“Should it come to blows with the Moirae,” Athena repeated, and chuckled. Ares sounded terrified. Under the wing of the Moirae he’d been safe. Unbeatable. Now he was just as fucked as the rest of them.
“You and yours,” she said. “I suppose that means the wolves and Aphrodite.”
“Yes.”
The wolves and Aphrodite were the things that Henry and Cassandra hated the most. If Athena took the deal, she’d wind up fighting two wars: one against the Moirae, and the other against the killer of gods. She didn’t know which she was less likely to win.
“How do I know you’re true to your word?” Athena asked.
“You don’t. But I’m running out of sisters to lie to.”
“That’s not enough assurance.”
“Then how about an act of good faith?” Ares moved, and she heard an odd sound, something uncorked or uncapped. He stayed low, and slow, and she tightened all over. But she let him press the leather skin to Odysseus’ lips, and listened to the liquid pour out. The scent of it wafted up in a cloud. It smelled like fruit juice tainted with lead.
“Say his name,” Ares said. “Wake him up.”
It couldn’t be that easy. It had to be a trick. She’d say his name and Ares would laugh. His wolves would howl her gullibility all the way up to Olympus.
“Odysseus?” Athena bit down hard on her lip and tasted blood. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” Odysseus said, and she struggled to keep herself from crying out and crushing him to her. “And it’s just the voice I wanted to hear.”
“What was that?” Athena asked Ares. “What was that you gave him?” She tilted Odysseus’ head up and he winced.
“Whatever it was, it tastes like balls.”
“Just water.” Ares shrugged. “Of course, waters from the rivers and streams on the eastern side of Olympus can do … lots of incredible shit for wounded mortals.” He stood and stepped away. The light was coming back. Athena looked down at Odysseus.
“That smile,” Odysseus said. “Never seen it on your face before.”
She laughed and pressed her hand against the wound in his chest. It bled only slightly.
“I hate you,” she said.
He grasped her hand and held it, made to kiss it but recoiled at the sight of her mangled nails and knuckles.
“What the hell have you been up to?”
“Doesn’t matter.” She looked at Ares. “Thank you.”
“I had to go far enough to get it,” Ares said. “Sneaking back onto that mountain. It felt like robbing my own house. You should have thought of that yourself, Athena. Instead of getting stuck in Uncle Hades’ web.”
“There wasn’t time,” Athena said. “He’d have died before I got him there.”
Ares snorted again. In truth, the waters of Olympus hadn’t even crossed her mind. Not until the moment Ares mentioned them. When the sword went through Odysseus’ chest, it was as if Athena had disappeared.
Or maybe she had disappeared even before that, when she convinced herself the Fates were with her, and she was invincible.
Ares watched his wolves pad lightly in a small perimeter, red fur and black.
“Speaking of Uncle Hades,” he said. “You know how he gets, when someone tries to pull the dead out of the underworld without permission. He had a claim on that one”—he pointed to Odysseus—“and he’s not going to like what we’ve done. We’re going to need leverage, and fast.”
“What do you propose?” Athena asked.
“I propose that you and I ford that river and take Persephone.”
*
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Ares asked.
“Are you?”