NINETEEN
BY THE GRACE OF GOD, Styx arrived just a minute after the Olympus truck grew to a towering inferno that could draw attention. Unwanted attention. Everything that had been, all they took from Olympus, was lost in the blaze that heated her damp cheeks. The time for tears was over. Grief? It meant nothing. With every break came new determination.
Harry tossed everything into their new ride, and they got underway. Doing as her father instructed, they put miles on the clock. Long, slow, quiet miles, but they all needed some time to breathe.
Without instruction, Styx pulled into a motel parking lot. They’d driven through daylight into the night and back to the day again.
“We wash up, eat, and start moving again,” Harry said. “I’ll get us a room, you clear this.”
Her father got out,
