Athena stood silent on her widow’s walk, fully aware of Hermes creeping up behind her. No doubt he wanted to make sure she was all right, after Calypso’s brazen announcement. It was almost funny, how afraid they’d been of her reaction. You’d have thought Hermes and Odysseus had turned to statues. She couldn’t tell which one was more terrified. But she knew who wasn’t. Calypso hadn’t budged. Hadn’t flinched. She’d just happily nuzzled Odysseus’ neck. Nuzzled his neck with her stupid, lovely face.
“Hermes,” Athena said. “Stop creeping.”
“You’re right,” he said, and held out his arms. “Bring it in. Weep. Hug it out. I won’t tell anyone.”
She snorted. “Just because you’re my baby brother doesn’t mean I won’t smack you around.”
“Indeed you could,” he said, his eyes on her hands where they gripped the railing. “No telltale white around your knuckles. But we both know you could crumble that wood as easily as a mortal crumbles a cookie.” He walked closer and gave her a nudge. “Want to throw me over the edge? It wouldn’t hurt, but I’d take it if it’d make you feel better.”
“I don’t need to toss you to feel better. Bring me that little waif inside. Bet I could make her fly a country mile.” She smiled softly. Absurd. The words out of her mouth were as bitter and jilted as any love-sick puppy dog. “And to think, it was so nice to be home. Is Stanley’s Wok on the way? I could use an order of chicken wings.”
“I haven’t ordered yet. Thought I should come up and face the rumbling volcano first.”
“I’m no rumbling volcano,” Athena said. But Calypso’s lips plastered all over Odysseus seemed to be burned onto her eyeballs. Calypso, the sea nymph, who had been Odysseus’ lover for seven years after the Trojan War. She’d had the guts then to tell Athena she was keeping him, even when Athena had demanded she let him go.
And now she had the nerve to squat in Athena’s house.
“Maybe not,” said Hermes. “But you can’t be happy. I remember how mad you got, when she wouldn’t let him off of that island. Hissing and stomping, until I had to go down there myself. I could do it again, you know. If you want.”
“I didn’t hiss and stomp,” she said. But she had asked Zeus. Begged him to make Calypso let Odysseus go. She remembered what she’d said, too: that it was wrong for any immortal nymph or goddess to have an affair with a mortal man. “Do you believe what she says?” she asked Hermes.
“That she saved Andie and Henry from Ares’ wolves?” Hermes shrugged. “I called Andie, and she confirmed it. Guess we shouldn’t have left them behind.”
We, he said. But it was Athena who’d done it. And Calypso had saved them. Hell, she’d even saved their dog.
“She’s here to fight,” Athena said. “Another soldier. And we owe her, for Andie and Henry. Just—” She waved her hand and pressed her lips together in a firm line. “Move her into Odysseus’ room.”
“Just like that,” Hermes said. “You’re going to give him up to her.”
“He’s not mine to give up.”
Hermes rolled his eyes. Then he raised his brows.
“She doesn’t even look like she’s dying,” he said. “Did you notice that? Those sea-green eyes, that perfect skin, and the shine off her hair was bright as a lens flare.”
“It’s an illusion,” said Athena. “She’s dying. Her death just isn’t as grand as ours. She’s a nymph, not a god. She’s just aging. She’s just mortal. She looks older than she did the last time I saw her.”
“For sure,” Hermes scoffed. “Seventeen, definitely, instead of sixteen.”
“Shut up.” It was sweet, how he tried to make her resentful. Resentful, and jealous enough to snatch her toy back. But Odysseus wasn’t a toy. And he was better off with Calypso. Calypso would die with beautiful silver hair, in a soft bed. Not in an explosion of bloody feathers.
“He tried to tell me about her,” Athena said. “In the alley behind the Three Sisters. He told me that she came for him. She. I guess I should have known who he meant.”
Hermes put his hand on hers. “But he left her, to find you. Back then, and now, he always wanted to leave her. For you.”
“For his wife, back then.”