Dear Secrets, Please Fly Quietly

18) Sickness

When I woke up from not sleeping around 10 in the morning, I knew something was wrong. For the first time since having my staff back, I had woken up without Martha and George sticking their tongues in my ears. But that wasn't the only thing. Athena, Aphrodite, and Ares were the only other ones up. Trying to hide the concern in my voice, I asked Athena where the others were.

She sighed. "The others are in their rooms still. They're very weak and I don't know why."

"You don't know?! You're the goddess of wisdom and you don't-"

"Hermes!" She snapped. Angry Athena is not someone you want to mess with. "Just because I'm the goddess of wisdom doesn't mean I'm not allowed to not know! Why can't you all understand that?!" She avoided my gaze and made me feel like a child just told their parents are very disappointed.

Staring at the ground, I whispered, "Are we the only ones left?"

"Obviously!" Ares shouted, throwing his hands up. "Seriously, how stupid are you?!"

I gritted my teeth but said nothing. Aphrodite was sitting, pouting about how everyone is disgusting. "I didn't think my wonderful husband Hephaestus, could get any uglier but here we are!"

"'Dite, stop yelling." I said flatly. I was already tired, and did not need her constant complaining to make my headache worse. "And, until we find out what's causing this, there's nothing that guarantees you won't get it."

"Make-up!" The love goddess said defiantly, tossing her large auburn curls over her shoulder with all sass.

I made a gagging noise and pushed two fingers into the side of my head, not that she noticed.

A blinding light erupted into room. When it died down and I could see again, I recognized Apollo and Artemis. The former carried the latter in his arms. "She's sick." Apollo said before setting his sister down. In doing so, he stumbled and fell to his knees.

"So are you." Athena noted, but Apollo shook his head.

"I'm fine, but Arty needs helps."

"You know something's wrong when the god of medicine can't heal his own twin." I remarked, studying Artemis. She looked worse than when I left her last night.

The abused puppy returned to Apollo's face, but he acted like I was pouring salt into the wound. "Don't you think I tried?!" Literal hot tears rolled down his face and singed the ground. "Don't you think I tried everything I know?! AND SHE'S STILL SICK!! I can't heal her, Hermes! I can't do it." Apollo sat down and sobbed in a sizzling puddle. His right leg was purple up to his knee.

Athena frowned in that way that means she's thinking hard about something. "The sickness is contagious." She said at last. "We need to quarantine the sick." Athena got up from her crouch and placed a crimson bubble around an unconscious Artemis. She moved her hands around my wrist like she was tying a string and I felt it tighten. "Stay." Athena commanded like I was dog. I turned into a border collie so she knew how I felt. Ignoring me, the goddess instructed Aphrodite and Ares to get the other gods.

Soon, I was standing next to six pink, red, and crimson balloons that held gods. Athena told me to fly them to Delos, using my own wings. Teleportation might injure them and we couldn't risk that. With a quick warning about the frailty of the bubbles, she sent me on my way.

Not five minutes into the trip, which would take 15 hours at the very least, I put an anti-gravity spell on the bubbles. They were much heavier than I thought they would be. During the 5,013-mile trip from New York to Delos, I quickly grew bored of the vast expanse of Atlantic Ocean. I glided on currents when I could, but most of the time the wind was blowing the wrong way. I shapeshifted and flew in all sorts of patterns, just to occupy the time. At hour 8, it was close to 6:30, and I needed a break. I looked left, right and straight down. Nothing but water. I turned my focus skyward. Big surprise, there was only sky. I rolled onto my back and watched the gods in their bubbles. Some were awake, but none moved. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said they were dead.

Watching the bubbles gave me an idea. If there was nowhere to land, I could make myself a space. Letting my cargo sink until they were touching the water, I held my breath. 'Please, please, please- Thank Styx these things float!' I uncoiled George and Martha and tied them around all six bubbles. Instant raft. I sat on the bubble in the middle. Intently gazing into it, I saw Apollo lying at the bottom.

His leg was slowly being eaten by the color purple. It looked like a giant bruise, but over his entire lower leg. I frowned. He must be so upset that he can't heal whatever this sickness is. I remembered the prophecy and repeated it out loud.

"Both hands to death, one must lend,

Lest sickness be the very end,

Only the strongest will have to bend,

And to a baby, life must tend."

Looking at the gods beneath me, I understood the third line. The strongest didn't mean Hercules, it meant the strongest gods- the Olympians! Standing up, I narrowed my eyes at the horizon and the setting sun. I needed a god who's not an Olympian to be a lab rat and possibly contract a fatal, incurable sickness. But who? I smiled wickedly as someone came to mind. He needed some humility in his life anyway.