They were wheezing when they reached the edge of town. The smile on Jonnathan’s face stretched from ear to furry ear even as he gulped for breath; he had never run so fast or so long for as long as Gilla had known him. When they could breathe again, he asked her if she planned to tell her father about what had happened. She had to eventually, if she was going to attempt to heal him, and Gilla told Jonnathan as much. He nodded in agreement, but he was not about to tell his mother; she would only freak out about it. When Gilla asked if he was going to fake it forever, he only shrugged. They said their goodbyes to each other, then went their respective ways to head home for late lunch.

Jogging along the sidewalk through the neighborhood, Gilla could not get the events out of her mind. The very prospect of gods assassinating each other thrilled her more than it frightened. While the gods were powerful and influential, they had little impact outside of their domains. Only the people that lived in those areas saw any significant impact on their daily lives. She was small and insignificant, and did not get to see gods regularly like people in the big cities; a hint at the inner workings of their lives was intriguing, more than Gilla ever thought she would be privy to.

The screen door creaked when she entered into the kitchen of her home, with its weather-worn siding and porch boards that strained under her feet. The appliances were modern enough, but the design of the kitchen itself was at least two generations old.

“Dad, I’m home!” she called over the voices of news reporters that blared world events throughout the house. She kissed her fingertips and touched them to a photo of her mother on the counter before entering the living room.

Sprawled on a couch that was older than she was, Gilla’s dad was the usual mess of unkempt hair, sloppy clothes, and a two-week-old beard. The coffee table supported both his injured leg and several empty cans. His short, bristly ears perked up when she stepped into his view. Grabbing the remote, she kissed him on the forehead while she lowered the noise.

He smiled up at her. “Think you’re sneaky, do ya?”

Gilla paused mid-kiss, panicked in thinking that he knew they had followed the goddesses, before realizing that he was referring to the volume. Taking a moment to calm herself, she rationalized that there was no way he could have known everything that had happened. Either way, she was about to tell him once she figured out a way to bring it up. Once she mustered the courage. “You should get up and shower,” she said.

“Telling me what to do, now, huh?”

“Someone has to take charge around here,” she jested, but immediately wanted to take it back when she saw the pang of hurt in his face. She knew it was not his fault that he had difficulty finding work. He could not stand for long, and lifting things was out of the question. In a town as small as theirs, there were not a whole lot of jobs without those requirements. “I’m sorry. I’ll make something to eat.”

Wincing as he stood, he followed her into the kitchen to put his hands on her shoulders. “No. I’m sorry that you have to take care of your old man.”

Gilla smiled and shook her head. She was aware of the coin and sword point in her pocket against her leg. He would not have to feel that way after she healed him. “It’s all right, Dad.”

“So, how was your day,” he asked, reaching into the fridge for another can of alcohol. He drank more than was probably socially acceptable, but he was not an angry or violent drunk, just depressed about his inabilities. That would change as well. “You’ve been gone since this morning. I was never able to get to the park before the gods had already left. Did you get to see them? We’ve never had gods visit before, and it’s unlikely we ever will again. I probably missed my one chance.”

Gilla choked in spite of herself. “In fact, I did see them. Rhea gave me this coin as a blessing. Everyone got one,” she said and held it out for him to see.

“Oh, wow! You met her directly? I’m so envious. I wish I could have seen them, even if they didn’t heal me. You better hang on to that. Maybe put it in your mother’s jewelry box.”

“That’s … a good idea.” A wave of sadness washed over her at the mention of her mother.

Her father cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I saw on the news that Pana lifted a woman in the air? Were you there for that, too?”

“Yeah, that was a bit terrifying.” Gilla chuckled. “People started getting impatient, and a woman was pushed into Rhea. Pana got pissed. I thought she was going to kill someone. But Rhea stopped her … and then they left.”

“Ah, that sounds crazy. So, was Jonnathan able to get healed before that happened?”

“Well ….” She drew that word out as long as she could, unsure what to say next. Her father was staring at her expectantly, his brows starting to sink into a frown. When he did not say anything, she pursed her lips and took a deep breath to prepare herself for what would follow. Setting the unfinished food down, she said, “No. We followed them.”

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Her father opened his mouth, but before he could scold her, Gilla rattled off the details of what occurred at the hot springs. He stayed silent, gradually closing his mouth to wait stone-faced in disapproval, only for his jaw to drop when she came to Pana’s assassination attempt, but did not speak until the part where Jonnathan and Gilla fled.

“Are you sure they did not see you or follow you?” he asked. “That likely wasn’t the first. Something like that would definitely be kept quiet or it would have been all over the news before now.”

