Wincing, he shifted, a flinch moving through his arm. His face was intact, the whole front of his body looked unhurt. But how deep inside him did the damage reach? She started to roll him over, but he cried out. She couldn’t touch him without hurting him.
“Daddy, what do I do? I don’t know what to do.”
He opened his eyes, reached for her, found her hand by touch. Squeezed it hard, but not as hard as he was capable of. Not Captain Olympus hard. Could he see? Was he even seeing at her?
He whispered, “You’re safe—”
He died with his eyes open, looking at her.
She pulled his limp body onto her lap, cradled him as if it would help, as if it would comfort him somehow. As if it would comfort her. But it didn’t, because the skin on his shoulders came off in her hands.
Captain Olympus hadn’t died saving Commerce City, as he’d always vowed to do, as everyone thought he might. He’d died saving her. Just her.
* * *
Twenty-three years ago:
“Suzanne, that’s not normal, is it? A two-year-old shouldn’t be able to lift that much weight.”
The weight in question was an oversize pillow from the sofa. The lifting was nominal at best. Celia had managed to stand the thing upright and was valiantly maneuvering it so she could leverage it over her head, for some arcane toddler purpose. She’d get it off the ground an inch before the weight overbalanced and the whole thing slid out of her hands. Determinedly, she bent over and tried again.
Suzanne stood in the doorway to the kitchen, drying a plate. “Actually, I think that’s pretty normal.”
“Look at that,” Warren said. “Persistence. That’s a good trait.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Celia!” Celia looked at her father and grinned at the wide-eyed hopeful expression he wore. “Come here, Celia. Come on!” She ran to where he sat a few feet away—jerky, toddler running steps—and jumped at him. Laughing, he caught her. “You’re going to be a runner, aren’t you? Fastest girl in Commerce City.”
“Warren, her powers might not manifest until she’s a teenager, like it did with me. Ten more years at least.”
He was tickling Celia now, and she was squealing happily. “I know, I just can’t wait to see what she’s going to do! You know—” He pointed excitedly at Suzanne. “I’ll bet she flies.”
She rolled her eyes. “So help me God if you throw her off the roof to see if she can fly, I’ll roast you.” Suzanne could do it, too.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
She smirked at him like she had her doubts.
Celia squirmed and laughed, oblivious.
* * *
She was still on the floor, holding her father half sprawled on her lap, pietà-like, when the others arrived. She heard footsteps echo, then more footsteps—too many. She looked up, through squinting eyes. The rest of the Olympiad was there. Robbie, Arthur, her mother.
She ought to say something. They’d expect her to say something. She opened her mouth, intending to apologize. She choked on a sob instead. Tears fell.
“Oh, Celia.” That was Arthur, because of course he took one look at her, took one glimpse inside of her, and saw it all.
Robbie touched Suzanne’s arm, but she moved away from him, stepping toward her husband and daughter. Maybe she’d been expecting this moment for a long time. Maybe she’d never believed it would happen. Celia didn’t know, and she’d never ask.
Suzanne knelt by Warren’s body, touched his chest, looked on him with such tenderness that Celia held her breath. This will kill her mother. She’d watch her mother die in front of her as well.
Suzanne looked at her and smiled. She cupped Celia’s cheek in her hand, leaned forward, and kissed the top of her head, as if she were a child who’d skinned her knee.
Then she stood and walked away.
When Arthur came to her and touched her shoulder, all strength left her. She let him fold her into his arms and take care of her.