"So, you wanna tell us why the Lord of the Dead whisked us out of Central Park?" Leah asked, before frowning. "I think that's the weirdest thing I've ever said."

"Screw that," Joe mumbled, hopping off the edge of my bed. "You're alive, and that's all that-oomph!"

I barely caught sight of Joe tumbling into one of my beanbag chairs before I felt someone plow against my chest, sending the both of us sprawling to the ground. At the sight of strawberry blond hair and tear-filled baby blue eyes, I knew it had been Patrick who'd tackled me, his head buried in the crook of my neck while his body shook with silent sobs, hands fisted tightly into my shirt as if he were afraid that if he let go, I'd vanish into thin air.

Which, to be fair, was a totally reasonable fear given my powers.

I carded my hand through Patrick's hair, trying not to compare my friend's features to those of Luke, whose picture hung mere inches above my head. I turned away, preferring to focus my attention on slowing Patrick's breathing before he worked himself into having an asthma attack.

I managed to get the two of us seated into a more upright position, but it didn't last long as Pete yelled, "Doggy pile!" not hesitating to bring Joe and himself down on us in a mess of arms and legs. Leah joined the hug once we were no longer a human knot, and Andy preferred to sit next to us, giving us pats of affection on the head instead.

Eventually, the six of us scattered about my room, Joe laying claim to the beanbag chair he'd fallen over, Andy spinning around in my desk chair, Leah and Pete sitting on the edge of my bed, and Patrick remaining pressed up against my side as we sat on top of my trunk by my closet.

I could still feel him shivering, his skin ice cold against mine. I increased my internal body temperature, pulling Patrick closer, and wrapping my arms around him as he tried to level his breathing.

"Are you ever going to answer my question?" Leah asked, leaning forward, appearing like a fairy about to take flight.

"I don't know why Hades brought you all here," I said, continuing to run my hand through Patrick's hair. "Honestly, it was as much a shock for me as it is for you guys."

"Whatever he did," Pete said, "I didn't like it. It was all dark and cold and ew."

"It felt like we'd fade into nothing," Joe said. "And the wind was awful like you could hear the screams of the damned."

"Well, we are in the Underworld," Andy deadpanned, absentmindedly drumming at his knee with a pen he'd snagged from my desk.

"Exactly," I said. "In any case, Hades travels through shadows, so it doesn't surprise me he brought you into his home using his preferred method of transportation."

I checked on Patrick one more time, frowning to myself as he had yet to say anything since his arrival, eyes staring at everything and nothing at all. Maybe he'd heard something while shadow-traveling that did this to him. God knows what lurked in the shadows.

No, I knew what lurked in the shadows, who controlled everything dark and monstrous.

I fought off a shiver. No need to freak out my already scared friends when they were literally in the Underworld, a place where no mortals were allowed to leave once they entered. At least that long-held record was about to be shattered because I knew Hades would let my friends leave seeing as he brought them here himself.

"Would you like a tour of the palace?" I asked, knowing that I needed to figure out a way to occupy my friends – cough, Pete and Joe, cough – before they did something stupid, like go running into Asphodel with the Furies chasing after them. Or worse yet, they'd prank my brother and permanently earn their stay in the realm of the dead.

"Uh, duh!" Pete exclaimed, hopping onto his feet, dragging Leah along with him. "Are there skeleton guards? And ghosts? And vampires?"

"Yes, yes, and not in the way you think." Keeping track of the hour, I figured I had enough time to give them a basic tour before our appointed dinner with the Lord of the Dead. I got to my feet, Patrick following suit, locking his arm through mine. "All right, follow me, and don't touch anything if you want to make it out of here alive."

Patrick didn't say anything until dinner that night, and when he spoke, it was a polite, "Could you pass the potatoes, please?"

As for the whole "If you eat in the Underworld, you must stay there" rule, Hades said that he'd bypassed the rule by making arrangements with the Fates earlier in the day.

At the thought of my employers, I scowled, my fork nearly melting into molten silver in my hand. My entire being would've caught flames if it wasn't for Leah dumping her glass of water over my head, making me realize the danger I could've put my friends in.

