Apparently the Hydra had excellent hearing, though. Angel whipped around, away from Hercules. On all nine heads a grin spread from one corner of her wicked sharp-fanged faces to the other. I pushed Mom back into the bakery. “Go, out the back, run!” Her eyes widened as she stared up at the Hydra, which seemed to freeze her in place. I shoved her again. The Hydra was after me. I could draw her away, that’s what I told myself. I yanked the bakery door shut, praying my mom would listen to me and run for the back. I bolted toward Angel and ducked between her legs, trying to draw her away. Away from my mom.

She lurched forward. Hercules yelled at her.

“Angel, stop! That is a command!”

I grabbed at her legs, smacking her with my hands. “Come on, you’re after me, aren’t you?”

She ignored us both.

The Hydra bunched her leg muscles, leapt up . . . and came crashing down on top of Vanilla and Honey. The roof collapsed in a heap of cement and dust that swirled around her, hiding her for a brief moment. The roar of a dying building rushed through the air, but none of that mattered, the bakery didn’t matter.

My mom was in there. My mom was in the bakery. The shift happened faster than ever before. I was on the Hydra in a split second, wrapping around her and jerking her off the building. I bit her over and over again, driving my fangs and my venom into her hide as she roared, screeching.

We tumbled sideways into two more buildings, bringing them down around us in more dust and cement. I felt none of it. I was not there—my heart was in the bakery, and it had nothing to do with my business. My mom was in there; the thought hit me over and over. She was human, so there was no way she could have survived. Terror drove me in a way I had never felt before. Sheer and absolute panic at the thought that Mom had been inside the bakery when it collapsed. It had happened so fast I couldn’t have stopped it.

I uncoiled from around the suddenly still form of the Hydra, not caring if she was alive or dead, and slithered away as fast as I could. Distantly I knew I was hurt badly. That Angel had inflicted at least as many wounds on me as I had on her. I didn’t care; the pain meant nothing compared to the fear that coursed through my heart.

I reached the rubble of the bakery and shifted down. Shaking, blood dripping off my body from multiple gaping wounds, I stumbled up onto the still shivering rubble. “Mom!”

There was no reply as I fought my way to the top of the heap, coughing on the dust, waving it away to try to see through. Oh, God, what if she was in there? What if she didn’t make it out? I couldn’t help the cry that slipped past my lips. “MOM!”

I spun around, caught a glimpse of Hercules watching me, a look of confusion on his face, before I spun away again, continuing to look for my mom. “Mom, please answer me!” I went to my knees and forced myself to take a deep breath. I could find her. If she was in the rubble, I could find her by her scent. I was strong enough to dig her out on my own too; I knew I could. Of course, I was discounting the fact that I was hurt badly. Really badly. There were broken bones in me that were just starting to register, wounds that had begun to fester with a green ooze from Angel’s bite.

I ignored it all and drew in a deep breath. Through the dust and the faint whisper of baking ingredients was the hint of my mom. The one who’d smoothed my tears away as a child, the one who’d chased away the fear of the dark, the one who’d pushed me away in what I knew now was a desperate hope to protect me, the one I’d held just an hour before, finally finding safety and peace in her arms. There, deep under the debris, the smell of her floated up to me. Her unique scent, and with it, blood—a lot of blood.

I grabbed the first block and heaved it sideways. “Hang on, Mom, I’m coming.” The words were hitched, and I couldn’t help the tears as they slipped down my cheeks. This was not happening. It couldn’t be. Another set of hands heaved stone on the other side of me. I didn’t care who it was, didn’t care as long as we got to my mom. I had to get to her; there had to be time yet to save her. I caught a glimpse of blond hair and distantly knew Hercules was helping me. Why, I couldn’t say, and I didn’t want to guess. “Mom, talk to me. Please!”

There was no answer, no cry that she was okay. I heaved the last chunk of cement off my mom, and there she was, lying on the floor of what had been the back of my bakery. I slithered down over the rocks, my blood making it easy to slide. I listened hard for her heart, but already I knew . . . her heart wasn’t beating; it had stopped completely.

“No, no, no!” I scooped her up and clutched her to my chest. This was not happening. This couldn’t be the end. Not when she’d finally reached out to me, not when we were finally mending the wounds of the past. “Mom, wake up. Please wake up. You can’t be gone. Not now, not when I need you the most.” I buried my face against her neck and sobbed, my shoulders hunched, unable to care that Hercules stood over me. Probably with a sword that could run me through. I couldn’t make myself care, not for a split second.

“Do it, if you’re going to,” I whispered to him, my whole body shaking with grief. With disbelief. If I were gone, the fights would be over. Hera would win, but no more of my family would die. Tad and my father would be safe, and that would have to be enough. I had to believe that. I didn’t look over my shoulder.

“I’m sorry. She wasn’t supposed to die,” Hercules said, and then he was gone, the sound of wreckage falling around him as he climbed out of the hole we’d made. I brushed my mom’s hair back from her face. The first time in years she and I had finally understood one another, and then . . . I couldn’t help the cry that erupted from me. The loss that was everything in the world. The bakery was nothing, I could rebuild that, but this . . .