“Why are you yelling at me?” he shouted back.
“Because they’ve already won. Don’t you get it? This isn’t a battle. They cost everyone everything. And they still win.” Athena twisted the railing in her hands and splintered it, wrenching the whole thing loose. It hit the walkway below and cracked. She stared down at it. In the dark, the wood looked like bones.
I wish they were mine. I wish they were mine and Cassandra’s both, and we’d leave them with nothing.
“You’re not the only one losing everything,” Odysseus said angrily. “In fact, I’d say you got the best end of it. You get to sew yourself up with Clotho and Lachesis and come out a butterfly on the other side. A shiny new Atropos in an Athena skin. You won’t remember Hermes. Or me. Or if you do, you won’t care.”
“You’d rather I let Cassandra become the Fate of death?”
“I’d rather you thought of something else!” he shouted. “You’re afraid. I get it. You messed up on Olympus and you don’t think you have the right to lead them anymore, but you’re wrong, Athena. This isn’t noble. This is giving up.”
He turned and struck the side of the house hard enough to rattle it.
“Just like you and me,” he said. “That was giving up, too.”
“Odysseus—”
“You never would have done it, if you thought you were going to survive. For you, telling me you love me is the same as saying goodbye.”
Athena stepped away from the edge. She regretted tearing the railing down; her hands itched for something to lean on.
“I do love you, Odysseus.”
“I know,” he said. “But I thought that you and I were real. Not just a dream that I was having.”
*
Ares knocked on her door sometime later.
“Is it Hermes?” she asked.
“No. It’s Cassandra. She’s here. She’s had the vision.”
“But is Hermes?”
“Still sleeping.”
They went downstairs to find Cassandra, Henry, her parents, and even their dog standing in the living room.
“Is Andie on her way?” Athena asked.
“I sent Thanatos to go get her.” Cassandra motioned for her parents to sit, and they did, clutching each other at the elbow, eyes big and round as wall clocks. Athena crossed and uncrossed her arms. The notion that she should offer Cassandra’s parents something to drink popped into her head. Ridiculous.
Cassandra began, recounting what little there was. Headlights flashed through the window and signaled Andie’s arrival just as she was wrapping up.
Athena bit the inside of her cheek, her teeth worrying at the quill of a feather. Twisting it back and forth sent shock waves of pain through her gums and down her neck. No matter. The feathers would be gone forever in a few hours.
“What’s going on?” Andie asked as she came in. When no one replied, she took her place behind the sofa.
“No one has to go who doesn’t want to,” Cassandra said. “Only me and Athena.”
“You can’t take Atropos alone,” Ares said, though he sounded impressed that she wanted to try.
“And you can’t face Achilles,” said Henry. “Only I can do that.”
“Only Hector can do that,” Odysseus corrected. “And you’re not him. Unless…?”
“No,” Andie shouted.
The room dissolved to bickering, until Cassandra shouted over the top.
“Athena,” she said. “What do you think we should do?”
Athena blinked. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do,” said Odysseus.
Athena studied them. They were all staring at her. Even Cassandra’s parents. Even Ares. Her throat went dry.
Andie gave her a nod.
“We were all there,” Andie said. “On Olympus. And we’re still asking, anyway. We still trust you.”
Something tightened Athena’s chest. Gratitude. Sentimentality. She looked at Odysseus, who seemed proud, and finally at Cassandra.
“I never trusted you,” Cassandra said. “But I’m still asking.”
Athena held her breath. Odysseus was right. She was afraid.
“Look,” Cassandra said. “We’ve all decided to go anyway.”