Mortal Gods (26 page)

“I don’t think we’ll have to get close at all,” Athena said. Above the houses smoke puffed skyward, still visible in the well-lit night of a normally safe, civilized neighborhood.

“I hope they partied hard the night before,” Cassandra said. “Is that weird to say? I hope they togaed the shit out of this town. Had the time of their lives.”

It didn’t matter now.

“No,” said Athena. “It’s not weird to say.” She opened her door and stepped out; Cassandra and Achilles did the same. The wind carried burnt wood and chemicals to their noses, scorched flesh and smoke. Death and shock hung heavy in the air as well. But that wasn’t what Athena focused on.

Ares was there. She felt his darkness and rage, smoldering like the fires he had started. Her legs itched to head for the trees, for the shadowy sides of buildings, but she waited long enough to listen, to feel for anything else. Any other god. But he was alone.

“Is he here?” Achilles asked.

“Yes.”

Cassandra moved to Athena’s side.

“Stay close,” Athena said. “And let me know if you get any kind of updated vision, okay?”

“Okay.”

Their words registered as puffs of air. Ares would be able to see that and know when they spoke even if he was out of earshot. But weather was weather.

“Achilles,” Athena said, “get the mutt.” She tossed him the trunk key and listened to the squeak and scuffle as he opened it and grabbed the wolf. It lay docile in his arms, four paws dangling like an oversized red calf.

“Good. Now let’s get somewhere dark, where we’ll have some privacy.”

They crossed the street, Cassandra keeping close, as she’d been told, Achilles following behind. Athena listened for movement and paid attention to the angry heat in her consciousness. But it didn’t move.

She scanned the houses and the shadows of large, bare trees. One spot seemed darker than the rest, under better cover, isolated from streaks of yellow light thrown from streetlamps and windows.

“There,” Athena said, and pointed. Their feet moved silently through powder-light snow. When they reached the cover of trees, Athena put her hand across Cassandra’s chest.

“What? Do you see him?”

“No. Not yet.”

“What are we going to do?” Cassandra asked.

Athena studied Cassandra’s face. In the darkness, Cassandra didn’t bother hiding her expression like she did in the light. She was afraid, yes, and a little reluctant. But she was also angry, and hungry. Part of it was vengeance, justice for those boys. But it wasn’t all. Cassandra’s eyes moved through the dark like a hunter’s eyes.

“I want to hear what he has to say,” said Athena. “I want the message.”

“What if it was just a challenge?” Achilles asked.

“No. It was a message.”

Cassandra turned her face toward the smoke and red flashing lights, her face a grimace of disgust.

“There are better ways to send one,” she said.

Before Athena could reply, the smell of Ares’ blood drifted toward them, along with the darker, richer scent of wolf fur.

The black wolf walked out from between the trees before Ares, watching them with silent eyes, on legs long and thin as sticks. Pain, the sick-smelling gray one, slunk out from behind a tree to the left. Famine came last, with its master, blending into the snow. And just like that, they were outnumbered.

Doesn’t matter. Achilles can take the wolves. I can handle Ares.

But if a wolf got hold of Cassandra, it could tear her throat out in a flash.

Ares’ black hair ruffled in the night air. He looked well. Whatever Cassandra had done to him in the rain forest hadn’t stuck to him any better than it had to Hera.

“Ares,” Athena said. “I see you’ve brought your best attack dogs.”

“So did you.”

She clenched her jaw. He always said they were alike. Two sides of the same coin, and she kept proving him right.

“What the hell is this, Ares?” she asked. “Killing college students?”

He shrugged. “College students. Tribesmen. All your fault. You shouldn’t have taken my wolf. You shouldn’t have goaded me.” He fixed his eyes on Achilles. “Give me Panic.”

“Not so fast,” Athena said. She yanked the wolf out of Achilles’ arms and squeezed its scruff hard enough to make it whine. “Questions first. Where’s Hera hiding?”

“Let Panic go, and I’ll tell you.”

Athena huffed. “Sure, I trust you.”

Ares said nothing. He stood casually, seemingly unafraid and slightly somber. Anyone else would think him a beautiful boy, there to mourn his fallen frat brothers. Under the circumstances, the way he looked seemed particularly wicked.

