He took a breath, and for a second he looked so sad she almost hugged him.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe there was already a wedge there to begin with.” He touched her shoulder. “Will you be all right? With Hermes and Cally here, I think you will be, but if you don’t feel safe—”
“We’ll be fine.” She punched him lightly. “And it’s really cute, the way you call her Cally.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t you start.”
“Where are you going, anyway?” she asked.
He shouldered his bag.
“Australia.”
13
KILLER OF MEN
Cassandra turned her head right and left in front of the mirror, looking for changes in her reflection. But there were none. Same straight brown hair, same big brown eyes. No smile. She looked like she’d always looked. Maybe it really was true what they say, and homicidal maniacs looked just like everyone else.
With Athena and Odysseus gone, she’d had plenty of time to think. And the thought that kept coming back was the sensation of Ares’ warm blood on her hands. How right it felt. And how disturbingly good.
She turned on the faucet and cool water ran over her fingers, nowhere near as satisfying.
“I am what I always was,” she whispered. That’s what Demeter had said. A killer of gods. Hadn’t she killed Aidan all those years ago, by loving him and putting everything into motion?
That couldn’t be what it meant. She looked hard into the mirror, until she could see Aidan there, behind her. One more step and he’d wrap his arms around her. If only it were so easy. One thin piece of silver mirror between them. Then she’d know what to break. What to cross over into.
If only I knew where you were.
She put her hand against the mirror and pushed.
Just one more time. A day. An hour. You’re a god. There has to be a way. You can’t just be gone.
The glass shuddered under her palm.
“Knock knock.”
Henry poked his head in, and Cassandra jerked her arm down to her side, and Aidan vanished. She almost slammed the door on Henry’s face. But it was his day. Lux was finally coming home from the vet.
“You going to pick him up after school?” she asked.
“What do you mean, ‘you’?” he asked. “Aren’t you coming?” Then he saw the look on her face and winced. “Right. It’s Friday. I’m sorry; it slipped my mind.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your job to keep up with my cemetery schedule. Besides, maybe I’ll skip a day.” But as soon as the words came out of her mouth, she knew she wouldn’t.
“It’s cool.”
“I could go earlier. Maybe Andie’ll drive me out at lunch. Or Hermes.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s important.”
“Lux is important,” she said, and Henry nodded. He didn’t look anywhere near as happy as he should. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Lux,” he said. “He fought. That day in the woods. Those … things. They didn’t attack him. He attacked them. For us.” Cassandra imagined how Lux would have growled and leaped. Henry’s foolish, brave dog, so outclassed by Ares’ wolves.
“I knew they’d kill him,” Henry said. “That he would die for me. And all I could think was how much I didn’t want him to. I wanted him to be a coward and run away.” He swallowed. “Is that how you felt … back then … when you watched me walk out of Troy to face him?”
Him. Achilles. The memory made her sick. How did he think it had felt, to watch her brother walk out to his death? To know he was going to die. And all because Achilles challenged him, and he had too much honor, or pride, to be smart and stay safe inside the city walls.
“Yes,” she said. “I wanted you to be a coward. I hated you for not being a coward.”