Mortal Gods (15 page)

“Cassandra? Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call since yesterday, and your phone’s been off. Why weren’t you at school today?”

“Athena was having a bad day,” she said quickly. “Got bad news about Hermes. So we sort of took a spa day.” Not the best lie. Athena at a spa was more than a stretch. But she could’ve done worse after getting off a very long, exhausting, international flight.

“That’s not—” Her mother sighed. “We’ll deal with that later. Call Andie and get a ride to the hospital. Your brother was attacked by wild dogs yesterday.”

“What?”

“And don’t go into the woods! Animal control hasn’t found them yet.”

“Is Henry okay?”

“He’s fine. We were supposed to take him home today, but he’s having a reaction to the rabies vaccine. They’re keeping him one more night, to be safe. Get here soon, all right? I bet Andie will give you a lift.”

“Okay, Mom,” she said, and hung up. Wild dogs and Henry in the hospital. She dialed Andie, hoping that Kincade truly did have a roving dog problem, and it was nothing god-related. But come on.

“Oh, thank god you’re home,” Andie said. “Are you okay? We walked into a world of crap while you were gone.”

“What? What happened?”

“Four little wolf
things,
that’s what. Friends of Ares, Cally says. I didn’t even know Ares was around. They attacked us in the woods behind your house and almost killed us. And Lux.”

Cassandra looked around the kitchen like the dog might come padding in at any second.

“Where’s Lux? And who’s Cally?”

“Still at the vet. But he’s going to be okay. And so is Henry.”

Cassandra waited. “And Cally?”

On the other end, Andie took a deep breath.

“That, my friend, is an even more interesting story.”

*   *   *

Athena looked up at her house, at their house, at the quaint brown siding and wood rail of the widow’s walk. They were home.

“First thing I’m doing,” said Hermes as he extricated himself from the backseat, “is calling in an order at Stanley’s Wok. Pot stickers and a few dozen chicken wings.”

“How can you be hungry?” Odysseus asked. “You just ate out the entire plane.”

“Look, I know you’re British, but you should really rephrase that.” Hermes thumped his fist on the trunk.

“It only opens with the key.” Odysseus tossed it, and Hermes opened the trunk and threw the others their bags.

“Let’s go in,” Hermes said. “I want a fire, and a hot cup of something.”

The sensation of coming home was magic: silence broken by stomping feet and brushing fabric. Athena breathed in a mingled smell of cleaning products and ash from the fireplace, and just a whisper of Hermes’ sandalwood incense. It was so poignant and comforting that it took her a minute to notice the house wasn’t empty.

“Wait,” she said, and put her hand on her brother’s shoulder.

“Wait for what?”

The girl came around the corner from the living room, wearing a cream-colored sweater and camel skirt over dark leggings. Her sand-and-sea eyes lit up at the sight of Odysseus.

“Odysseus!” She ran and threw her arms around his neck. He had half a second to glance at Athena in shock before they were kissing.

It was long and drawn out in the utter silence of Athena’s stony eyes and Hermes’ open mouth. But it did eventually break, and Odysseus wiped his lips.

“Athena.” He looked between her and the girl in his arms. “This is—”

“I know who this is,” she said. Of course she did. As if she would ever forget such a beautiful face. “Hello, Calypso.”

*   *   *

Athena stood silent on her widow’s walk, fully aware of Hermes creeping up behind her. No doubt he wanted to make sure she was all right, after Calypso’s brazen announcement. It was almost funny, how afraid they’d been of her reaction. You’d have thought Hermes and Odysseus had turned to statues. She couldn’t tell which one was more terrified. But she knew who wasn’t. Calypso hadn’t budged. Hadn’t flinched. She’d just happily nuzzled Odysseus’ neck. Nuzzled his neck with her stupid, lovely face.

“Hermes,” Athena said. “Stop creeping.”

“You’re right,” he said, and held out his arms. “Bring it in. Weep. Hug it out. I won’t tell anyone.”

She snorted. “Just because you’re my baby brother doesn’t mean I won’t smack you around.”

“Indeed you could,” he said, his eyes on her hands where they gripped the railing. “No telltale white around your knuckles. But we both know you could crumble that wood as easily as a mortal crumbles a cookie.” He walked closer and gave her a nudge. “Want to throw me over the edge? It wouldn’t hurt, but I’d take it if it’d make you feel better.”

