother. Marble had eaten its way up her shoulders. The love in her eyes made my throat ache as she stared at her child. Her living child, with pudgy cheeks, perfect lips, bright-green eyes, and a fuzz of soft black hair on his head. “Turn me back,” she begged in a broken, choked voice, tears filling her eyes and spilling over. “Please, turn me back.”
I found myself reaching out to touch her, to save her. Yet my power didn’t leap to life. It was muted, depleted. It needed a little time. And time was against us. But still I tried.
I expected hate or anger when she realized it was over, but Athena simply returned her attention to her son, the child she loved above all else. He gazed up at her and made a cute baby sound, and then he smiled.
“Archer, my son . . . ,” she whispered, marble closing over her lips, her cheeks, freezing the tears on her face, then claiming the color of her eyes.
And she was gone. Athena was gone.
For a moment no one moved or spoke. Then Dora snorted. “Not exactly how I pictured it happening, but satisfying nonetheless. Nice touch, letting her see what she’d be missing. I believe I’ve grown a new respect for you, gorgon.”
I hiked the baby higher on my hip. “I didn’t do it to hurt her; I did it to . . . ” How could I explain? I hated Athena, what she’d done to my family and so many others, but in her moment of pure suffering and heartbreak, I could not bask in her pain. I’m not sure what that made me, but I couldn’t help but think of my mother. What she would have given to see me one last time. The baby cooed and gurgled, its chubby arms and legs jerking, delighting in moving. And I knew I’d done the right thing.
Dora still had the knife poised over my father’s chest. “You’d better step away from my father, witch,” I said, deadly calm, before turning to Mel. “Take my mother back.” Mel nodded in a daze, shocked Athena was gone. As she disappeared, I held on to the image of my mother’s beautiful, bright soul, committing it to memory.
Apollo released Sebastian and shot out his hand. His bow, which had dropped amid the damaged pews, flew into his hand. Artemis and Menai raised their bows, arrows pointed at Dora. Horus joined them, a blade
