James reached me f irst, and he dropped to his knees several feet away, his momentum sliding him toward me. “It got you, didn’t it? Theo!” he yelled over his shoulder, and I winced.
“Stop it,” I said. “You were hit, too.”
“Yes, but the difference is, if I die, Henry won’t rip the world apart.” His good hand hovered over my injured knee, not daring to touch me yet. I didn’t blame him. Blood dripped down my leg, pooling at my heel, and now that the threat was gone, however temporarily, every nerve in my body felt like it was on f ire. I’d never been in this much pain before in my life, not even when Calliope had killed me and thrown my body in a river.
My mother reached us and observed the damage, but she said nothing. Instead she slipped behind me and took Ava by the elbow. Now that the f ight was over, some color had returned to Ava’s cheeks, and when my mother tried to lead her away, Ava remained planted in front of me.
“You saved me,” she said, shaking like she was barefoot in the snow. “He would’ve killed me if you hadn’t pushed me out of the way.”
“It was nothing,” I said. “You would’ve done the same for me.”
Ava was silent. My mother moved to push her past me again, but this time Ava dropped down beside me, opposite James. “You don’t understand,” she said, her blue eyes wide and earnest. “They’re the only things that can kill us, and you saved my life.”
Caught between burning curiosity and agony, I said tightly, “Why did it attack us? Why didn’t it go after Henry and Walter and Phillip instead?”
“Because Calliope sent him,” said James, still fussing over my leg. He called over his shoulder, “Theo, she needs you now, not next week.”
Theo shuff led down the aisle toward us, his curly hair falling in his eyes. Ella matched his pace, but she focused on the ground, and her forehead was furrowed deeply. The only time I’d seen her look like that was when Theo had been attacked at Christmas last year. It was jarring, seeing the ever-conf ident Ella look as if she didn’t know up from down, and my stomach twisted.
“He got her,” said James, gesturing to my leg. Theo knelt down beside me and set his hands above my knee. I’d been healed by Henry before, and I expected the same comforting warmth to come from Theo.
Instead f iery light spread through the wound, pushing out the deep, agonizing pain. Burning heat replaced it, and I gasped, positive my leg was going to turn to ash and fall off. I didn’t dare open my eyes, and even when his hands pulled away, the pain remained.
“Done,” said Theo, and I heard him rise to his feet.
“There is nothing I can do for the scar.” Gathering what was left of my courage, I cracked open an eye, relieved when I saw that my leg was still attached, and by all accounts it looked perfectly normal. But when I tried to wiggle my toes, the f ire started all over again.
“If it’s healed, then why does it still hurt?” I said, panicked. What if the pain never went away? How was I supposed to live with that? Had Henry experienced the same thing in his chest? How could he have possibly fought that thing again if he had?
“Because there is no power in the world that can take away the pain until it is ready to leave,” said Theo. “It’s not an ordinary wound. It won’t last longer than a few days, because he is still so weak, but there is nothing I can do for you until then.”
“He?” I gingerly touched the thin silver line that ran across my knee. “You’re all calling it a he.” Theo nodded toward my mother. “I will leave this in your capable hands to explain. If you will excuse us.” He slipped his arm around Ella’s waist and headed back toward the cluster of remaining council members. They all sat in the pews again, their heads bent together as they spoke among themselves. As Theo and Ella approached, Dylan, Ava’s ex from Eden High School, rose to make room for them. Even from across the massive hall, I could feel his eyes on us.
“Mom?” I said, rubbing my knee now that I knew it wouldn’t make it hurt any worse. “What’s everyone talking about?”
She offered me her hand. I took it, amazed by how strong she felt compared to the years of frailty, and with effort I stood. Ava stayed glued to my side as my mother led me to a bench in the antechamber, and I eased myself down. It wasn’t possible that Henry had been in this much pain and I hadn’t known it. It must’ve had something to do with the council granting me immortality only six months before.
Or maybe Henry was immune.
Ava sat beside me and took my hand. James lingered in the doorway, leaning against it casually, but one look at him and I could see the fear beneath his mask of neutrality. First Ella, now him—whatever this was, it wasn’t good.
“Do you remember the Titans from your lessons with Irene?” said my mother in such a soft voice that I was jolted back to the days spent in a hospital, leaning over her so I could understand her dry and broken whispers.
I shook my head. Irene had seemed to hit only the most salient points in those myths, and I didn’t bother retaining much of that information past the f irst exam anyway. At the time, it hadn’t seemed important.
“They were your parents?” I said. My mother was Walter’s sister, but not by blood, as they had insisted time and time again. As Henry had told me nearly a year ago, family was the only word mortals had to describe anything close to the bond they shared, but it went much deeper than that.
“In a way,” said my mother. Spotting a few drops of blood on her sleeve, she waved her hand and they vanished.
“The Titans were the original rulers of this world, and eventually they grew bored and created us. There were six of us in the beginning—myself, Walter, Henry, Phillip, Sof ia and Calliope.”
“They were slaves,” said James.
“Toys,” corrected my mother. With the straightforward way she spoke, it was clear she’d told this story before.
“That was our purpose. To be the playthings of the Titans.
They loved us, and we loved them in return. But then they decided that we weren’t enough, so they made a new race that, unlike us, could cease to exist if they fought one another.”
“They created war.”
Ava sounded so small and meek that I hardly believed it was her speaking. Her blue eyes were rimmed with red, her cheeks had lost their color, and the hurt on her face was so palpable that I could barely stand to look at her.