Calliope screeched and barreled toward me. In the few seconds we had, Ava tried to push me behind her, but I sidestepped her and sprinted toward Calliope, clutching the hooked knife. I had one chance, and I was damn well going to take it.

We collided, immortal against immortal, and the force of it nearly sent me flying. Her nails scratched my face, her shrieks of rage rang in my ears, but her hands were empty. Mine weren’t.

“I’m going to beat your pretty face to a pulp,” growled Calliope. “Once I’m done, I’m going to make your son watch as I scoop out your eyes and peel your skin from your body. And maybe, once you’re nothing more than a lump of quivering flesh, I might let you—”

Her eyes widened, her words cut short as I sank the hooked knife into her side. “You might what?” I said. “You might let me die?”

Calliope fell off of me, her brow furrowed in confusion. She stared at the knife sticking out of her side. “How did you—”

“The weapons Nicholas forged,” I said. “You’re not the only one with brains, you know.”

She tugged on the knife, wincing as the hook ripped her skin apart, doing more damage going out than it’d done going in. Blood soaked through her pale blue dress, and she dropped the blade on the ground with a clatter. “But...”

Her eyes went blank, and without another word, she collapsed.

I stared at her body, and the way my hands shook had nothing to do with the bitter wind. After two and a half years of struggling to stay alive in her wake, that was it. I’d done it.

It felt too easy. I kicked her body to be sure, and when she flopped like a dead fish, I staggered backward. I’d killed her. I’d really, truly killed her.

I was a murderer. It was justified, but she hadn’t had her dagger. I could’ve given her a choice, and instead I’d killed her in cold blood. How did that make me better than her?

I wasn’t, not anymore.

Clenching my jaw, I turned away. I’d have time to hate myself later. Calliope might’ve been dead, but the whirling cloud of doom overhead hadn’t stopped.

“Henry!” I cried. Abandoning Calliope’s body, I dashed toward him through the violent gusts. “You need to take Milo and get out of here.”

He stared up at the sky, and at first I thought he hadn’t heard me. As I opened my mouth to repeat myself, however, he turned toward me, his moonlight eyes glowing. For a moment I thought I saw a flicker of something behind them, but it vanished. “Leave, Kate,” he said, his voice sounding like a thousand gods speaking all at the same time.

I gaped at him in horror. “Are you—are you helping Cronus?”

“You weren’t supposed to come.”

“Yeah? When has that ever stopped me?” I reached for Milo. “If you won’t take him to safety, then I will.”

He snatched the baby away from me, and a knot formed in my throat. This couldn’t be happening. Henry should have been in there somewhere, waiting for this, waiting for the moment he could finally break free. But I only saw the blank face of a powerful deity. Not Henry. Not my family.

“Ava! Whatever you’re doing to Henry, stop it!” I shouted over the deafening roar. No response. I looked over my shoulder. Ava stared at me, her mouth hanging slack-jawed and her eyes wide with fear, and it took me a moment to figure out why.

Calliope’s body was gone.

A girlish giggle echoed through the storm, mingling with the screeching wind and the crash of waves rising higher and higher. I froze. How was it possible? I’d watched her die.

“Funny thing about those weapons,” said Calliope, and I whirled around again. She stood beside Henry, his arm wrapped around her shoulders the way he always held me. Her dagger floated in the space between us. “They were discarded because they didn’t work.”

Behind me, someone screamed, and the glowing blade hurtled toward me. I scrambled backward pivoting in hopes it would fly past me, but it followed my movements without missing a beat.

My back hit something solid. The edge of the roof. The dagger pressed against my throat, and I leaned back as far as I could without falling. “Henry,” I choked. “Please.”

“Don’t listen to her, Henry,” said Calliope in a sickly sweet voice. “She’s the enemy, remember? You’re loyal to me.”

“Only because she’s using her powers against you.” I gulped in the gritty air. “Come on, Henry, you’re stronger than this.”

“Yeah, Henry,” called out a voice from the other end of the roof. Persephone. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as the other girls joined her. “I thought you were better than this.”

“Persephone?” Henry frowned. “What are you—”

“Don’t listen to her,” said Calliope. “You’ve got me now.”

Henry shook her off, and he stepped toward Persephone and the gang of girls. “What are you all doing here?”

“Rescuing your sorry ass,” said Anna, swinging her mace. “And taking down this bitch.”

She let out a war cry, and the girls took off across the roof, heading straight for Calliope and Henry—and Milo.

“Stop!” I shrieked. My cries fell on deaf ears though, and they only sped up. “Henry, get out of here! Take Milo and go!”

He ignored me and stared at the girls as if he’d never seen anything so strange in his life. Beside him, Calliope waved her hand, and the dagger flew from my neck to settle directly above my heart. The tip of the blade dug into my skin, and I winced as a drop of blood soaked into my shirt.