I took a deep breath and willed myself dry, thanking Leah while a ghostly servant set a new fork by my side.

Looking around at my friends, I felt a sense of pride at the sight of the faintest trace of a smile on my brother's face. I'd spent a large amount of time getting them ready, fighting Pete into wearing a suit, tying Patrick's tie, coordinating Joe's socks (yes, I had to fight him on this), attaching Andy's cufflinks, and braiding Leah's hair. I was especially proud of Leah's hair because I'd plucked one of the enchanted flowers from my room and set it above her ear, giving her a burst of color amid the otherwise muted colors of the Underworld.

"Lord Hades, you have to tell us another story about Andy!" Pete pleaded, pulling the biggest puppy dog eyes, going so far as to pout. There was the sound of a kick landing. "Ow! Leah, what the hell?"

"I'm sure what my boyfriend meant to say," Leah began, glaring daggers at Pete, who merely pouted, "is that we would love to hear another story if you feel so inclined, Lord Hades. My apologies for his disrespect."

I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my water while I saw the amusement twinkling in my brother's onyx eyes. Among the gods, Hades probably had the second greatest amount of blackmail on me thanks to the amount of time I spend with him. I refused to think about who had the first, not wanting to sour my mood again.

"Oh, if you insist," Hades said, sounding like a host trying to please his guests, but I knew better. He was going to milk this for all it was worth. "One time, Andy…"

I tuned out Hades' retellings of my misadventures, turning all my attention back to Patrick. For the better part of fifteen minutes, he'd been pushing around the food on his plate, eyebrows furrowed tightly together, lips in a firm line, oblivious to the world.

I got up and beckoned for Patrick to follow, the others so enraptured in Hades' voice that they really didn't notice our disappearance.

I brought Patrick to one of my favorite areas in the palace: Persephone's garden.

"Don't touch anything," I warned. "Persephone doesn't like it when people mess with her gardens. And don't even think about trying to eat her pomegranates."

Patrick nodded in understanding, taking a seat next to me on the bench under the alcove of roses. From the alcove, you could see the majority of the gardens, including the fountain that spewed precious stones instead of water, casting colorful lights on the cobblestone flooring. The roses surrounding us sprayed the air with their delightful perfume, light and airy like a midsummer day.

None of the beauty and wonder seemed to affect Patrick, head resting on my shoulder, one of his hands tightly gripping my own.

"Patrick," I said, rubbing circles into the back of his hand with my thumb, "what's going on?"

He inhaled sharply, releasing a shaky breath afterward. I didn't hesitate in pulling him into a hug, holding him tightly as he began to sob again. He trembled so badly that we almost fell off the bench. His cries reminded me of someone trying to rip out their larynx.

I did my best to soothe him, whispering, "I'm here, it's okay," over and over again until the words lost meaning. I didn't let go until I felt Patrick still under my arms, his eyes drooping shut, body going slack.

The poor kid had cried himself to the point of exhaustion, and I still had no idea what plagued one of my closest friends.

It would've been so easy to enter his memories, to do some digging myself, but that would be a total invasion of privacy. That would be something most of the other gods would do – barge into anyone's mind to satiate their own knowledge at the cost of the person's privacy. No, I would never be like that, I decided.

But I wouldn't let my friend suffer, either.

So I held onto Patrick and shadow-traveled us to my room, changing him into pajamas with the snap of my fingers, setting him into my bed. I pulled up the covers to his chin, tucking him in tightly in the hopes he'd sleep better this way.

"Honey is for bees, silly bear," I sang, hoping that my singing voice wouldn't give Patrick any nightmares. "Besides there's jelly beans everywhere. It's not what it seems in the land of dreams. Don't worry your head, just go to sleep."

I trailed off, sensing Patrick relaxing, sinking into a deeper sleep.

I breathed a sigh of relief, deciding that I wouldn't be going back to the dining room. It's not like I wanted to hear stories about myself anyways.

Shucking off my heels, I walked into my closet to grab some more comfortable clothes than the dress I currently wore, only to jump back in fright. I lowered my dagger – yes, I'd had a dagger strapped to my thigh under my dress – recognizing those faces anywhere.

