Antigoddess (25 page)

When they struck the ground, he broke away and rolled quickly onto his feet.

Athena was up a second later. She was getting tired of acts of desperation. It felt like they were all they had left.

“What are you trying to do? Do you really think you can beat me? You never could before.”

He bared his teeth. “That was before you started spitting up owl pellets.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I don’t want to. Just turn around and go.”

“I can’t. Cassandra is the key.”

“The key to what? She doesn’t have anything you can use. She can call a coin and tell you the weather.”

“You’re lying again. You really suck at it.”

“She’s just an ordinary girl.”

“Never. She’s a prophet. Thanks to you.”

He lunged, but this time she was ready; her hands caught hold of his head and twisted him around. He was no human, and no Nereid; his neck was strong and close to unbreakable. But she did manage to pull him off balance and brought a knee up into his back. She felt his grimace between her palms before he jerked loose.

Up the deadfall, Hermes and Odysseus moved closer, and Cassandra moved beside them like they’d forgotten all about one another. Athena took a deep breath, careful not to wince. A swelling bruise had already bloomed up around her ribs from their trip down the trees. When Apollo circled, she backed off. There was something in his eyes she didn’t like.

“How far are you willing to take this?” she asked.

“Until you go, or one of us is in pieces.”

She frowned. Dying was one thing. Spending the rest of her time alive with her legs and torso in different time zones was another.

He charged again and reached into the grass for a large stone. It struck the top right side of her head with a sickening, dull crack, and hot blood flowed into her hair. She fell to the ground.

She heard Odysseus scream and Hermes yell at him to stay back, but she couldn’t reply. She lay frozen with shock, watching the rock rise and fall, feeling it strike with sharp thuds against her skull.

He’s killing me.

Odysseus would see her head crushed into the grass, unrecognizable. Just a wet, red mess.

He can’t kill me.

Or perhaps he could. She was already dying, after all, and that wasn’t supposed to be possible either. Maybe the rules had changed completely.

Apollo raised the rock again, and Athena screamed. But it wasn’t a scream of fear or pain. She screamed at the sight of her blood on the stone. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t anywhere near dead. Her arm came up, grabbed Apollo’s, and threw him off to one side. When she lifted herself to one knee, she felt the right side of her head flop down, bleeding and torn open, but the skull was intact. She heaved herself to her feet and threw him again. Then she grasped his throat and lifted him like a fish from a stream.

“No!”

Cassandra, running down through the fallen trees.

“No! Let him go!” She stopped just short of Athena. Aidan had dropped the rock and struggled nervously as his sister’s fingers squeezed, threatening to tear through the skin of his neck.

“Let him go,” Cassandra demanded. “Let him go, now!”

After a moment of consideration, Athena dropped him and he fell in a heap. Cassandra darted forward and wrapped her arms around him.

“You were supposed to run the other way,” he said.

“You shut up,” Athena snapped. Blood dribbled liberally down her shoulder, matting down the hair on the right side of her head. She looked like the victim in a Robert Rodriguez film. Cassandra looked at her with wide eyes. Mixed expressions of awe and revulsion rippled across her face.

She thinks she knows me. She just can’t remember from where. She’s not like Odysseus. She’s still asleep.

Even as she held Aidan, there was confusion in Cassandra’s eyes. Of course she was confused. She’d just seen him bludgeon someone with a rock, and run to his defense afterward.

“Athena,” he said. “Don’t hurt her.”

She glanced at him with irritation. “Ridiculous words, coming from you.”

You were the one who cursed her in the first place. You gave her the gift of sight and then made her never be believed. And now she kneels at your side, protecting you from me, who could twist her in half.

The innocence in Cassandra’s eyes made her want to scream. The blind affection in how she held him. There was something so sick about it. That she didn’t know.

“Don’t, sister. I love her.”

“I notice the ‘sister’ only comes out when you want something.” She crossed her arms. “She doesn’t even know who you are.”

“I know who he is,” Cassandra said. “He’s Aidan Baxter.”

Athena snorted.

“But he used to be called Apollo. Who are you?”

“You used to know.”

Cassandra’s brow knit. “What do you mean?”

“Athena, don’t.” He started to rise, but Athena put him down with a finger.

