Antigoddess (28 page)

“Go back for the others.”

“No.”

The girl spoke, her voice deep and sweet, softly accented with French. “No. Leave them alone!”

“I will and gladly. If you strike the bargain.”

The girl wept. She took several deep breaths before she spoke again. When she did, it was only a few words.

“Kincade. New York.”

Hera smiled. And snapped her neck.

The vision threw Cassandra back hard. The legs of her chair skidded across the hardwood of the kitchen.

“Cassie?” Henry jumped forward and held her steady. But that was no comfort. Hera, Aphrodite, and Poseidon had killed that girl. Even after she told them what they wanted.

They know where we are. They’re coming.

She swallowed and looked at Henry.

“We’ve got to get out of here.”

*   *   *

Athena was at the mirror when he came in, leaning close to the glass, using her fingernail to coax a small, blood-tinged feather out of her eye. It had been floating just below the lid for the last hour, making her eye water and sting. When Apollo came through the door, he didn’t bother to knock, and her reflection shot him a sour look. Then she went back to scraping her nail along her eye.

Hermes sat up quickly, but with more curiosity than alarm. Apollo couldn’t stand against them when they were all together.

Odysseus clicked the TV off and cleared his throat in the awkward silence. He bounced up off of the bed and extended his hand.

“Ody,” he said.

“Aidan. I remember you. You used to be trouble.”

He smiled. “Still am.”

Behind them, Athena let something drop loudly against the countertop. The feather had come out; she rolled it between her fingers, staining them red before rinsing the lot of it down the drain. Odysseus raised a brow in her direction. She arched hers back, but her expression softened. Apollo looked like walking shit. His clothes hung on him in a wet bundle.

“I’ve come to find out what the fuck’s going on,” he said.

“Might’ve been a better question to ask before you attacked me.” Athena turned from the mirror and rested her hip on the counter. She’d changed into a different t-shirt and sort of wished she hadn’t. She should have worn the blood like a badge.

“Don’t waste your time,” said Hermes. “He’s gone Rambo on us. Break bottles first and ask questions later.”

“I was only trying to protect her.”

“And look how well that turned out.” Hermes lay back on his propped-up pillows.

It was enough. Anyone could see that Apollo was beat. Athena pushed away from the counter and walked toward him.

“We’re trying to protect her too,” she said gently.

“You killed her.”

“She was dead already. She still is. She’s been dying for as long as we have. Her fate is tied to ours.” She clenched her teeth. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t seem to be anything but harsh with him.

Apollo straightened. When he did, he almost looked like a god again, instead of a post–garage band sack of rags. “Why is this happening? What’s killing you?” Athena shrugged. Those were stupid questions to ask. “I heard about Artemis,” he said. “Cassandra had a vision of her, hunted down in her jungle. Something was running her to the ground. Was it true? Is she dead?”

“Maybe not yet. But that’s the end result. The means are different for all of us. Have Hermes tell you about Demeter.” Apollo’s eyes fell, and she restrained the urge to place a hand on his shoulder. Denial was strong, and so was panic. His actions weren’t so unforgivable. Hearing about Artemis couldn’t have been easy. Athena thought of her, just for an instant. Skin as pale as the moon, hair that always looked silver no matter what color it really was. She’d hunted everything in the forest. Now she was the prey.

Why does it have to be so cruel? So humiliating?

In her mind she saw a flash of a green leaf, dripping with dark blood. She smelled carrion breath.

Is that my vision, or Cassandra’s?

“So what do you want?” Apollo looked from Athena to Hermes and back again. “Do you want to save yourselves somehow? Do you think Cassandra can stop whatever is happening to you?”

“To us,” Hermes said. “And why isn’t it happening to you, exactly?”

“I don’t know.”

“I hate to burst your bubble,” Odysseus interjected, “but it probably is. There’s no good reason for you to have escaped. You probably are dying in some way that hasn’t shown symptoms yet. I mean, face it, mate, aside from your questionable decision to reenter high school, you’re no different than any of them. You’re not separate.”

Apollo shrugged. “I don’t care. Dying or not dying. I just want to know what you want from Cassandra. She can’t be harmed.”

