Across from the neat line of vehicles is a set of shelving filled with various shit that seems to be in all garages. Apparently the rich also like to store their tires and miscellaneous tools just like normal people. Rich people, they’re just like us. I bite down a hysterical giggle that is entirely spurred by exhaustion and stress.
Apollo slows and looks around. The lighting is relatively dim in here, thanks to the small windows overhead, but we can see clearly enough that it appears to be empty. He glances at me and jerks his chin in a clear command to stay close.
He has nothing to worry about there. I might have volunteered to split up to warn those who might be in danger, but I’m no hero. I have absolutely no desire to get myself killed for some member of the Thirteen who wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire.
A soft thud sounds somewhere nearby.
Apollo sprints in the direction of the sound, leaving me to do my best to keep up. When I round the corner of the farthest SUV, I wish I hadn’t.
Theseus straddles Hephaestus’s chest, his big fists descending in a steady rhythm as he beats the other man. I can’t tell if Hephaestus is alive, but he’s not fighting back. And there’s…so much blood. I press my hand to my mouth and take a step back.
Apollo doesn’t hesitate.
He throws himself at Theseus, taking him to the ground in a flying tackle. A normal person would respond to being attacked by surprise or freeze up. Not Theseus. I’m hardly trained in combat, but he looks like he simply switches the momentum of his punches from Hephaestus’s limp form to Apollo. I can feel the impact of his fist striking Apollo’s ribs from here.
I’m nearly certain I hear something crack. No, that has to be my imagination. It has to. I stand there helplessly as they whale on each other. For several seconds, it seems like Apollo will win. He’s strong and he’s trained and he’s furious enough to have the upper hand.
But Theseus’s punches have an impact.
Every time he lands a strike, Apollo crumples a little bit more. From here, I can see the precision in Theseus’s attacks. He’s aiming for Apollo’s ribs and side. The next time he goes in with one of those nasty attacks, Apollo lowers his arm to block.
And then Theseus hammers his fist into Apollo’s face. He takes advantage of Apollo appearing dazed by rolling them, coming up to straddle Apollo’s chest the same way he straddled Hephaestus.
Hephaestus who still hasn’t moved.
My heart stops as Theseus lifts one of those massive fists.
He’s going to kill Apollo. Hephaestus might be a powerful title, but Apollo is arguably more powerful. If Theseus kills them both, he’ll have his pick. From the bloody grin he gives Apollo, he knows it, too.
I don’t make a decision to move. I blink and I find myself spinning to look for a weapon. My attention snags on the shelves with the tires, all perfectly stored in bags. Surely there must be something there.
I rush to the shelves and haul one of the tires down. It’s heavier than I expect and I lose my grip on it immediately. “Fuck!” I risk a glance over my shoulder. Apollo still has his arms up, protecting his face from Theseus’s attacks, but who knows how long that will last. He’s bloodied and hurt.
I spin back to the shelves. “Come on, come on, come on!” There has to be something there that I can use. There has to be.
A gleam of metal catches my eye. A tire iron. I grab it and immediately have to shift my grip because my palms are so sweaty. I don’t let myself hesitate. Apollo’s life hangs in the balance. I simply act.
I sprint to where Theseus continues to beat him. No warning. I can’t afford one. I plant my feet and swing the tire iron with all my strength. He must see me at the last moment because I don’t hit his head like I was aiming for. He gets an arm up and grunts as the blow lands. It barely moves him.
If I don’t stop him, he’s going to kill the man I love.
Fear and panic give me the strength to hit him again. “Let him go!”
“Stop hitting me, or you’re next.”
“Run, Cassandra,” Apollo rasps.
Fuck no. I’m not leaving him to die, not even if to save myself. I swing the tire iron a third time. I never make contact. Theseus grabs it and yanks it out of my hands. He gives me a bloody grin. “Checkmate.”
“No!” Apollo surges up and knocks the tire iron out of Theseus’s hands. The other man goes to punch him, but Apollo is already flipping them. This time, he comes out on top. He punches Theseus. Once. Twice. On the third time, Theseus’s eyes roll back in his head, and he slumps to the ground.
I stare at the unconscious man, half-certain that this is a ploy and the moment I blink, he’ll attack.
Apollo shoves him off and staggers to his feet. “Are you okay?”
“Me?” I have to look away from Theseus when Apollo tips sideways. I grab his arm to keep him on his feet. He winces and clutches his ribs. I follow the movement. “Are they broken?”
“No.” He flinches again. “I don’t think so.”
As one, we turn to Hephaestus. He still hasn’t moved. I don’t know if it’s adrenaline, but I plant my feet and can’t make myself approach him. This is so much worse than the scene with Pan yesterday. There’s blood everywhere, spattered all over the surrounding area. Too much violence. I never signed up for this.
Hephaestus never did me any kindness—in fact, he was cruel on the few occasions we had reason to interact—but cruelty is not a death sentence. No one deserves to die like this, alone and in pain.
Apollo gently extracts himself from my hold. “Stay there.”
“Apollo—”
He reaches down to grab the fallen tire iron and presses it into my hand. “Guard Theseus.”
It’s a bullshit task and we both know it, but I can’t help the gratitude that wells up inside me. This man continues to protect me as best he can. I nod, not quite able to clear the burning from my eyes. “Okay.”
“Cassandra.” He catches my chin for the briefest moment. “Thank you. If you hadn’t intervened…”
A wet prickle at the corner of my eye betrays me. I can’t make my bottom lip stop quivering. You could have died. I can barely think it, let alone say it. I can’t comprehend a world without Apollo in it. “Check him,” I finally manage.
He hesitates now when he didn’t before. “Are you okay?”
“No. Not even a little bit.” The tire iron slips against my sweaty palms, forcing me to readjust my grip. “We have to know, Apollo. We have to end this.”
He finally nods. I watch him closely as he walks to Hephaestus. Apollo is covered in blood and is holding his ribs in a way that scares me. Surely he’d know if they were broken? Yes, but would he tell you the truth if they were? The answer to that is a resounding no. I can’t trust him to take care of himself if he thinks I’m in danger. “Apollo—”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “He’s dead.”
My stomach tries to revolt, but I fight through the nausea that hits me in waves. We were too late and now a man is dead. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t—”
“It’s not your fault.” He pushes to his feet, swaying a little, and turns to face me. One of his eyes is swollen almost completely shut. “I have to call Zeus.”