Shattered Gods (Dark Olympus, #10)(68)

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Hecate

“We have to move.” My teeth won’t stop chattering as I grab my boots and the case that contains my rifle. The moment we realized what way the wind was blowing, we booked it off the roof in an attempt to intervene. Too slow and too fucking late. I reached the outer edge of the crowd just as Demeter was killed, watched in horror as Antigone shoved Circe off the fucking bridge before the crowd surged and she went down in a tangle of violence.

I’ve never run so fast in my life. Sheer luck put us close enough to the shore to intercept her, that she chose a yellow dress this morning, which we could see at a distance even when she was underwater.

That same dress is a beacon for the mob I can hear howling in the distance. “Atalanta.”

“Hecate, are you sure?” She looks at me, dark-brown eyes sober. “This could end here and now if we just leave her.”

It’s nearly impossible to think with the cold burrowing down to my bones. “It’s too late. Circe made sure of that. Demeter, Zeus, Minos, Hades. They’ve all made sure of that. Us, too.” I look down at Circe’s unconscious form. Her lips have gone blue. “I can’t let her die if there’s a chance to save her. Can you?”

“I guess not.” She awkwardly gathers up the skirt of Circe’s dress. It’s drenched and weighs an absolute ton, which can’t be good for her shoulder, but one harsh look tells me I had better not offer to carry the unconscious woman. “If we don’t get both of you out of your wet clothes, saving her from drowning won’t matter because hypothermia will take you out.”

“You say the sweetest things.” Can someone chip their teeth from shivering too hard? Distantly, I’m aware it’s a good thing to be shivering violently. It’s when the shivering stops that you’re in serious trouble. Circe isn’t moving at all. “Hurry.”

“Yeah, I know.”

We scramble up the steep incline to the street. I can’t tell what direction the mob is moving—if it’s moving at all. It will, though. It’s only a matter of time. Once a crowd turns into a riot, it will swallow everyone in its path until it dies down. Which can last days if the anger burns hot enough.

After seeing Demeter gunned down, I’d say their rage is blistering.

I force myself to take lead as we stagger down the street. I have safe places scattered all across the upper city, but damned if I can think straight to figure out where we are and which is the closest one.

It’s Atalanta who picks up her pace and turns down the second street. By the time we move three blocks, my shivering isn’t nearly as violent as it was when I hauled myself out of the river. In fact, I don’t feel much cold at all. Uh-oh. That’s really bad. “Not much time.”

“I know,” she bites out. Atalanta checks the block number and takes another left.

I catch sight of a familiar door and nearly sob with relief. “How do you know about this place?”

“I know about a lot of your places.” She shifts Circe easily to her left arm and punches in my code without hesitation. And then we’re inside and dragging ourselves up a set of narrow stairs to an equally narrow hallway. Another code in the door at the end and we’re inside an apartment I bought under a false name a few years back.

I get to work yanking my soaking clothes off. Or trying. My shirt and bra are easy enough, but the button on my pants defies my fumbling attempts to conquer it. “Fuck.”

And then Atalanta is there, nudging my numb hands out of the way and wrestling me out of my pants. The awfulness of the moment makes me laugh. “This isn’t how I wanted to get naked with you.”

“Hecate, I love you, but shut up and hold still.” She tosses the wet clothes away. “Blankets?”

“Closet.”

She rushes to the only closet in the tiny space and yanks out four of them. “Of course you have space blankets.” But she says it with relief instead of irritation. “Here.” She wraps one around my lower body and all but shoves me down onto the couch, quickly wrapping a second around my shoulders. “Don’t move.”

I pull my legs up and tuck them against my chest as best I’m able to conserve what little heat my body is producing at this point. This is going to suck. The awful cold is almost enough to distract me from Atalanta cutting Circe out of her pretty dress. Her pale skin is almost blue, and she’s still unconscious. “If you—”

“I’ve got it.” She unfolds the two other blankets on the couch next to me and carries Circe over to lay her on them and then wrap them around her.

My body clenches in a shiver that feels like every one of my bones are breaking. “F-f-f-fuck.”

Atalanta drags off her wet shirt and tosses it in the growing pile of discarded clothing. “Going to get worse before it gets better.” She crouches next to us and reaches into my blanket to tug my foot free.

I jerk it back. “C-C-Circe.” She’s in more danger than I am. I’m shivering violently, which is a bitch to experience but means I’m moving in the right way temperature-wise. Circe, on the other hand, hasn’t woken up.

“Damn you,” she mutters, but she tucks me back into my bright silver blanket, pauses to ensure it’s secure around me, and then moves to Circe.

Atalanta systematically checks Circe’s fingers and toes. “She’s a lucky bitch. I don’t think she’ll lose any of these. Assuming she survives.”