More often, her thoughts turned to the others. To Cassandra, and Hermes. Andie and Henry. She’d left them. But they survived. Somehow she knew that. Persephone would have been quick to gloat if they hadn’t.
Athena stretched herself out on the cold sand and rested her head against Odysseus’ shoulder. His warmth flowed into her, and she felt his heart thumping. But it wouldn’t forever. She couldn’t let him linger between worlds.
You’re already dead. And no matter how stubborn I am, or how many monsters I fight, I can’t change that. You were dead when I put my arms around you on Olympus. You’re dead now, with your heart beating against my cheek.
She took a deep breath. Her head felt heavy as lead when she tried to lift it from him, but she did it.
“I could deny this forever,” she whispered. “And I might, if it wasn’t for my brother and the others. I’ll never really know if I would’ve been strong enough to do this if not for them.” Her hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword.
I’m sorry.
The sword dragged free in one long, slow motion. It yanked him toward her and fresh blood splashed across his skin. He screamed. She hadn’t thought he would scream, and by the end Athena’s face was soaked in sweat and tears, and she was screaming, too. Odysseus gulped air and stiffened. His hands hooked into claws, and she pressed him back into the sand, shushing him with the blade raised over her head.
His eyes fluttered open.
“Remember this,” Athena said. “He didn’t kill you. Do you understand? It was me. It was my fault, and I let you go.”
Her arm swung down, ready to strike clean, and she held her eyes wide open. But the blade never hit. A hand grabbed her wrist and jerked it back.
“You’ll thank me for this later,” Ares said, and struck Athena hard across the face.
7
THANATOS
“I don’t want him to come. He can’t come.” Cassandra pushed wisps of brown hair away from her face. The beach wind kept blowing it into her eyes and into her mouth when she talked. What people loved so much about the beach she’d never understand. The sand burned her feet when it rose past the edges of her sandals, and the sun made her squint. Every time the wind changed, it smelled like fish. She missed home, and mild silver light with maybe the trees and ditches starting to green. Beside her, Calypso didn’t feel the same. She looked like a girl in a ’90s music video, traipsing along the surf as though she’d just been borne of it.
“You want to find Hades, don’t you?” Calypso said. “Thanatos can help. And besides, he isn’t giving us a choice.” She cocked her head and kicked sea spray toward Cassandra with her toes. “And you have no power over him, so…”
Cassandra winced from the water.
“Stop doing that.” She crossed her arms. “I didn’t start this quest to kill gods to make another one my ally. And the god of death, no less.”
“But since you can’t kill him…”
“Yet. I get stronger every day.” But probably not strong enough to kill fricken death.
“We can go home if you want,” Calypso said gently. “To Kincade.”
A tempting idea. The urges to throw her arms around her mother’s neck, to kiss her father’s cheek, and to punch Henry were starting to weigh heavy. The urge to see them all, somewhere other than in her memory.
She shook it off.
“None of them are safe,” she said, “until the gods are dead.”
Calypso sighed and whispered something disapproving. Cassandra turned on her.
“How can you not want them dead?” Cassandra shouted. “After what happened to Odysseus!”
Calypso grew still. Her eyes darkened. It was the closest she’d ever come to looking truly dangerous.
“Don’t speak to me of Odysseus,” she said, “when you have not shed one tear for him.”
They stared at each other a long time. But it was Cassandra’s shoulders that slumped first, and her feet that awkwardly kicked the sand.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Cassandra said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”