It was all Hermes could think. He stared with his mouth hanging open at the empty space where his sister had just been. Then Andie screamed, as Oblivion raked its claws down her back.
“Andie,” he whispered. He turned and kicked, and Oblivion crashed into a wall. The Moirae screeched in his head, in all their heads. Ares moved toward Henry, and Hermes flashed forward and punched him in the face. It wasn’t much, but it gave him enough time to yank Henry out of the way.
It wouldn’t work for long. Hermes had to get them out of the mountain. Out of this horrible trap.
“Cassandra!” he shouted, but she paid no attention. She was murderous, furious over Odysseus, screaming that she’d kill Achilles, too, for what he’d done. But she crept closer and closer to Hera.
“Ares!” Hera screamed. “Atropos, please! Keep her from me!”
Ares turned, but Cassandra was already too close. Atropos, Clotho, and Lachesis did nothing, safe behind their Achilles shield.
“Get away from me!” Hera shouted and clambered backward. “Ares! Aphrodite!”
“Mother!” Aphrodite shrieked, but Ares held her by the arm.
“It’s too late,” he said.
He was right. It was too late. Hermes felt heat off Cassandra all the way across the room, and Hera started to stiffen and shudder before the girl even touched her. Ares shoved Aphrodite against a wall and started forward, calling to his mother.
Henry stepped bravely and stupidly into his path.
“Hurry, Cassandra!” he yelled. “Do it!”
“No, damn it!” Hermes hissed. “Henry, you idiot!” He moved to tug the boy back, but Panic leaped for Andie, making him grab her and spin her out of the way. The wetness of the blood soaking her shirt made his stomach lurch, but she landed solidly and thrust her spear through Pain as it came for her hamstrings. The weight of its falling body pulled the spear from her hands, but it didn’t matter. Pain was down and dying in a stinking heap.
Hermes’ eyes twitched from scene to scene: one more dead wolf, Ares seconds away from turning Henry into a splat on the wall, and Calypso on her knees, weeping, oblivious to Aphrodite, who drew closer with an eager expression.
“Too much, too fast, even for me,” he muttered. He grabbed a brazier and threw it at Aphrodite. Hot metal and orange coals bashed into her chest. She screamed, and her dress caught fire. Ares forgot all about Henry and ran to her rescue.
“Two birds with one brazier. Finally, some progress.”
But not enough. They had to go.
“Cassandra, we have to get out of here! Cassandra!”
“No! Not yet. Not now.” She dodged Hera’s arm, and Hermes winced. Even a glancing blow would turn Cassandra’s head to pudding. But Cassandra ducked low. One of her hands trailed along the underside of Hera’s arm, and it hit the floor with a solid thump, granite clear up to the shoulder.
“My god,” he breathed. It was so fast. So incredibly lethal.
Hera screamed, and the sound only brought Cassandra on faster. A touch here, a shove there, murdering a goddess in bits, and the whole room paused to watch as Hera trembled and jerked. As she cried for Ares and Aphrodite, telling them to get the head, the head, whatever that meant. As she tried to protect her own head, putting her stiff, stone arms in front of her face.
Her pleas to Ares and the Moirae unheeded, Hera finally looked at Hermes.
“Stop her, please!” she begged.
The fear in her eyes was terrible.
“I can’t,” he said.
Hera strained under Cassandra’s touch, and then, all at once, her screaming stopped. Hera was dead. Past the point of recovery or miracles. A stone statue, her face forever frozen in a twisted howl of pain.
“No,” Aphrodite keened, and reached behind a column. What she pulled out was something Hermes never thought he’d see again. Poseidon’s head.