“The Fates,” Hera said. “The Moirae. The three sisters.”
Ares stood aghast. He hoped wildly that she spoke in metaphor. That she spoke of miracles.
But she didn’t. Hera meant the Moirae. Klotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. The sisters of Life, Destiny, and Death. The gods of the gods.
“What have you done?” he asked. “Not even Zeus would dare.”
“It’s not what I have done,” she said, and fear quickened her eyes. “Come now. Don’t be afraid. It will be fun. Don’t you want to fight Athena one last time? Don’t you want to find out which god of war will be left standing?”
“You’re mad. You’ve called down the Fates—”
“I didn’t call them,” Hera hissed. “As if such a thing were even possible. They came to us. They sent us out to fight.” Her voice dropped low. “They heal us and give us strength. And we serve them.”
Aphrodite stuck a fingernail into her mouth and hugged Hera tighter.
“In the beginning, it seemed like a choice,” Hera said. “They seemed like allies. But then I fell, and they dragged me back through worse pain than any god can imagine. They left me like this.”
“Why did you send for me?”
“Because I’m a fallen soldier,” Hera said. “I failed. You, my son, are my chance at redemption. I’ll send you out in my place. You’ll get what they want. And then they’ll heal me.”
Ares wanted to run. The Moirae had to be near, somewhere in Olympus. They could come crashing through the doors at any minute. He pointed at his mother.
“You put me under their eye,” he said.
“They are the Fates, Ares. You were always under their eye. At least now you know. So make the most of it.”
He looked at Aphrodite, sucking on her fingernail and hugging Hera tightly with her other arm. He had no choice.
“Don’t be so glum,” she said. “Aren’t you happy to live? Aren’t you happy to fight? Won’t you enjoy putting that bitch in her place?”
That part, at least, truly was appealing. But the Moirae struck icicles of fear through his back.
“I’ll—” he said, and swallowed. “I’ll want to see them.”
“Soon,” Hera promised. “Once you have something to please them. Something they want.”
“And what do they want?”
“They want their weapon,” she said. “They want Achilles found.”
5
GODS FLUNG TO THE FAR CORNERS
“I don’t even think it’s legal to bring this much food into a country. You’re going to get us stopped at customs.”
“So eat most of it on the way to the airport.” Athena tossed Hermes a box of granola bars. She’d packed half his bag with protein mixes and canned meat. It hardly seemed enough. His shoulder blades stuck out of his back like wings. He was so very thin. At least the fever had abated, and he seemed strong. But questions filled Athena’s lungs every time she took a breath. Are you sure you’re okay to go? Do you really know your way around? Do you know what to do? Maybe I should go instead.
But he was a god, not some mortal to be babied. And Odysseus was right. She’d been away from Cassandra for too long, and you didn’t leave your primary weapon unguarded.
“Why not send me to the airport with a dozen pizzas? I could make a pretty good dent in them by the time we hit security,” Hermes said. “Or maybe a Crave Case from White Castle.”
Athena smiled. He was disgusting. Her little brother. Until the gods had started dying, she hadn’t seen him for hundreds of years. Now she sent him off to Malaysia to look for their dying sister, into the jungles where beasts chased her with razor teeth and lolling tongues.
“Tell me you can still outrun anything,” she said.
“I can still outrun anything.”
“This isn’t all for nothing, Hermes. Cassandra’s finger struck that map for a reason. Artemis is alive.”
“If you say so,” he said. “But if I get there and find some beasties sleeping off a full belly of goddess in a shady spot, what should we do? Kill them?”
Athena sighed.
“What?” Hermes asked.