“You can trust me,” he said. “I was sent to tell you, anyway.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of obeying mummy dearest?” Achilles asked. “Aren’t you a little old to be tied to a set of apron strings?”

“I look forward to tearing your head off,” Ares said.

“I look forward to stickin’ it back on.”

Athena gave Achilles an irritated glance.

“Let him say what he came to say,” she said, and tightened her grip on Panic again. “Don’t piss him off so soon.”

Ares tensed as Panic whimpered.

“I’m not pissed off,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here. Sister.”

“Why’s that exactly?” Cassandra asked.

“Athena,” Ares said, ignoring her, “if I offered you a deal, would you take it?”

“A deal?” Athena asked. “Hera must really be afraid.”

“Not from her. From me.”

“From you?”

“If I agreed to stand down,” he said, “if I told you all of the plans and secrets, would you let us walk away? Me and Aphrodite?”

“No.” Cassandra stepped forward. “Not you after this, and definitely not her. Aphrodite dies, one way or another.”

Oblivion raised its hackles and growled. Ares spoke through clenched teeth.

“You won’t get within fifty feet of Aphrodite.”

“Wanna bet?” Achilles asked.

Athena frowned. Ares’ dogs were better trained. Another five minutes and they’d have a real fight on their hands. Gods’ blood, wolves’ blood, and mortal blood in the snow.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Ares said to her, “whether I’ll cease to exist when you’re gone. Whether we need each other to survive. These two arms of war. Then again, maybe your death means I’ll just burn brighter.” He paused. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for you to die. I want it, and I don’t want it. But it doesn’t matter. Because you will.”

He looked Athena straight in the eye, and the sadness she saw shocked her so much she loosened her grip on Panic. The wolf snapped the tape around its jaws and bit her hand. She barely had time to drop it before it scampered safely back to Ares.

“Goddamn it!” Cassandra shouted, and Athena couldn’t tell if she was more frightened or angry. “What did you let it go for?”

“Wait,” Athena said, and put her arm out to block Cassandra’s path. “Ares. You have your wolf. Tell me where she is!”

“She’s on Olympus,” he said softly.

“Olympus,” Athena said. Achilles’ face filled with awe. The gods’ home. Returned.

“I’ve never given you any good advice,” said Ares. “But you should listen to me now. Don’t go. Turn around and run.”

Athena shook her head. “We can’t spare her, Ares. However she’s managed to heal herself … however you have … that belongs to us now.”

He barked sad laughter, and the wolves cringed.

“You have no idea what’s waiting for you inside that mountain.”

“You always give Hera too much credit,” said Athena. “She has no idea what I have. None of you know. What these weapons can do. What I still can. You’re the one who should run.”

“Run?” Achilles asked. “After all this? All this burning and murder and wolves? We’re going to let him go?” He nodded to Cassandra. “This might be your best chance. You should take him and take him now. I’ll handle the dogs.”

“I—” Cassandra stuttered. But after a moment her eyes changed.

“No,” Athena said. “There’s too much risk.”

But they darted forward anyway. Achilles moved first, going after Pain. It twitched and jumped away from his grip. Cassandra took a quick step forward, and Famine leaped for her face. Athena pulled her back by the coat collar just in time. The white wolf’s teeth snapped inches from her nose.

“Stand down, damn you,” she hissed. “Ares, get out of here!”

“What? What are you doing?” Cassandra asked, her voice full of rage. She struggled in Athena’s grip, and grabbed Athena’s shoulder. Pain flared bright and wet inside her jacket as fresh feathers exploded through her skin and muscle. Athena grimaced and let Cassandra go. Ares and the wolves had run anyway. Cassandra and Achilles gave chase a few feet in the dark, but soon slowed.

“Why did you stop me?” Cassandra shouted. “I could’ve done it this time. I felt it. I should have done it, for those boys. For those people in the jungle.”

“Maybe,” Athena said. “Or maybe you’d have gotten yourself killed. And you,” she said to Achilles. “I never gave the order.”

Achilles shrugged. “In the heat of battle, my orders come from right here.” He struck his chest and his guts. “Always have.”

“Damn it,” Cassandra said.

“The odds weren’t good, Cassandra.”

“How much better do you think the odds are going to get?” she asked, angrier and angrier. “When I face him next time he’ll be side by side with Hera.”

