“No,” Athena replied. “And I wouldn’t eat anything you find down here, if I were you.” She turned her face away from the scentless blossoms. No food. No water. They’d just have to wait for their heads to stop pounding.
“How long do you think they’ll take?” Aphrodite sighed. “To get back, I mean. Do you think it will take them long to find Persephone?”
“Not as long as you’d think.”
Athena sat up when she heard Odysseus’ voice. At first she thought it was a trick of her bleary eyes and swimmy head. But there he was. Standing. And more than that, walking, damp from the shoulders down from swimming across the Styx. The sword that Achilles had forced through his chest was now strapped to his back.
“Judging by the speed of that massive herd of dead people I just passed, she could be here within the hour.” Ares’ wolves stood on either side of him until their master beckoned and they trotted forward to have their heads scratched.
“What are you doing here?” Athena asked. “How are you healed?”
“Sorry for not waiting,” Odysseus said. “I didn’t trust these two.” He nodded toward Ares and Aphrodite. “And I really wanted to see Oblivion dog paddle.”
Oblivion growled low in its throat. Athena pressed her hand to Odysseus’ chest through the tear in his shirt. Her fingers expected blood and a raw wound. Instead she found a warm, purple scar.
“This shouldn’t be.”
Odysseus smiled and kissed her fingertips. “You’d rather I stick the sword back in then?”
Ares stood and walked around Odysseus in a wide circle.
“That is some fast healing, even on the banks of the underworld,” Ares said warily.
Odysseus watched him out of the corner of his eye.
Athena took his hand.
“Come on.”
She led him down the corridor they’d come through, ears pointed backward to make sure Ares and Aphrodite weren’t following. But they were weak from feeding a horde of shades. Their heads probably hurt too much to make mischief.
The dark veined walls didn’t move as much as when they’d first passed. Perhaps they were nearly empty of dead, since so many were scouring the tunnels with fresh gods’ blood in their cheeks. As they walked, Athena kept one hand on Odysseus. She was afraid to let go.
I should tell him a hundred things. A thousand. I should tell him everything again that I whispered in the dark.
“You do heal fast,” she said. “And you move fast. Faster than you used to. You fight better, too. Even better than when I used to help you.”
“So you’ve figured it out, then,” Odysseus said, and grinned. “That I’m Mortal with a capital M, and clever enough to keep the secret from the goddess of wisdom.”
They stopped, and Athena turned and traced the scar on his chest. It had faded still more.
“I should have known sooner,” Athena said. “As soon as we met Achilles. As soon as I choked Cassandra. Even then I hadn’t guessed how far it went. I thought you were dead. I would’ve killed you last night, had Ares not stayed my hand. Ares, of all gods.”
“Don’t tell me any more,” Odysseus said. “I’m indebted to the prig enough as it is.”
She pressed her palm to his chest.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I let this happen to you.”
“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your sword.”
“It was my fight!” Athena ground her teeth, and backed away. “I lost it,” she said. “Whatever I was. I’m not that anymore.”
“Athena. What are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “It matters that you’re here. My fuckup didn’t cost me someone else.”
“So the others,” he said. “They’re safe?”
“I don’t know. But if they are that’s not the point. Andie and Henry. Cassandra. My brother. They all could have been killed.”
“But they weren’t,” Odysseus said. “And you’re wrong about Cassandra. I don’t think she was in much danger at all. We’ve never had to test the theory, but I suspect that Cassandra would be even harder to kill than I am.”