“That’s right,” Ares said. “I forgot. You jumped over the edge before that part. Before your little assassin made her into a statue. What did you think you were doing bringing her there? Training mortals against us.”
“It’s a war, you idiot,” replied Athena. “We’re trying to kill each other. You take the advantages you can get.” Odysseus lay full across her lap, safe for the moment. Athena kept as much acid out of her voice as she could. Ares was trying to control his formidable temper. Until she knew what it was that he wanted, she would do the same.
“We see eye to eye on that much, at least,” he said.
She felt him move closer, and the air move as he crouched down.
“It’s why I’m here.”
Athena’s ears scanned the dark. After a few moments, she caught the movement of the wolves. One she knew was Panic, because its paws were skittish. The other could have been Famine, or Oblivion. Pain wasn’t there. She’d have been able to smell the blood, and the open sores in its fur.
So two wolves for certain, and possibly three. Plus Ares. But she heard no monsters or beasts fording the river to take chunks from her arms and shear strips of skin from her back. Wherever dear Persephone was, she didn’t seem to be causing any trouble at the moment.
“Who’s with you?” Athena asked.
“Oblivion and Panic. The two wolves who remain. Famine and Pain fell in the fight on Olympus.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Are you?”
“Well, I’m sorrier about them than I am about your mother.”
“You should watch your mouth,” he growled, and he was right. Odysseus lay prone on Athena’s lap, and she was unarmed. Ares probably held the sword, and between him and two wolves, they could take Odysseus apart.
“What do you want, Ares?”
“The same thing you do. To survive.”
“Then why aren’t you back on Olympus, hiding behind the Moirae’s twisted skirts?”
Movement in the dark: a shuffle of feet, a shrug of shoulders; Athena couldn’t tell.
“The Moirae let my mother die.” Ares exhaled hard through his nose, as though he still couldn’t believe it. “They stood by and let that girl murder her. They didn’t defend any of us. Aphrodite was the one who cleared the mountain, and when the water receded and we looked around, they were gone. Disappeared with their new pet.”
Their new pet. Achilles. Athena’s hand trailed over Odysseus’ chest and pressed down on the wound.
“What do you mean, ‘cleared the mountain’?” Athena asked. “What happened to my brother and the others?”
“What do you think happened?” Ares sneered. “They ran. Hermes always runs. And I suppose the Moirae did, too, when they understood they couldn’t control that girl. I don’t know how they managed it, with their legs melded together. Or at least I don’t like to picture it.”
It had been a loss on both sides, then. Maybe it was petty, but that made Athena feel better. The Fates were forced to scuttle off, and Ares had lost Hera.
“So now you’re looking for another shadow to cower in?” Athena asked. “Thinking maybe if you help me out of here, I might let you hide in mine?”
“You’re not throwing much of a shadow these days, sister. In case you haven’t noticed.”
Athena gripped Odysseus’ shoulders, ashamed. Even though the idea choked her, Ares was right. He’d been right when he warned her not to go to Olympus, and he was right that she was less. The goddess of wisdom and battle strategy had rushed in and been swatted like a child. And instead of regrouping she’d run away to wallow, half-mad in the underworld. For once Athena was glad of the dark. Ares couldn’t see the wetness in her eyes.
“You came to make a deal, Ares,” she said. “So spit it out.”
“I’ll help you get your boy toy out of here in one piece,” he said. “And once we’re out, you’ll help me and mine should it come to blows with the Moirae and their unkillable bodyguard.”