“Because you want me more than anyone else. More than anything.” He leaned in close. “Your longing is like a song.”
“Get away from her.” Cassandra stepped forward, but neither Thanatos nor Calypso moved. Calypso didn’t even look up. “Calypso. Don’t. You promised.”
Calypso blinked slowly. She looked so suddenly miserable that Cassandra’s throat tightened with guilt.
“You’re right,” she said. “I promised.”
“She promised she would stay,” Thanatos said to Cassandra. “What did you promise her? Because you better have promised her something.”
Under the intensity of his stare, Cassandra’s cheeks reddened.
“I promised I would kill her.”
Thanatos turned to Calypso and laughed.
“But I could do it for her now. She’s no god; she’s always been able to be killed. Always. Even when she wasn’t so delicately aging.” He reached out and drew his fingers along her face and down her neck. “I could lay her back and kiss her, and there she could remain.”
Calypso brushed his hand aside.
“I made a promise to Cassandra.”
“Are you sure? My way is cleaner.”
Cleaner. What did that even mean? Dead was dead. Cassandra rubbed her bare arms. Being inside the house felt wrong. Death clung to every surface. Shades of murdered girls were probably strung up in every corner.
But that’s sexist. There must be shades of boys. People of all ages. And puppies and geraniums, too.
And despite Thanatos’ handsome appearance, she doubted they had all died by way of a gentle kiss. Her feet twisted painfully in her heels, imagining downstairs rooms lined with plastic and blood spatter, a walk-in freezer with dead clubbers hung on meat hooks. Maybe an entire pantry full of peeled eyeballs.
Stop it. This is California. There probably is no downstairs.
“I want to know,” she said, “what you know about the other gods.”
Thanatos swirled the brandy in his glass and looked at Calypso from under his brow.
“Would you excuse us? Don’t worry about the girl,” he said before either could object. “If I start to scare her, she’ll just kill me.”
Calypso regarded Cassandra with caution, but slid off the chair.
“Go take a swim in the pool. It’s heated.” Thanatos gestured down the dark hall behind them. “You’ll find it lit.” After the clicking of Calypso’s heels had grown faint, he turned back to Cassandra. “She never could resist a swim. Nymphs.” He leaned forward. “I want you to do some tricks for me. I want to see your gifts in action. What do you need?”
She curled her fists.
“What do you mean, ‘my gifts in action’?”
“Not the power in those deadly hands,” he said. “Your other gift. Now, what do you need?”
She answered reluctantly. “A coin. I can call it in the air.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled one out, fat and gold. No regular quarters or silver dollars here. It was probably a freaking doubloon.
“Why did you want us to be alone?” she asked.
He smiled. “I didn’t think you were the kind of girl who would enjoy being on display.”
“I don’t mind it at all, actually,” she said softly. “Depending on who’s watching.”
“Very well,” he said. “Then let’s play a game. For every correct prediction, I’ll tell you something. Do we have a deal?”
She didn’t like that phrasing. A deal. Like if he welched, she’d get a shiny fiddle made of gold. She looked into his dark eyes, always with their hint of a smile, and felt dizzy. But he was the god of death. Not the devil.
“Deal.”
He tossed the coin; it flashed in the firelight.
“Tails.”
He caught it and slapped it down on the back of his hand.
“Tails indeed.” He studied the coin with amusement, rather stupidly, she thought, because it was his damn coin. “An interesting little gift. You received it from Lachesis. I think you would know her as the Moirae on the right. With long, silver-blond hair.”
“I got it from Apollo.”
“He bestowed it. But it traces back to the Moirae.”