Mortal Gods (28 page)

“Go home and pack,” Athena muttered and turned her back. “Get an hour of sleep if you can. We leave before dawn.”

*   *   *

Odysseus went with Cassandra to her house, along with Andie and Henry. After the growl of the Mustang faded, Athena went back into the yard and kicked the stone statue of Hera in half of its face over, and over, and over. In five minutes, the toes of her favorite boots were ruined, and chunks of Hera lay scattered across the grass.

“Dress rehearsal?”Achilles asked.

Athena smiled ruefully. “Maybe.”

“We could do it all ourselves, you know. Walk in there. Blow up the place. Walk back out. Just you and me.”

He sounded so confident. Very
Crocodile Dundee
. But it wouldn’t work.

“No,” she said. “We need her. We need Cassandra.”

“The other weapon of fate.” He nodded. “Right. You think that’s why we’ll win. Because if you have us, you have the Fates.”

“Why do you think we’ll win, Achilles?”

He walked to her and picked up half of the statue, as easily as she could have.

“Because you’re the goddess of war.” He blew dust off the cracked stump of Hera’s neck. “That’s why I joined up. What could be mightier than you?”

*   *   *

Andie didn’t look like herself, sitting on the corner of Henry’s bed, her knees up and her hands pressed against the blankets. She looked afraid. Like a backward-scuttling crab.

“Lux,” Henry said, and gestured with his head. The dog bounced up onto the bed and curled into her lap.

“Dog therapy,” Andie said.

Henry shrugged. “It usually works for me.”

Her phone buzzed, and she reached into her pocket then texted something fast and furious.

“Who’s that?” Henry asked.

Andie made a face.

“It’s Megan, nosy. We were supposed to go to a movie.”

“Not anymore?”

“What do you think?”

Henry sighed. She’d probably be this snappy until the moment they left for Olympus.

Olympus. They were going to real, live, legendary, mother-effing Olympus. The only thing that could make it feel larger and more ridiculous was if they got there on Pegasus.

“This is what we trained for,” he heard himself say.

“I guess.”

“You’re the one who wanted to start using swords.”

She squinted at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? It’s a good thing I did, or we’d both be in Ares’ wolves’ stomachs right now.”

“That was weeks ago,” Henry said. “We’d actually be in little piles of Ares’ wolves’ poop right now.”

She cracked a smile, but just barely. “Big piles, you mean.”

Around Henry’s room, nary a piece of wall was visible for all his posters. Childish, outdated relics. Andie had made fun of him for it once. But the big blue
Avatar
face sure felt comforting now, when his sister was packing for the underworld across the hall. They would go and sit with her soon, he supposed. After she and Odysseus finished discussing whatever secret reincarnated-handshake crap they were discussing.

“Henry?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think it’s done any good? The training, I mean.”

“Sure,” he said. He flexed his arm. “Check out my bicep. It’s almost doubled.”

She smacked him. “I mean, do you think it’s made a difference? Do you think we can stand against gods?”

“Hermes won’t let us face gods,” he said. “We’ll handle the wolves. We’ve faced off against them before.” He didn’t look her in the eye. He didn’t look Lux in the eye either. The deep red scar on his cheek said enough. “And we have you-know-who. What’s-his-ass. Achilles. Besides, I don’t want my sister to go alone.”

“Me, neither.” Andie stuffed her hands into Lux’s fur, and his tail thumped. “I don’t know what I’m saying, anyway. They killed Aidan. Hurt Cassandra. Hurt Lux. It’s our fight.”

“Hey,” he said, and pointed to his cheek. “And me.”

“Yeah,” she said. “And you.” She moved Lux’s head from her lap and stood up, looking at the posters like Henry had just done. “I spend more time in here with you than I do with Cassandra these days,” she said. “Must be annoying. Bet you never counted on your kid sister’s friend always hanging around.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t remember you dying. But it feels like I do. And that almost feels like a premonition.” She looked back at him. “Or an omen? I don’t know what the word is.”

Henry swallowed. He’d never seen Andie so small and scared and nervous. He didn’t know what to do, so he didn’t do anything.

“When the wolves said that you were the boy who had to die, everyone thought that they made a mistake,” Andie went on. “That they thought you were Odysseus, or somehow Achilles. But what if they knew you were you?” Her voice grew quieter, but more breathy, more intense. Her cheeks flushed rosy, and she shook from shoulders to wrists. “What if Hector has to die?”