Cold panic crept up Gilla’s spine. She had not considered that. “No. No, I don’t think so. I hope not. If they had, they would have probably caught us in the woods.” She hesitated. He was already a little cross, if the slight scowl on his face was any indication, even if masked by the surprise and worry. She knew what came next was likely to get her punished, but had to go on. She would see him healed. “Especially when Jonnathan fell.”

“Fell? Is he all right? I don’t want his mother showing up at the door if he went to get healed and came back injured.” Her father chuckled then, and Gilla took the opportunity.

“Yes and no. He was hurt, and he was healed.”

Her father’s brow deepened in confusion. “I don’t understand. How?”

She revealed the merged item from her pocket, the blade tip glinting as she held it up for him to see. She had left out the part where Jonnathan had taken them.

“What is it? That coin looks kind of like the one Rhea gave you, but ….” Gilla watched him connect the dots before he broke into a flurry of hand gestures. “The assassination attempt. You took the coin that was stabbed? You should not be messing with things that belong to the gods! You need to get rid of them right away. I would tell you you need to give them back, but I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“No! I know, but I didn’t. Jonnathan did when I wasn’t looking, and when he fell, he landed on them. He bled for a minute, but now his limp is gone!”

His brows finally relaxed, and his expression was blank as he reached for the item. She pulled back, not wanting him to try to return them. He did not move to take them by force. Sighing, he waited. Gilla was not about to hand them over. Even knowing the dangers, she did not want to give them up before he was healed.

“Look, Gilla,” he started after sighing again. “I get it. I understand. You want me to be healed. I agree, I want to be healed, more than anything, but … this is too dangerous. You have to give them to me so I can return them before something terrible happens.”

Gilla stared at his hand, refusing to give the item up for what felt like hours. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Everything could be right again. Her father could be healed, he wanted to be healed, and yet he was going to give them away. Any good thing was worth the risk, but he would not see that, and he was not backing down.

Eventually, her shoulders sagged in defeat. It took all of her willpower to lift the item as if it fought to be used, as much as she fought with herself not to take it and run out the door. She screamed at herself from within while she held it over his open palm, trembling with the effort. Then a thought occurred to Gilla as she stared at his open hand hovering between them, and she took the opportunity.

She stabbed him.

Her father jerked his hand back and cradled it, staring at his palm. “What the hell, Gilla?” he shouted. Spots of blood trickled across the kitchen floor. Then he froze. Before their eyes, the wound the point had made began to heal, the flesh merging back together like time reversing. The blood remained, but it was as if Gilla had never stabbed him. There was not even a scar. His brows rose from anger to surprise, and his gaze shot toward his injured leg. He stepped lightly at first, testing his weight on it, then stomped. He stomped harder, over and over until the kitchen shook with his excitement. When he had had enough, he picked her up into his arms and spun, dancing around the kitchen and into the living room with more strength and vigor than she ever remembered him having even before the injury. Tears streamed down his face, and Gilla’s, too, she realized, tears of joy, and they laughed, hugging each other with more pure joy than she had felt in a long time.

Gasping for air, he set her down, and they steadied themselves as their laughter began to fade. With one final deep breath, he schooled his emotions and held out his hand again for the item. She gave it willingly, no longer caring about it now that he had been healed. Her father studied the object for several minutes, flipping it over and over. She could almost see the gears in his head turning.

“You know what,” he finally said. “We could do a lot of good with this.”

“But, dad—,” Gilla started, and he held up a hand.

“I know. I know what I said. But how can we not at least help those that missed out on their chance to get healed today. They could all have had their problems solved if the goddesses hadn’t left, and we need to set that right. We will just have to be very careful.”

Gilla felt as if her eyes were going to fall out of her head. She would never have expected her father to say such a thing, after all the warnings he had given her. But she trusted his judgment and was thrilled that he had changed his mind.

He chuckled, a loud, heartfelt laugh. “Don’t look at me like that. I know this goes against everything I have taught you. The gods will most likely come looking for them soon enough. And if not, I’m not even sure how we could return them. We should take the time we have and heal as many people as we can. While it is wrong to keep them, it is also wrong not to help people while we have such a great opportunity here.”

“Who do you think we should heal first?”

“Well, if we announce that we can heal people, we might cause a riot, and we don’t want that, or we might end up causing more harm than good. We should decide who needs it most and focus on meeting with them one at a time. We probably won’t heal everyone before the gods come looking, but it is better than the alternative.”

Her father was brimming, and she felt her own grin stretching across her face. They set to work over lunch determining who needed healing the most. Neither of them was very good at containing their joy, smiling at each other across the table.