Mortal Gods (7 page)

Odysseus eyed Athena. “You know we’re not done with this conversation.”

“I know.”

He hugged Cassandra and kissed her on the head, told her to be careful, and whispered, “Don’t kill her,” into her ear.

“I won’t.”

He looked at Athena and said his fast and silent goodbye. It was nothing more than a soft encircling of his fingers around her wrist, and his eyes on hers, but it was somehow so intimate.

Don’t let go.

Athena tugged herself away.

The door closed, and the cab pulled out of the drive. They were gone.

*   *   *

The wind smelled of ice. Athena breathed it in, walking back and forth on the porch that extended out from her second-story bedroom. She should put on a jacket, or wrap herself in a blanket. Anyone in a passing car might call the police, thinking she’d lost her mind out on the roof in the middle of winter in a t-shirt. But the air across her skin felt good, and when she sucked it in deep, the ache in her lung was still just a quiet burn. No ruffling vane had emerged to tickle and sting. It was buried. If she was lucky, it would stay that way.

She gripped the edge of the railing and thought of Odysseus and Hermes on the other side of the world. The house felt too big without them. Every sound she made announced itself loudly and died off with nothing to answer it. They could be gone for weeks. For a month. It had only been a day, and already she paced the rooms like a lonely ghost. Already she was out on the porch without a coat, like a crazy person.

A widow’s walk. That’s what they would call this, if it faced the sea. A place for anxious wives to watch the water and wait for their men to come home safe.

Athena’s fingers tightened around the wood. One twist of her wrists and she could rip the whole thing apart. It wouldn’t even be hard. She could splinter it and toss it down into the snow. Maybe then she’d feel better.

And I could rebuild it afterward. Give me something to do until they get back.

The hum of a familiar engine caught her attention. Andie’s silver Saturn came into view and pulled into the driveway amidst a cloud of pounding music. The girl was alone inside, her face through the window a pale orb with big eyes.

“I see the car’s running again,” Athena said, as she got out.

“Better than ever.” Andie stood before the front steps, looking up. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No.”

“Right. Gods don’t feel cold. Neither snow, nor heat, nor gloom of night will keep a goddess off her porch.”

Athena leaned down. “I recognize that, you know. The creed of the U.S. Postal Service. I’ve been in America for most of the time it’s been America. And you got it wrong.”

“I’m sure I did,” Andie said. She looked over her shoulder at her car, and at the road. A worried gesture, like she was doing something illicit. “Can I come in?”

“Door’s open,” Athena said. By the time she got downstairs Andie had taken off her coat and was toasting her fingers over the fireplace. Athena joined her, spreading her hands close to the flames.

“I thought you said you weren’t cold.”

“I wasn’t. Cold doesn’t really affect me.” She turned her hands. Currents of heat flickered against her skin. “But I feel it.”

Andie seemed uncomfortable there without Cassandra, and with Odysseus and Hermes gone. It was no secret that she and Henry thought Athena the strangest of the three, and the most godlike.

“Cassandra doesn’t know you’re here,” Athena said, because it was obvious. “So why are you?”

“Didn’t Hermes tell you?”

“Hermes didn’t have a chance to tell me much. It was a scramble to get all the travel arrangements made, and then they left.”

“Oh.” Andie cleared her throat and gestured to the sword, mounted inches above their heads. “Hermes said he would teach me to use that. But he’s gone now, and Cassandra said he might be gone for a while. So I was wondering if you would teach me. Or at least start, until he gets back.”

Athena didn’t answer, and after a minute, Andie started to babble.

“I mean, maybe it would be better learning from you anyway. You’re, like, the battle goddess, right? Or are you really as big a jackass as Cassandra says, and coming here was a huge mistake?”

Athena snorted.

“Flattery’s not necessary,” she said. “I’ll teach you. Come downstairs.”

“Now?” asked Andie.

“Why not?”

“I—” Andie’s mouth closed slowly. “I hadn’t figured on starting so soon. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Well, I did. So do you want to learn, or not?”

“Yeah. I do. It feels like I should.”

Athena raised her brow. “No matter what Cassandra and Henry think?”

Andie pushed past her toward the basement.

The basement was floored in sealed concrete, the walls bare aside from a few other swords and knives. It wasn’t much more than a large open space and a partially finished laundry room. A speed bag and a black heavy bag hung in the eastern corner beside a set of free weights and a bench.