“I’m not Hector.”

“It doesn’t matter to them!” She turned on him with big, scared eyes and rushed him, hugging him hard and fierce, like he always guessed her hugs would be—part affection, part cutting off circulation.

“I’m not going to die, Andie,” he whispered.

“I think you are,” she said.

Henry slipped his arms around her. He could feel her curves through her clothes, and all her hard muscle, from years of hockey as much as from bashing shields and swinging swords. Her black hair lay soft against his cheek and smelled like herbs. The dirt-smeared tomboy had grown into a pretty girl when he wasn’t looking. And she hadn’t been just his “kid sister’s friend” in a long time.

Henry’s heart pounded in his ears. It was weird to think that he could kiss her. Shove Lux off onto the floor and press her back on his bed. No time like the present to play the Last Night on Earth card. He cleared his throat.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re not psychic,” he croaked.

“Oh.” She pulled away. “It’s not a joke!” But she laughed a little and punched him in the liver, almost hard enough to make him buckle. The moment was over, and he tried to laugh with her, hugging his internal organs and kicking himself.

Henry Weaver, chickenshit of the ages.

*   *   *

Pack light, Athena had said. For the underworld. When Cassandra didn’t even know what she was packing for, or what the weather was like, or if there was even weather at all. The open mouth of her suitcase yawned. Most of her clothes had gone into it already, only to be taken out again. Pack light. She nixed the suitcase and reached for her schoolbag, then dumped her books and notebooks onto the floor to make room for a few shirts and a spare pair of jeans.

“This is an impossible trip to pack for,” she said to Odysseus. “You’ve been there before, haven’t you? How about some advice?”

He leaned over the bed and surveyed the choices.

“Here.” He grabbed a few t-shirts and a zip-up hoodie. “That should do it. Just don’t forget your goat’s blood and honey.”

“What?”

He waved his hand. “Hermes will take care of it.”

Cassandra peered down into her mostly empty backpack.

“So that’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it. You won’t be gone long. She won’t let you be.” His voice turned bitter at the end, and his normally easygoing eyes sat hard as stones.

“You think we’re making a mistake, going into Olympus,” Cassandra said.

“I think
she
is.”

“Why?” Cassandra asked.

“Because she’s too bloody sure she’s going to win.” He exhaled sharply. “Doesn’t matter anyway. She won’t listen to me. Not when she gets like this. She didn’t listen to me when I said not to kill Achilles—”

“And that turned out okay.”

Odysseus shrugged. The outcome wasn’t the point, she supposed. He ran his hands through his unruly brown hair. He was tense and scared for Athena. Probably scared for all of them.

“I don’t think she likes you doubting her,” said Cassandra.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care. I care about keeping her alive. And telling her the truth.”

Cassandra frowned and thought of Calypso, how she must feel, knowing that Odysseus cared for Athena first.

“Ody, are you and Cally…?”

He shook his head. “No. And yes. And before you say anything, I know how shitty that is. What a bleeding mess I’ve made. It would have been better for us all if Athena had never showed a scrap of humanity. If she’d stayed a goddess, and I’d never been able to touch her.”

Cassandra rested her chin on her hand thoughtfully.

“I don’t know how to respond first. ‘What the hell scrap of humanity are you talking about?’ or ‘So, you’ve actually touched her?’”

“My gods, did I touch her. In the back of a truck on the way to Kincade.” He groaned and made fists. “The memory of it keeps me up nights.”

“You. Are. Really gross.” Cassandra zipped her bag. “And really unfair to Cally. She’s so sweet. And beautiful.”

“Cally’s wonderful,” Odysseus said. “Amazing. Lovely. She deserves better than me.” He sat down on Cassandra’s bed, wrinkling most of her wardrobe still spread out on it. He reached under his leg and pulled out a sweater, a blue one Aidan had bought for her. He folded it and held it out.

“What?” she asked. “In case I need something dressy?”

“Hades can be quite a particular bastard. He might want you formal. Listen. When you’re down there, Athena’s going to bait you. She doesn’t want to go, so she’s going to rush you along, piss you off. But you can’t touch her, do you hear me? You can’t touch her when you’re angry.”

