Cassandra stared at the television. An actress she knew spoke on the screen, but she had no idea what she was watching. She didn’t even remember when she’d stopped aimlessly flipping through channels. Outside, the light through the window showed orange. Another lost day. After swallowing the Fury’s blood, Thanatos had taken to his bed ill. That had been two days ago.
The back door opened and closed. Calypso’s soft footsteps echoed down the hall, and then the door to her guest room clicked shut. They hadn’t spoken much since Calypso killed the Fury in the basement. Calypso spent most of her time in the pool, swimming and swimming and swimming, and when she wasn’t in the pool, she was in her room. For the first time since leaving the cave, Cassandra was lonely. She’d gotten used to the nymph’s company.
So go talk to her. It takes two people for the silent treatment to work.
She shoved herself off of the sofa and went to the kitchen to assemble a tray of papaya juice. The ice rattled in the glasses as she carried it to Calypso’s door. She had to knock with her toe.
Calypso answered wrapped in a white bathrobe. Her brown braids dripped and smelled faintly of chlorine.
“Papaya juice?” Cassandra offered up the tray.
Calypso shook her head.
“Come on. Please? There’s only so much to do in this place, you know? Only so many shows to pretend to watch. So many books to pretend to read.”
“Then why don’t you really read them?” Calypso asked.
“I can’t concentrate.”
Calypso stepped back to allow Cassandra inside.
“I don’t want any juice,” she said as Cassandra set the tray down and started to pour.
“Why are you so mad at me?” Cassandra asked. “It’s not like the Fury gave you much trouble. You’ve obviously had experience killing something like that before.”
Calypso’s movements had been fast and coldly precise. As businesslike as a cat breaking the back of a mouse.
“You should’ve done it,” Calypso said.
Cassandra sat on the edge of the bed.
“Maybe I should have. Everyone certainly seems to think so. But it still got done.”
“This is your war,” Calypso said loudly.
“My war? I’m not the one who showed up on your doorstep.”
“You are the one who seeks to kill gods. I don’t care about it. And Thanatos cares about nothing. Yet I’m the one who severed Megaera’s head, and Thanatos lies in pain. You’re behaving like a spoiled child.”
“No,” Cassandra said. “I was a spoiled child. Before this. Now I’m behaving the only way I can.”
She poured juice into both glasses. Calypso could drink it or not drink it. But to her surprise, Calypso picked it up, and sat down beside her.
“You couldn’t kill that Fury,” Calypso said softly. “How do you expect to be able to kill me?”
“I’ll be stronger then,” Cassandra said. “I’ll be better.”
She looked away. That was a lie. Cassandra didn’t really believe she’d ever have to make good on their bargain. She thought that if enough time passed, Calypso would heal, and want to stay.
“There’s nothing for me here anymore, Cassandra.”
“You’re wrong. There is. It’s just hard to see right now.”
Calypso sighed wearily.
“I’ve lived a very long time. I know when to leave. Don’t presume to know better.” She stood and stepped to the side of the open door. “Take some juice to Thanatos. Get him up. It’s time we got going. Though I don’t know how you intend to kill Lord Hades, when he’s bound to be more charming than the Fury in the basement.”
*
Cassandra quietly opened the door to Thanatos’ room and set the tray down on the first thing she bumped into. With the curtains closed, the room was nearly pitch black.
“Thanatos?”
“Yes?”
“Are you just sitting in here awake?”
“With a massive headache,” he said.
She closed the door and fumbled her way through to the windows, then pulled the curtain back by inches to let in a sliver of fading light. Thanatos watched with equal parts curiosity and irritation. She kept on pulling until he groaned and swung his legs over the side of the bed, elbows on his knees and head resting in his hands.
“Cassandra. What the hell are you doing in here?”