Mortal Gods

  “They ran,” Athena said, and grabbed him by the arm. “So we chase.” Without another word, they took off together, and they didn’t stop no matter how loudly Odysseus called.

  * * *

  “What are you up to?” Achilles asked, but Athena didn’t answer. If he wasn’t an idiot, he’d figure it out.

  She sniffed the air, scanning the larger grave markers, and the trees, anywhere a pack of wolves might hide. Then again, they might scatter. But that was all right. She only needed one.

  Ares, Ares, Ares. My idiot brother. What were you thinking, sending them after us when you knew I was here?

  But she really didn’t care. The wolves were a gift, and much like gift horses, you didn’t look them in the mouth. A flash of red fur, flicking fast like a fox tail, darted toward a copse of trees on their left.

  Excellent.

  “Go!” she shouted to Achilles, and he took off, cutting off the wolf’s path of escape so she could come in from behind. As they closed in, she noted that it was the twitchy one. Panic. Maybe the most annoying wolf, but no matter. She wasn’t picky. The other wolves would sing like canaries to Ares and Hera. They’d tell them all about Achilles. She hoped it drove fear deep into their bellies. Fear, like icing on her cake. But, it didn’t really matter what they felt. Because while the other wolves sang, this one would lead them right back to its master.

  “Take it alive,” she said.

  18

  EXHIBITION

  They kept the wolf chained in the basement. It refused to talk. It refused even to stand up on two stretched hind legs and pace. Panic quivered and twitched and looked as sad as any wild animal on an eight-foot leash.

  “Talking wolves,” Andie said. “Just another fine day in godland.” She stepped closer to Henry, and he put an awkward hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s weird knowing one of those things is right underneath our feet,” he said.

  According to Odysseus, Athena had brought the wolf home in a sack, like a huntsman. He said that she and Achilles had looked positively triumphant.

  “What’s the rush all of a sudden?” Henry asked. “None of us are ready.”

  “She won’t say,” Odysseus replied.

  Across the room, Hermes fidgeted and cleared his throat. “Maybe she just sees an opportunity,” he said quietly.

  “For what? A new pet?” asked Cassandra. “Someone needs to talk to her.”

  “Why not you?” Achilles asked. He came out of the kitchen with a metal bowl and held it out. “Here. You can take this down for me.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Raw, room-temperature hamburger.”

  “Gross.”

  Cassandra walked down the hall and opened the door to the basement. The red wolf’s growl reached most of the way up the stairs, a jittery, unearthly sound that made her shudder. But when she saw it chained in the corner, crouched down on all fours and shaking, she almost felt sorry for it.

  “Staring contest?” she asked Athena, and the goddess turned, surprised.

  “Something like that,” Athena said. “You might not want to get too close.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “Not right now. Can I have that?”

  Cassandra handed over the bowl. It sort of smelled, a little bit bloody, rotten, and unpleasant. Or maybe that was the wolf. There wasn’t much ventilation in the basement.

  “Are you hungry, Panic?” Athena asked. “Of course you are. You’re always hungry. So tell me where your dad is, and you can have some uncooked burgers.” She wafted the meat under Panic’s nose and waited.

  Nothing. Not even a whine. She tossed the bowl onto the floor, and the wolf dove on it, swallowing the meat in huge, mushy chunks.

  “I think you’re supposed to withhold the food longer,” Cassandra said.

  Athena sighed.

  “I don’t want to torture it,” she said. “I’ll figure something else out. But it will lead us to Hera and Ares, one way or another.”

  Panic finished eating and began to pace back and forth, fast. Its red brush tail twitched with a maddening lack of rhythm.

  “Why don’t we just let it go and follow it?” Cassandra asked.

  Athena glanced at her.

  “You’re in as big a hurry as I am,” she said.

  “Well, yeah. You think I don’t know that where we find Ares, we find Aphrodite?”

  Cassandra cocked her head at Panic.

  “It looks plenty scared,” she said. “It’d probably run right home.”

  “Yeah,” said Athena. “It looks pretty scared. Except it knows exactly what you’re saying and can stand up on two feet and talk. It’s not a regular wolf, Cassandra. It’d be more than happy to lead us on a merry chase all the way to Indonesia.”

