Antigoddess

  “The end?” Athena looked down at her. “But it can’t be.”

  “I don’t have all day, stepdaughter,” Hera called. Her kitten heels tapped against the road. “Come closer so I can kill you and your half brother.”

  Athena couldn’t form a thought. As she looked at Aidan’s body, Hera’s words landed sour, like a wrong strike against a tuning fork. They made her spine twitch and sent sharp bursts of rage ringing across her surface.

  “Apollo lost his life to save a mortal girl. So now I will too.”

  “No,” Cassandra said, and grasped her wrist. “You can’t stop it.”

  “It’s not a choice. He wanted you safe. And we need you safe, so—”

  “No.” She clenched her fist around Athena’s arm. Athena’s mouth dropped open. Where the girl touched her, it burned. Like the tingling on her face, after she’d slapped her. She looked up, her chest full suddenly with absurd hope and the words of Demeter urgent in her ears. She could be the key to everything.…

  Cassandra trembled, then grew still.

  “I feel it too, whatever it is. And I’ve seen this. I’ve seen this day and this fight. I’m in it with you.”

  Athena looked at her, deep into her brown eyes. What is this thing? Like looking at a frozen surface through a pane of glass. She didn’t know what it was exactly. But she knew it was power.

  She grasped Cassandra’s hand. “How does it end?”

  Cassandra shook her head.

  Athena nodded. “Okay.”

  They took a deep breath. Conviction laced the air between them, white hot.

  “I don’t know how much strength is left in me,” said Athena.

  “Enough,” Cassandra said softly. She looked one last time at Aidan’s face.

  Together, they rose to their feet and looked down the road. Hera stood with Aphrodite hiding behind. The stone fist hung heavily at her side. More patches of stone were visible too, spattering her neck and cheeks with flecks of gray granite. She wore a finely woven black coat and dark blue jeans. She looked cold, almost indifferent. Someone who didn’t know her would never guess at her violent temperament. She kept it carefully hidden. Swallowing so much vindictiveness and rage must have been like swallowing shards of metal.

  “I don’t know how much use you’ll be with a crushed foot,” Athena said to Hermes. “But keep the others safe, if you can.” She glanced over her shoulder at Odysseus. When she turned away, he caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

  “Athena.” They looked at each other for a long second. Fear shone plain in his eyes, and for a moment she thought he might actually say it, that he might actually grab her and kiss her and throw her completely off her game. Instead he smiled his cockeyed smile and pushed the tire iron from the Dodge into her hand.

  “Don’t get hit,” he said quietly. She wrapped her fingers around the weapon.

  Good advice.

  “Give up the girl,” Hera commanded.

  “And you’ll let us live?” Athena asked sarcastically.

  Hera smirked. “Of course not.”

  Athena looked over at Cassandra, who stared straight ahead. She didn’t know what she was doing, leading a mortal against the Titans’ queen. It felt crazy. It felt against everything she’d ever known about war and battle and strategy. It felt completely right.

  When she walked, the girl walked with her. The tire iron settled into her palm. As they came closer, Aphrodite scurried away, a rat going to hide in the sewers and wait until it was all over. Hera bared her teeth. The stone fist twitched. There would be no bombs this time, no tricks. She wants the satisfaction of murdering me with her bare hands.

  “How noble. Standing against me together? All for one and one for all?”

  Athena clenched her jaw. “Me first.” The tire iron spun, slicing through the air as she ran and sprang, using it to strike and slash. Hera ducked and dodged, her face a twisted grimace. When the iron finally connected, it caught her in the back of the shoulder and barely knocked her forward.

  In the corner of her eye, Athena saw a flash of granite and pulled out of the way.

  Don’t get hit.

  * * *

  Cassandra watched Athena and Hera, fists and iron, moving sharply through the air. Fear laced through her insides, but it wasn’t alone. An odd certainty ran in her blood, infusing it with heat. She knew what she had seen in her vision. She remembered what the world had looked like, flying by. Her death was here. And it wasn’t. The images shimmered, becoming transparent. She should have been terrified. She should have been mad with grief, collapsed over Aidan’s body. Instead she waited. Waited for Athena to give her an opening.