Andie whistled. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t anything so humble.”

“We’ll have to get some mats,” Athena said. “We can’t be slamming you down onto concrete.”

“What is this?” Andie asked. She ran her hand over the black leather surface of the heavy bag. “Don’t tell me you use a punching bag. Or free weights.”

“Please,” said Athena. “I could juggle every one of those weights with my fingertips. This is for Odysseus.”

Andie walked to the speed bag and gave it a gentle push.

“He was some great warrior, wasn’t he?”

“He was.” In her memory, Athena could still hear his scream and see the flash of bronze as he charged into swords and arrows. “One of the best. He still is.”

“Better than Henry used to be? Better than Hector, I mean?”

Athena cocked her head. In a fair fight, Hector would have won. But Odysseus had never been bound by the rules of a fair fight.

“It would depend on the day,” she answered finally. “Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t know.” Andie shrugged. “Because it feels like I should. It feels like who I am.”

They still are what they were
. That’s what Demeter had told her. So was this black-haired girl really a warrior? Even without her memories? Athena’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious to find out.

“Cassandra doesn’t want me to,” Andie went on. “She says she wants to kill Aphrodite, but what she really wants is for all of you to go away. For everything to go back to the way it was. She wants Aidan back. But none of those things are going to happen. Are they?”

“No.”

“That’s why I want to learn.” She rubbed her hands together. “So let’s go. Do you have some wooden swords or something? Maybe a shield?”

Athena walked to the closet and disappeared inside. When she returned she held two long staffs, like walking sticks.

“What’re those?”

Athena tossed one to her. “It’s a
b
ō
. You use it like an extension of your arms.”

Andie’s face fell as she turned the staff back and forth. She’d wanted the sword. But she already held it correctly, right palm away and left palm in, so maybe her hands did remember.

Andie sighed. “I feel like the lame Ninja Turtle. Don’t you have any
sai
?”

“You can do more with this,” Athena said, and quickly used the
b
ō
to pop Andie in the chest. Lightly, very lightly, but the girl nearly buckled.

“Ow!” Andie rubbed her sternum.

“There’s an easier way, you know,” Athena said.

“There is?”

“I could just choke you to death.” Andie took a hasty step back, and Athena laughed. “Take it easy. I’m kidding.”

“Well don’t. You’re not very good at it.”

Athena spun the
b
ō
. Maybe time wouldn’t pass so slowly after all.

*   *   *

“We’re never going to find her.”

Odysseus stared up into the trees of Taman Negara and felt small. The rain forest canopy stretched up and out and on forever; or at least that was how it seemed. And they were going to plunge into it, headfirst, to try to pick up the months-cold trail of one dying goddess.

Hermes didn’t agree or disagree with Odysseus’ declaration; he was too busy trying to explain to their boat guide that they didn’t have a hotel to get to and didn’t need transport to one. He knew enough of the local language to keep things civil, and he’d gotten them this far, but his vocabulary failed in the face of the guide’s good-natured insistence. He had to resort to a lot of wild hand gestures.

Odysseus adjusted his pack on his shoulders. They’d stopped off at a hostel near the airport to shower, but it hardly made a difference. Hours and a very long boat ride later, the humid air felt like a second, very amphibian skin.

“Okay, okay, so we’ll die,” Hermes said loudly, and both he and the guide threw up their hands. He picked up his duffel and affixed it like an improvised backpack. When he met Odysseus’ eyes, the look they shared spoke volumes. They were already tired and felt like shit, and it was only going to get worse.

“How did I let Athena get me into this?” Hermes grumbled. He picked an arbitrary spot in the forest and stepped in.

“I thought you were excited for the chance to get out of Kincade, mate.”

“Yeah? Well, you were excited to tag along.” Soft ferns brushed against their legs as Hermes picked his way through a patch of dense green leaves to a space where the ground was clearer, coated with dark soil and dead plant scraps. “So who’s laughing now?”

Odysseus didn’t think either one of them was laughing, but he knew why they’d come. Athena’s determination to murder Achilles left little doubt. Gathering forces and destroying arsenals. His Athena. She’d never stop fighting. Keeping her off Achilles’ scent was going to be the battle of his life.

