Her mother started off on a tirade about what was and wasn’t within her powers of punishment. It was easy, these days, to change the subject. To talk without really talking. She’d gotten good at it, so fast.
But it was better than the truth. The truth involved too many things no one would understand.
“I wish I could make you an angel,” Cassandra said quietly.
“What?”
“I wish I could do anything that would make me feel not so powerless.”
Her mom sighed and dropped the dust rag.
“You have a lot of strength in you, Cassie,” she said. “All the strength in the world.”
Cassandra flexed her fingers. “Yeah. All the strength in the world. But I still get dragged around like a”—she gestured broadly—“thing in a current.”
“What are you talking about, honey?”
Her mom blinked big, open eyes. How Cassandra wanted to tell her. She wished for that magical mom-telepathy to kick in. You’re my mother, don’t you know? Don’t you know just by looking at my face? But of course she didn’t. It wasn’t the kind of thing someone guessed.
On the TV, a special report broke in.
“Mom. The TV.”
“Oh.” Her mother reached down for the remote and turned up the volume. “What’s happened now?”
The cameras panned over blackened, smoking buildings, some still in flames.
“A fire claimed at least three dozen lives in the early hours of the morning,” said the news anchor. “At approximately seven oh five AM, firefighters responded to an emergency call in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania. They arrived to find the entire block engulfed in flames. It is unknown yet what caused the fire, and the names of the victims have not been released. Several houses were involved in the blaze. Most were fraternity houses.”
“Henry.” Cassandra pushed her hands into the hair at her temples. “Henry!”
His and Lux’s footsteps pounded down the stairs. “What, Cassie?”
Their mother shook her head. “All those kids. Asleep in their beds, probably.”
Asleep in their beds. Only if they were very, very lucky. Henry put his hand on Cassandra’s shoulder. The news would get a lot more interesting as the day went on. Investigators would wonder how a fire removed victims’ limbs. How it could bash in a skull or leave half a body in the kitchen and the other half in the dining room. They would wonder why none of the fraternity members had managed to make it out of the house, despite unlocked doors and ground-level windows. They would puzzle over a pile of bodies, neatly stacked eight deep, in an upstairs hall.
*
Athena met them at the door.
“Why’d you walk?” she asked.
“The Mustang’s snowed in,” said Henry.
“You saw?” Cassandra asked, and went inside. Odysseus, Calypso, and Achilles stood in the living room in front of the TV. “Where’s Hermes?”
“In the basement with the wolf.”
Cassandra gestured to the TV. “What is this? And who?”
Athena glared in disgust. “This is a message for me. From Ares. Killing young men. Athletes and scholars. Modern-day heroes I would have favored.”
“Why?” Cassandra asked, and then eyed the basement. “Because you took his dog.” She advanced on Athena, and Odysseus stepped into her path. “You didn’t think of that?” she spat over his shoulder. “You didn’t figure your psychotic brother would want payback?”
“I don’t know anything he’ll do,” Athena said. “But last I heard, he preferred combat. Wars in Central America. Not this Ted Bundy shit.”
“She thought he’d come at her directly,” Odysseus said. “I thought so, too.”
“Some excuse,” Cassandra said.
They watched in silence for a few moments as reporters commented on the actions of emergency crews. How unfavorable road conditions might have hindered their response time.
Cassandra’s fists burned. She turned to demand that Athena do something, but the goddess’ eyes were already black.
“Get the wolf out of the basement,” Athena said. “He wants it, so we’ll bring it. Achilles, you’re coming with me.” She looked at Cassandra. “And so are you.”