Mortal Gods

“No,” she whispered. “That’s not possible.”

“What?” Cassandra asked from behind her.

“Nothing.” Rain slipped into Athena’s eyes and she wiped at them. Salt from her forearm stung her. Her whole body was dirty, sweaty, and coated with plant slime from tearing through leaves and vines. The dry season of a rain forest was still wet. They’d been under a light drizzle since morning, and Cassandra shivered despite the warm temperature. They needed to find a sheltered place and make a fire.

“What are you doing?” Cassandra asked. “Why are you stopping?”

They’d been moving at a steady jog, occasionally at a sprint when Athena thought she heard or felt something, or when Hermes’ light shone brighter in her chest. She’d kept Cassandra plastered to her side or on her back piggyback style, but now she set her down.

“We’ve been moving too long,” she said. “You need to sleep. And get dry.”

“I didn’t come to slow you down. I’m fine. Let’s keep going.”

Athena paid no attention. “There.” She pointed toward three close-growing trees. “I can pull those leaves together like a canopy. It won’t be much, but it’s the best we’ve got.”

“We can’t afford this,” Cassandra muttered, but Athena was already at the trees, drawing the leaves down and lashing their stems with strips of torn-away vine. When she was finished, it amounted to an impressive leaf lean-to, but the ground was soggy beneath her shoes. Everything in sight was slick with rain. Building a fire was a pipe dream. A change into dry clothes and a canned meal would have to do.

“We should keep going,” Cassandra said, standing stubbornly in the rain. “I’m not tired, and I’m not hungry.”

Athena walked back out into the wet. Cassandra was more than tired. She was exhausted. Dark circles loomed beneath her eyes, and the draw of her breath was heavy. If she sat for a minute and got something into her stomach, she’d pass out and sleep for weeks. Athena snatched her rucksack and returned to the makeshift shelter, where she pulled out a can of ham and a small loaf of bread they’d bought at a market on the way to Kuala Tembeling. She cut slices of each with her pocketknife and fashioned two crude sandwiches.

“Listen, I might need you. What good will you be to Hermes and Odysseus if you’re dead on your feet? Come under here and rest. Eat.”

Cassandra wiped water and sweat from her forehead and looked around at the trees like she might go on by herself. But then she ducked under the lean-to and took a sandwich.

“Stop scowling at me so hard,” said Athena. “You’ll forget to chew and choke to death. Here. Spread this out to sit on.” She handed over a bundle of shirts.

“But that’s most of your clothes.”

“I don’t need them. I can stay wet. But you should change.”

“Fine.” Cassandra held out her sandwich. “Hold this. And turn around.”

Athena turned and ate her own ham while the girl dug in her bag.

“Okay.”

Athena handed the sandwich back. In a fresh pair of khaki shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt, Cassandra looked better already. She’d almost stopped shivering.

“Do you think we’ll find them?” Cassandra asked.

“Yes.” Athena stuffed down the last of her sandwich. Cassandra’s was already gone, and she had three fingers in the can of ham, breaking off chunks and stuffing them in her mouth. So much for not being hungry.

“You seem pretty sure,” Cassandra said. “You don’t seem that scared.”

“It doesn’t do anyone any good to panic.”

Cassandra’s mouth twisted. “Just so you know, your brother dying is more than enough reason to panic. One might say it’s almost mandatory.”

“Then one would be an idiot,” Athena snapped. “The line between fear and fucking up is very thin, and I can’t afford to cross it. There’s too much at stake.” Too many things depended on her having everything in hand. The thought that Hermes and Odysseus were already hurt sat on her chest like a cold stone, but it couldn’t be her only thought.

“We shouldn’t lose too much time,” Cassandra said.

Athena nodded. “I won’t let you sleep long. I don’t want to lose them, either. But I can’t lose you.”

“Right. I’m the ace in the hole.”

Athena’s eyes narrowed. “That’s right, sweetheart.” And then, softer, “Besides. Somewhere in the after, the god of the sun would never forgive me.”