Mortal Gods

“Am I laughing?”

“Why are you training her, then, if she can’t fight what we’re fighting?” Cassandra asked.

“Because she’s afraid. And because she will have to fight, and Henry, too, before this is over.”

“Your war,” Cassandra said. “But what about my war? When are we going to find Aphrodite?” Heat flooded her hands, right down to the fingertips.

“No one seems to know where she is, Cassandra. And I heard about your maps. How well that worked out.”

“I could try again.”

“Great,” said Athena. “I’ll keep the fire extinguisher handy.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Cassandra. Aphrodite will die. In time. Let me fight the war and help me win, and she’ll die right and proper.”

Cassandra clenched her fists.

“Then let’s get going. You want help to find Achilles? You got it.”

Athena glanced at her, surprised.

“Do you think it’ll work?” she asked. “I didn’t think you’d want to help. You know I’m going to find and destroy him.”

“He murdered my brother,” Cassandra said.

“In another life.”

True enough. In this life, Achilles was probably no different than Henry. Just as innocent. In this life, they could be friends.

Athena pursed her lips.

“No,” she said. “Not yet. I told Odysseus I would wait.”

Cassandra groaned through her teeth.

“If you were half the god you’re supposed to be,” she said, “Aidan would still be alive.”

Athena didn’t react. Whenever Cassandra lashed out, she took it, like Cassandra’s pain was her burden. Athena reached for the heater controls and tried to push them farther into the red, as if that would make a difference.

“Are your feet getting warmer?” she asked.

“Shut up. You don’t give a shit about my feet.” Cassandra tucked them up closer, away from the blowing vents. “You just want to use me to kill the other gods, like Hera did. So you can live. You’ll probably find Achilles and decide to use him, too. You didn’t listen when Aidan asked you to leave us alone and fight your own battles.”

“They were coming for you.”

“They followed you here!” Cassandra shouted.

“Of course it must seem that way. But they would have found you eventually. And Ap—” Athena sighed. “And Aidan wouldn’t have been able to protect you on his own.”

“Don’t talk about him.” Fire rushed into Cassandra’s chest, intense as an itch, but clouded and red, not clear like it had been with Hera that day on the road. “Don’t tell me what he could and couldn’t do. He could’ve done anything. He might’ve done a thousand things if you’d never come here.”

“All right. I’m sorry.”

“I want you to go.”

Athena nodded. “I will. And I won’t come here with you Tuesday if you don’t want me to.”

“No. Not just the cemetery. I want you gone. Out of Kincade,” Cassandra said. “Hundreds of people died in the explosions in Chicago and Philadelphia, from bombs that Hera planted. Hundreds of people! Can’t you go and pretend to protect other cities?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Cassandra asked. “I haven’t had a vision of a dying god in months. I haven’t had a vision of anything since we killed Hera. Since I killed Hera. And I’ll kill Aphrodite, too, all on my own.” Cassandra’s heart thumped, and the heat in her hands flickered. She heard Odysseus in her head. Big talk. Big, tough talk, but talking isn’t the real thing.

“I promised my brother I would take care of you,” Athena said quietly. “It’s the only promise I made to him that I intend to keep.”

“Shut up. He wasn’t really your brother.”

“He was my brother long before he was your love,” Athena said, showing anger for the first time. But she couldn’t sell it. She shook her head guiltily.

“I shouldn’t have said that. You were the most important thing to him. But he died for you, and I’m not about to—”

“Shut up, I said,” Cassandra screeched. “You want me to do this, and you want me to do that, but you don’t care what I want. You don’t give me Aphrodite and you don’t give me a way to find Aidan and bring him back!”

For a second, they both sat silent, struck dumb by the request.