“I’m so glad he had you, Cassandra.” Aidan’s mom squeezed her hands.
“I’m glad he had you.” She looked at both of his parents. “You gave him a family.”
But then, he’d always had a family. Athena, Odysseus, and Hermes stood on the outskirts of the cemetery, underneath the bare branches of an elm tree. Cassandra waited until everyone but Andie and Henry had filed out, even Aidan’s parents, before nodding for them to come closer. Hermes and Athena leaned on each other. The damage done to her rib cage and his ankle still needed to heal, but Cassandra supposed that wasn’t the only reason.
They stood around the coffin, lost and drained.
Athena’s eyes wandered over the black box. He was in there, her brother, or what was left of him.
“This doesn’t want to sink in. He was eternal. Now he’s in that box.”
“Jesus,” Andie hissed. “Don’t say things like that. Not today.”
Athena looked up and blinked at them like she was bewildered. Cassandra supposed she was. She didn’t have any experience burying family.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and nodded. “But it feels wrong. And I can’t do anything about any of it.”
Cassandra drew a shaky breath.
“I don’t have the energy to say anything to you. He’s dead.” Tears slipped out of her eyes and fell softly on the chest of her black dress. “I think it was a mistake. I want you to take it back.” They would lower the coffin into the ground soon. They would cover him over with dirt. “I was supposed to spend my life with him,” Cassandra said. “And then you showed up.”
“Hey,” Odysseus said gently. “It wasn’t her fault.”
Cassandra clenched her fists. “But whose fault is it, then? Are you still dying?”
Athena glanced at Hermes, then at Odysseus. She nodded, but Cassandra didn’t really need an answer. Athena had coughed twice on the walk across the cemetery, and Hermes shook with fever as much as mourning. It hadn’t stopped. Aidan was dead, and they still hadn’t saved themselves.
“Maybe this was never about saving our lives.” Athena looked at Aidan’s coffin. “Maybe it was about redemption.”
“Or maybe it isn’t over.” Cassandra wiped her eyes. “Do you know what happened? What went through me?”
Athena shook her head. “You kill gods. It must be what Demeter meant. That you could change everything. That you’d be more.”
“Why? And how?” Beneath her gloves, her hands burned. It was still inside her. “It’s not over.”
“It’s over,” said Hermes. “It has to be.”
Cassandra stared at Aidan’s coffin. There were other gods out there. Gods who would fight, just like Hera did, to stay alive. They’d be coming. And the one who had killed Aidan. She was still alive. “This isn’t over. Not for me.”
“Cassie.” Henry shrugged helplessly. “Maybe everything can go back to normal now. Maybe we’re safe.”
“They’re not safe.” She turned to Athena. “You can’t just leave. You promised Aidan you’d protect us.”
“Maybe with Hera and Poseidon gone, you don’t need protecting. Maybe Henry is right.”
“I’ll need protecting when I go after her. I’ll need your help.”
Andie grabbed her arm. “Go after who?”
“Aphrodite.” Cassandra shrugged her off. Athena and Hermes exchanged a glance, and Cassandra’s fists tightened. If they say one word about revenge not being what Aidan wanted, I’ll scream.
But Athena only sighed.
“I wasn’t going to go far. People with destinies like yours are rarely safe.”
“So you’ll help.”
Athena lowered her head, and Odysseus edged forward. “Hey. We shouldn’t be talking about this today.”
“There’s a lot that shouldn’t be today.” Hermes spoke loudly, his eyes on the overcast sky. “He shouldn’t be put beneath the dirt. He was the god of the sun. He should be burned on a pyre of oak, hot and bright. It should be glorious.” He looked at his sister and took her hand. “So let’s make it so.” He nodded toward the gray clouds.
Athena exhaled. “It won’t work.”
Cassandra studied the sky, felt the chill of the wind against her cheeks. Hermes was right. It was all too cold.
“Try,” she said softly.
Athena and Hermes closed their eyes, using the will of gods to move mountains, to wield the power they once had. Not even Cassandra expected anything to happen, until she felt the warmth of sunlight on her face and hands.