  * * *

  Athena was struggling. Speed was the key, both to landing blows and to keeping her skull in one piece. But it was also tiring. Hitting Hera was like hitting twelve tons of rock. It sent painful shock waves all the way up to her shoulder. And Hera’s fist came dangerously closer.

  She swung once more and leapt away, breathing hard; the feathers lining the lower part of her lungs held her back. The tire iron sat heavier and heavier in her hand. Hera’s arm swung and Athena leapt out of the way, half a second too late. The ribs on her left side cracked and disconnected. The world turned colors as she flew through the air and her lower back thumped into the base of a tree. In comparison to Hera’s arm, it felt soft.

  “You’re supposed to be so smart,” Hera said. “What do you think you’re doing? I’m going to smash you to pieces. I’m going to grind you into the road until you’re nothing but a stain.” Kitten-heeled footsteps jarred the pavement as Athena pushed up onto her elbow, and then her knee. “You killed your uncle, my brother!”

  “You killed mine!” Athena shouted, and suppressed a cough. Her left lung had mostly collapsed, and breathing through the feathers made it feel like a flapping curtain. Hera advanced, glittering eyes and stone.

  “And now I’ll kill you.”

  “Maybe. But not before I put a few decent chips in your ass.” Hera threw her fist and Athena dodged to the side. She heard a wet crack as Hera’s arm cut through a tree trunk. Quickly, she swung the tire iron in an arc and caught Hera on the cheek. It gave a sharp crack, followed by the sound of a pebble rolling across asphalt. Athena looked toward the road and saw a sparkle of skittering granite. Hera’s cheek bled from the new hole, leaking down over her jaw. Athena smiled. “See?”

  Hera screamed and advanced, moving faster. The weight of the stone slowed her down and Athena used the trees, dodging and scrambling, listening to wood splinter all around. She gritted her teeth. Ducking and running. Scrambling around in the dirt for a hold. She’d never fought this way. The wound to her side sapped her, and the certainty and resolve of the moments before battle seemed a thousand years in the past. She staggered toward the road and glanced over her shoulder, saw Hera bearing down. The tire iron swung once and missed.

  “The goddess of battle runs like a rabbit,” Hera shouted. “Olympus would be ashamed of you.”

  “Olympus doesn’t exist,” Athena growled. She feinted behind a tree.

  I was wrong to try this. Running isn’t a plan.

  Hera wouldn’t tire, but Athena would. She had. Her breath dragged through her throat, and she stumbled.

  It was an unlucky accident. There were no trees between them, no seconds of advantage. Hera surged forward. She caught Athena by the hair and dragged her onto the road, presenting her like a trophy while Aphrodite chattered and clapped. Through half-closed eyes, Athena saw her ragged band; saw their faces suspended over terror, believing she would win, willing the tire iron in her hand to rise up. When Hera threw the stone fist into Athena’s side, the ribs that were broken crumbled like chalk.

  She went down on one knee, trying to hold her lung inside her body. From somewhere, she heard Odysseus shout. He couldn’t come anywhere near. Hera would kill him instantly, or take him to use to find Achilles. Either way, she wouldn’t be able to stop it. She couldn’t breathe. She knelt at Hera’s fee
t and waited for the blow she knew would come, for the searing pain through the back of her head, and then the darkness.

  Do it quick. And then let them run. Let Hermes take them far away from here.

  “Honestly, Athena. I expected more out of you.”

  She looked down at the toes of Hera’s well-kept heels. The Titan was so close. Her breath moved through Athena’s hair.

  “I’m going to kill them all, you know. Hermes, and Hector, and Andromache. Even Cassandra and your precious Odysseus, after I’m done with them. I’ll peel the skin right off of their bodies. And they’ll curse you.”

  Athena clenched her teeth. It was true. If they died, they would curse her. It would be her fault.

  “Get up, child. The goddess of battle does not die on her knees.”

  Am I to die then, Aunt Demeter?