“But she can’t be left out,” Athena warned. “Demeter said that she could be the key to everything. That she’ll become more than just a prophetess.”

“How the hell would Demeter know?”

“Let’s just say she kept her ear to the ground,” said Hermes, and looked at Athena meaningfully before dissolving into giggles. The little asshole was always being inappropriate. But she had to cough harshly to stop from laughing herself.

Keeping her voice even, Athena told Apollo everything they knew. She told him how they’d found Demeter, stretched across the desert. She told him about the Nereid, and what it had shown her. She told them what they’d learned at The Three Sisters, and what Hera had done. As an afterthought, she told him about Aphrodite’s asylum escapee. When she finished, he walked around the room thoughtfully and sat down on top of the cheap plastic-wood table next to the TV.

“Hera, Poseidon, and Aphrodite. That’s who we’re fighting?”

Athena exhaled. “I like it when you say ‘we.’ I don’t want us on opposite sides, brother.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes.

“I haven’t made any promises yet.”

Athena clenched her jaw. She’d shown her olive branch too early. “Well, you’d better make some. Because if Hera gets her hands on Cassandra, you can bet she won’t survive it. I might have killed her to bring her back, but Hera will use her, then kill her, and let her stay dead.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Take her word for it,” Hermes said, his voice low. “She’s gone insane. She was cold as ice when she murdered Circe’s coven.”

Apollo hung his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Well, that’s a shame. Since no one’s ever been able to hold Hera back when she gets a hair across her ass. No one except maybe Zeus.”

“Yes,” said Hermes. “Where is good old Dad when you need him?”

“Wait,” said Odysseus. “That’s a bloody good question. Where is Zeus? You’ve said that Hera is dealing in some serious strength, right? What if he’s giving her some extra juice?”

The three gods looked at one another. They were Zeus’ children. One of them, Athena, was his favorite child. But not even that made her really special. Certainly not indispensible. Zeus had fathered almost too many children to count. He had made her; he could make another one of her just as easily. Their minds circled the idea warily before turning their backs on it.

“No. Zeus is gone.”

“Maybe Hera—”

“No,” Athena barked, and winced. When she spoke again, her eyes were soft. “Even if he is still alive, he’s chosen not to interfere. I’m sure he sees all this as Fated, and if there was ever anything he was afraid to fuck around with, it was that. He was always concerned with keeping the balance between us and them. Besides, he never took sides between me and Hera.”

Apollo ran his hand roughly across his face. “I don’t think we should fight. I think we should run.”

“Interesting idea,” said Hermes. “And I’m totally open to it. But with the world ending, I don’t know where you suggest we run to.”

Athena crossed her hands over her chest. They couldn’t run. And even if they could, they still had a stake in this. They still had some responsibility. Hera had killed dozens. She’d kill more while hunting them if they ran, Athena was sure. Apollo was willing to forget everything he was for Cassandra. He had shed his godhood, tossed it away like it was nothing, to live like a mortal with her. He’d have to be watched. If they didn’t keep him close, he’d break all the rules.

Odysseus caught her eye, and she looked away. Once upon a time, she’d broken plenty of rules for him, and she was in no mood to feel like a hypocrite.

A knock at the door made all four of them snap to attention. An uneasy expression rippled through the room. They weren’t expecting anyone. The knock came again, louder and more insistent. None of them made a move, and Athena watched curiously as the handle turned and the door swung open.

*   *   *

“You don’t lock the door?” Cassandra asked.

“There isn’t much point,” Hermes explained, relaxing. “Anything strong enough to hurt us could just take the door off its hinges.”

“I guess.” She stood framed in the open doorway. Silvery sleet fell onto the sidewalk, turning more and more to ice as the sun sank lower. Behind her, Henry’s black Mustang idled in the parking lot with Andie and Henry inside.

Cassandra swallowed. When she spoke her voice came out a dry crackle, and the handprints on her neck stood out like a neon sign.

I hope they do.
She stared at Athena.
I hope the handprints look like yours. That if you turn your palms over they’ll be stained the same black as my bruises.

“Come in,” Odysseus said. “Close the door. You’re not the only one who feels the cold, you know.”

