“Trying to figure out the hot water?” Hermes sniffled.
“I didn’t hear you coming up with anything.” She spoke through her teeth, her chin resting against the top of his head. “How did you hide this?” she asked. “How did I not know how bad you were?”
“I know how to dress. I’ve always known how to dress.” His voice sounded better already. Clearer. She shut her eyes.
I make every excuse, use all the right words, to make him seem fine. How his fever is lower. How his eyes are bright. I stuff him full of food. Like it helps. Like it matters. Like he isn’t going to die.
He tried to gather himself up, and adjusted the robe to slide his thin arms into the sleeves.
“This is humiliating,” he said. “I look disgusting.”
“No you don’t. You could never.”
He hmphed. “I think they call this phenomenon ‘sister goggles.’ What are you doing in here, anyway? Ruining my ice-cold bath?”
“I made you something to eat.” The words barely made it out before she broke, and tears streamed down her face. She clung to him, and he stroked her hair and let her cry, even though her weight had to hurt him, thin as he was. He hurt all the time, every day. She didn’t know what she would do, when his skin started to tear. Would it be in one place? Or all over?
“I don’t have much longer, sister,” he said.
“No.” Athena shook her head, furious, and wiped her eyes. “You do. If Hera can heal, then so can you. If she has a way, I’ll take it. I’ll take it and pour it down your throat. You’ll live, and she’ll die.”
He hugged her tighter. “Don’t hope too much.” He brushed her hair back, and she looked into his face, handsome despite everything. Like his vanity was strong enough to force his illness to stay below his chin.
“You should have told me,” she said.
“So you could worry more than you already do?” he asked. “No. I just wanted time. Normal time.”
“Why did you let me pit you against Achilles all day? You idiot.”
“Bah,” he said. “I can still take that kid.”
But he couldn’t. Not anymore. His time was up. She had to make her move, and make it fast.
17
NEVER LOOK A GIFT WOLF IN THE MOUTH
Cassandra’s shoes crunched through the receding snow of the cemetery. She pressed her heel down, and it sank an easy two inches into mud. She thought of the coffins, all buried beneath the thawing ground, and wondered if they were waterproof, or if the water seeped through the weaker ones and dripped onto the decaying bodies inside.
“Do you have anything to drink?” she asked Calypso. “I suddenly feel like retching.”
Calypso handed her a bottle of cherry vitamin water. It coated her throat and swished away the grave dirt. Across the cemetery, workers labored with shovels and a small Bobcat. The edges of their spades cut through the earth like butter. What a good day to bury someone.
“Thanks for coming with me,” Cassandra said. Aidan’s grave wasn’t too far ahead, a few headstones away from a large tree. “It keeps Athena off my back.”
“You really don’t like her,” Calypso said.
“You do?”
“No. But I understand her.”
Cassandra eyed Calypso quietly. She was so beautiful, and there was a sweetness to her that made the beauty impossible to resent. Odysseus thought she was maybe a bit manipulative, but Cassandra didn’t see it. Cally was dying, like the others were, but she didn’t carry any of the desperation that they did. Though maybe she would, when her hair turned gray and her forehead wrinkled.
No. Calypso wasn’t there to live forever. She was there for Odysseus. That much was plain.
They stopped in front of Aidan’s grave, and Calypso put her hand on the stone.
“It’s warm,” she said. “Aidan. A good, modern name. Maybe I should choose one for myself.”