  They’d held the wolf hostage for two days. Long enough for Calypso’s cuts to almost completely disappear, and long enough for Athena to run out of patience.

  “Speaking of hurries,” Cassandra said, “why are you in such a hurry all of—” She paused. Her nose tingled, like she was about to sneeze. But instead the tingle turned to a burn. Smoke rushed into Cassandra’s eyes, and she doubled over, coughing, her eyes watering buckets. The basement cement burned up in flames and ash. All the walls. Even the floor. Someone screamed. Not her. Not Athena, either. The voice was raw and full of panic. On fire. Cassandra whimpered, and Athena caught her as the flames ate the last of the oxygen in the room.

  * * *

  Cassandra woke up on the living room sofa smelling like a campfire, and underneath that, like burnt human flesh. Her clothes were ruined. All the Febreze in the world wouldn’t take that stench out.

  “Here,” Hermes said to Athena, and handed her a steaming mug.

  “Cassandra,” Athena said. “Sit up. Take a few sips of this.”

  The heat of the tea burned over Cassandra’s lips and down her throat, nowhere near as hot as the smoke. Athena touched her cheek with the backs of her fingers and brushed her hair over her shoulder, the way Odysseus sometimes did.

  “Tell us what you saw.”

  A vision. Like so many others. Death and destruction. People in flames. Vague, maddening flashes full of blood and smoke and never once any useful detail.

  “A fire,” she said. “Something’s going to burn. And someone. Lots of someones.”

  “Someone?” Andie asked. “Who?”

  “Just go over it from the beginning,” Athena said.

  Go over it from the beginning. Athena sounded so calm. Like she really thought it would make a difference.

  In one fast, sweeping motion, Cassandra threw the mug of tea into the opposite wall. It shattered, and Athena jumped backward, dragging Hermes and Calypso back with her. Beware, beware, the tantrums of a god killer.

  “Sorry,” Cassandra muttered. “The tea tasted like burnt people.”

  “Hey,” Odysseus said. He moved closer and put his hands on her shoulders. “Easy. Take a few minutes. It’s okay.”

  “I don’t need a few minutes,” Cassandra spat. “Why aren’t we training? Or interrogating the red dog some more?”

  “Cassie,” Henry said.

  “Don’t fucking Cassie me, Henry.”

  “But why won’t you tell us what you saw? Was it that bad? Was it one of us?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “And it doesn’t matter. I saw it, so it is. You, or me, or Andie, I don’t know. But if it was us then we burn. Let’s go.” She stalked toward the backyard.

  “We could try,” Athena said, without much enthusiasm.

  “We can’t, and you know it. The only way to stop more of this is to stop all of it. To stop the source. So come on.”

  * * *

  Calypso volunteered to babysit Panic.

  “See if you can charm some secrets out of its head while you’re at it,” Athena said.

  “And don’t get too close,” said Odysseus. He touched her arm and her cheek, all but healed. Jealousy and bitterness balled up in Athena’s throat. br />
  “Tastes like shit,” she whispered, so quietly that only Hermes heard. He squeezed her shoulder as she led them outside. The light was fading, the air heavy and chilled with mist. They didn’t have long. The mortals would catch a cold.

  “Come on then, Hermes,” Achilles said, and stretched his arms like a lazy cat.

  “No.” Athena tossed him a bō. “You’re with me.” There would be no more marks on her brother’s limbs. No more bruises, if she could help it. “Hermes, coach Henry and Andie. Odysseus, you’re with Cassandra.”

  Hermes tossed Andie her wooden kendo sword. But as they walked into the yard, every eye lingered on Athena and Achilles.

  “You and me?” Achilles smiled. “I’m flattered. Honored.” He dropped the bō and let it clatter against the cement patio.

  “Pick that up,” she said.

  “I don’t want the distance between us.”

  Athena circled. “We’ve done that before. I broke your neck.”

  “Right. And if you do it again, it’ll cause a three-second delay in the action.” He sprang and struck her in the face.