  “There is glory on that stretch of road. Glory, and cracked stone, and blood…”

  “She never answers the damned question,” Athena muttered.

  “Last words?” Hera leaned down close, smiling.

  Athena clenched her fists. Demeter might be just a flap of skin, but she was right. If she died, she’d die in pieces and rage, not kneeling with a bowed head. She took a great, tearing breath and erupted off of the ground, bringing the tire iron up against Hera’s chin and knocking her back. Silver slices passed across Hera’s chest and face in a flurry. Chipped granite and blood rained down on the pavement.

  “Athena!” When she heard Cassandra shout, she dropped the iron and snapped her hand through the air, locking it around Hera’s stone fist. She held it wide while her other hand clawed for Hera’s throat.

  “Cassandra,” she shouted, but hadn’t needed to. Her footsteps ran closer and she dove onto Hera, driving Athena’s weight forward, knocking all of them to the ground. Athena’s fingers struggled to hold on. With fury and adrenaline she held, but each breath was like swallowing fire.

  Cassandra grimaced and put her hands on Hera’s cold skin. A strange electricity passed through her. Beneath her touch, Hera became colder and harder. Her skin solidified, turning more and more to stone.

  Hera screamed and thrashed; Athena tried to absorb the blows. Cassandra was human; if she was struck, whatever bones were hit would be more than shattered, they’d be powder. But Cassandra moved wisely, dodging and pulling back at the right moments. She was cool and focused, her movements precise as she used her hands to infect Hera further with her own curse, to spread her death across her body. Stark patches of rock ran like fissures through her shoulder and up her neck. Her head whipped back and forth and her jaw shuddered as it hardened.

  Aunt Demeter, who is this girl? What did you send me to find?

  Hera’s left arm slipped free and Athena heard it hit the ground, crumbling the asphalt. It had been close. Cassandra rolled away before locking her fingers in again. The look on her face carried thousands of years of resolve, thousands of years of vengeance. Hera screamed.

  Will she turn that power on me next? Will I explode in a mass of feathers, just a pile of white and speckled brown, cut through with ribbons of skin and sinew?

  In the midst of the thought, Hera’s arm swung again. It caught Cassandra in the chest and threw her back. Athena twisted just in time to see the girl bounce onto the pavement, and to hear her head strike the road with a sharp, final crack.

  “No!” When Hera shoved her away, she barely felt it, too busy scrambling across the road to Cassandra’s limp body.

  She wasn’t moving. Was she breathing? Fresh prickles rose on the back of Athena’s neck. She was afraid to touch her. Behind them, Aphrodite keened, and a scraping sound told of Hera’s rock-infested flesh being dragged from the road. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Cassandra. Apollo’s Cassandra. And the death she’d faced even though she’d known it was coming. Athena knelt. The others called Cassandra’s name as they ran closer.

  “Get up,” Athena said. “Get up and breathe. I won’t have failed my brother so soon.”

  Cassandra’s head swiveled, and she locked upon the goddess with empty eyes. Athena backed off a step. It was like looking into an abyss, power she didn’t understand. And then Cassandra blinked, and the window slammed shut.

  Cassandra pushed herself up onto her shoulders. The strange electricity was gone.

  “It’s over.”

  Athena nodded. It was over. Hera would be dead soon if she wasn’t already. Poseidon drifted in pieces at the bottom of the lake to be swallowed by his own servants. Aphrodite, even though she lived, was mad and unable to make much mischief on her own.

  Athena looked down at her wounds. Adrenaline still sparked through her exhausted frame, and blood saturated her left side. The impact of Hera’s fist had turned her rib cage into a mess of pick-up sticks and paste. She took a hesitant breath and felt the itch of feathers. They were still there.

  Just because they don’t disappear instantly doesn’t mean anything. Maybe it doesn’t happen all at once.

  She swallowed. It sounded like bullshit even in her head. Hermes was going to be so disappointed.

  Odysseus jogged up to her, his eyes bright. She walked back and picked up the tire iron.

  “Not a bad plan, was it?” He grinned, and she shoved it into his hands.