“I don’t need to toss you to feel better. Bring me that little waif inside. Bet I could make her fly a country mile.” She smiled softly. Absurd. The words out of her mouth were as bitter and jilted as any love-sick puppy dog. “And to think, it was so nice to be home. Is Stanley’s Wok on the way? I could use an order of chicken wings.”

“I haven’t ordered yet. Thought I should come up and face the rumbling volcano first.”

“I’m no rumbling volcano,” Athena said. But Calypso’s lips plastered all over Odysseus seemed to be burned onto her eyeballs. Calypso, the sea nymph, who had been Odysseus’ lover for seven years after the Trojan War. She’d had the guts then to tell Athena she was keeping him, even when Athena had demanded she let him go.

And now she had the nerve to squat in Athena’s house.

“Maybe not,” said Hermes. “But you can’t be happy. I remember how mad you got, when she wouldn’t let him off of that island. Hissing and stomping, until I had to go down there myself. I could do it again, you know. If you want.”

“I didn’t hiss and stomp,” she said. But she had asked Zeus. Begged him to make Calypso let Odysseus go. She remembered what she’d said, too: that it was wrong for any immortal nymph or goddess to have an affair with a mortal man. “Do you believe what she says?” she asked Hermes.

“That she saved Andie and Henry from Ares’ wolves?” Hermes shrugged. “I called Andie, and she confirmed it. Guess we shouldn’t have left them behind.”

We, he said. But it was Athena who’d done it. And Calypso had saved them. Hell, she’d even saved their dog.

“She’s here to fight,” Athena said. “Another soldier. And we owe her, for Andie and Henry. Just—” She waved her hand and pressed her lips together in a firm line. “Move her into Odysseus’ room.”

“Just like that,” Hermes said. “You’re going to give him up to her.”

“He’s not mine to give up.”

Hermes rolled his eyes. Then he raised his brows.

“She doesn’t even look like she’s dying,” he said. “Did you notice that? Those sea-green eyes, that perfect skin, and the shine off her hair was bright as a lens flare.”

“It’s an illusion,” said Athena. “She’s dying. Her death just isn’t as grand as ours. She’s a nymph, not a god. She’s just aging. She’s just mortal. She looks older than she did the last time I saw her.”

“For sure,” Hermes scoffed. “Seventeen, definitely, instead of sixteen.”

“Shut up.” It was sweet, how he tried to make her resentful. Resentful, and jealous enough to snatch her toy back. But Odysseus wasn’t a toy. And he was better off with Calypso. Calypso would die with beautiful silver hair, in a soft bed. Not in an explosion of bloody feathers.

“He tried to tell me about her,” Athena said. “In the alley behind the Three Sisters. He told me that she came for him. She. I guess I should have known who he meant.”

Hermes put his hand on hers. “But he left her, to find you. Back then, and now, he always wanted to leave her. For you.”

“For his wife, back then.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But to do what
you
wanted.”

Athena’s chest grew heavy. “Can we not do this? Can we focus on the fact that we have a war to fight? Ares is coming at us from two fronts, and we need to find Achilles. Hera is alive.” They had more than enough problems, without throwing unrequited love into the mix. “Who else would side with them? Hades, surely. But Hephaestus and Dionysus are probably ours, assuming Dionysus hasn’t died of cirrhosis already.”

“You’re going to start a war, to forget about a boy.”

“I’m not starting a war,” she said. “I’m finishing one. And when it’s over, we’ll stand the victors, and live out the rest of our lives in peace.”

“You really think we’ll win?” he asked.

“We won Cassandra,” she said. “And we’re closer to Achilles. Don’t you see? The cards are falling our way. Wherever they are, the Moirae are with us. Fate favors us. That has to be true, Hermes. We have to have another chance.” She looked back toward the house, where Calypso and Odysseus were doing god only knew what. “Because I’ve already missed this one.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “Are you going to stay out here?”

“Awhile.”

He went into her bedroom and came back with a blanket. “Put this around yourself at least. Before someone sees you and thinks you’re nuts. I’ll bring up the wings when they get here.”

“Thanks, Hermes.”

“Anytime, big sister.” He turned to go, and said, “He’ll always love you best.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “He’ll always love me best. But he’ll love Calypso for real.”

12

MURDEROUS HANDS

“Hey, are you going to get something or what?”

Andie’s voice startled Cassandra in front of the hospital vending machine, and she hit buttons without thinking. Out dropped a bottle of unsweetened iced tea. Gross. Maybe her mom would drink it.

“Iced tea? What’s wrong with you? Did it give you the wrong thing?”

“No,” Cassandra said. “You just scared me.”