"Oh, it's you," I said, disdain dripping from my voice. I sheathed my dagger and pushed past the three hags taking up space in my closet. I'd stab them all in the neck if it didn't mean the world going topsy-turvy. That and I knew they could handle themselves just fine.

"Girl-"

"My name is Andromeda, you might as well use it."

"Will you at least let us speak this time?" Lachesis asked, clearly exasperated.

"Depends on what you have to say."

"We didn't intend for the boy-"

"Luke," I growled. "His name was Luke."

"Yes, yes, Luke wasn't supposed to die," Clotho continued for Lachesis, the other Fate being restrained by Atropos to keep her bony hands from wrapping around my neck. "We don't know why his lifeline suddenly snapped. It was out of our control."

"How is that remotely possible?!" I asked, my voice raising with every word. If it wasn't for Patrick being on the other side of the closed door behind me, I'd be yelling at the top of my lungs. "You're the damn Fates. You three control when we go, not Thanatos, and definitely not my brother. So explain to me how a person's name suddenly vanished off my list of people I was supposed to save!"

"Andromeda, we know you cared for him," Atropos tried, but I wasn't having any of it.

"But you still let him die because of me."

"How many times must we tell you? We played no part in his death."

"I don't believe you." I pinched the bridge of my nose, exhaling sharply. "Look, just go away, all of you. Please."

Lachesis rushed at me, but her sisters pulled her back.

"Andromeda is right," Clotho said. "On behalf of my sisters, I apologize. You still need time to grieve. But believe us when we say that Luke did not die by our hands."

"You're right," I said, my voice no louder than a whisper. "He died by mine."

I didn't sleep that night, preferring to spend the next eight hours in the training room, hacking away at all sorts of monsters, skeletons, and spirits until my limbs felt like lead. I plopped down on a bench at the end of my session, my armor shifting around me as I leaned forward, resting my elbows against my knees, burying my head in my hands.

There was no use in my staying here. Hades refused to let me handle any more of the breaches, claiming that as long as my friends were in the palace, I had to play host as was "proper tradition."

That's utter Minotaur dung; he merely wants me where he can see me.

It's not like that dream of his would last long anyhow. Tomorrow marked the attack on Camp Jupiter, and not even Hades himself could keep me away from destroying swaths of monsters that threatened my friends.

Still, until I left the Underworld, I'd play nice.

I walked into breakfast late, my hair damp from my shower, wearing clothes that made me appear severely underdressed compared to my friends. After wearing armor for eight hours while profusely sweating, there was no way I would be caught in a dress of any kind. Hades would have to make do with my baggy t-shirt and athletic shorts.

To my surprise, and relief, I found my friends conversing with Hades as if it was second nature, easily sharing laughs and smiles as food was continuously served. Well, except for Patrick that is, who seemed worse off today than he'd been last night.

Today, he refused to so much as look up from his plate, half-heartedly poking at his eggs. Dark semicircles hung underneath dulled blue eyes, his lips pulled downward into a perpetual frown. His normally pale skin seemed five shades whiter than normal, his cheeks hollow, the skin taut over his cheekbones.

Why hadn't anyone said anything about Patrick's condition? He looked like death warmed over, but our friends continued cracking jokes, enjoying my brother's hospitality without ever pausing to check on Patrick.

"Well, it was lovely having such pleasant guests," Hades said at the end of breakfast, the table clearing with a wave of his hand. "Unfortunately, Andy and I have our responsibilities to attend. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

Leah curtsied while the boys bowed. "Thank you for the invitation and your kindness, Lord Hades," she spoke on behalf of the group. "We wish you and Andy well."

Before Hades could send my friends away, Leah met my gaze, her eyes saying, "We aren't done yet."

"Your well wishes are appreciated," Hades continued. "Goodbye now."

I latched onto Patrick's wrist, keeping him here while Hades sent the others back. Maybe now he'd open up. At least, I prayed he would before he turned into a living skeleton.

