The dim light of the torch vanished, but the presence of those around her lingered.

Stay with me, Lore pleaded, aching with desperation. Stay. . . . Don’t leave me. . . .

The shadows curled around her, and when her thoughts turned to cinders and the world disappeared, she was no longer afraid.

A HEARTBEAT FOUND HER in the darkness.

Lore followed the sound of it the way Orpheus must have looked to the light above him as he tried to lead Eurydice out of the Underworld. She knew that if she glanced back to search for the face of the cold presence lingering behind her, she would be lost to it.

Instead, she drifted toward the growing warmth—toward the familiar power that wrapped around her senses.

Her eyelids were crusted with grime, but she forced them open.

Castor’s eyes were shut, his face tilted up to reveal the sharp line of his jaw. His power pulsated around them, burning away the bleakness of the tunnel. It had turned the standing water into a thick haze that clogged the air.

She was draped across his legs, lifted from the rough floor. One of his arms was wrapped around her shoulders to support her weight, and the other hand rested against her side, where the blade had cut her.

Tears slid down her face, catching in her hair as she looked up at him. Her body felt like it was filled with air and sunlight, too insubstantial to move. Castor barely seemed to be breathing.

She reached up with her free hand, tracing a light fingertip down his cheek. Castor reached up to press the hand against his chest, right beside where his mortal heart was beating.

He met her gaze. He said nothing, but, then, he never needed to. His face was a book that had been written only for her. Its story unfolded while he watched her watch him.

But as the gentle, drugging feeling of his power eased through her, knitting together skin, mending bone, she began to remember.

Shame wove through her confusion and her anger, until she was crying again, this time in earnest. For not seeing the truth about Athena. For the knowledge of how close she’d come to leaving this world and everyone she loved.

For the mistake she had made that could never be fixed, and the precious lives it had cost.

Lore looked to the walls around her, searching for the shadows again. But it seemed they’d stayed only until Castor’s light could replace them.

Castor smoothed the hair away from her wet cheeks, easing the curls back around her ears. She wanted to tell him what had happened, to explain it herself, but he already knew. As easily as she could read him, Castor had always had the measure of her.

“You were ice-cold,” he said, the words halting. “I didn’t know . . . I wasn’t sure . . .”

She pressed her forehead to his shoulder. “This is fine. A nice change, even. Our reunions usually involve a lot more punching.”

“Not always,” he said softly. “Sometimes we chase our enemies.”

“Variety,” she said, “the spice of mortal combat.”

Castor blew out a hard breath, pulling back slightly to examine the wound on her leg and the new, pink skin there. Lore’s hand rose, feeling along her ribs.

It is a shame you did not even possess the courage to drive the blade through your heart.

“Hey,” he began softly. “Are you still in pain?”

She shook her head, wondering how to tell him everything that had happened.

“I shouldn’t have left, but I thought it was the only way to get through to you. . . . I should never have left you alone with her.” Castor released a shuddering breath. He closed his eyes again, but this time, when he opened them, there was a look of cold intent there.

“I’ll kill her.” The words were low, without any varnish, without any hesitation. And so unlike him.

“No,” Lore said.

“What she did to you—” he began again.

“No,” Lore continued, her voice hoarse. “It was me.”

Lore saw the exact moment he figured out what she meant. His shock deepened to horror.

“She was the one,” Lore whispered. “All this time, she was the one who killed them.”

“Why? Why them and not any of the other bloodlines?”

“Because of me,” she said. “And what I did during that last Agon.”

Castor gave her a questioning look, waiting for her to elaborate.

“And I thought . . . if I could stop Athena and take her out of the Agon . . . if no one could have the aegis . . .” Lore shook her head. “But the binding oath wasn’t real.”

Castor brought her hand up, pressing a soft kiss onto her callused palm. He seemed to sink into his thoughts as his power faded around them.

“Even if it had worked, wouldn’t you have just taken her power?” he asked finally.

“No,” Lore said. “Not according to the stories. I think I would have had to use the blade on her, but I was . . . I was in bad shape.”

Her hand curled at the memory.

As her nerves jumped and her thoughts sharpened, Lore suddenly remembered the first question she should have asked.

“How did you find me?”

“Your phone,” he said.

Lore stared at him, not understanding.

“Miles did a friend . . . tracking thing?” Castor repeated, suddenly looking uncertain. “He had to accept your request. We all found one another near the brownstone after the flooding and spent most of today looking for you. Cell service was restored about a half hour ago. Van and Miles went to regroup with the Achillides and find a safe place for us to shelter.”

And you came here, she thought, overwhelmed with gratitude. You came to find me.

“Miles is okay?” she whispered. “You’re all okay?”

“Everyone’s okay,” he promised.

She lifted herself up just enough to slide the device out of her back pocket. The screen had cracked, but the message and missed-call alerts were still visible. There was a string of panicked texts from Miles.

Are you there? Just tell us you’re ok.

She fumbled with the phone, her hands trembling as she responded to that message with:

am ok. text when safe.

The responses were immediate, making the phone vibrate and sing a familiar high note.

Ding.

k. Will send new address to meet.

Ding.

Be there in 2 hours. Need to hire a boat back.

Ding.

What happened?

The chimes. The sounds that she’d heard had been real, not hallucinations. But then . . .