“Wait,” said Odysseus. “That’s a bloody good question. Where is Zeus? You’ve said that Hera is dealing in some serious strength, right? What if he’s giving her some extra juice?”
The three gods looked at one another. They were Zeus’ children. One of them, Athena, was his favorite child. But not even that made her really special. Certainly not indispensible. Zeus had fathered almost too many children to count. He had made her; he could make another one of her just as easily. Their minds circled the idea warily before turning their backs on it.
“No. Zeus is gone.”
“Maybe Hera—”
“No,” Athena barked, and winced. When she spoke again, her eyes were soft. “Even if he is still alive, he’s chosen not to interfere. I’m sure he sees all this as Fated, and if there was ever anything he was afraid to f**k around with, it was that. He was always concerned with keeping the balance between us and them. Besides, he never took sides between me and Hera.”
Apollo ran his hand roughly across his face. “I don’t think we should fight. I think we should run.”
“Interesting idea,” said Hermes. “And I’m totally open to it. But with the world ending, I don’t know where you suggest we run to.”
Athena crossed her hands over her chest. They couldn’t run. And even if they could, they still had a stake in this. They still had some responsibility. Hera had killed dozens. She’d kill more while hunting them if they ran, Athena was sure. Apollo was willing to forget everything he was for Cassandra. He had shed his godhood, tossed it away like it was nothing, to live like a mortal with her. He’d have to be watched. If they didn’t keep him close, he’d break all the rules.
Odysseus caught her eye, and she looked away. Once upon a time, she’d broken plenty of rules for him, and she was in no mood to feel like a hypocrite.
A knock at the door made all four of them snap to attention. An uneasy expression rippled through the room. They weren’t expecting anyone. The knock came again, louder and more insistent. None of them made a move, and Athena watched curiously as the handle turned and the door swung open.
* * *
“You don’t lock the door?” Cassandra asked.
“There isn’t much point,” Hermes explained, relaxing. “Anything strong enough to hurt us could just take the door off its hinges.”
“I guess.” She stood framed in the open doorway. Silvery sleet fell onto the sidewalk, turning more and more to ice as the sun sank lower. Behind her, Henry’s black Mustang idled in the parking lot with Andie and Henry inside.
Cassandra swallowed. When she spoke her voice came out a dry crackle, and the handprints on her neck stood out like a neon sign.
I hope they do. She stared at Athena. I hope the handprints look like yours. That if you turn your palms over they’ll be stained the same black as my bruises.
“Come in,” Odysseus said. “Close the door. You’re not the only one who feels the cold, you know.”
Cassandra stepped through and shook moisture from her hands and jacket. Odysseus helped her brush off. In the chaos of the deadfall, she hadn’t really looked at him.
“You’re human,” she said, and another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “You’re the boy I saw in my dream. Being attacked by the Cyclops.” The dream came back for an instant, the smell of cold and caves and blood, the wry curl of his lip, and the Cyclops falling on him. Looking closer, she saw fading red punctures down the back of his neck.
“Here.” He twisted to give her a better view, and she felt her cheeks flush. He was good-looking in the daylight. In a rough-around-the-edges, shaggy-haired sort of way. “It goes most of the way down in the back.”
“I thought you were dead.”
He chuckled. “That makes two of us.”
“What are you doing here?” Athena stepped forward, and Cassandra regarded her coldly. She seemed less crazy than Aphrodite and less powerful than Hera. Her left eye was red and watery and someone had sewn the flap of her scalp back in place. She could just barely see the stitching of black thread behind her hairline.
Aidan stood apart, saying nothing. He didn’t greet her or try to protect her. Beside the others, the similarities in their faces were more apparent.
He looks so inhuman. I can’t believe I didn’t notice before.
She thought of Aphrodite’s shrieks, of Poseidon tearing the girl apart. She thought of Hera, snapping her neck. Three gods. Three monsters.
Athena can’t stand against that. And Hermes looks about ready to fall over, he’s so skinny.