Don’t blame me for this. You found her, made her love you again. I’m sure it was done with the best of intentions. But you’re an idiot if you thought it wouldn’t all blow up in your face.

“I mean, you aren’t you. But back when you
were
you, you would’ve known who I am.” They hadn’t come all this way to find half a prophetess. They needed her whole. They needed Cassandra of Troy.

Blood dripped down Athena’s cheek, warm against her skin. Owls in the trees hooted absently. She gestured vaguely toward Cassandra’s body.

“This. It’s empty. Hollow. There’s a hole inside you in the shape of a girl.” And even then it didn’t look special. Athena had hoped for more. Some flag or shining space to let her know what Cassandra was capable of.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you deserve to know who you are? Isn’t that justice?” She looked at Odysseus, at his throat, at the heart in his chest. Make her remember. Isn’t that what Demeter said? Make her remember, and she’ll be much more than that. Wheels turned inside her head. “I mean, if there was something about me that I didn’t know, I’d want to know. Wouldn’t you?”

Apollo struggled to his feet and pulled Cassandra up with him. He put himself between them. Futile. Silly. Athena’s wrists tingled. It felt like springs had formed in the balls of her feet. She knew what she had to do.

And I’ll do it. Even though it’s cruel. Even though I hate to. There’s no one else.

“Let me tell her, at least,” Apollo said. “Please.”

“You turned me into a cherry snow cone.” Athena gestured to her bleeding head. “Why should I do you any favors?” She looked at Cassandra. A pale, scared girl with long brown hair, the tips of her ears and nose starting to turn red from the cold. Odysseus reached for Athena’s arm and she turned to him.

“It was better for you, wasn’t it?” she asked Odysseus. “After you woke up?”

He knew what she was up to; she could see that. “I didn’t wake up quite like this.” He glanced at Cassandra. “Maybe it would be better, if he explained first.”

Athena looked at Hermes, who hung his head. She sighed. “This isn’t the Cassandra we’re looking for. It’s only half. If there’s a less unpleasant way to make that happen, you’ve got thirty seconds to think of it.”

No one spoke, and Athena gritted her teeth. “Look, I wish we didn’t need her at all. I’m not a fucking tyrant. I don’t want to turn someone’s world on its ear.”

She looked at Odysseus, but he said nothing. She turned to Hermes.

“Would you hold him, please?” She nodded toward Apollo. Then she smiled sadly at Cassandra.

The soft brown hair. That petite, lanky frame. I remember you now, standing with your sister on the walls of Troy. Watching your family die with a stone face. So brave. I’m ashamed that I forgot. And now I’m sorry that you’ll remember.

“What are you doing?” Cassandra backed up as Athena advanced.

“Don’t be afraid.” Beside them, Apollo struggled in Hermes’ grip, but it was feeble. He knew when he was beat. It was just more of a show for Cassandra’s benefit.

“You’re a goddess.” Cassandra smiled shakily. She raised her brows at Athena’s clothes. “With tattoos and a faded t-shirt. I saw you through Aidan’s skin. The feathers.”

“Cassandra, don’t say anything!”

Athena smiled. So much for only predicting the weather. “We need your help.”

“Help with what? What’s going on?”

“Stop backing up. I don’t want to feel like a wolf stalking a rabbit.”

Cassandra scowled. “Then stop stalking. What are you talking about? What didn’t Aidan tell me?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Aidan jerked toward her. “Cassandra. Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she asked. “Why not? Would someone just please tell me what’s going on?”

“That would take too long.” Athena moved forward. Her hands closed around Cassandra’s throat and squeezed. “Don’t be afraid.”

15

RESURRECTION

The struggle was brief. What chance did she have, anyway, against a goddess?

Cassandra clawed at the hands around her neck. Her mouth worked frantically, trying to suck in just the tiniest bit of air. It hurt. Beneath the panic it burned and stung. Her lungs felt like they’d grown claws and were shredding her rib cage. Aidan yelled something, her name or maybe just expletives. His voice faded as her ears failed and the sky went black. It was like being filled up with ink.

Athena kept a steady grip. The impact of the girl’s fists against her shoulders and arms didn’t matter at all. She looked Cassandra in the eyes and tried to keep her expression soft. Not angry. Not gleeful. The whole thing would have been easier had a third of her scalp not been hanging off the side of her head. It must have been a terrifying image to die to.