“I know it’s early to be asking, but do you feel anything? Can you feel Artemis anywhere?”

Hermes lifted his head and scanned the trees. “Nothing yet. Maybe nothing ever. My god-dar was never as good as Athena’s. Even before we started dying. Probably not the answer you were hoping for. Now that we’re here, this place certainly seems a lot bigger than Cassandra’s fingerprint, doesn’t it?”

They walked for a few moments, listening to the sounds of rustling leaves and insects. The jungle did seem larger than Odysseus had imagined. Everything was a wonder; the heaviness of the air, the span of the leaves. And if the noise was any indication, they were surrounded by at least three million bugs.

“Maybe we should’ve brought Cassandra with us.”

“Ha,” Hermes said. “And risk her falling to a snakebite or a poisonous insect? Risk her tripping down a ravine?” He veered around the curve of a large trunk. “Athena would have your tongue just for suggesting it.”

“Maybe,” Odysseus said. “But she might’ve made this go a lot faster.”

*   *   *

They found a spot to camp when the light began to fade, and Odysseus channeled his inner Boy Scout to start a serviceable fire. Hermes disappeared into the trees to hunt but returned carrying a large, gutted fish.

“Cassandra’s speech about endangered animals get to you?” Odysseus asked while Hermes scaled the fish and put it on a spit.

“Shut up. Fish just cook faster.” He rinsed his hands with water from his canteen and rummaged in his bag for a can of potatoes, which he opened and shoved down into the coals. “Athena should’ve packed herbs and butter,” he grumbled, but it wasn’t long before the fish skin was crackling, and the savory smell made their mouths water.

They ate in relative quiet, just a few muttered comments about how surprisingly good the food was. Odysseus ate only a small portion of the nearly two-foot-long fillet, allowing Hermes to polish off the rest, along with most of the potatoes and a chocolate chip granola bar for dessert. Athena still would have wanted him to eat more.

“So,” Odysseus said. “Is there anything I should know about sleeping on the rain forest floor?”

“Hm?” Hermes asked, even though he’d probably heard. He’d been looking up through the canopy, catching a glimpse of stars above the smoky orange glow of the fire. “Oh, uh, not that I can think of. You might want to check yourself for leeches every once in a while.”

“Leeches.” Odysseus grimaced. “Fantastic. And then what? I just yank them off? I think I saw that in a movie once.” He glanced downward, trying to detect any movement or sliminess in his shorts.

Hermes laughed. “Right.
Stand By Me
. The leech in the kid’s tighty-whities. But don’t just yank it. I packed salt. They’ll drop off.” His smile faded, and he looked back up into the sky.

“Hey. You all right?”

“As all right as a dying god can be, I suppose.”

Odysseus prodded the coals with a stick and sent up a whirl of sparks. “You’re not going to die,” he said. “Athena’s going to win this war.”

The words came easily and sounded confident. But Odysseus couldn’t meet Hermes’ eyes, and he couldn’t stop his jaw from clenching. He needed to believe what he said, that they would win, and that Hermes would live, because it meant that
she
would live. But he didn’t really know.

“I don’t want to take that hope away from you,” said Hermes. “And I’ll admit, she seems pretty sure. Just in case, though … I don’t know how long I want to do this.”

“Do what?”

“This.” He kept his voice cheerful and gestured around to the trees and sky. “I mean, it’s scenic and everything. A once-in-a-millennium commune with nature. But that’s about how often I’d like to keep it. Even if I weren’t thin as a sack of sticks, I’m not cut out for all this … labor.”

Odysseus grinned. “Got someplace else you’d rather be? Leading a caravan of glitterati across the cities of Europe, maybe?”

Hermes lowered his eyes. “You have to admit, there are things … that one would wish to do once … or several more times, before dying.”

“Like what?” Odysseus asked softly. Hermes looked so tired. Let him daydream for a while. Let him out of the sweltering trees, and into someplace bright, and gilded, and marble.

“Like walking midday through the Piazza della Signoria. Like spending hours on a winter bridge over the Seine. Eating a meal that doesn’t show up at my door in a cardboard box.” He laughed. “And other things, too. It would be nice to feel things.” He cocked his eyebrow. “Like one last, sweaty fling with a beautiful boy. Under a canopy of stars, perhaps? In the Taman Negara rain forest?”