But they weren't gone, that was the thing. They'd retreated for the time being, yes, but there was no question that they were watching from the shadows even now, biding their time. Because they'd never stop coming. There was no skirting around that fact any more. The Mousai were nothing more than pawns in the night-spawn's game -- Gaia had said it herself -- a means to strike at Olympus. They'd keep on coming back, keep on hacking away at the Nine until somebody finally cared enough to intervene, or else let Zeus sit and watch his daughters die hideous deaths.
And Thalia knew, deep in the pit of her stomach, that the second the light went away again -- the moment the shadows came rushing back -- they would be upon her, hungry and merciless.
She drew in another gulping breath as Gaia led her over the couch; her trembling legs were all too ready to give way and she plopped down awkwardly onto the cushion, never letting go of her grandmother or the flashlight still clenched tightly in her hand. "There isn't anywhere else," she whispered. "They'll find me again, they'll keep doing it. Just like they did with Terpsichore."