He pushed off the statue, and in the blink of an eye he was kneeling where the body had lain. “For thousands of years, mortals and immortals have sought to kill others they believe are not like them. Even when the same blood courses through nearly identical bone and tissue.” His head tilted to the side as he stared at the rose. “It was never just a mortal problem, you see. They learned it from our kind. To love. And to hate.”

My brows inched up my forehead.

“It angered you, this half-blood’s death.” He reached out with a slender arm and ran the tip of his finger along the green stem. A second later, a whole damn bushel of roses appeared. The nymph rose and looked over his shoulder at me. “Violence begets violence.”

“I’m pretty sure Martin Luther King Jr. said that.”

“Wise words from a wise man,” he replied, facing me. “Violence festers and turns to a bitter, infectious kind of hate, Apollyon. It spreads like a cancer, one that can only be cut out. Many here and in the world are affected by it, and these pure-bloods responsible . . . well, some may be a lost cause.”

No surprise there.

“You already have that disease.”

I blinked.

“It’s eating away, getting closer and closer to your soul. You’re walking a fine line, where you will topple into areas that are not shaded in gray. We are watching you.” He lifted his chin. “They are watching you.”

Also no big surprise there.

The nymph looked up to the onyx sky blanketed with stars. “The Titans are not the only beings they are concerned with. What’s inside of you must be cut out, God Killer.”

God Killer? What the hell?

I was not the God Killer. Alex had become that, or maybe still was that. I had no idea if she was still an Apollyon or a God Killer now that she had died a mortal death and become a demigod. Wasn’t like email or cell phones existed in Tartarus, so I couldn’t call her and ask. Then again, I couldn’t imagine myself checking in with her if I could.

I stared at the nymph. “What does that—?”

Poof. That was it. The nymph was gone, and well, that was weird as shit. Obviously a warning, a really weird warning.

The roses were a nice touch, though.

I shook my head as I pivoted around and started walking, trying to shake off the nymph’s random words and appearance, but that was real hard. Damn near impossible.

Stopping outside Josie’s door, I glanced down at my right hand. There wasn’t a blemish on my knuckles. Nothing. I was about 99% sure I’d broken that pure’s jaw, and my hand wasn’t even swollen.

And I was also 99% sure I would’ve killed him if Josie hadn’t stopped me.