I would have ignored Chiron’s warning and run into the forest except for Will’s panicked shout, “Apollo, I need you!”
At the far end of the field, he had set up an impromptu hospital where half a dozen campers lay injured on stretchers. He was frantically tending to Paolo Montes while Nico held down the screaming patient.
I ran to Will’s side and winced at what I saw.
Paolo had managed to get one of his legs sawed off.
“I got it reattached,” Will told me, his voice shaky with exhaustion. His scrubs were speckled with blood. “I need somebody to keep him stable.”
I pointed to the woods. “But—”
“I know!” Will snapped. “Don’t you think I want to be out there searching too? We’re shorthanded for healers. There’s some salve and nectar in that pack. Go!”
I was stunned by his tone. I realized he was just as concerned about Kayla and Austin as I was. The only difference: Will knew his duty. He had to heal the injured first. And he needed my help.
“Y-yes,” I said. “Yes, of course.”
I grabbed the supply pack and took charge of Paolo, who had conveniently passed out from the pain.
Will changed his surgical gloves and glared at the woods. “We will find them. We have to.”
Nico di Angelo gave him a canteen. “Drink. Right now, this is where you need to be.”
I could tell the son of Hades was angry too. Around his feet, the grass steamed and withered.
Will sighed. “You’re right. But that doesn’t make me feel better. I have to set Valentina’s broken arm now. You want to assist?”
“Sounds gruesome,” Nico said. “Let’s go.”
I tended to Paolo Montes until I was sure he was out of danger, then asked two satyrs to carry his stretcher to the Hebe cabin.
I did what I could to nurse the others. Chiara had a mild concussion. Billie Ng had come down with a case of Irish step dancing. Holly and Laurel needed pieces of shrapnel removed from their backs, thanks to a close encounter with an exploding chain-saw Frisbee.
The Victor twins had placed in first, predictably, but they also demanded to know which of them had the most pieces of shrapnel extracted, so they could have bragging rights. I told them to be quiet or I would never allow them to wear laurel wreaths again. (As the guy who held the patent on laurel wreaths, that was my prerogative.)
I found my mortal healing skills were passable. Will Solace far outshone me, but that didn’t bother me as much as my failures with archery and music had. I suppose I was used to being second in healing. My son Asclepius had become the god of medicine by the time he was fifteen, and I couldn’t have been happier for him. It left me time for my other interests. Besides, it’s every god’s dream to have a child who grows up to be a doctor.
As I was washing up from the shrapnel extraction, Harley shuffled over, fiddling with his beacon device. His eyes were puffy from crying.
“It’s my fault,” he muttered. “I got them lost. I…I’m sorry.”
He was shaking. I realized the little boy was terrified of what I might do.
For the past two days, I had yearned to cause fear in mortals again. My stomach had boiled with resentment and bitterness. I wanted someone to blame for my predicament, for the disappearances, for my own powerlessness to fix things.
Looking at Harley, my anger evaporated. I felt hollow, silly, ashamed of myself. Yes, me, Apollo…ashamed. Truly, it was an event so unprecedented, it should have ripped apart the cosmos.
“It’s all right,” I told him.
He sniffled. “The racecourse went into the woods. It shouldn’t have done that. They got lost and…and—”
“Harley”—I placed my hands over his—“may I see your beacon?”
He blinked the tears away. I guess he was afraid I might smash his gadget, but he let me take it.
“I’m not an inventor,” I said, turning the gears as gently as possible. “I don’t have your father’s skills. But I do know music. I believe automatons prefer a frequency of E at 329.6 hertz. It resonates best with Celestial bronze. If you adjust your signal—”
“Festus might hear it?” Harley’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Just as you could not have known what the Labyrinth would do today. But that doesn’t mean we should stop trying. Never stop inventing, son of Hephaestus.”
I gave him back his beacon. For a count of three, Harley stared at me in disbelief. Then he hugged me so hard he nearly rebroke my ribs, and he dashed away.