Apollyon

Clamoring forward, I threw my arms around her, nearly knocking her backward. With a soft laugh, she enveloped me in a strong hug—the hug I’d been missing and needing for so long. Mom gave the best hugs ever.

She squeezed me tight, and I clung to her while she smoothed my hair back with one hand. Tears burned the back of my throat and welled in my eyes. Emotion poured into my chest until it felt like my heart would explode. I’d been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever, and I never wanted to let her go.

“How is this possible?” My voice was hoarse and muffled. “I don’t understand.”

“Apollo thought it would be good for you after what happened.” She pulled back a little. Tears glistened in her eyes, and I hated that. “He called in a favor with Hades.”

Apollo must have a lot of favors at his disposal.

“I’ve missed you so much.” She placed her hand to my cheek and smiled. “And I wish I could’ve been there for you when you lost Caleb and faced the Council. I wish for that more than anything else.”

A red-hot lump filled my throat. “I know. Mom, I’m… I’m so sorry. I—”

“No, baby, don’t you dare apologize for anything that happened to me. None of it was your fault.”

But it wasmy fault. Sure, I didn’t turn her into a daimon, but we’d left the safety of Deity Island because of what I would become. She sacrificed everything—her life—for me, and I’d still co

“Listen to me,” she said, clasping both sides of my face now and forcing my gaze up. “What happened to me in Miami wasn’t your fault, Lexie. And you did the right thing in Gatlinburg. You gave me peace.”

By killing her—my mother.

She pressed her lips together, and then took a shaky breath. “You can’t hold on to that kind of guilt. It doesn’t belong to you. And what happened after you Awakened wasn’t something you could control. You broke the co

Her words were so sincere that I was almostconvinced, but I didn’t want to spend this time with her talking about all the terrible things that had happened. After everything that had happened, I just wanted her to hold me.

Pushing down the guilt was like taking off a pair of too-tight pants. I could breathe now, but the marks were left behind on my skin. “Are you happy?” I asked, scooting closer.

Mom gathered me close again, resting her chin atop my head, and I closed my eyes, almost able to pretend that we were home and that a heart actually beat under my cheek. “I miss you, and there are other things I miss, but I am happy.” Pausing, she tucked my hair back. “There is peace, Lexie. The kind that erases a lot of the negative stuff and makes it easier to deal.”

I was sort of envious of that kind of peace.

“I watch over you when I can,” she said, pressing a kiss on the crown of my head. “It’s not something they suggest for us to do, but when I can, I check in. You want to tell me about this pure-blood?”

My eyes popped open, and heat flooded my face. “ Mom”

She laughed softly. “He cares for you so much, Lexie.”

“I know.” My heart squeezed as I lifted my head. “I love him.”

Her eyes lit up. “You have no idea how happy that makes me to know that you’ve found love among all of this…”

Tragedy, I finished silently. Wrapping my hands around her slim wrists, my gaze fell to the window. Thin branches swayed in the breeze. Bright pink flowers were open, their teardrop-shaped petals moist with dew. I stared at them for an obscenely long time before I spoke.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s right, you know—if I should feel happiness and love when everyone is suffering.”

“But youhave suffered, too.” She guided my gaze back to hers. “Everybody, no matter what is happening around them, deserves the kind of love that man feels for you, especially you.”

Flushing again, I wondered just how much Mom had seen. Awkwardville, dead ahead.

“And that kind of love is more important than anything right now, Lexie. It’s going to keep you sane. It’s always going to remind you of who you really are.”

I took a deep breath, but it got caught. “So many people have died, Mom.”

“And people will, baby, and there’ll be nothing you can do it about it.” She pressed her lips to my forehead. “You can’t save everyone. You’re not meant to.”

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Was being the Apollyon all about death and destruction instead of saving lives?

“Can you stand?” she asked.

Nodding, I pushed to my feet and winced as pain splintered down my legs. Concern pinched my mom’s features, but I waved it off. “I’m fine.”

She stood, keeping a hand on my arm. “You should sit. Apollo said that it would take a little while for… you to feel normal.”

Feeling normal wasn’t possible, probably never again, but I sat on the edge of the bed and watched my mom glide toward the raised dais and the table. She didn’t walk—never had. My mom had this i

She picked up the pitcher and a glass that had been behind it. “He wants you to drink this.”

My brows rose in suspicion. If I’d learned anything over the last eighteen years, drinking or eating something from the gods warranted a hefty amount of misgiving. “What is it?”

Mom poured the contents into an ancient-looking glass cup and headed back to the bed. Sitting down, she handed it over. “It’s a healing nectar that Apollo’s son concocted to aid what he had done. You can’t stay here the amount of time that it will take you to heal completely, but this will help. Even for you, there’s too much aether in the air. It will suffocate you.”

Suffocation sounded sucktastic, but I stared at the chalice warily.

“It’s okay, Lexie. I understand your hesitation, but this isn’t to trick you.”

With a great deal of trepidation, I took the glass and sniffed it. The aroma was a mix of honey and something weedy. Because I knew this was my mom, and I could feel that truth deep inside me, I drank from the glass. I was relieved when I discovered it tasted sweet and not like butt.

“Drink it slowly,” Mom cautioned. “It’s going to make you sleepy.”

“It is?” I frowned down at the chalice.

“When you wake up, you’ll be back in the mortal world.”

A cold wind filled my chest. “This isn’t a dream, is it?”

“No.” Mom smiled as she reached out, catching that piece of hair that always fell forward and tucking it back. “This isn’t a dream.”

Letting out a stuttered breath, I took another sip. There was so much I wanted to say. Many times since she’d died, I’d fantasized about seeing her again and had created this massive list of things I wanted to say to her, starting off with a whole slew of apologies for sneaking out, cussing, fighting, and being a general round-the-clock nuisance. And then I’d move on to how great of a mom she’d been. Now, it was fu

“I miss you too, but I am with you as much as I can be.” She watched me drink the healing nectar. “I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” I said, and I meant it.

A small smile appeared. “No matter what happens, and no matter what you have to do, I want you to absolve yourself of guilt.”

I stared at her. “I—”

“No, Lexie. You need to let the guilt go, and you need to let what Ares did go.”

Lowering the glass, I looked away and gave a little shake of my head. Let go of how badly Ares had broken me, how I had begged for death? Impossible. “Did you… did you see it?”

“No.” She placed her hand on mine and squeezed. “But Apollo told me.”