Odysseus rolled the sleeves of his black shirt up to the elbows. When he stood, he was as tall as he had been then, tall enough to look into her eyes. “In any case, I was looking for you.” He stepped closer; the movement was intimate and challenging. “Athena.”
“You know who I am.”
His brows knit and he smirked. “You knew who I was.”
“Hello?” Hermes waved his hand. “Anybody know who I am?”
Odysseus looked over his shoulder. “Messenger. Nice to see you again. You’re looking a bit thin. You given up meat or something?” He looked at Athena and jerked his head back toward Hermes. “Why couldn’t you send him for me like you did before? Would have been nice to have a winged escort. Might’ve kept the f**king Cyclops off my neck.”
“He can’t fly anymore,” she replied, and ignored Hermes’ offended glare. “And I think I’ve seen you home safely often enough.”
“Right, right, right. You fought Poseidon so I could make it back to Ithaca after the war, and I’m supposed to be eternally grateful. Never mind that it took ten bloody years to get the job done, and that everyone I was traveling with died—”
Athena laughed. The sound cut through the air, surprising everyone.
“You can’t blame me if you keep pissing off Poseidon. Though you might just come in handy. Perhaps I could feed you to him as a distraction.”
You’re still so much the same. Clever. Balanced on a razor’s edge. They gave Achilles all the credit for the war in Troy. Manslayer, they called him. Sacker of cities. But it was you who thought of the Trojan Horse. Hollowing out that wooden steed to sneak Greeks inside the city. Without you, Achilles was nothing.
“Enough of this.” Hermes’ voice was deep and impatient, and uncharacteristically godlike. “There are questions to be answered and work to be done, and since when do I have to remind you of that?” He arched his brow at Athena. “Banter with your favorite hero later, when we’re not knee-deep in throw pillows and body glitter in the middle of a brothel bedroom. When we’re not fighting for our lives.”
Odysseus smiled. “I see he’s still dramatic.”
“Shut up.” Hermes crossed his arms. “Why were you looking for us?”
Odysseus’ eyes flickered from him to Athena. “For protection,” he replied. “Why else would you seek out a goddess?”
“We’ve got our own problems,” said Hermes. “Sister’s suggestion wasn’t half bad. Maybe we should use you as a distraction. Throw Poseidon off our scent for a while.”
“Counterproductive, mate.” Odysseus turned and walked to a Louis XV–style chair in the corner of the room. It was covered in garish red velvet to match the walls. Everything in the room was a shade of red. It was supposed to be seductive. Instead it evoked claustrophobic thoughts of blood and being swallowed whole. He picked up a green-and-black canvas pack from the seat and slung it over his good shoulder, then looked back at Hermes with a grin. “If Poseidon and his little harem get hold of me, you all”—he gestured to them with a tilt of his chin—“are dead.”
“What are you talking about?” Athena asked.
“Listen. I know that Hermes isn’t on some wonky diet. His body’s eating his flesh away. He’s dying. All the gods are dying. I also know that Poseidon and his lady friends have a plan to keep that from happening, and it involves gathering weapons and eating the two of you. And then maybe sinking the whole world under the f**king waves or some bollocks.”
“How do you know that?” Hermes asked.
“Never mind how I know that. The important thing is, I know what they’re after, and they know that I know. Figured that out when that insectian Cyclops popped out of the dark like a frakking jack-in-the-box.” He flexed his injured shoulder and grimaced.
Athena looked at her brother. When the door had opened, she’d prayed for an ally. Instead she found an informant. Still, a gain was a gain.
“Let’s get out of this nauseating room,” she said. “And then you’re going to tell us everything.”
* * *
They found Celine waiting near the bar. Three glasses of red wine sat on the polished wood beside her. When they approached she stood, her expression apprehensive but pleasant.
“I have sent the girls away,” she said, and gestured to the wine. “Please. Join me. Take some refreshment.”
“That seems about right.” Odysseus set his pack down on the floor and moved toward a glass, but Celine took it gracefully away from his seeking fingers.