The dust was thick, and the scream of car alarms and sirens filled the air. Emergency vehicles sped through the narrow, uneven streets and I watched them all with a mixture of horror and anger pulsing through my veins.

The Biblioteca Vallicelliana was destroyed. The whole block was destroyed.

“Uncle… what happened?” Hermes appeared behind me and I shook my head in disbelief.

“Terremoto!” someone shouted. “Earthquake! Don’t go inside, the aftershocks…”

I grabbed the man who had shouted, jerking him off balance. “What else was destroyed? Have there been any casualties?”

My voice was full of anger and desperation. The man’s eyes were wide as he stared at me. “No… nothing else,” he stammered as I dropped him. “The library was closed… there should have been no one inside. Per grazia di Dio.”

When I had looked for Gideon, all I had seen in the cistern was fog. Someone screamed, and there was a crash from within the ruined shell of the library. Another cloud of dust crept along the street.

I wasn’t going to stand in the street any longer. Gideon was in there.

“Signore! The roof!”

“Fuck the roof,” I muttered and ran for the building. The front facade of the ancient buildings had crumbled away, filling the narrow alley with bricks, mortar, and tiles. I scrambled through the debris, passing emergency crews who barely registered my presence. A shadow, moving through the wreckage, nothing more. Hermes followed close behind, blending seamlessly with the fading sunlight to hide from the eyes of the mortals.

The reception desk was crushed, a massive marble column lay across it, impossible to move, the archive room door was closed, and that side of the building seemed curiously untouched by the damage, save for some wide cracks in the plaster walls. Pieces of the ornate ceiling had come away and smashed on the tiled floor. Gideon wasn’t here.

“Uncle!”

Hermes was standing on a pile of bricks outside the entrance to the Sala Monumentale; his expression was a mixture of pain and worry, and I felt my heart freeze in my chest. He held something out to me—a feather. I snatched it from his fingers and examined it carefully. A flight feather. Longer than any natural feather should be. Pale, and striped with dark brown bars. A hawk… “Eris.”

The floor shuddered as I said the goddess’ name and Hermes’ expression hardened. He had never liked his half-sister, and now he had even less reason to. “Acting on Hera’s orders, no doubt,” he said bitterly.

“Acting on her own,” I replied.

I tucked the feather into my cloak and jumped down the pile of bricks to the ruptured tile floor. It had buckled and rippled with the force of the quake, and loose pieces of tile skidded under my bare feet.

The mezzanine had cracked in half, spilling bookshelves and books down onto the main floor like an avalanche. There. A pale hand, protruding from under a fallen bookshelf caught my eye.

“Gideon.”

I flung the bookshelves aside with all my godly strength, hurling them against the already ruined walls with enough force to lengthen the cracks in the ceiling. I dug through the books desperately as chunks of plaster and marble rained down around us. Shouts from the emergency crews filled the air and the flashing lights of their vehicles bathed the library in blue and red.

“Hurry!” Hermes’ harsh whisper reminded me that other mortals were approaching. They couldn’t have Gideon. I was the only one who could save him now. “Is it too late?”  

I grabbed Gideon’s dirty hand and held it tightly. The cold fire that should have swept through my hand and up my arm only gave me the barest shiver of sensation.

There was no such thing as ‘too late’ for the god of death.

An aftershock rumbled through the building, shaking loose more plaster. A massive light fixture swung crazily from its chain before the plaster broke free and it plummeted towards us. With the same ease that he had extinguished the fire in my library so many centuries ago, Hermes summoned a gust of wind to push the falling debris aside. The plaster shattered over the floor, scattering shards of glass and ornate fittings across the tile. “She must be close by,” he said.

“No doubt she is watching us right now,” I snarled.    

Wrapping myself in shadow, I pushed aside another cascade of books to reveal Gideon. He lay where he had fallen, one arm curled protectively around his stomach. His blood stained the floor and his glasses were crushed on the tiles. My heart lurched at the sight of him.  

The wreckage of the mezzanine shifted and creaked as I pulled Gideon free as gently as I could. I gritted my teeth as he groaned faintly in pain. He was barely alive, and his eyelids fluttered weakly as I cradled him against my chest. My broken mortal.

Eris would pay for this with her immortal life.

The shadows around us deepened as the emergency crews came through the fallen facade, but all they found were Gideon’s broken glasses and the smear of his blood on the tiles as I willed us to Olympus and left the mortal world behind.    

In a cloud of black smoke, we arrived in Olympus’ throne room. Hermes skidded to a stop beside me; his face was a mask of pure panic.

“What are you doing? He can’t be here! It doesn’t matter if he has the spark of the divine or not, you know the law—no mortal can step foot on Olympus!”

