Her reassurance was nice, but she had no way of knowing, and I couldn’t swallow false hope. “If anything happens, it’ll be my fault,” I said in between sniffs. “I’m the one who caused this.”
“Oh, Kate.” Ava hugged me. “Don’t tell me you really think that. Of course this isn’t your fault. The only person to blame is Calliope, and by the time we’re done with her, she’ll never do anything bad to anyone ever again.”
“They can’t defeat Cronus without her though,” I said.
“What if he kills them? Walter, he said—”
“Daddy likes being dramatic,” said Ava, and as badly as I wanted to believe her, I couldn’t. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but none of them will let anything bad happen to the others. What kind of family would we be if we did?” I didn’t have an answer for that. Bad things happened.
No amount of love could f ix that. If it could, my mother would have never suffered through cancer. I closed my eyes and made myself relax, hoping that for once my gift would cooperate and I could see what was going on. No matter what kind of pain I’d witness without being able to help, it would be inf initely better than sitting here waiting, I was sure of it.
“Are you trying to see them?” said Ava, breaking my concentration.
I opened my eyes and nodded. There was no point in lying about it.
“Don’t, sweetie,” she said, taking my hand and sandwich-ing it between hers. “You don’t want to see that.” A lump formed in my throat. “I can’t—I can’t just sit here and wait,” I said, my voice breaking. “How can you be so calm when they could die?”
“I’m calm because I know what to expect,” she said.
“Even if you could get your power to work, you’re so used to how mortals f ight that you wouldn’t understand what’s going on anyway. Henry’s going to need you when he gets back, and you don’t want to drain yourself by watching.” I stared down at the marble f loor. No matter what Ingrid said, no matter how Henry acted toward me, the fact remained that Persephone was beside him in battle. And if something happened to one of his siblings, he wouldn’t come to me with his pain. “He’ll have Persephone.” Ava snorted. “Oh, please. The moment she gets the chance, she’ll go running back to Adonis.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” I hesitated. “She kissed him.”
“What? Who?”
“Persephone,” I said. “She kissed Henry.”
“When?” said Ava in disbelief. “She hates him, why would she possibly—”
“She was trying to prove to him that their relationship was all in his imagination.” I leaned my head against the pew. “It was the night we got back. They were alone together in this room with a bunch of windows, and he was sitting, and she climbed into his lap. They talked a little, and she kissed him. I didn’t want to see it,” I added, in case she thought I’d purposely spied on them. “I couldn’t control it. But I saw it, clear as day. It wasn’t just a peck either, and I know Henry enjoyed it.”
“Yeah, he probably did,” said Ava, and she must have realized how completely unhelpful that was, because she quickly added, “Have things been better between you? I mean, how often are you two knocking boots?” I frowned. “What? You mean— Never. We haven’t—
not at all, not since that one time. How can you even—” I stopped. Of course she would ask that sort of thing; she was Ava. “He—holds me at night, I guess, but we haven’t even so much as kissed.”
Ava’s jaw dropped open. “Are you serious? My god, Kate, why didn’t you come to me sooner?”
“I tried to tell you,” I said, bewildered. How had this suddenly become my fault? “What would you have done anyway? Forced him to want me? I don’t want it to happen that way, Ava.”
She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you think I’d do that?
That’s not what love’s about, Kate, but I could have given him a nudge in the right direction. Without using my powers,” she added when I glared at her. “Someday you’ll learn to trust me. Now, that hag won’t hang around forever, and what are you going to do when she’s out of the way?” I didn’t like Persephone, but she was still my sister, and Ava’s attitude toward her grated at me. “Why do you hate each other?” I said. “I get that you liked Adonis, too, but don’t you have enough toys?”
“You’ve seen Adonis,” said Ava with a cheeky little smile.
“Would you call him just another toy?”
“No, but—”
“Exactly. I saw him f irst, and she stole him from me, plain and simple. You can even ask Daddy.”
“I don’t want to ask Walter,” I said sharply. “Shouldn’t Adonis get a say in this?”
Ava stuck her lower lip out in a pout. “He wanted both of us. That’s why Persephone gave up her immortality, you know. She wanted to have him in the Underworld all to herself instead of having to share him with me.” And all the while, Henry had had to watch as his wife fought Ava for the right to be with a mortal. Persephone had done the right thing, leaving him, but for Henry’s sake, I wished she’d left him before fooling around behind his back. Or in front of it.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do when she’s gone,” I said. “But as long as he wants me to stay, and as long as he’s working on making us better, I’m not going to abandon him like she did.”
“I know you won’t,” said Ava, leaning her head on my shoulder. “That’s part of the reason we chose you, you know.”
“Yeah, well, that’s about the only thing I have going for me. I’m useless.”
“You’ve been immortal for nine months. Give yourself some time before you decide we were wrong. We weren’t, by the way,” she added. “Just in case you decide to chal-lenge that.”
I hesitated. I hadn’t told anyone else, not even my mother, but I needed to tell Ava. If she really could help, then she had to know everything. “I was going to leave him.” Ava was silent, and when she f inally spoke, she all but whispered. “I know. I’m glad you didn’t.” I stared at her. “You know? How?”
“Henry told us,” she said. “Right after you said you would.”