  * * *

  Odysseus said they should practice the only thing Cassandra would find useful against a god: dodging. For several minutes he stood across from her and threw punches at half-speed, all the while listening to Athena’s and Achilles’ fists.

  “I’m fine, you know,” Cassandra said. “You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves.”

  “I’m not treating you with kid gloves,” he said. “But that vision had to take a little wind out of your sails.”

  “Not all the wind. These punches are pathetic.” Even when she didn’t dodge fast enough, the blows landed with as much authority as a tossed pair of socks.

  “Fine. How about some holds, then?”

  He twisted to demonstrate, and she elbowed him in the nose.

  “Ow.”

  “How about you pay attention?” she asked.

  “I am.”

  “To me. Not to Athena and Achilles.”

  It was a lot to ask. Athena and Achilles slammed into the side of the house, and it shook to the foundation.

  “They’re pulling their punches,” Odysseus said.

  “How do you know?”

  “If they weren’t, that wall would’ve caved.”

  He was probably right. They should keep away from the house altogether before they cracked something important. Achilles pulled Athena in close, her back to his chest. He whispered something into her ear, and she smiled.

  “He’s been pulling her in like that a lot,” Cassandra whispered to Odysseus.

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “Jealous?” she asked. “Threatened?”

  The storm clouds vanished from Odysseus’ face. He flashed his typical Odysseus smile, and went for weapons.

  * * *

  Athena shifted her feet. The boy kept her on her toes. So much power, encased in mortal skin. A human being who could stand against gods. But she would save the philosophical questions for later. Achilles demanded all of her concentration. Even when he held back.

  Of course, she held back, too.

  “So, what do you think?” he asked.

  “That your tale hasn’t grown much in the telling,” she said.

  “Would you be angry if I made you bleed?” He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and left a wet, red streak.

  “No. But you aren’t likely to.”

  He looped an arm around her neck and twisted her close. The muscles of his forearm squeezed her throat like a constricting snake.

  “Your bones are steel,” he said admiringly. “Fat chance of me breaking your neck like you did mine.” He let her go a fraction of an inch and placed his free hand on her hip. “But I think I’ve found a weak spot.” His fingers slipped up her waist, underneath her shirt.

  “Enough!”

  Athena jerked loose as Odysseus shouted. Achilles had been going for the feather working its way out underneath her ribs.

  “It is,” she said. “I want to see how Cassandra’s progressing.”

  “Not so fast,” said Odysseus. In his hands he carried two swords: thick and short bladed, like the ones they’d used in their last life. He tossed one to Achilles. “It’s been awhile.”

  Achilles shook back his blond hair. The sword flipped in his palm. “Feels familiar.”

  “Those aren’t practice swords,” Hermes said. “They’re sharp enough to dice a tomato.”

  But of course Odysseus would know that.

  “It’s okay, Hermes,” said Athena. “It’s only play. Two old friends sparring. Right?”

  “Like we used to,” Odysseus said. Except back then Achilles hadn’t been truly invincible. Back then he’d been just a boy.

  “Blunt swords would be just as good,” Hermes said, but Athena shushed him. She wanted to know who would swing first. What tricks Odysseus would use.

  The swords clashed once, hard. Andie flinched at the sound, and Henry nudged closer to her. The two fighters grinned. Achilles slashed and drove Odysseus back; Odysseus parried and spun away to give himself fresh space.

  “Careful,” Achilles said. “No armor.”

  Odysseus laughed. “What? Afraid of a few scars?”

  They fought, and talked, and never drew the slightest blood. It was all for show, but Andie gasped and held Henry’s arm so tight it was about to turn purple. Achilles cut the air inches from Odysseus’ face, and Odysseus arched backward just right.

  “They look good together,” Hermes said. “Your heroes.”

  “Yes,” Athena agreed. “They do.”

  Odysseus’ lines were beautiful. He kept his pacing erratic to keep his opponent off-balance, and even though it was Achilles he fought, Athena couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He could’ve been fighting the Chimera. To her, Odysseus was always the only thing worth watching.

  If this is how Aphrodite feels every day, I envy her.

