*
The weight of the Moirae disappeared from Athena’s shoulders when the others burst into the room, and she slipped her foot under her and tensed, ready to spring. For the time being, no one moved. Hermes and the rest fanned out into the back, their arms out as if to ward off evil, their weapons raised. Cassandra lifted her arms, too. Even Ares. The two groups looked between each other, held in limbo, a Mexican standoff with no guns. Athena was very aware of the heart in her chest, and how the Moirae would explode it if she tried to move against them. But she would. The distraction might be their only chance.
“Finally found you,” Achilles said. “Orders or a plan might be good about now.”
“You think I have one for this?” Athena asked through clenched teeth.
(ACHILLES) The Moirae strained toward him. Atropos extended her lovely hand. (IMMORTAL ACHILLES)
“The Moirae,” Hermes whispered. His eyes were wide and rimmed with tears. Shame kicked Athena straight in the gut.
Achilles held his sword out, pointed at Atropos.
“Cut them!” Athena shouted. “Kill them!” If Cassandra could disobey, Achilles could, too.
Clotho and Lachesis shivered in their husks. Atropos ignored her. She was too busy admiring her weapon. Achilles. The other weapon of fate.
(YOU ARE OURS. AS CASSANDRA IS OURS. WITH YOU, WE WILL DEVOUR THE GODS)
Across the room, a nervous wave passed through Hera, to Ares and Aphrodite.
“Don’t listen to them, Achilles,” said Cassandra. “We’re not theirs.”
But they were. The Moirae were the gods of the gods. Nothing could stand against them. And Achilles only fought for the winning side. He would never charge the cannons believing he would lose. He just wasn’t the type.
“Get away from them, mate,” Odysseus said, and walked slowly closer. “They don’t have anything good in mind for you.”
(COME, ACHILLES. COME TO US, AND RISE AS AN IMMORTAL. AS A TRUE GOD)
“A true god?” Achilles asked.
Athena closed her eyes.
(YOU ARE WHAT YOU ALWAYS WERE. KILLER OF MEN. KILLER OF HEROES. SHOW US. SHOW US)
Achilles looked down, dazed, at the sword in his hand. Athena didn’t even have time to scream before he turned and threw it.
But Cassandra did. Cassandra, and Andie, and Hermes, they all screamed and moved toward Henry. Only Henry wasn’t the target.
Athena’s heart beat once. The sword caught Odysseus in the chest, and came out his back.
*
Calypso screamed. Everyone screamed. Blood soaked into Odysseus’ hands and dripped from his lips.
Inside Athena’s head, the world slowed to a crawl. Wolves snarled. Calypso fell to her knees and tore at her cheeks. Someone shouted Athena’s name.
“No,” she said.
Odysseus slid to his knees, and something inside of her snapped. Everything else fell away: Hermes crouching low and fighting off attacking wolves with Andie and Henry stabbing spears beside him, Cassandra turning her murderous eyes back on the gods. None of it meant anything. Only Odysseus’ blood, and his fading heartbeat, mattered.
Athena sprang away from Hera, away from Cassandra. She crossed the room in three strides and pulled him into her arms.
“Odysseus.”
I love you.
“Athena!” Hermes shouted, and for an instant the world returned: a vulgar clash of metal and claws, screams and hateful laughter. She pressed Odysseus tightly to her chest.
“No,” she said.
Athena ran to the open wall of columns and leaped out. She dove and took him with her, straight down the sheer face of Olympus.
*
Athena jumped. She jumped.