“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.