“Yeah, but he stitched it up himself. It was pretty disgusting.”
Hermes pushed himself into an upright position and reached for a cup of water.
“What’s there to eat?” he asked. “Or should we order out?”
“There’s a ham in the refrigerator. And a few dozen sandwich rolls. What do you think you could eat?”
“At least a few dozen ham sandwiches. Be a peach?”
“There’s no need to bat your eyes.” Athena hauled herself up. But before she let go of his hand, she leaned down and kissed his forehead. He tasted of sweat and sickness. Hermes was awake. But he was not well. He was not better.
Athena pulled the ham out of the refrigerator and grabbed two knives: one for the bread and ham, and another for mayo. As she assembled sandwich after sandwich, she stole glances back into the living room to make sure his eyes were still open.
Headlights flashed in the driveway. Andie, dropping Odysseus off at home.
“It can’t be,” Odysseus exclaimed when he came through the door. “You’re awake!”
Athena smiled at their reunion, full of laughter and fond insults and manly embraces.
“Where’s your sister?”
“In the kitchen.”
Odysseus rounded the corner and grasped her around the waist, lifting her half a foot off the ground.
“A bad night turns good,” he whispered.
“A good night all around.” She looked into his eyes. “Hermes is awake, and nobody died. Except maybe Panic.”
“Panic’s set to make a full recovery. Andie heard from Henry while we were at the hospital. The mutt’ll be out in a day.”
“How’s Andie?”
“Stitches. Another scar to add to her collection. But you’re right. It could’ve been worse.” He nodded toward the plate of ham buns. “Any of those for me?”
“Maybe one.” She held it up and walked around him to take the rest to Hermes. Odysseus caught her by the elbow.
“I won’t say anything tonight,” he said. “About your mad plan. Because your brother is well. But tomorrow…”
Odysseus. His eyes were still bright from their kiss upstairs. He wasn’t afraid. He didn’t think she’d be able to leave him. Athena’s heart hammered in her chest.
“Tomorrow,” she agreed. “For now, let’s just enjoy a night of small favors.”
*
Cassandra had been on her hands and knees for forty minutes with hot water and sponges and carpet spray, but the blood wasn’t coming out. Still, she kept scrubbing, wiping sweat from her brow and pretending that the minutes weren’t crawling by as she waited for someone, anyone, to come home.
She raised her head at a set of headlights. They didn’t slow. Maybe none would. Maybe her parents would go to the emergency vet and grab Henry and drive away without looking back. They’d check into a hotel and send the police for her. The girl who was no longer their daughter.
No. She glanced toward the entryway, where Lux lay with his nose on his paws. They’ll have to come back for him, at least.
“Should we not have told them?” Thanatos asked from where he knelt, scrubbing at another stain.
“There was no choice,” Cassandra said.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t resent the fact that you had to.”
“I know. And I do.” She sat back and blew a few wet strands of hair out of her face.
“We’ve got a steam cleaner around here somewhere,” she said, and got up. “How did you know to come anyway? Did you feel them? The Moirae?”
“Yes,” Thanatos said. “But I didn’t come fast enough. I was worried for you.”
“Were you? Or were you curious? Thought they might have solved the puzzle of what I am?” She wiped at her hands with a pink-stained towel. “They did, you know,” she said. “They crawled into my head and solved the mystery. Told me straight up.”
Thanatos’ eyes were somber. His fingers were stained red as the towel, and he’d stayed with her after the rest had gone. He’d stood beside her when her parents had walked past without a second glance.