“Looks like they’ve had enough for the moment,” Isaac said. He patted his coat where it was smoldering, then came over to Alice. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Alice shook some of the gunk off the end of her swatter.

Isaac frowned. “No, you’re bleeding!”

Alice looked down. There was a red stain on her ruined shirt where the wasp had bit her, and now that her adrenaline was fading, the wound started to hurt. She winced and peeled her shirt up to have a look.

“It’s not deep,” she said, poking the cut gingerly. “I’ll be okay.”

“We ought to wash it out and bandage it,” Isaac said. “As long as we’re waiting for them to come back.”

“I said I’ll be—” She stopped when she saw his expression and sighed. Isaac could be very stubborn. “All right. There’s water inside.”

They had to push their way into the stone hut through a spray of wide green leaves that blocked the doorway. Inside, the flower sat on the side of the well, as big around as a car tire, several petals at its center still tightly furled.

They went to the opposite rim of the well. The water was only a few feet down, close enough that Alice could reach down with an empty canteen and hold it below the surface, watching the bubbles blub up until it was full. She sat down on the soft mulch of dead leaves, with her back to Isaac, and grit her teeth as he let a little water trickle across the wound.

When he peeled the bloodied fabric of her shirt away from the skin, Alice couldn’t help letting out a little hiss of pain. Isaac flinched.

“Sorry,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Alice said. “Just get it over with.”

“I’ll try to be careful.”

To distract herself, Alice nodded toward the huge flower. “Did your master tell you why he wants this thing?”

“No,” Isaac said, pouring cold water from the canteen over the stinging cut. “Just that I wasn’t to touch the flower until it opened, and that I should bring him four of the fruits inside. What about Geryon?”

“The same.”

“And . . .” Isaac hesitated. “Are you still . . . working on what you talked about before?”

“Am I still going to get Geryon for killing my father, you mean?” Alice snapped.

Isaac winced, as though speaking the words aloud made them more real. “Yeah.”

“Of course,” Alice said. “Were you hoping I would give up?”

“No!” Isaac said. “I just—I worry about you.”