Hazel swallowed back a sob. It hadn’t been this hard in Asphodel the first time, when she was on her own. Having Frank with her made her feel so much sadder. But she was determined not to get angry about her fate.
Hazel thought about that image of herself as an adult, smiling and in love. She knew it wouldn’t take much bitterness to sour her expression and make her look exactly like Queen Marie. I deserve better, her mother always said. Hazel couldn’t allow herself to feel that way.
“I’m sorry, Frank,” she said. “I think your mother was wrong. Sometimes sharing a problem doesn’t make it easier to carry.”
“But it does.” Frank slipped his hand into his coat pocket.
“In fact…since we’ve got eternity to talk, there’s something I want to tell you.”
He brought out an object wrapped in cloth, about the same size as a pair of glasses. When he unfolded it, Hazel saw a half-burned piece of driftwood, glowing with purple light.
She frowned. “What is…” Then the truth hit her, as cold and harsh as a blast of winter wind. “Phineas said your life depends on a burned stick—”
“It’s true,” Frank said. “This is my lifeline, literally.”
He told her how the goddess Juno had appeared when he was a baby, how his grandmother had snatched the piece of wood from the fireplace. “Grandmother said I had gifts—some talent we got from our ancestor, the Argonaut. That, and my dad’s being Mars…” He shrugged. “I’m supposed to be too powerful or something. That’s why my life can burn up so easily. Iris said I would die holding this, watching it burn.”
Frank turned the piece of tinder in his fingers. Even in his ghostly purple form, he looked so big and sturdy. Hazel figured he would be huge when he was an adult—as strong and healthy as an ox. She couldn’t believe his life depended on something as small as a stick.
“Frank, how can you carry it around with you?” she asked. “Aren’t you terrified something will happen to it?”
“That’s why I’m telling you.” He held out the firewood. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you keep it for me?”
Hazel’s head spun. Until now, she’d accepted Frank’s presence in her blackout. She’d led him along, numbly replaying her past, because it seemed only fair to show him the truth.
But now she wondered if Frank was really experiencing this with her, or if she was just imagining his presence. Why would he trust her with his life?
“Frank,” she said, “you know who I am. I’m Pluto’s daughter. Everything I touch goes wrong. Why would you trust me?”
“You’re my best friend.” He placed the firewood in her hands. “I trust you more than anybody.”
She wanted to tell him he was making a mistake. She wanted to give it back. But before she could say anything, a shadow fell over them.
“Our ride is here,” Frank guessed.
Hazel had almost forgotten she was reliving her past. Nicodi Angelo stood over her in his black overcoat, his Stygian iron sword at his side. He didn’t notice Frank, but he locked eyes with Hazel and seemed to read her whole life.
“You’re different,” he said. “A child of Pluto. You remember your past.”
“Yes,” Hazel said. “And you’re alive.”
Nico studied her like he was reading a menu, deciding whether or not to order.
“I’m Nico di Angelo,” he said. “I came looking for my sister. Death has gone missing, so I thought…I thought I could bring her back and no one would notice.”
“Back to life?” Hazel asked. “Is that possible?”
“It should have been.” Nico sighed. “But she’s gone. She chose to be reborn into a new life. I’m too late.”
“I’m sorry.”
He held out his hand. “You’re my sister too. You deserve another chance. Come with me.”
“HAZEL.” PERCY WAS SHAKING HER SHOULDER. “Wake up. We’ve reached Seattle.”
She sat up groggily, squinting in the morning sunlight. “Frank?”
Frank groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Did we just…was I just—?”
“You both passed out,” Percy said. “I don’t know why, but Ella told me not to worry about it. She said you were…sharing?”
“Sharing,” Ella agreed. She crouched in the stern, preening her wing feathers with her teeth, which didn’t look like a very effective form of personal hygiene. She spit out some red fluff. “Sharing is good. No more blackouts. Biggest American blackout, August 14, 2003. Hazel shared. No more blackouts.” Percy scratched his head. “Yeah…we’ve been having conversations like that all night. I still don’t know what she’stalking about.”
Hazel pressed her hand against her coat pocket. She could feel the piece of firewood, wrapped in cloth.
She looked at Frank. “You were there.”
He nodded. He didn’t say anything, but his expression was clear: He’d meant what he said. He wanted her to keep the piece of tinder safe. She wasn’t sure whether she felt honored or scared. No one had ever trusted her with something so important.
“Wait,” Percy said. “You mean you guys shared a blackout? Are you guys both going to pass out from now on?”