“He’s no mortal,” I said. I looked down into Gideon’s ashen face. “Not anymore.”

My nephew blinked at me for just a moment before he reached out and laid his palm against Gideon’s cheek. I resisted the urge to flinch away, but it took every ounce of strength I had.

“Dead… but—”

“Get me the ambrosia and meet me at the Gates,” I interrupted him swiftly. This was not the time, and I had no patience left.

Hermes nodded his golden head grimly; he knew that place well, and I knew that I could trust him. Of all my divine kin, Hermes was the only one who understood me… as much as I allowed him to.

I held Gideon gently against my chest, as the door that led down to the great gate of the Underworld yawned open in the marble floor beneath my black basalt throne.

I didn’t need to take the stairs, but there was something solemn about making this journey to rekindle my spark.

The great black gate had marked the entrance to the Underworld since the fall of our father, Cronos. I had built it myself, full of rage and bitterness while my brothers had created the shining columns of Olympus. If their marble palace was a shrine to their triumph, this gate was a shrine to my hatred.

The red dirt beneath my feet was covered in a soft layer of ash from the volcano that smoked in the heart of Tartarus.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hermes was at my side, a small box of glittering black obsidian in his hand.

“You were there when Zeus announced it. When we find our sparks, we’ll know.” I laid Gideon down on a bed of grey ash and smoothed his dark hair away from his forehead. His face was covered in dust and blood, but a single tear had cut a path through the grime on his cheek. “I’ve been running from this for too long, and now I’m being punished for it.”

“I’ll watch over him,” Hermes said.

Without a word, I turned away and strode through the gates of the Underworld. The ground rumbled beneath my feet as Tartarus’ volcano belched its black smoke.

There was only one way I could take back what had been done.

Acheron, the River of Souls, wound its way through the Underworld in an unending current. I stood on the edge of its dark banks and stared into the water. The glint of coins— bronze, silver, and gold—the fare brought by the dead to guarantee their passage into the Underworld, shone up through the rippling water. Ancient and modern, all who stood on the banks of the Acheron had to pay their way. Gold rings, watches, necklaces—new offerings next to the old. No one rides for free.    

But there were other things in the water… the souls of the dead, those who could not afford passage to the Underworld, caught for all eternity in the current.

I closed my eyes and waded into the river. The coins slipped beneath my feet, and the shades of the dead spun away from me like startled shoals of skeletal fish. Gideon. This was where I would find him. He had come to the Underworld without his fare, and his shade would spin in the current until the world ended.

Deeper, and deeper. One foot in front of the other, I reached out to Gideon with my thoughts and held the image of him in my mind. The way his eyes had flashed as he’d shouted at me in the library. The water tugged at my cloak and the shades of the dead wound around my legs, but still I walked forward. I was drawn farther, responding to something I couldn’t explain.

There. Pale and ghostly, caught in the current. The handsome librarian looked gaunt in his shade form.  

Gideon.

But it couldn’t have been. His hair curled over his forehead in the same way I remembered. Cradled in his arms was a small bundle; and I felt my stomach drop.

A child.

Eris had not only attempted to murder my spark, but my child…   

Anger swelled in my chest, and I pushed forward through the water towards him. His shade was oblivious to me, caught in his own misery. His shade bore none of the smudges of grime and mortar dust, but the wound on his head remained. I reached down toward him, and he finally realized that I was there. He flinched away from my hand and cradled the bundle closer to his chest.  

“Come now,” I murmured, but Gideon floated out of my grasp, his shade winding with the others. “This is no time to be shy.”

He had pursued me, now it was my turn to chase him. I pushed aside the shades that hid him from my view and laid my hand on his pale shoulder. But my hand passed through it. I frowned and tried again, but I couldn’t touch him.

“Gideon…”

The librarian, my spark, turned his eyes upon me and I could feel the weight of his sadness.

“You were meant to be mine. Come with me, and we can be together. No more lies.” Gideon’s mouth moved in silent accusation and I shook my head. “How could I tell you that this was real? What I was. It was easier this way… easier to frighten you and pretend it was all just a mistake.”

Gideon turned away, and I felt my stomach twist. He wanted an apology. Was that what it would take? I gritted my teeth and my hands clenched into fists at my side. The shades of the dead spun around my legs, and a crowd of them had gathered on the far shore. The last thing I wanted was an audience.

“I… I’m the reason this happened to you,” I said finally. “It’s my fault that Eris found you… I shouldn’t have given in.”

Gideon’s pale gaze burned into mine. That’s not good enough.  

