“You never bring me any presents.”
“I would, if you’d show me something worth rewarding.” She glanced at him slyly. He looked briefly insulted, then puzzled. He was such a good liar. Good enough to almost make her doubt what she’d seen: that he was faster and stronger than he’d shown.
“You really think he’s something, don’t you,” he said.
“Don’t get jealous. He is something. A weapon of fate, and all ours. And to think I wanted to kill him.”
Achilles’ strength grew by the day. It would be he who got them their victory as much as Cassandra. As much as Athena.
“I don’t get jealous,” Odysseus said. “How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s fine.” It still bled when she flexed her arm, and bled more when she dragged the statue, bouncing, from the trunk to the backyard. The throb reached hotly all the way to her fingers. “Thank you. For last night.”
“I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.”
“You’d better get some chicken before Hermes and Achilles eat it all,” she said.
“Okay. Can I bring you something? A biscuit? A bucket?”
Athena smiled. He’d never pry an entire bucket out of Hermes’ paws.
“Maybe a leg,” she said.
The growl of Henry’s Mustang preceded it down the street.
“Never mind,” she said. “No time.”
*
“Anybody care for some chicken?” Hermes tilted the bucket of original recipe and passed it around the circle in the backyard where they’d gathered with Hera’s statue in the center.
“This is weird,” Andie said. “KFC in the cold backyard, talking about Olympus. Olympus. You guys I can handle. You’re real. In front of me. In the flesh. But Olympus? That’s a stretch.”
“I had the same reaction,” Hermes said around most of a leg.
Athena eyed the statue of Hera. She had to give her stepmother credit. Retaking Olympus was no small feat. She’d become a god again, in the gods’ home, and it seemed that the gods’ home healed those who resided there.
“I should have thought of it myself,” Athena said. “But what’s done is done. We’ll claim Olympus and turn them out.”
“What do you mean, ‘turn them out?’” Cassandra asked. “You mean kill them. The war doesn’t end until they’re dead. You said so.”
“No, it isn’t over until I am dead. That’s what Demeter said.”
“Whatever,” said Cassandra. “Hera dies. Aphrodite dies. They killed Aidan, and you promised.”
“I did. To give you comfort. Hera will be killed. Aphrodite might be. But vengeance isn’t…” Athena paused. “As rewarding as you might think.”
Henry and Andie exchanged glances.
“Is it right what Cassandra said, then?” Henry asked. “That you lost your nerve? You let Ares go.”
“To keep your sister safe,” said Athena.
“To keep her brother safe,” Cassandra muttered, and the mutter worked its way around the circle as if following the bucket of chicken.
“Dissention in the ranks,” Odysseus whispered into Athena’s ear. “Not the best time to mount an offensive.”
She brushed him away.
“As soon as my shoulder heals, we go,” she said. “It won’t be long. And the trip won’t be far.”
Cassandra crossed her arms. “So you remember the way?”
“Of course I do.”
“Oi.” Odysseus stepped forward. “Why are we talking like it’s decided? This doesn’t feel like much of a plan. We rush into Olympus with nothing but guts and bravado, ready to be put on spits?”
“We’ve got more than just guts and bravado, friend,” Achilles said. “And it sounds plenty fine to me.”
“Yeah, it would,” said Odysseus. “But how about some good old-fashioned recon? Maybe find out why they suddenly laid out the red carpet.”
“Hera overestimates herself,” said Athena. “Like she always does.”
“Maybe she’s not the only one.”