“I don’t care!” I yelled, which only made the pounding in my head worse. That must be why you’re not thinking clearly.” You’ve got a big gash on your scalp, and there’s blood. “That’s terrible! Your feedback is important!” He floated down to my side. “Tell me or I will not complete your customer service survey.” “I need to find Meg.” I wiped my mouth with a shaky hand. I doubled over and vomited in his crater, which I thought an appropriate response. “You call me a TELEMARKETER?” he demanded. In the swirling steam, the palikos appeared, his mud-gray face hardening with anger.
Water shot skyward with a sound like the blast of an organ’s lowest pipe. “Show yourself, you cowardly telemarketer!” Yet I managed to stumble to the rim of Pete’s geyser. Someone seemed to be inflating a balloon inside my brain. Now my broken oath would cost Meg her life. I’d lost the beautiful Hyacinthus because of a quarrel with Zephyros. I’d lost Daphne because of one careless comment to Eros. How could I have been so foolish? Whenever I angered the other gods, those closest to me were struck down. Instead of punishing me directly, Zeus or the Fates or all the gods together had visited their wrath upon Meg McCaffrey. By playing music and saving myself, I had broken my oath on the River Styx. Finally, I yanked off the A string, threaded it through Meg’s rings, and tied them around my neck. I tried to break my ridiculous combat ukulele, but the Celestial bronze instrument defied my attempts. Instantly, they changed into gold rings-so small, so easily lost, like a mortal life.
I had no idea which direction they’d taken my friend. But I was not Artemis I did not have my sister’s skill with tracking. Surely two tank-size ants would leave a trail I could follow. I looked for signs of broken branches or trampled ground. I knew it was pointless, but yelling felt good. I STUMBLED THROUGH the glade, shouting Meg’s name. By the time I managed to stand, the two ants were gone. I may have lay in the mud for minutes or hours while my brain slowly gyrated inside my skull. It seemed like ages since I had been a god of healing. I have a concussion, I thought, but I had no idea what to do about it. (I don’t think I have ever written a sadder sentence than that.) I tried to run to Meg’s aid, but I stumbled and fell. Defeating one ant had taken all my energy. She collapsed as one of the myrmekes caught her in its mandibles. I turned in time to see her second sword fly from her hand. Believe me, the only thing that smells worse than Hephaestus’s work shirts is a myrmeke boiling in its own shell.