He leaned close, gave her a sniff. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Or maybe you would. Odysseus did.”
When the door opened behind them, his hands were on her faster than she could blink. He drew her down the stairs until he hit the wall at the bottom. Glass clinked and rattled. He’d run up against a rack of wine bottles. More bottles lined the walls of the small room to their left. They were in a wine cellar.
Aidan stood on the stairs above them; the cape of his costume swayed against his knees.
“Let go of her.” The way he said it left no question that he knew who he was talking to. The grip on her shoulders tightened slightly, but a soft bark of laughter shot past her ear.
“Look at you. I don’t believe it.”
“Shut up. Let her go.”
He did, and backed down the stairs, farther into the cellar. Cassandra found herself farther inside too when Aidan walked forward. The staircase was narrow and didn’t allow room for her to pass. The boy who’d grabbed her still smiled, and he reached up to push the mask off his face.
Cassandra looked from one to the other. The stranger was thinner, and his hair was chestnut brown, but the bone structure of his face and the shape of his eyes were the same. Even the way they stood. They could have been brothers.
They are brothers. They’re family. This is Aidan’s real family.
Aidan held his hand out and drew her toward him, putting himself between her and the stranger. A ripple of fear coursed down her spine and she tugged on his hand. They should run. Whoever he was, he was dangerous, even if he did look like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
“Get out of here, Hermes,” said Aidan.
“Hermes?” He smiled. “So she does know. That’s excellent. Big sister will be very pleased.”
“Who’s ‘big sister’?” Cassandra asked. She stepped out from behind Aidan. Their voices rang loud against the stone walls. The slightest shuffling of her feet was loud, even over the muffled music coming through the cellar door.
“Don’t talk to him, Cassandra,” Aidan whispered. “Please don’t.”
Hermes looked from one to the other, eyes narrowing. “You haven’t just gotten here. You haven’t been looking for her like we have. What are you doing?”
“Shut up, Hermes!”
“You’ve been living here. Like one of them.” His eyes traveled over Aidan. “And you look so healthy.”
“You don’t. And I gather that she doesn’t either.”
“She looks good. Sturdy. Just like always.”
Aidan smiled. “Jumping to her defense? She must be worse off than I thought.”
“That smile. There’s the Apollo I remember. Cocky and vain.”
Cassandra held her breath as the two verbally circled. The wine cellar felt tighter by the minute. Beside her, Aidan seemed taller suddenly. Stronger.
“Cocky and vain. And stronger than you.”
Hermes shrugged. “It was a mistake to grab her; I see that now. Athena told me not to. She warned me. Stay back.” He jerked backward as Aidan leaned forward. “Tsk, tsk. If I get my limbs torn off now, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He took another hasty step backward and knocked against the bottles. Glass rattled like a nervous titter running through a crowd. “I was just saying hello.” His eyes darted to the staircase.
“You should have stayed away.”
“Do you know what’s happening? You should be glad I got here first.”
Cassandra grasped Aidan’s arm. “Wait. He knows what’s going on?” Aidan shook her off like he hadn’t heard. “Aidan.”
Hermes’ brows knit. “Aidan?” He grinned. “It’s nice. I like it. And I can see that you love the girl, so I’ll be on my way.”
“And you’ll never come back?” Aidan’s arm shot out and grasped a bottle by the neck, then dashed it against the wall. Red liquid and green glass exploded and splashed onto the floor; the sharp smell of alcohol flooded the air. He still held the neck of the bottle; the jagged edge dripped wine.
Adrenaline went through Cassandra like a gunshot. He was going to kill him, or at least try. “Aidan—”
“Go upstairs, okay? Find Andie and your brother. Take them home.” He edged her out of the way.
She looked at the glass in his hand. “No.”
Hermes had lost all traces of levity. He stared at Apollo with dread and more than a little exhaustion.
“Are you choosing sides?” he asked.
“There are no sides,” Aidan replied. “Not for me. There’s only her.” The shard of glass twisted in his grip.