We went back to my room. I gestured for Patrick to take a seat in one of my beanbag chairs while I took the other, sitting across from him. He remained silent, fidgeting with the crown of his wristwatch, unable to meet my eyes.

"Patrick," I began softly, "you know you can tell me anything, right?"

He gave a terse nod.

"Listen, if this is about the phone call I made with the group a few days ago, I'm sorry if I scared you. I wanted to hear your voices one last time in case I didn't come back." I fiddled with my charms, grounding myself with the feeling of the little shapes between my fingertips. "But if something else entirely is going on, I'm here. I'll always be here for you, Patrick."

Patrick took a deep breath in, hands curling into tight fists. "I've always been able to see more than I should," he said, voice absolutely wrecked. I ignored the tightening sensation in my chest, keeping my full attention on Patrick. "For a long time, I thought I was crazy. My parents sent me to therapy a couple of times. 'Overactive imagination,' they'd say, and it got to the point where I believed them, so I stopped talking about what I saw.

"Then you came into my life and showed me that I'm not crazy, that the things I've seen are real. For a while, things got better. I had the others as support, and whenever we ran across particularly disturbing things, we'd simply turn a blind eye and go somewhere else."

"What changed?" I asked.

"I-I don't know," he growled, his hands curling in on themselves even tighter. "Around the time of your phone call, I started getting a God-awful headache, so I tried taking a nap. But what I saw in my dreams…" Patrick trailed off, eyes glazed over as he stared right through me.

I reached over and took his hands into mine, gently uncurling his fingers, revealing the broken skin on his palms. I healed the crescent-shaped wounds, waiting for Patrick to continue whenever he was ready.

"Andy, where did you go?" he asked, his voice breaking at the end. "Everything was dark and bleak and evil. I saw you get sliced up over and over and over. I saw how you were tortured. I saw how he would laugh at your pain and how you'd refuse to cry, which caused him to hurt you more."

I tried not to flinch at the mention of Tartarus, my freshly healed scars slightly throbbing at the reminder of my ordeal.

"Every time my eyes closed, he was there, and all I could hear was your pleading to let your friends go. You didn't think about yourself for a second."

"I never do."

"That's the problem!" Patrick exclaimed, hopping to his feet. "How much of yourself are you willing to sacrifice if it means saving a friend?"

I didn't skip a beat. "Everything. I would allow myself to be reduced to atoms for a friend."

I saw the flow of tears streaming down Patrick's cheeks, shaking his head softly. He fell into my outstretched arms, taking slow, deep breaths as he tried to calm himself.

"I know you would," he said, voice barely louder than a whisper, "and my nightmares reflect that. I see you dying in a thousand different ways, each more painful and gruesome than the last."

"You're having demigod dreams?"

He shrugged.

"I might have a way to stop the nightmares, but I need you to trust me," I said, drying Patrick's tears with the pads of my thumbs.

"I trust you with my life."

"All right. Just close your eyes. It'll be over soon."

I tapped into Hera's powers for the first time in ages, gasping as I found myself transported inside of Patrick's mind, his memories neatly organized along the timeline we all had in our minds. I found the nightmares, shrinking them to near nothingness, sending them far back on the timeline.

Then I sat on the ground crisscross applesauce, holding my hands out directly in front of me as I recited a protection spell. A pale yellow orb formed in between my hands, a warm, buttery light flooding the otherwise hazy landscape. Once the orb grew to proper size, I raised my arms to the sky, allowing the tendrils of light to spread throughout Patrick's mind, taking hold along the timeline.

By the time I'd finished the spell, the light had transformed into a grandiose golden tree, its leaves shading Patrick's memories beneath. I watched as branches continued to grow and expand with the timeline, acting as a shield for the new memories Patrick made. This tree would be a guardian for his mind, keeping any mythological forces from poking around his brain for funsies. That should keep the nightmares at bay.

Well, demigodly nightmares, anyways.

When I pulled my hands away from Patrick's head, he gasped, eyes flying open. There were a million unspoken questions written on his face, but instead of asking anything, I heard, "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I managed a weak chuckle, running my fingers through Patrick's hair again. "Any time, 'Trick. Any time."

