“Getting you moving,” she barked, suddenly irritated. “Now do you want some juice, or just a kick in the ass?”
“Careful,” he said as she handed him the glass. “Your temper will melt the ice.” He took a sip and set it on the bedside table. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I’m just pitching a tantrum because you stayed in bed too long.”
“You’re a bad liar,” he said. “I like that.”
“Because it gives you an advantage?” Cassandra’s lip curled. “Gods. You’re all the same. Calypso thinks I won’t be able to kill Hades because he’ll charm me into thinking he’s good. But none of you are good. I’ll hate him the minute I lay eyes on him. I hate him already, just knowing what he is. Killing him will be easy.”
Thanatos watched her with steady eyes. The heat in her hands and chest ebbed.
“Why are you so angry?” he asked.
“That’s a stupid question.”
“So give me a stupid answer.”
“But you already know, don’t you?” she asked. “You already know what I am. Who I was.”
She paused, but he didn’t move. He held her with those dark, steady eyes until she went on.
“They cursed me and murdered my family. They put an axe in my chest. They betrayed me, strangled me in a field! Blew up buildings full of people. Made it so I can’t go home.”
Her voice went lower and grew louder with every word. Every memory. An image of Aidan flashed inside her brain and she squeezed her fists to crush it out.
“It’s more than enough reason to hate them,” she said. “More than enough reason for them to die. And that’s the truth.”
“That’s the truth,” he said softly. “But it’s not the whole truth.”
“Finish your juice and get up.” She walked out of the room. “I’ve got gods to kill.”
*
Cassandra’s anger kept her warm for most of an hour, long after she’d finished stuffing her scant belongings into a bag. Anger felt good. Safe. When it started to wane, she imagined Ares’ face bleeding under her hands. And then Athena’s. And then Aphrodite’s, and the fire surged up fresh.
Calypso stepped into her open doorway.
“Did you wake Thanatos?” Calypso asked. “Is he well again?”
“I don’t know if he’s well. But he’s up.”
Calypso seemed to have calmed since their encounter in her bedroom, but said nothing else before walking away. Cassandra’s heart sank. Her anger fizzled, and without it she felt cold and alone again.
I want to go home.
“She just wants assurances,” Thanatos said.
He leaned against her door, looking down the hall after Calypso.
“Assurances that you’ll do what you promised,” he said. “That you’re more than a shaken little girl whose anger won’t carry her as far as she thinks it will.” He shrugged. “I tried to tell her you are. But she didn’t seem to believe me. Right now I don’t think you’d believe me, either.”
“Stop pressing me.”
She glared at him. The god of death looked too smug and too innocent. The effects of the Fury’s blood still clung to him, and the slight hitch in his movements and grimace on his face made him seem more human. He’d abandoned his slacks for jeans and a dark gray T-shirt. He wore the costume well.
“Did your headache go away?” she asked.
“No. But I’m out of bed now.”
He held his hand out. Cassandra shouldered her bag and walked past it.
“I had another day and a half before we really needed to get moving,” he said. “But if you insist.”
“What do you mean? Why a day and a half?”
He slid past her in the hallway. “That’s the earliest we can expect to be hunted down by one of Megaera’s avenging sisters.”
“Her what?”