  “Then don’t look so surprised that it worked.” She took his shoulder to lean on.

  Andie and Henry stood on either side of Cassandra, holding her arms for support even though she didn’t seem to need it. The darkness that had swum up and around her in waves when her skull struck the pavement was gone. Hermes limped around behind her on his crushed foot.

  “What do we do now?” he asked, and looked at Athena.

  “We take them back to their homes.” Her eyes rested on the unmoving form of a god propped against the tire of the car, dressed in a boy’s clothes. “All of them.”

  EPILOGUE

  The coffin was overlaid with flowers. A huge spray of calla lilies, creamy white, draped over an obsidian black box, arranged in such a way that they strained toward the ground. They were good flowers for funerals. Their stems dipped, hanging their heads mournfully. If a plant could weep, it would be a calla lily.

  The service was crowded, full of students from the high school and many members of the community. They had all come out for the funeral of the boy they only thought they knew.

  Cassandra sat to the side, with Aidan’s parents. Throughout, she said nothing, but she kept her back straight, even as tears coursed down her cheeks. Andie and Henry sat behind her, their faces constricted. Both of Andie’s hands were bandaged, and under her shirt were stitches forming the lines of claws. Henry had a broad cut on his forehead from the window glass, and another stitched together on his hand from sharp gills.

  Such a shame, people said, to lose a promising young man to a car accident. It was a miracle, they said, that all four of them hadn’t been killed. The Mustang was completely mangled. State police would never be able to figure out just what happened, how fast they had to be going to lose control of the car so badly.

  The service ended, and people began to stand, began to come to her, to Aidan’s parents, and tell them how much he’d be missed. How much he was loved. Cassandra did her best to not hear a word. A hot, seething ball hung suspended in her chest, and she wasn’t sure what it was made of. Screams? Tears? Love, or hate, or all rolled up together. But Aidan’s funeral wasn’t the place to find out.

  “I’m so glad he had you, Cassandra.” Aidan’s mom squeezed her hands.

  “I’m glad he had you.” She looked at both of his parents. “You gave him a family.”

  But then, he’d always had a family. Athena, Odysseus, and Hermes stood on the outskirts of the cemetery, underneath the bare branches of an elm tree. Cassandra waited until everyone but Andie and Henry had filed out, even Aidan’s parents, before nodding for them to come closer. Hermes and Athena leaned on each other. The damage done to her rib cage and his ankle still needed to heal, but Cassandra supposed that wasn
’t the only reason.

  They stood around the coffin, lost and drained.

  Athena’s eyes wandered over the black box. He was in there, her brother, or what was left of him.

  “This doesn’t want to sink in. He was eternal. Now he’s in that box.”

  “Jesus,” Andie hissed. “Don’t say things like that. Not today.”

  Athena looked up and blinked at them like she was bewildered. Cassandra supposed she was. She didn’t have any experience burying family.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and nodded. “But it feels wrong. And I can’t do anything about any of it.”

  Cassandra drew a shaky breath.

  “I don’t have the energy to say anything to you. He’s dead.” Tears slipped out of her eyes and fell softly on the chest of her black dress. “I think it was a mistake. I want you to take it back.” They would lower the coffin into the ground soon. They would cover him over with dirt. “I was supposed to spend my life with him,” Cassandra said. “And then you showed up.”

  “Hey,” Odysseus said gently. “It wasn’t her fault.”

  Cassandra clenched her fists. “But whose fault is it, then? Are you still dying?”

  Athena glanced at Hermes, then at Odysseus. She nodded, but Cassandra didn’t really need an answer. Athena had coughed twice on the walk across the cemetery, and Hermes shook with fever as much as mourning. It hadn’t stopped. Aidan was dead, and they still hadn’t saved themselves.

  “Maybe this was never about saving our lives.” Athena looked at Aidan’s coffin. “Maybe it was about redemption.”

  “Or maybe it isn’t over.” Cassandra wiped her eyes. “Do you know what happened? What went through me?”

  Athena shook her head. “You kill gods. It must be what Demeter meant. That you could change everything. That you’d be more.”