Mortal Gods

The elder drew closer, a tall woman hunched over and become small. An illusion of curved back and stiff knees to hide strength like steel wire. Athena took comfort in that, at least. With this woman at their head, the people would recover. The elder’s hand shot out like a whip and grasped Cassandra’s arm, too fast even for Hermes, and Cassandra flinched, frightened. The elder let go and muttered something into Hermes’ ear. Then she patted his arm, almost tenderly, and touched his face.

“God,” she said, and walked away.

“What was that?” Cassandra asked. “What did she say to you? Was it about me?”

“I don’t think I understood. She said that you were without dreams. Or that she dreamed of you without dreams. It didn’t make sense.”

Athena looked after the elder and frowned. Two thousand years ago, she could’ve protected these people. “Let’s just go home.”

*   *   *

At the airport, they changed clothes and cleaned up as best they could to hide the blood. Odysseus tied a scarf around his neck to cover Ares’ handprint of bruises. It looked ridiculous. But the effort was wasted anyway. Aside from a few uncomfortable glances, no one paid them any attention. Their boat guide back upriver had asked if Athena needed help getting to her seat with an air of careful politeness: your business is your business.

“I like these people,” Athena said to Cassandra as they took advantage of hot water and soap in one of the airport bathrooms.

Cassandra arched her brow.

“You’re in a good mood,” she said.

“I am,” Athena replied, even as the smile died on her face. “The village. It shouldn’t have happened. That was my fault.”

“Normally I’d agree with you. Everything’s your fault. But he got around you. Even the goddess of battle has to have a hard time against the god of war.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Athena said. “And she won’t. At least you’re safe. And Odysseus. And Hermes.”

“It’s my fault as much as yours,” said Cassandra. “I should have stopped him.”

“He’d have crushed you with one hit. You were smart to stay back.”

“No,” Cassandra said. “There were lots of times. Lots of chances when he wouldn’t have seen me coming. I could have saved them. Some of them at least. But I was scared.” She paused. “I suppose you think that’s stupid. That I should have killed him.”

“You almost did,” Athena said. “Burst his back like a blood balloon.”

Cassandra scrubbed her hands under the hot water. She scrubbed hard, like she was soiled.

“What about Hera?” she asked. “Do you really think she’s alive?”

“I do,” Athena replied. “But it doesn’t matter. Hera lost once, and she’ll lose again.”

“How did she lose if she’s not dead?”

“She lost because I beat her to you.” Athena shook water off her hands and stared at their reflections in the mirror. “Next time, though, we stay until it’s finished. Until she’s dead. There’s no healing from dead.” Next time they would check with a stethoscope and heart monitors. They’d get an official certificate from a munchkin MD with a funny mustache. Cassandra didn’t reply, and Athena grabbed a few paper towels and handed them to her. “You got some sun. Are we going to have to tell your parents that part of our girls’ week included a tanning bed?”

“I don’t know if they’d buy that,” Cassandra said. “I don’t even know how they buy that we’re friends. I’m just glad to be going home. That we’re all going home.” She dried her hands and looked at Athena in the mirror. “And I’m a little glad you got stabbed.”

Athena snorted.

“One good thing about Ares showing up,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“He and Aphrodite are always thick as thieves. He’s sure to lead us to her.” She gave Cassandra a small smile, and left before she saw the girl’s eyes turn black with hate.

*   *   *

They boarded the plane after a short wait. Athena buckled her seatbelt and took quick stock of the magazines and movies available in-flight. The trip would be long.

“You must’ve been really worried about him,” said Odysseus, from the seat beside her.

“What?” Athena asked.

“Hermes. You must’ve been really worried about him.”