Calypso gave a small yelp as Thanatos set her arm into the makeshift splint. Even in the dark, a ring of purple bruises was visible against her skin. But they were lucky. The bone hadn’t broken through.
“Are you all right?” Cassandra asked.
Calypso nodded, and smiled at her for the first time in what felt like a week. “I’ll heal,” she said. “You did well.”
“Yeah. If I’d known the thing was going to explode like a water balloon, I might’ve pulled it back a little.” Cassandra crossed her arms over her exposed chest, but Thanatos kept his eyes on the ground. He hadn’t snuck so much as a peek. She walked around to the clean side of the car and dug inside her bag for a dry shirt. Something black, to keep from getting stained by the blood she knew was still on her. She slipped out of her destroyed jeans, too, and after a second’s hesitation, tossed them into the ditch.
Calypso came around the car and leaned against the door as Cassandra pulled on a pair of pajama pants.
“Are you all right?” Calypso asked. “You didn’t swallow any of the Fury’s blood?”
“Nope. But I have new respect for Thanatos for downing an entire cup.” She drew a shaky breath. Her next shower couldn’t come soon enough. “Shouldn’t you be mad at me? Wouldn’t you rather the Fury killed you?”
“No,” Calypso said. “I made you a promise, and I keep my promises. I’ll die in the way of my own choosing.”
“Calypso,” Cassandra said sadly. “Listen, I—I promised you I would … because I was angry. Because I needed you. But you asked out of grief and—”
A vision slipped over Calypso’s face: her brown hair faded to white and fell from her scalp like ashes. The skin of her face wrinkled, and darkened, and tightened against the bone until it might have been mummified. Her eyelids disappeared and her lips shrank back from her teeth. Cassandra saw her hands on Calypso’s shoulders.
“Cassandra? Are you all right? What’s the matter?”
“I’ll do it,” Cassandra said. Her voice was blank. The vision let go with a jerk and a rush of weakness. It was a true one, but it didn’t seem possible.
I do it. I kill her. But how? How can I?
Calypso kissed her gently on the forehead.
“I know you will.” She walked back to the front of the car and left Cassandra to slump against the rear panel. Thanatos cleared his throat. He kept his eyes low, and when he was close enough, Cassandra grabbed his arm.
“What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t know. Maybe it wasn’t wrong. It was what Calypso wanted. But it felt wrong. As wrong as the cold seeping into her fingers from Thanatos’ skin.
I wish he was Aidan. If Aidan were here, none of this would be happening. If Aidan were here, I wouldn’t have to worry.
But those thoughts were fairy tales. They weren’t true, and even if they were, Aidan wasn’t there. He was dead. Dead before the gods’ war had a chance to turn from bad to worse. Dead before she really needed him.
Thanatos brushed wet hair from her cheek, and she inched away.
“You can’t make me warm,” she said.
“I could too,” he said softly. “One irritating word from me and you’d be burning like a furnace. There. I saw that. Half a smile is better than nothing.”
“This was a bad night.”
“It was. I didn’t think they’d come so fast. But it’s not going to get any easier.”
He glanced up at the stars. The desert was cold and quiet, lit by a bright moon. No visible movement in any direction. No cars. No flapping leather wings.
“These little beauties weren’t even the cavalry,” he said. “They were cannon fodder. If it had been Alecto, or even Tisiphone, you and Calypso would be dead. I would be strewn across the highway in annoying, painful pieces. And that’s exactly who’s coming.”
“So what do we do?” Cassandra asked.
“Get a decent night’s rest. And then fly out of here on the first plane we can find.”
14
SHIELD OF HEROES
Henry lay on his bed beside Andie. Since the kiss in the hall, they’d gotten away with a lot. Plenty of time spent in his bedroom behind closed doors. Time to discover how her body felt against his, and to wonder at how that discovery felt like remembering. He’d kissed girls before. He’d had years of first kisses, kisses where he didn’t have a brain cell free to feel it, too preoccupied wondering if he was doing it right, or what it meant, or how far it would go.