A Touch of Ruin (Hades x Persephone #2)(49)

Except that Persephone knew death personally. It did not discriminate, and anyone could be prey. It all depended on a thread and sometimes a gamble.

“What if...we lose her? What will we do?” Jaison’s question stole Persephone’s breath, and she looked at him.

He leaned forward in his chair again like he might get sick. Instead, he scrubbed his face with his hands. She thought he might be trying to keep his tears at bay, and she could see his eyes were growing red, and his face was splotchy and pink.

She reached for his hand. It was clammy and cold, and hers were shaking. “We won’t lose her.”

Her voice was fierce and as she spoke, she understood all those desperate pleas mortals made to Hades—she was making one now. Don’t take her from me. I will give you anything.

She closed her eyes against her thoughts, and spoke again, more uncertain than she’d ever been, “We won’t. We can’t.”

Torturous hours ticked by with no updates. Persephone stepped outside to call Sybil and let her know what happened. The oracle made it to the hospital within thirty minutes. Between the three of them, they’d walked the entire hospital and been to the cafeteria close to ten times for coffee and water. It was about the only thing any of them could stomach.

When Lexa’s parents arrived, Jaison hurried outside to meet them and show them the way. During his absence, Persephone turned to Sybil.

“Have your powers returned?” she asked.

“Yes,” the oracle whispered, giving Persephone a knowing look. They still hadn’t had a chance to talk about Persephone’s agreement with Apollo.

Persephone only had one question for the oracle. “Do you know if she will live?”

“I do not know. The gods are merciful that way. I do not carry the burden of knowing my friends’ fates.”

Persephone frowned. “Do you think Apollo had something to do with this?”

Isn’t that what Sybil had said? That Apollo would punish by hurting those closest to her?

Sybil shook her head. “No, Persephone. I think this is exactly what it looks like...a mortal accident.”

Persephone wasn’t sure why, but that wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

Then Sybil asked, “Maybe you can ask Hades if...she will survive.”

The goddess swallowed thickly. She could, but what if the answer was no? She tried to imagine going to the Underworld every day and finding Lexa walking the streets of Asphodel, arm in arm with Yuri.

She couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t explain why it was such a terrifying thought, either. It was just that...if Lexa was in the Underworld it meant that she was dead. It meant that she wasn’t in the Upperworld anymore. That her existence had ceased, and Persephone couldn’t stomach that.

When Lexa’s parents, Eliska and Adam, arrived, they were given more information on the status of her injuries. The doctor wore a white lab coat and kept his hands in his pockets as he spoke. He was older, his eyelid shielded his drooping eyes, his nose was wide, his lips thin and formed a permanent frown. He sounded tired, but it was just his voice, a low, raspy baritone.

“She has two broken legs and a broken elbow. Lacerations to her kidneys, bruised lungs, and blood on her brain.”

Hearing the trauma Lexa’s body had sustained brought Persephone to tears.

He continued, “She is in critical condition and in a coma. We have her on a ventilator.”

“What does critical condition mean?” Jaison asked.

“It means that her vitals are unstable and abnormal,” the doctor answered. “The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be very important for Lexa’s recovery.”

The words broke down Persephone’s hope.

Lexa’s parents were let in to see her first. Persephone, Sybil, and Jaison waited.

“She’ll fight. She’ll pull through,” Jaison said aloud as if he was trying to convince them and himself.

It was Eliska who returned to get them and show them to Lexa’s room. As they followed her, Persephone couldn’t stop staring. Lexa looked a lot like her mother. They had the same thick, black hair and blue eyes and sometimes the same expressions.

When Persephone entered, her gaze went straight to Lexa. It was hard to describe how she felt seeing her best friend under all that equipment. It was a little like having an out of body experience. Lexa was still as stone and barely visible under layers of tubes and cords running into her like the Threads of Fate. They bound her in place and right now, they bound her to life. A thick white cloth lay across her forehead, and a neck brace propped her chin up high. Her ventilator sounded like a constant exhale and the heart monitor pulsed a steady beat. These were things that even this room—made up with colorful walls, monochrome flooring, and modern touches—couldn’t disguise. This was a place where people came because they were sick or hurt or dying.

Persephone reached for Lexa’s hand. She was cold, and for some reason, that surprised her. She noted all the ways her best friend didn’t quite look like herself, her swollen face, her bruised skin, her colorless lips.

While they were gathered around her, a nurse entered the room, checking monitors, tubes, and entering information into a computer.

“There’s nothing else they can do,” she heard Lexa’s mother saying. “It’s really up to her now.”

Persephone squeezed Lexa’s hand. She didn’t squeeze hers back.