“Sorry. You were standing there like a zombie. What were you thinking about?”

Cassandra twisted off the cap of the iced tea. It was bitter, and watery, and so not the Orange Crush she wanted. But she was thirsty, and she didn’t have any more dollar bills, which was all the ridiculous machine would take.

“I was thinking of…” she said, and stopped. She’d been thinking of touching Ares in the rain forest. The heat in her hands when she did it, and the feeling she got, when his blood burst under her fingers. Joy. Flat-out, powerful joy.

Ares had it coming, for sure. Murdering those people. Those plump, happy men who ran at him but didn’t quite attack. They shook flimsy spears at the god of war, and he bashed their brains in. But as monstrous as Ares was, she couldn’t stop thinking of his face. His handsome, too human face. He had black hair and dark eyes, like Henry. And he looked a little like Aidan, too, if Aidan had been stretched taller and more muscular. If his jaw were more square and the line of his mouth were cruel. She could still feel Ares’ blood sliding down her wrists. Athena said Cassandra was a killer. She hadn’t said anything about Cassandra liking it so much.

“Earth to Cassandra,” Andie said. “Thinking of what?”

“Nothing.” She wrapped her hands around the cold bottle and wondered if she could make it boil. What if she couldn’t really kill gods? Ares said that Hera was alive. That Cassandra hadn’t finished the job.

But she knew she could. Down deep in her gut and in the dark part of her mind, she knew. Her touch could kill.

“Nothing?” Andie asked. “It clearly wasn’t nothing. Come on. Are you worried about Henry? Or what happened in the jungle? You didn’t tell me any details—”

“Andie, will you shut up!”

Cassandra’s hand shot out and grasped Andie’s wrist, red hot, ready to reduce it to ash. To paste. She wanted to burn everyone who chattered in her ear about school, or doing the dishes, or going out to dinner. How she hated the way they filled time. How she hated that they thought they knew her, and all the things they thought mattered.

“Is that supposed to hurt?” Andie asked. “Because honestly, you’ve never had much upper-body strength.”

Cassandra dropped her friend’s hand.

“Sorry,” she said quickly.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing. Let’s just go see Henry.”

“No wait,” Andie said, her brow clouding. “That wasn’t nothing, was it? You were trying to do something to me like you do to them.” Andie rubbed her wrist.

“Oh god, are you okay?” Cassandra held out her hands, but Andie took a step back, and then one big angry step forward.

“It doesn’t work on me, Cassandra,” she half-shouted. “But my fist will work on you just fine if you ever try that again. What are you thinking? I’m your friend!”

“My
best
friend,” Cassandra half-shouted back. Hot, angry tears backed up in her throat so fast. In a blink she was angry. Angry and sorry all at once.

“That sounds weird when you say it through clenched teeth,” Andie spat.

Cassandra tried to swallow it down, to relax her jaw and breathe cold air, to say anything with a calm, gentle voice. But she didn’t sound much different when she said, “I don’t know how to make it go away.”

They stood eye to eye. For as long as she’d known Andie, Cassandra had never seen her back down from a fight. So she loved Andie a little bit more when she growled and shivered all over, letting it go. Giving in, because Cassandra needed her to.

All at once, the heat in Cassandra disappeared.

“Look, it’ll be okay,” Andie said. “I’d be angry too. I am angry. It’s normal, to feel this way because he’s gone.” She turned to lead the way to Henry’s room, but Cassandra grabbed her and hugged her tight. Andie tensed immediately, never the touchy-feely type, but Cassandra hugged her tighter.

“I really am sorry I tried to murder you,” Cassandra said. A tear slid out of her eye, but Andie only chuckled. She patted Cassandra’s back with stiff fingers.

“I forgive you. Just let go.” She tugged loose and held Cassandra at arms’ length. “Look,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll … find Aphrodite soon, and burn her up, and then you’ll start to feel better.”

Cassandra watched her walk down the hall. Andie needed to believe that, to think that Aphrodite would somehow fix everything, and the old Cassandra would return. Cassandra used to think so, too. But now it didn’t seem so simple.

*   *   *

They’d been at the hospital for the last hour with Cassandra’s parents, trying to figure out if Henry could go home. The doctors said there were problems with his wounds. Cassandra heard one of them whisper that it was almost like they were
trying
to be infected. Too bad they couldn’t tell the doctors that the bites weren’t really from dogs. That they were from immortal, humanoid wolves owned by the Greek god of war. Would have cleared things right up.