“I couldn’t resist not knowing if this prophecy was meant for me,” I said through gritted teeth. “And then you… I couldn’t resist. My desire for you made me weak, and I put you in danger.” I paused and reached for him again, my hand passed through his shade once more, but I could have sworn that there was some substance to his form now. His eyes begged me to say the words.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. There was a murmur from the shades of the dead that were gathered on the shore, and the current seemed to pull at me more strongly. I reached for Gideon again, and this time when my fingers touched his shoulder I felt that burst of cold fire rushing up my arm.

“Say it again,” came his reply.

I smiled and pulled him closer. “You drive a hard bargain,” I muttered. “I’m sorry,” I said louder. “I shouldn’t have put you in danger. I will always protect you… and our child.” Gideon smiled and I could feel his shade growing more solid under my fingers. The cold fire that had been so faint before flared in my chest, stronger than ever. I gathered Gideon up in my arms and waded out of the river with his shade nestled against my chest.

Hermes had kept guard over Gideon’s body, and his face lit up when he saw us approaching. The volcano rumbled in the distance as I knelt in the ash-covered dirt to lay Gideon’s shade on top of his body. I held my breath as the shade sank down. Back where it belonged.

Gideon’s ashen complexion remained unchanged, and I held out my hand to Hermes. “The ambrosia.”

My nephew gave me the shining black box without a word and stood silently as I removed a small piece of the ambrosia and set it between Gideon’s slack lips. As soon as the ambrosia touched his tongue, I saw the pallor of his skin begin to change. His cheeks warmed and I heard Hermes let out a long breath.  

“Tell the others,” I said softly as Gideon’s eyelids fluttered and he took a shuddering breath. Hermes was gone in a gust of wind and I pulled Gideon’s head into my lap. “Wake up, librarian.”

Gideon’s eyes opened, dark and shining with a hint of gray that he’d carried with him from the Acheron. “What happened?”

“Something I should have prevented,” I said.

Gideon raised his eyebrow and then his expression changed and his hands shot to his stomach. “She said… is it true?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s impossible…”

“It is possible. But only for you, and precious few others like you.” I reached down to drag my fingers through his dark curls. “Considering what you’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours, it might be time for a little less cynicism. I just dragged you out of the river of the dead; I’ve broken my own laws because I couldn’t go through this immortality without you. All you have to do is say yes.”

Gideon considered what I’d said for a moment before looking up at me again. “And if I don’t… what happens?”

“What happens? I’ll send you back to Rome and your ruined library. The spark of the divine will allow you to carry my child… but it is of Olympus, and will kill you as it grows too fast for your body to adjust.” I paused, watching as my words sank in. “Or Eris will come back to finish what she started.”

Gideon’s hand tightened around his stomach as he considered it. “So I don’t have a choice.”

“Of course you do, but the alternative isn’t exactly ideal.”

“No shit,” he said quietly. “And if I stay?”

“If you stay, you can take the rest of the ambrosia that re-animated your shade, and I’ll take you to Olympus… You’ll be mine forever. You will bear my children and I will give you anything you ask for… Rule beside me.”

Gideon chuckled. “That sounds too good to be true.”

“Does it? You had to die to get here…”

Gideon’s smile faded away, and I knew he was thinking about the earthquake, about Eris, and about the gray current that had almost swept him away from me.

“I won’t be paraded around like some trophy.” He struggled to sit up and fixed me with a stern glare. I laid a hand over my heart and looked at him seriously.

“Not until you’re ready,” I said.

He nodded, his eyes on the shining stone box that sat on the ground beside me. “I’ll stay,” he said. “But I’m still mad at you.”

I opened the obsidian box and held it out to him. “I hope you’ll let me try to make it up to you,” I replied.  

“We’ll see.” He reached in and took the ambrosia without hesitating. A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth before he ate it in one bite. His eyes closed as he savored the taste.

“Pomegranate,” he said. “Fitting.”

“As long as you plan on sticking around,” I said warily.

“We’ll see. You have a lot of apologizing to do,” he replied tartly.

Instead of taking the bait, I lowered my face to his and claimed his lips in a kiss that I should have indulged in a long time ago; a kiss full of apologies and promises that I would never speak aloud. The tang of pomegranate that lingered on his lips fueled my passion for him, and he gasped against my mouth as the same cold fire that ran through my veins flared in his.

When our kiss finally broke, Gideon looked up at me with his wide, dark eyes, full of trust and something I couldn’t name, but that made the fire in my chest surge anew. I pulled Gideon to his feet, and he leaned against me unsteadily. It would take some time for the ambrosia to make its way into his bloodstream, but when it did, he would be immortal, just like Cameron and Brooke.

I held him tightly against my side and willed us to my library. Gideon’s gasp of surprise and awe was music to my ears and I smiled as he stumbled forward to run his fingers over the spines of the books on the shelves closest to us.

“I think you’ll like it here,” I said.