Mortal Gods

“I’m all right.”

“You might not be, next time. None of us might.” He glanced at the shifting walls. Somewhere not far away, Pain growled again. Odysseus pulled Calypso closer. The damned wolf hadn’t given up. It wouldn’t give up, not until it got what it wanted, or until it was dead. And it could come from anywhere. From up under the ground, for all they knew.

More snarls sounded from the walls. And then a breathy howl behind Hermes.

“I’d lay odds that was Famine,” Hermes said. “And the other growl was Panic. That makes three.”

“What about Oblivion?” Henry asked.

“It won’t make any noise. But it’s here.”

“What do we do?” Andie asked.

Hermes clenched his fists. “I know how to kill a couple of elongated dogs!” Of the four wolves, only Oblivion was likely to give him much trouble.

“We know that,” Achilles said. “So could I. But these close quarters are a problem. Not even you could move fast enough to stop all of them before they bit through Henry’s neck. We could hurt someone ourselves, just shoving them out of the way.”

They waited and listened to the beasts.

“What are they doing?” Henry asked.

“They’re holding us,” said Achilles. “They’re only playing.”

“No,” Odysseus said. “They’re keeping us from Athena and Cassandra.” He pushed through the line to the front before Hermes could stop him.

Famine materialized out of the wall and dove for Odysseus, long white snout parted to tear his throat out. On two legs it stood taller than any man. Hermes tensed to spring, to intervene, but he’d be too late. The wolf would have Odysseus’ jugular stripped before Hermes closed half the distance, before anyone even had time to shut their eyes.

Odysseus twisted out of the way. He brought his knee up into the diving wolf, and the strength in his leg sent it rolling. He leaped after it, and his knife blade flashed as it slid under Famine’s thin jaw into its brain. Odysseus lifted the corpse. One jerk of his shoulder flung it neatly to thud against the marble wall.

He looked back at their shocked faces. “One down. Three to go.”

29

FATALISTE

“How did you do that?” Henry asked.

Odysseus led the way down the hall, walking fast up stairs and around corners, headed always toward the growls and snarls of Ares’ wolves. But none attacked. They must’ve gotten the message.

“You’ve never shown that kind of skill before,” Hermes said, “that kind of movement.” He wondered if Calypso knew, but she seemed as astounded as he was. Achilles, too, watched Odysseus warily, with a dark look on his face.

“That was only practice,” Odysseus said. “Why strain yourself training?”

“You didn’t show it in the field, either,” said Hermes. “When we faced down Ares in the rain forest, you were as much use as a dishrag.”

“Hey. I never said I could stand against the god of war.”

Achilles narrowed his eyes. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything,” he said in a low voice. “All this time.”

“What? So she could run me to the ground in training like she does you?” He nodded over his shoulder at Henry and Andie. “Listen. I did it for you, right? If she knew what I could do, she’d figure it out. And you don’t want her to figure it out, Henry.”

“Figure what out?” Henry and Hermes asked together, and Odysseus smiled.

“Later. After we find your sisters. And after we all make it out of here alive.”

*   *   *

Cassandra’s legs thrummed with an impatient pulse. The halls of Olympus went nowhere. They walked down twisting halls, through doorways and rooms painted gold, filled with sculpture and ornately carved tables.

“How did you ever live here?” she asked Athena.

“What? You don’t like it?”

“I hate it. I feel like a mole trapped underground after some asshole tamped the opening to my burrow shut.”

“Yeah, but look at all this museum-quality shit,” Athena said, her voice dull. She walked partially crouched, ready for anything and only paying slight attention to Cassandra’s words. “Besides, we’re not underground. We’re in a mountain.” Athena threw open a door and stepped out.

They were outside. Under blue sky and yellow sun, with grass thicker and softer than Cassandra had ever felt beneath her shoes. All around them hills rolled and peaks soared, none higher than the one they had climbed.