Cassandra stepped through and shook moisture from her hands and jacket. Odysseus helped her brush off. In the chaos of the deadfall, she hadn’t really looked at him.

“You’re human,” she said, and another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “You’re the boy I saw in my dream. Being attacked by the Cyclops.” The dream came back for an instant, the smell of cold and caves and blood, the wry curl of his lip, and the Cyclops falling on him. Looking closer, she saw fading red punctures down the back of his neck.

“Here.” He twisted to give her a better view, and she felt her cheeks flush. He was good-looking in the daylight. In a rough-around-the-edges, shaggy-haired sort of way. “It goes most of the way down in the back.”

“I thought you were dead.”

He chuckled. “That makes two of us.”

“What are you doing here?” Athena stepped forward, and Cassandra regarded her coldly. She seemed less crazy than Aphrodite and less powerful than Hera. Her left eye was red and watery and someone had sewn the flap of her scalp back in place. She could just barely see the stitching of black thread behind her hairline.

Aidan stood apart, saying nothing. He didn’t greet her or try to protect her. Beside the others, the similarities in their faces were more apparent.

He looks so inhuman. I can’t believe I didn’t notice before.

She thought of Aphrodite’s shrieks, of Poseidon tearing the girl apart. She thought of Hera, snapping her neck. Three gods. Three monsters.

Athena can’t stand against that. And Hermes looks about ready to fall over, he’s so skinny.

This is the losing team.

“I had a vision,” she said. Aidan’s arm twitched, to comfort her maybe, or just to touch her shoulder, but in the end he stayed still.

“What did you see?” Athena asked. Eagerness lit her eyes. It was like watching all the hackles rise on a hunting dog. The possibility of an advantage had crept into the room. They looked so hopeful, Cassandra almost wanted to lie and give better news.

“I saw a red-haired girl. Hera and Poseidon were torturing her. And before they killed her, she told them exactly where to find us.”

17

HEROES

The announcement was met with silence. Cassandra watched it sink in, watched each of them process it individually. Their eyes lost focus and then snapped back. Aidan shifted his weight. Odysseus’ eyes narrowed and stared through Cassandra’s head. Hermes’ mouth dropped slightly open, and his brows knit.

“We have to get out of here,” said Aidan. “We have to get out of here now.”

“And go where?” Athena asked. Her expression hadn’t wavered for more than a second. “Was there anything else? Could you see where they were?”

“A cave, maybe. Someplace near water. Nothing definite. Who was that girl? Why did they kill her? How did she know where we were?”

“Her name was Celine,” Hermes whispered. “She led the coven in Chicago. She knew where you were because we asked her to find you. And they killed her for it.”

Cassandra blinked slowly. “The building in Chicago. You didn’t blow it up.”

The stricken look on Hermes’ face confirmed it, but Athena shoved past him and snapped, “Of course we didn’t blow it up.” She paced near the foot of one of the beds. “Hera blew it up as punishment. And to stop us from getting to you. So if you can remember anything else from your vision, pipe up. I’d like to know where she’s at.”

Aidan stepped toward his sister. “It doesn’t matter where she is if we know where she’s going. We should be gone before she gets here.”

“Hang on,” said Odysseus. “How much time do we have? I mean, how does it work exactly? Are these visions, or premonitions? Has it happened already, or is it just going to happen?”

Cassandra shook her head. “I’m not sure. The building blew in Chicago about two days after I saw it. When did you get attacked by the Cyclops?”

“I don’t know.” Odysseus ran his hand across his face. “Days on the road tend to blend together. Not to mention the days I spent tangled up with the girls at The Three Sisters.” He glanced at Athena and cleared his throat. “That’s not much help.”

Hermes grasped her arm. “Were there other witches there?”

“No. That’s how they got her to talk. They said they’d spare the others.”

His face crumpled. “Spare the others? Hera doesn’t spare the others.” He looked at Athena miserably. “I didn’t run fast enough. I didn’t hide them well enough. Celine. Mareden. Estelle. Bethe and Jenna and Harper.” He said their names like a lament. “That coven spanned thousands of years and that bitch wiped them off the planet.”

Odysseus put a hand on Hermes’ shoulder. “You did what you could. And so did you, Athena.”