“Don’t know.” He cupped his hands and hooted down into the dark, heard it echo five times before going out of earshot. “Long way.”
Andie puffed, hands on her knees. “Guess I shouldn’t have stopped going to hockey practice.”
“It doesn’t help that much, actually,” Henry puffed beside her. “Can I see it?”
It took Hermes a minute to realize he meant the shield.
“Of course.” He handed it over. “You won it. It’s yours.”
His. But not his. He saw it in Henry’s eyes the moment he held it, studying the intricate carvings. It took Henry two arms to keep it aloft. Achilles could have flung it like a discus.
“Andie,” Henry said. “Do you want to see it?”
“No.” She turned her shoulder. “I don’t care.”
Henry frowned, and Hermes took the shield back. Of course she didn’t want to see it. It wasn’t hers. Her lot was to be the war wife, all over again.
But it might turn out different, this time.
“Did you hear that?” Henry asked.
“Hear what?” Andie asked.
“It sounded like someone shouting, from down there.” He pointed down the stairs.
Hermes stilled, and listened.
“Did it sound like torture?” He asked. “Maybe we’re closer than I thought, and coming in on the Tartarus side.”
They started forward again, this time easy and ambling. Apprehension grew in Hermes’ chest with every step. They weren’t much of a match for anything that might crawl up to the gates. The sound of tramping feet reached them and Hermes wished for more light, or a few stretched-out shadows to serve as warning. Judging by the noise, they were about to be overtaken by a herd of Cape buffalo.
“Turtle up,” he said, and set the shield in front of them. No time like the present to find out what it was worth.
Ares’ face, smeared with blood, came into view first. There was just enough time for Hermes to think, Oh, shit, before Athena shouted, “Get out of my way,” and pushed past him. Hermes let the shield roll, let Henry scramble to keep it from bouncing down the million or so remaining stairs.
It was Athena. It was his sister.
Hugging her felt so good it seemed imaginary, even if the impact of her rattled all the bones in his body.
*
When Athena threw her arms around her brother, she thought she’d never let go. She was afraid it was all an illusion, that they’d never escaped the underworld at all and any moment Hermes would dissolve into molecules right beneath her fingers.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Shut up. You’re here. You’re back. I found you.” He squeezed her tighter. “Though admittedly I wasn’t really looking.”
“Odysseus? Odysseus!” Andie shouted and stumbled on jelly legs down the steps to put her hands on his shoulders in disbelief. “You’re alive.”
“Thanks to her.” He grinned at Athena. “And him, if you can believe it.”
Ares tipped an imaginary cap with his mangled hand.
“What are they doing here?” Henry asked, glaring at Panic and Oblivion.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Athena said. She held Hermes at arms’ length. He looked thinner. More pale. And weary. He looked incredible.
“Where’s Cassandra?” Odysseus asked. “And Cally?”
“Finding their way back,” Andie answered. “At least that’s what Demeter said when we went to see her in the desert. We haven’t seen them since the fight on Olympus. We thought they were dead. We thought you all were.”
Athena nodded. So Cassandra and Calypso were together. Good. At least they weren’t alone. And it was good, too, that Cassandra wasn’t with Hermes. She’d have killed Ares if she was, and Athena owed him more than half a trip up the underworld’s stairs. But they would find her. And soon.
I won’t pick sides.
But that felt like a lie.