“It wasn’t the right time,” Athena muttered. The shoulder of her jacket soaked through with hot blood, mocking her like Cassandra’s words. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t let the girl try. If they’d succeeded, their chances in Olympus would’ve been measurably better.

It was something in his eyes that I hadn’t seen in a long time.
Cassandra stalked past her and kicked snow on the way back to the car.
And it was something in hers that I didn’t want to see.

21

PLANS

“You should stay with me,” Athena said. “With us. It’ll look less suspicious if you go home in the morning. And then you can check in with Henry. See what load of BS he told them.”

Light from Cassandra’s den and kitchen blared yellow into the snow. At two in the morning on a weeknight. One or both of her parents were sitting up waiting. Whatever BS Henry had told them, they hadn’t bought it.

“It won’t make a difference,” said Cassandra. “And I don’t want to stay with you.”

“What will you tell them?”

“How’s your shoulder?” Cassandra didn’t spare Athena a glance as she got out, didn’t look back as she walked up the driveway. She was overjoyed thinking that Athena would be plucking feathers for hours.

When she walked into the house, she shed her coat and boots and went into the den, where both her parents waited as expected.

“Where were you?” her mother asked, sitting on the couch. A glass of brandy trembled in her fingers.

In Pennsylvania, on the trail of a god. On a school night. Cassandra frowned. She couldn’t very well tell them
that
.

“I was with Athena.”

“With Athena where?” her dad asked.

“Just out. Snowstorms make her sort of claustrophobic. We didn’t mean to come back so late.” Their shoulders relaxed. And to think, she’d always figured she’d be terrible at lying from lack of practice.

“Snowstorm claustrophobia or not,” her dad said, “you can’t just disappear until two
AM
on a school night. And when Henry got bitten—you ran off with her then, too … to the … spa, or whatever.”

Cassandra clenched her back teeth down on a laugh. Her dad pronounced “spa” as if it were exotic as an alien spaceship.

“We like Athena. And we know it’s hard for her, with her brother sick. But you’re in high school. There are limits.”

“I know.”

Her mom put the brandy glass down. “You’re not acting like you know.”

“I know. But I do.” Except limits didn’t matter. She had to break the rules, to fight a war that raged on under their noses. She had to lie, because they didn’t know who she was. And they might never. They could lose both of their children; she and Henry could be buried shallow in a ditch, and they would never know why. They’d wonder what they’d done wrong.

“I’m really sorry,” Cassandra said. “That I cost you sleep. That I give you headaches.” That they were so very, very in the dark. She bent and hugged them. “I’m sorry that you worry. You don’t have to.”

*   *   *

Athena breathed a sigh of relief when she and Achilles pulled up to a dark and silent house.

“Looks like they didn’t wait up,” Achilles said. He studied her wounded arm. Blood had run all the way down the sleeve and coated her hand in a red glove. “Good thing, I guess. But I expected a little fanfare.”

“Tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll make you a hero’s breakfast. You can fight Hermes for it.” She parked the Dodge on the street and killed the engine. “Lazy a-holes. Didn’t even shovel the driveway. Now I’ll have to drag the Dodge back up when no one’s looking.”

“Or you could shovel it yourself.”

“Not likely.”

“Why not let me drag the car up, then?” Achilles offered. “You’re not in the best shape.”

“Fine. But tomorrow. Now, let’s not wake anyone up.”

Inside, she headed for her bedroom on quiet feet. But when she tried to close her door, she almost shut it on Hermes’ face. He gasped at the dark stain on the shoulder of her jacket.

“Is that yours?” he asked. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Well, something. But it’s only good. How’s your stomach? Strong?”

“Why?”

“Because I think this is going to be gross.”

She ground her teeth and skinned out of her jacket sleeves. The fabric of her shirt bloused out wetly where the feathers protruded, like she’d taken a wound and then stuffed it with something. Only the wound
was
the stuffing.

She chuckled, once. It wasn’t going to be funny, when the shirt was off. She started unbuttoning and glanced at her brother.

“We’re going to need towels, and something to pull them.”

He went to the bathroom for towels and tweezers. She moved the chair from her vanity to the middle of the room, and after a second rolled the rug out from underneath. Wood would be easier to clean.