"What are you doing?" Sally snarled.

The mother of monsters stalked forward. She looked pissed as hell. Or at least, one half of her face did, which was all Jax could see from his position beneath Percy, who looked startled to be holding a sword to Jax's throat. A pancake struck Jax on the wounded shoulder, and he hissed out a breath.

Sally threw another pancake. "You were meant to stab him, idiot!"

"I'm not killing my cousin," Jax said stiffly.

Sally planted her hands on her hips. "Well, no. He's dead already, obviously." She waved a hand. "Although one more stab wound would have really finished him off."

Jax turned back to his cousin. "Do it, Perce."

Percy's eyes were anguished. "Jaxy—"

"It's okay." Jax swallowed, guiding the sword to his throat; the blade nicked the skin. "I love you. It's okay."

Hot tears welled up, and Jax squeezed his eyes shut. He was trembling; he could feel it. But he wasn't a hero, Jax thought with some relief, and he didn't need to die like one.

No.

He wanted to die like himself. Jaxon Blackwater. Immense coward, unpublished writer, part-time vegetarian, and flower shop owner. But a good friend, and an okay person; perhaps that was all there was to life, in the end.

Percy's breath was thin. He'd sounded like this before, Jax thought, when they were eleven years old. Jax had fallen off a horse and broken his leg; Percy had carried him to the nearest village. Jax had been in an opioid-infused haze, but he could recall the crackle of a fire. The smell of thyme and cinnamon. Percy's sweaty fingers gripping his hand. The healer's warm voice: Your cousin's going to be fine, unless you break his fingers, too.

A lump rose in Jax's throat.

He should have been there for Percy. Should have asked Percy about his painting, or his sword training, or about the boys he fancied. But he'd make up for it, Jax thought, opening his eyes; he'd be there for Percy now, when it mattered.

Jax met his cousin's gaze. "Do it, Perce."

A calmness settled over him. Percy made a choking sound; his cousin was struggling with the sword. Jax raised his chin. He didn't want Percy to think he was scared to die. Which he was, obviously, but there was no point in his cousin feeling guilty about it. Jax braced himself, his hands digging into the grass—

Percy reared back, burying the sword in his own chest.

Fear ripped through Jax. "Percy."

Jax scrambled to his knees. The grass was slick with blood — both his own and Percy's, clumpy, messy, a pomegranate pried open — and his hands left red prints on Percy's white tunic. His cousin was smiling, his breath coming in wheezes. Hot tears tracked down Jax's cheeks.

"Why would you do that?" Jax demanded.

Percy's voice was ragged. "Didn't— Want— You— To play— The hero."

"Hush," Jax said. "Save your breath."

Jax pressed his hands to the wound, although there was no point; Percy was already dead. He'd been dead all along, and the realization struck Jax with such force that he trembled, his hands shaking. Percy's eyes fluttered.

"Your writing," Percy rasped. "Share it. Promise me."

"I— How do you know about my writing?"

Percy let out a wet laugh. "You're crap. At hiding things." Blood burled on his lips. "Really good. Laughed. A lot."

Jax's chest squeezed. "Perce..."

"Mum." Percy gripped his hand. "And Dad. Hug. From me."

"They miss you." Jax's voice cracked. "So much." I miss you, he thought.

Percy's smile could have set stars on fire. "Going to miss. All of you." His hands felt weakly for Jax's wrist. "Hold my hand. Until the end."

Salt filled Jax's mouth. "I won't let go."

Jax threaded their fingers together. Gently, he plucked a skeleton flower, laying it on Percy's stomach. People plant it on top of graves, he'd told Romes. The flowers are meant to help the dead rest peacefully. Something like understanding flickered in Percy's eyes, and he gave a small nod, his fingers tightening on Jax's wrist. Thank you, the squeeze said.

"I love you." Jax's throat felt raw. "You're my brother. In every way that counts."

Percy's eyes were summer skies. "Jaxy. So proud. Of you. Always."