Patrick and I went our separate ways once I'd made sure he felt okay – walking through minds tended to leave both parties with vertigo for some time afterward. I sent him back to our friends while I prepared for battle, currently hunched over a grinding wheel as I sharpened my myriad of blades. My knives, daggers, and swords were by no means dull, but I wanted to cut through monsters like a hot knife slicing butter, taking out as many of the bastards as I could get my hands on.

My thirst for revenge had not been satiated, and I knew it wouldn't be until I had Gaea and Tartarus' heads stuffed and hanging on a wall.

"I can hear your thoughts," Hades said, making his presence known.

"Ha-ha, very funny." I eased my foot off the pedal, the grinding wheel coming to a halting stop. "Shouldn't you be on breach patrol or doing paperwork?"

"Shouldn't you be at Camp Jupiter?"

"Touché."

Hades sighed. "Andy, I think you and I need to talk."

I fought back a groan, pressing a button on the hilt of my dagger, causing it to collapse into its charm. If this was going where I think it was, I didn't want to have a blade in my hand.

"What's there to talk about?" I grumbled, turning in my seat so that I faced Hades. "I know you brought my friends here to distract me, but a few happy hours don't negate my emotions."

"I am well aware of that. However, I brought your friends in the hopes you would speak to them about what happened."

"Yeah, because that's what ended up happening," I scoffed. "They were oblivious to Patrick's suffering. Did you really think they'd pick up on mine?"

"I admit, I miscalculated that aspect. Mortals have such short attention spans."

"You say this as you speak to a goddess with ADHD."

Hades made a dismissive gesture. "You make apologizing such as hassle, Andromeda."

Unlike with Apollo, I didn't go rigid at the sound of my full name being said by my brother. He used Andy and Andromeda intermittently. If we were about to fight, he'd call me "girl," and I knew I'd have to back off or face the consequences. I'll let you guess what I would do in those situations.

"You're stalling," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "Get on with it, then. I still have three daggers in need of sharpening before I leave."

"You love too fiercely, sister. Your love – it's passionate, fiery, deep, personal," Hades began. "And if you don't learn how to get a handle on your heart, you will suffer for the rest of your immortal life. You will die a thousand deaths, becoming a shadow of the person you are now."

"I've seen my friends die in my arms. I've seen countless eyes go glassy as they stare into nothingness, their blood still warm as it stained my hands, their stopped heartbeats creating a deafening silence. I've felt souls enter your domain, heard the snip of the Fates' thread, burned their shrouds, comforted their friends and family. And now you want to warn me about cutting my losses?"

"Don't take this personally. I'm merely preparing you for…" Hades fell silent.

"For what?" I demanded. "I'm a big girl. I can take it."

Hades wouldn't budge, staring at the downtrodden ground. The shadows around him shifted in agitation, reacting to their master's emotions. I didn't look down at my own shadow, the darkness sensing my own agitation. At this point, all I could do was pray that another bombshell wouldn't be dropped on me again.

"Luke's soul is, for lack of better words, lost."

I fought the urge to scream, instead gritting my teeth so tightly that my jaw began to ache. As if I needed another reason to dismember my absolute nightmare of a grandmother and her walking disaster of a husband.

Turning Luke into a lost soul? That was a low blow, even for the self-proclaimed Lord of Hell.

"How long?" I asked, my voice tight, my anger barely kept under wraps.

"I'd say he has two weeks at most," Hades said solemnly. "If he is not found in the next fourteen days…"

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

I turned my back to Hades and summoned the next dagger, pressing the blade against the revving stone, sparks of red and orange shooting upwards into the air. Thankfully, Hades got the message, leaving me to my own devices as I sharpened my daggers within an inch of their lives.

To test a dagger, I threw it as hard as I could at the obsidian walls, watching as the Celestial bronze blade buried itself up to the hilt. I yanked the dagger free, ignoring the feeling of ichor freely flowing from an accidental cut on my hand.

Much more blood would be spilled before this war ended. Now, it was time to make sure I bled Gaea dry.