Mortal Gods

“Someone else could find him.”

“They won’t.”

“Tell me where he is.”

His expression grew wary. She ought to lie. It would be easier if she lied. But she couldn’t. Not to Odysseus.

“I don’t want to use him,” she said. “I want to kill him.”

He didn’t look away, or say she wasn’t serious. It didn’t even seem to surprise him that much.

“I’ll never tell you,” he said.

“He was the weapon Hera sought. Now that she’s dead, others will seek him. Maybe even Aphrodite. He might lead us straight to Cassandra’s vengeance.”

For several beats of her heart, Odysseus stayed silent. “What are you up to?”

“The only thing I’m ever up to,” Athena replied. “War.”

*   *   *

“Hey.”

Cassandra blinked at the suds on the end of her nose. Her mother had just flicked soap into her face. Almost into her eyes. Her own mother.

“The water’s getting cold, space cadet.”

“No one uses the word ‘cadet’ anymore.” She wiped the bubbles off on her shoulder. “They’re astronauts. Get with the space program.”

“Well. Aren’t we clever today.” Her mom smiled. Cassandra knew that smile. It always showed up right before someone asked whether she was okay. But she seemed okay. Up to her elbows in lemon-scented dish soap or dutifully taking notes in class. Slogging her way through the million details that made up every single stupid day.

“How are you today, sweetheart?”

No one’s eyes never stayed on her face when they asked. Except for maybe Odysseus’. Athena’s would, too, if she ever bothered to inquire.

“My fingers are pruny.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Cassandra rinsed a plate and set it in the rack to dry. She thought she’d already scrubbed everything in the sink, and if she hadn’t, so what? They were family germs.

“Hours go by without me thinking about anything,” she said brightly. “Tasks pop up and keep my mind on other stuff.” She frowned. “Life goes on.”

“I wish you’d—talk to us more.”

“You didn’t raise me to talk. You raised me to figure things out for myself, which is what I’m doing.” A snap crept into her voice, and she bit down. “Besides, Dad isn’t the best at heavy-lifting emotional stuff, you know? He’s been in the garage restoring the same armoire practically since Aidan died.”

“He just doesn’t know what to say, Cassie.”

“Or maybe he doesn’t know how to restore furniture.”

Her mom laughed. “Who knows what he’s doing out there? Stripping paint? Huffing fumes? I don’t even want the damned thing.”

“You will when I’m finished.” The smell of paint thinner preceded her father into the kitchen. Cassandra didn’t need to turn around to know he had goggles around his neck and was dressed like a walking drop cloth. “Or maybe we could put it in Cassie’s room.”

“I don’t want it, either. Besides, you and Henry would break your backs getting it up the stairs.”

Her father flexed, considering. He usually took her advice on these things. Even when it didn’t come from a vision.

“Maybe if you got Ody to help,” her mother said, and nudged her. “I’m sure you could convince him to come over.”

“Sure.” Cassandra smiled. “Why have two bodies at the foot of the stairs when you can have three?” The nudge was the most pointed attempt yet at pushing her and Odysseus together. At first, it had made her mad that they expected her to move on so soon. But her parents were ancient. Dinosaurs. Everything they’d learned about relationships they’d forgotten before she was born.

She sighed. That wasn’t fair. Her parents just didn’t know how much deeper and further she and Aidan went. Thousands of years further.

And they never would. This mother wasn’t that mother. This father wasn’t that father. Cassandra didn’t know why that was. She only hoped that her other parents were at peace. And that these parents would never be touched by any god’s madness.

“Maureen,” her dad said, “I’ve got to run to the hardware store. You coming along?”

Her mom wrinkled her nose. “Only if you change out of that stuff and crack a window. And only if we can stop by the post office and the bakery. And the drugstore,” she shouted after him. He was already headed up the stairs, muttering about wanting to be home before midnight.