“Whatever. What do you know about Ares and Aphrodite? Or Hades?”
Thanatos held up the coin. Too many questions. Fine. She rolled her eyes and motioned for him to flip, then called “tails” as soon as it left his fingers. Right again. Of course.
“The Moirae on the left is Clotho. Wild, red hair. Many witches share her blood, or at least those good at midwifery and past-life regression.”
Cassandra glared.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I never said I’d give you answers.” He shrugged. “I said I’d tell you something. But I will give you answers. Eventually.”
She did her best to hide her bubbling frustration.
“Should I just ask about the Moirae in the middle, so I’ll feel like I’m making progress?” She eyed the coin. “Heads. Heads. Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails.”
His smile was genuinely delighted, and he flipped the coin six times. Cassandra swallowed. She’d never been able to do that before. The call had always come into her head after the coin was tossed. She was getting better. Stronger.
“Atropos is the one I miss the most,” said Thanatos. “The raven-haired beauty in the middle.”
“Not so beautiful anymore.”
Thanatos chuckled. “She’ll always be beautiful. A god of death. Like me.” He looked at Cassandra. “There aren’t actually that many creatures who understand what it is to end life. Like we do.”
“This is a stupid game,” she said, and moved toward the fireplace to escape his gaze.
“It’s over, anyway.”
Irritated heat shot through her wrists, into her palms, and down each finger. She felt ridiculous, in this house, clacking around in heels that were too high and a dress that was too tight.
“Tell me what you know. If you know where Ares and Aphrodite are, tell me.”
“Or what?” he asked.
“Or I will kill you.”
He twisted on the sofa to keep her in view.
“Try.”
“What?”
He put his brandy down and stood.
“I want you to try. You would do it eventually anyway, wouldn’t you? Or were you planning on sparing the god of death, just because I turned state’s evidence?”
“I don’t know. It could be arranged that you would just wither and fade on your own. Not how I would do it.” Bargaining. It sounded like bargaining, when she’d come with every intention of threatening. If she was honest, she’d come with every intention of putting him down. But with each step closer he took, she had to fight to keep from running.
Fire licked up her arms to the elbows, but her heart pounded. She couldn’t deny that death was a draw. She wanted to kill him, and fall against him while she did it.
“You don’t want this,” she said. “Trust me. Or go see for yourself; Hera’s frozen stone face tells the story way better than I can.” She felt his cold again, and resented it, forced more heat into her hands. But he didn’t heed her warning.
“I’m not afraid. Touch me.” He smiled slightly. “Anywhere you want.”
She almost laughed, and almost slapped him across the face. He wouldn’t give in, and she wouldn’t be stalked through the house like a cornered rabbit.
“Just a little bit,” she whispered. “Just enough so you’ll know what your eventual death will feel like.”
“But not enough to turn me to dust?”
“Not while I still need you.” He was close enough that she could feel his breath. She could smell his cologne.
“A preview then,” he said, inches away. “Do I need to make you angry?”