  “Lose the shirts!” Hermes catcalled, and Odysseus glanced over. Achilles didn’t, and Odysseus jerked quickly to maintain his block.

  Too quickly. The block was twenty times as fast as Henry or Andie could have done it. It was closer to Hermes’ speed.

  Athena’s eyes narrowed.

  “All right,” she said. “That’s enough. Exhibition over.” The swords lowered, and they clapped each other on the shoulders. Odysseus returned to Cassandra.

  “That was impressive,” Cassandra said. “But next time why not save the sweat and just pee around her in a circle?”

  Athena’s skin crackled. Pee around her in a circle? Like she was a tree a dog could claim? Exhibition, indeed. A show for Achilles, so he knew how things stood.

  “What time do we start tomorrow?” Hermes asked.

  “We don’t.”

  Everyone paused.

  “That’s it,” she said. “You know what you know. You’re as ready as you need to be.”

  “But couldn’t we be, I don’t know, readier?” Andie asked.

  Athena looked at Achilles. Then Cassandra. Two weapons, fully loaded. Surely she wasn’t the only one who saw that.

  Hermes crossed his arms, and the bones moved beneath his clothes. His lovely bones. Ready to tear through the skin.

  “Time grows short,” Athena said. “I’ll crack that wolf soon, and then we go. There’s nothing more you can learn here.”

  She bent to pick up their equipment as the first fat drops of rain fell. Polite weather, to wait until they’d finished.

  “Well, I’m not sleeping tonight,” Andie said. “Anybody want to rewatch all of the Harry Potter movies?”

  “I’m down,” said Henry.

  “I’ll get Cally,” said Odysseus.

  “Let me.” Hermes walked into the house. “I’ll relieve her wolf-watching duty.”

  Andie, Henry, and Cassandra started to follow, and Henry stopped short at the sliding door.

  “Achilles,” he said, and paused. “Did you…”

  “No, he
didn’t,” Cassandra said. She grabbed Henry by the arm and dragged him inside.

  Achilles chuckled and leaned down to help Athena with the weapons.

  “She’s a tough one,” he said.

  “No, she’s not,” said Athena. “But she’s getting there. Pretty damn big of Henry to invite you over for popcorn. Don’t you think?”

  He flashed a killer smile. “A bit bigger than I am, yet.”

  “Why’s that? I killed you not a month ago, and you don’t hate me.”

  “I would, if you’d killed someone I loved.”

  Fair enough. But given enough time, blood enemies may yet become friends. It was on her, she supposed, to give them the time.

  She looked through the glass as Calypso came upstairs and grabbed Odysseus by the hand, smiling and tugging him toward the door. So damn pretty. So maddeningly sweet. Odysseus dragged his feet half a second and looked back at Athena, who bent quickly to pick up an imaginary practice sword.

  She let the cold rain run down her back in icy rivers as their cars drove away. Let it make her feel wild, instead of chained. Defiant, instead of foolish and love-struck. Instead of so heavy with sadness and plain old dumb loneliness that she couldn’t breathe.

  “Don’t let them bother you,” Achilles said. He shouldered the weapons. “They can watch their movies and have their laughs. They’re not like us. They never will be.”

  “Not like us.” Athena took a breath. The world smelled like it wanted to freeze again.

  “I like Odysseus,” he said. “Always have. But he never understood the point of it all. The glory.”

  “He understood it,” she said. “His glory just wasn’t the same as yours.” And Odysseus understood something else, too. Strategy. Secrets. That speed he hid in his arms. And strength, too, probably. Achilles hadn’t noticed, but she had. That one little move. That one mistake.

  “Nah,” Achilles said. “Ody’s only a man. Not like me. Not a demigod, half-divine and growing by the minute.”

  “True,” Athena whispered.

  So how does he have that speed?

  19

  MOIRAE IN THE MOUNTAIN

  Ares hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. But he’d made it this far, so deep into Olympus that he could no longer tell whether they were nearer the summit or the belly. Right up to the Fates’ door. The Moirae. Clotho, the spinner of life. Lachesis, the weaver of destiny. Atropos, the shears of death.