Cassandra lowered her eyes.

“The thing that happened in Pennsylvania,” she said, “when I grabbed her, I only meant to make her let go—”

Odysseus didn’t blink.

“You knew what you were doing,” he said.

The feathers in her shoulder. He’s right. It was easy. I barely thought. I just let it out.

“Cassandra? What’s that look for?”

“Just thinking,” she said. “A few months ago, I would’ve run miles to keep Athena safe for you, even though I hated her. Because you’re my friend.”

“And now?”

Now I kill gods.

“Now everything’s different.”

He lay back on the bed and patted the pillow beside him. A few hours’ sleep was a good idea. But she didn’t see how it was possible, when she was leaving for the underworld and Aidan when she woke. She lay down and closed her eyes. Reviving dead boyfriends was worse than waiting for Christmas morning. Her heart pounded, and blood raced through her limbs. In a few hours, she would see him. She would touch him. And she and Athena would pull him out of the underworld, or die trying.

“Thank the stars for Athena,” she said.

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I do basically despise her. But you have to admit she has a knack for getting things done.”

Odysseus switched her lamp off and lay with her in the dark.

“What will you say to him, when you see him?” he asked.

Maybe nothing. It could be like it was at his grave. No words. But it wouldn’t matter. She’d have him back, and whatever she had to say, she’d have all the time she needed to say it.

“Well?”

“I’ll tell him I love him,” she said finally. “And that I’m glad he’s dead. I’ll tell him I’m grateful he protected me, and that he deserved what he got.” She breathed out, and to her surprise, began to feel sleepy. “And then I’ll bring him home.”

23

TRIP TO THE UNDERWORLD

Some hours later, Odysseus woke her. It was still full dark, but she came awake immediately and grabbed her backpack. Together they put on their jackets and crept to the door. A folded note was taped to the other side.

“It’s from Andie and Henry,” Cassandra said.

“What’s it say?”

“It says, ‘We hope you find him. We miss him a lot. Good luck, and be careful.’”

“Real poets, those two,” Odysseus said, and looked at Henry’s closed door. “Do you think they’re in there?” He waggled his brows. “You know.”

“What? Gross. No.” Cassandra tiptoed down the hall and down the stairs, then slipped into her shoes in the entryway. It was lucky that Lux was no longer a stellar guard dog, or they’d have been busted for sure. After the wolf attack he’d become timid and a much deeper sleeper.

They closed the door quietly and jogged through yards to Athena’s.

“You’re so going to get packed off to boarding school for this,” said Odysseus.

“No way. I can distract them with my boyfriend, suddenly back from the dead,” said Cassandra, and realized she was smiling.

“Right. Maybe try the long-lost twin brother angle. That always works.”

“Hey!”

Henry, Andie, and Lux ran to catch up.

“What are you doing?” Cassandra asked. “Go back, or you’ll get us all caught.”

“
You’re
going to get us caught.” Henry scowled. “You didn’t even make up a story for Mom and Dad. I told you to before you went to bed.”

“If you wanted me to listen to you,” she said, “you should have bossed me around more when we were younger.”

“I tried,” said Henry. “You were a brat.”

“You’re covered staying at my house until Friday,” Andie said. “Assuming you’re back before then, Tom and Maureen will never know a thing.”

“Thanks, Andie.”

“Cassandra?” Andie asked. “If you … can’t bring him back. Would you tell him…” She paused. “That I miss his stupid face. And thanks for … you know. Dying for us.”

Cassandra steeled her jaw.

“We’ll be back soon.”

*   *   *

Athena met them at the door in boots, jeans, and a jacket. A burlap sack that looked mostly empty hung in her right hand. When she said pack light, she meant it. She poked Cassandra’s backpack.

“Whatever you’ve got in there, clear it out by half and let Hermes repack it with food.”

“Okay.” She nodded at Odysseus. “Thanks for staying with me.”

“Anytime,” he said, but he was already distracted, his eyes on Athena. Cassandra had barely walked down the hall toward the kitchen before they started to whisper.

“Will you at least think about what I said?” Odysseus hissed. “You don’t know how to fight this war!”

“I know how to fight
every
war!”

Cassandra turned the corner and heard no more. Hermes’ clattering around in cupboards made sure of that.