“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But to do what you wanted.”
Athena’s chest grew heavy. “Can we not do this? Can we focus on the fact that we have a war to fight? Ares is coming at us from two fronts, and we need to find Achilles. Hera is alive.” They had more than enough problems, without throwing unrequited love into the mix. “Who else would side with them? Hades, surely. But Hephaestus and Dionysus are probably ours, assuming Dionysus hasn’t died of cirrhosis already.”
“You’re going to start a war, to forget about a boy.”
“I’m not starting a war,” she said. “I’m finishing one. And when it’s over, we’ll stand the victors, and live out the rest of our lives in peace.”
“You really think we’ll win?” he asked.
“We won Cassandra,” she said. “And we’re closer to Achilles. Don’t you see? The cards are falling our way. Wherever they are, the Moirae are with us. Fate favors us. That has to be true, Hermes. We have to have another chance.” She looked back toward the house, where Calypso and Odysseus were doing god only knew what. “Because I’ve already missed this one.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “Are you going to stay out here?”
“Awhile.”
He went into her bedroom and came back with a blanket. “Put this around yourself at least. Before someone sees you and thinks you’re nuts. I’ll bring up the wings when they get here.”
“Thanks, Hermes.”
“Anytime, big sister.” He turned to go, and said, “He’ll always love you best.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “He’ll always love me best. But he’ll love Calypso for real.”
12
MURDEROUS HANDS
“Hey, are you going to get something or what?”
Andie’s voice startled Cassandra in front of the hospital vending machine, and she hit buttons without thinking. Out dropped a bottle of unsweetened iced tea. Gross. Maybe her mom would drink it.
“Iced tea? What’s wrong with you? Did it give you the wrong thing?”
“No,” Cassandra said. “You just scared me.”
“Sorry. You were standing there like a zombie. What were you thinking about?”
Cassandra twisted off the cap of the iced tea. It was bitter, and watery, and so not the Orange Crush she wanted. But she was thirsty, and she didn’t have any more dollar bills, which was all the ridiculous machine would take.
“I was thinking of…” she said, and stopped. She’d been thinking of touching Ares in the rain forest. The heat in her hands when she did it, and the feeling she got, when his blood burst under her fingers. Joy. Flat-out, powerful joy.
Ares had it coming, for sure. Murdering those people. Those plump, happy men who ran at him but didn’t quite attack. They shook flimsy spears at the god of war, and he bashed their brains in. But as monstrous as Ares was, she couldn’t stop thinking of his face. His handsome, too human face. He had black hair and dark eyes, like Henry. And he looked a little like Aidan, too, if Aidan had been stretched taller and more muscular. If his jaw were more square and the line of his mouth were cruel. She could still feel Ares’ blood sliding down her wrists. Athena said Cassandra was a killer. She hadn’t said anything about Cassandra liking it so much.
“Earth to Cassandra,” Andie said. “Thinking of what?”
“Nothing.” She wrapped her hands around the cold bottle and wondered if she could make it boil. What if she couldn’t really kill gods? Ares said that Hera was alive. That Cassandra hadn’t finished the job.
But she knew she could. Down deep in her gut and in the dark part of her mind, she knew. Her touch could kill.
“Nothing?” Andie asked. “It clearly wasn’t nothing. Come on. Are you worried about Henry? Or what happened in the jungle? You didn’t tell me any details—”