Behind them, Hermes had his hands full trying to hold Apollo. His bellowing had driven all of the owls high up into the trees. But it didn’t matter. The life in Cassandra’s eyes flickered. The pulse beneath Athena’s fingers slowed, then stopped. She waited a few more seconds, then laid the girl carefully on the damp, frozen ground.

“Odysseus,” she said, and he darted forward onto his knees. He would know what to do; he’d be ready, had known what she was up to. He tilted Cassandra’s head back.

“I hope you didn’t do any damage to the windpipe,” he muttered. Then he sealed his mouth over hers. Once. Twice. He gave her breath, but there was no sign of life.

“Chest compressions,” Hermes said. “Do you know the count?”

“It’s fifty to two,” Aidan said. “Or is it fucking thirty? I can’t remember!” He dragged his hands through his hair, pacing wildly. “Cassandra, wake up. Oh god, you bitch!” He spun on Athena and shoved her hard.

“Shut up.” Odysseus pressed down on Cassandra’s chest, elbows locked, counting.

Time stretched out. Athena tried to stay out of Apollo’s way, her eyes on Cassandra. It seemed that she should’ve come back already.

Every second she stayed dead felt longer. Doubt crept into Athena’s chest and caught in her throat. Cassandra’s lips had turned a chill purple. Her skin seemed paler. A thin haze of mist collected on her cheeks. She was sixteen, murdered in the middle of a forest, dressed in a long, khaki jacket and a red sweater. Two thousand years ago, she’d been nineteen, murdered as a slave in a land a sea away from her home, an axe buried in her chest.

Breathe. Breathe, dammit! We need you, and three gods are willing it, so BREATHE!

“I think I heard something.” Odysseus leaned in close to her mouth, his eyes wide and excited. “Yeah. Come on, girl, pick it up.” He pressed down on her chest again, lightly. The color was coming back into Cassandra’s skin. Her eyelids fluttered when he rubbed her hands.

“Pulse is back online.” He looked up at Athena, out of breath. “Next time you’re going to do that, you might give more of a heads up. For the record, I don’t know the ratio for doing full CPR.”

“What does it matter? You did it,” Hermes said. He shook his head. “I thought you’d killed her.”

Apollo rushed to Cassandra and drew her onto his lap. Tears wetted his cheeks and he stroked her hair.

Odysseus rose and put a brief hand on his shoulder. There was a surprising amount of empathy in the gesture and Athena frowned. To Odysseus, what she’d done must seem monstrous.

Apollo gently touched Cassandra’s face and smoothed her hair back. Against his warmth, color began to return to her cheeks and dark bruises blossomed. They circled her throat in a broad collar; she’d be wearing scarves and turtlenecks for the next few weeks. Swallowing and talking was going to be a real bitch too, at least for a couple of days.

“Cassandra? Can you hear me?”

Cassandra’s eyes stared into the distance, unfocused and just shy of blank. Then she blinked, and Athena exhaled.

The eyes that looked back at her were the eyes of Cassandra of Troy.

*   *   *

The world came back fast. Trees and water and sky splashed in buckets across the darkness. And not just before her eyes, which fluttered open. The world drenched her brain too, a whole other world, of yellow sand and white brick, days spent in woven dresses and sitting at looms. Images of bronze shields and sharpened spears, of her brother laughing in front of a fire. The taste of goat meat in her mouth. It all soaked in, colder than the ground beneath her head, another life immersed with her present one.

“Cassandra? Can you hear me?”

She blinked. That voice. Apollo’s voice. The god who had loved her. And cursed her. He was there. And he was Aidan. Memories linked together in her skull like pressed-together LEGOs.

“I can hear you.”

Aidan kissed her hair. “You almost killed her,” he said to Athena.

“I did kill her,” Athena corrected. “And now she’s herself again. Isn’t that right?”

Cassandra tugged free of Aidan and got to her feet, trying not to wobble. Athena nodded, and Cassandra knew what she must see. The difference was slight, but it was there. The way she held her shoulders. A scant bit of stiffness in her spine. The awkward ease of youth had fallen away. Memories of another person, another life, had settled onto her like layers of snow.

“No, that’s not right,” Cassandra said. “But I do remember. Is that what you wanted? Athena?”