Athena exhaled bitterly. Since then she’d learned a lot more about limits. Limits of strength and limits of life.
“How fast do you heal?”
Athena blinked. She’d been caught up in her own mind and hadn’t noticed Odysseus drawing closer. He held her injured hand up to his face, surveying the tears in the skin and the drying patterns of blood crisscrossed over her fingers and wrist.
“Faster than you’d think for someone who’s dying,” she replied, and he smiled.
“You should put something on it anyway,” he said. “I’ve got some ointment and bandages in my pack, from back at The Three Sisters.”
Athena sighed. All the anger that had fueled her flight through Chicago had leaked out. What still lingered was weak and exhausted, just fumes. Odysseus brushed his fingers across the back of her hand, lightly and carefully. The touch was soothing and sweet. She could’ve closed her eyes and fallen asleep standing.
Instead she pulled away and clenched her fist, breaking the newly forming scabs on her knuckles.
“Don’t baby me,” she said. Odysseus raised his eyebrows.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He smiled his familiar smile and walked back through the trees. Athena counted to ten before following.
* * *
Hermes was back before nightfall. He came without Celine and would only say that he had found the others and that they were safe. Athena didn’t ask where they had gone. The fewer people who knew, the safer the witches would be.
“Are you going to rest for the night?” Hermes asked, and Athena looked over her shoulder at Odysseus, who sat with his back against a broad tree trunk. His eyes were closed, but he was listening, she was sure.
“We’ve rested enough.” She glanced into the darkening sky. Hera was out there somewhere. She knew it, but she couldn’t feel it like she had been able to sense Demeter’s presence. The bitch had cloaked herself somehow. Either that, or I’m just growing weaker.
“Are you sure?” Hermes asked. His eyes stole down to her hand. Odysseus’ bandaging stood out on her knuckles, bright white. “Did you do that yourself?”
“No. Odysseus had some salve from the witches.”
“Oh,” Hermes said.
Athena cocked her head. “Is something wrong?”
“No.”
“Then get going. Why are you dawdling?”
Hermes did his best to appear intimidated and couldn’t quite manage it. “You’re not the warm and fuzzy sister I left here a few hours ago.”
“You’re not the confused and cowardly brother who ran off a few hours ago. Are you.”
“No.” He smiled with closed lips. He liked her better this way, no matter what he said. She could see it. This way was normal. It made him feel safe.
Hermes rolled his shoulders back. “Well, stay off the main roads when you go. They’re calling this a terrorist attack, which is at least accurate. But Fox News is saying it leveled half a block, and that’s a total exaggeration.”
Athena looked around at the trees. When they’d fled Chicago, they’d done so in a state of panic. They hadn’t even gone the right way, which would have been east, though it was probably a lucky mistake in case Hera had been watching in an attempt to follow. She and Hermes hadn’t stopped running for miles, darting like rabbits into the first patch of forest they found. They’d changed directions then and run through trees for another four miles. She wasn’t certain where they’d ended up. She thought it was part of Palos Park.
“Look, there are forest preserves all over down here, looping to the east. We’ll stick to them as best we can. Drop the witches and then meet us at Wolf Lake. We’ll start hitching from there.”
“I don’t know where Wolf Lake is,” Hermes protested. “Some of us haven’t committed every stretch of the globe to memory.”
“So get a map.”
“No money. It was inconveniently blown up back at The Three Sisters, remember?”
Athena looked at him carefully. He was being thick on purpose. Since when had the god of thieves needed money for anything? He was already wearing a fresh set of clothes, some new jeans and a Hollister t-shirt that had obviously been lifted from somewhere.
“Besides, it would be a good idea if I went ahead to Kincade and checked things out. We don’t need any more surprises.”
“Am I slowing you down, Hermes?”
He didn’t answer, just smiled an odd little smile. He looked good, all things considered. With his muster up and his eyes bright, he hardly looked sick. It was the weariness that really made his bones show. Plain old fatigue, pulling his skin down toward the ground.