His cousin's head fell back.

Jax clung to his hand, but it was too late; Percy's fingers were slack, his glassy eyes reflecting the sky. A howl ripped from Jax's chest. He was crying in earnest now, but Jax couldn't bring himself to care. Let the monsters eat him, Jax thought dully; he'd rather die than feel whatever this was. The pain was unbearable. He couldn't possibly survive it.

A choked laugh reached him.

Jax raised his head. Sally touched her cheek, looking at her fingers in astonishment; the skin was damp. Because she was...

Crying.

The mother of monsters was crying.

Sally's laugh had an edge of hysteria. "Oh, gods." She shook her head. "I really... Oh, gods."

Jax rose. His shoulder throbbed, and the wound on his leg was pulsating blood. He picked up his sword, leaning heavily on the hilt. Spots danced in front of his eyes. He wouldn't be able to kill her, Jax realized; even if she was a monster — even if it was to save the whole world — he wouldn't be able to bring himself to swing the sword.

Not if she could feel pain.

"I didn't realize you could cry," Jax said.

Sally shook her head. "Everyone cries. Even monsters." She lowered her hand, and a small smile played around her mouth. "Thank you, Jaxon Blackwater."

Jax swallowed. "For what?"

Sally closed her eyes. "For reminding me what it's like to feel something."

Her skin smoked. Jax stumbled back, horror crawling up his throat, as her fingers began to melt. The tears were acidic, he realized, or maybe they were eating her. Did it matter? Monsters staggered, their limbs dripping like candlewax. Romes rushed forward, her sword raised, but it was too late; every monster dissolved into a pile of goop.

Silence filled the meadow, broken only by the faint chirping of birds. A teacup rattled in the summer breeze.

"Holy mother of gods," Jax whispered.

Asa raised an eyebrow. "Did she just sort of... eat herself?"

Xander looked baffled. "I always thought that monsters were attracted to emotional tears because of the specific protein structure. But for tears to self-metabolize their bodies?" He shook his head. "This doesn't make any sense."

Asa raised a finger. "Can I hypothesize something?"

"Please," Jax said.

"Maybe," Asa said, "the monsters were just terrified to feel something. Maybe it's a lesson about how the things we hate in other people are really the things we hate about ourselves." Both boys stared, and Asa frowned. "What?"

"No," Xander said. "I don't think that's right. This will require further scientific investigation." He tapped his chin, surveying the piles of monster goo. "I don't suppose you'd help me gather a few samples for my lab?"

"Jax!" Romes cried.

She dropped her sword, sprinting across the meadow. Jax hissed out a breath as Romes gripped his bad shoulder, her eyes assessing his injuries.

Romes shook her head. "You selfish, thoughtless idiot—" She ripped off a strip of her shirt. "He almost killed you!"

"I'm alright," Jax said.

She wound the bandage around his thigh. "Your swordsmanship is appalling."

A smile tugged at his mouth. "Romes."

"And your footwork is atrocious," Romes added, securing the cloth. "Were you trying to kill someone, or dance a quadrille?"

"Romes," Jax said.

He cupped her face, bringing her level with him. Romes cocked her head, as if she was seriously debating punching him in the face.

"Yes?"

Jax smiled. "I'm glad you're okay, too."

Jax lowered his mouth to hers. Romes' lips were chapped and tasted of salt, and her fingers were strong on his arms. Her heart fluttered rapidly against his chest, like a hummingbird rattling a cage. Jax kissed her with everything he had and hoped that his rapid pulse would communicate the bottled-up words he hadn't yet found the courage to say. I need you. I need this. Don't ever let me go.

They broke apart. Asa pulled a face.

"You know," Asa said, "I kind of wish the monsters would come back to life and devour you both. Because that's disgusting." He reached into his backpack, taking out Bibi, who yawned and stretched her wings. "Come on."

Jax raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

"Home." Asa grinned. "I don't know about you, but I have a fat paycheque to collect."