Mortal Gods

“What are you talking about?”

“You let him book us first class.”

She looked at her brother, sitting a row ahead across the aisle, with Cassandra next to him in the window seat. He’d already charmed the entire cabin crew, and they hadn’t even pulled back from the gate. As soon as they reached cruising altitude, he’d be head-to-toe hot towels and champagne. He looked so happy. Her throat tightened, but she swallowed it down angrily. It shouldn’t mean so much just to see him smile on an airplane.

“Maybe I thought we all deserved some pampering,” she said.

Odysseus laughed. “Bollocks. And stop doing”—he pointed at her face—“what you’re doing there.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“You saved our lives. Got us out of the bleeding rain forest and home in first class. So until we land, don’t think about the rest of it. It’ll still be there when we’re back on the ground.”

Athena frowned.

“It feels wrong to forget about it. Even for five minutes.” And it felt dangerous, too, to allow her mind to wander away from the objective. At least when she was waging a war, she had something to do. She looked down at their hands, at their arms almost touching. At least when she fought, she knew what she was doing.

“Besides,” she said. “We still have so much to do. Achilles, for a start—”

“Don’t,” he said. “We’re not having that conversation at thirty thousand feet. Especially when I can think of other things to do at thirty thousand feet. Have you heard of this club? Something about mile high—”

“Shut up, hero,” she said, but she couldn’t keep from smiling. When Cassandra had told her she’d seen his face covered in blood, it didn’t matter that she thought he’d survive. Part of Athena’s heart had stopped beating. “Sometimes I think the cleverest thing about you is your ability to manage me.”

“The cleverest?” he said. “No. Not the cleverest. Not by a mile. And speaking of miles, back to this club—”

“Shut up and help me order the entire in-flight menu for Hermes.”

“Come on.” He leaned in and brushed his fingertips across her arm. “When are you going to let me kiss you again? In the back of that truck I was half-asleep. I’m so much better when I’m awake. I promise.”

Athena’s cheeks flushed hot. She thought of Odysseus’ kisses in the sleeper of that truck more often than she cared to admit. The way his lips had made her tingle. It was hard to imagine it could be any better.

“Not on a plane, in front of a flight crew, with my brother four feet away and the ligaments in my knee held together with one of your socks,” she said, and tugged away.

Odysseus chuckled and put up the armrest. So gently, he pulled her injured leg onto his lap.

“As you wish,” he said. His fingers walked up her calf and over her knee. “But I don’t know how you stand it.”

“So sure of yourself,” she said, and her voice came out breathless. She grabbed his hand and held it tight, safe and sound, inside her fist.

11

THE WOUNDED AND THE DYING

Ares’ blood-soaked return sent Aphrodite into hysterics. Her wailing rang off the walls, from the caverns of Olympus to the peak.

“Calm, calm,” Hera said. She hugged Aphrodite, pinning her arms to her body to stop her flailing. Aphrodite moaned and went limp. Her slender form was no match for granite. “Go now, pet.” Hera kissed her. “Lie down and rest. Let Mother tend to her boy.”

“It’s not bad,” Ares whispered, and watched Aphrodite go. The way she’d screamed, one would have thought he was spraying arteries instead of slowly leaking.

“Not that bad?” Hera asked when Aphrodite was out of earshot. “You’re wet from the neck down. It’s soaking into our silk rug.”

“Not all of it is mine. Some of it is Artemis’. We fought in her remains. And some of it’s Athena’s.”

A shadow crossed Hera’s face when Ares spoke of Artemis’ remains. Another god gone. It didn’t matter that she would have joined Athena’s side. Artemis had been one of them. Hera cleared her throat and bowed her head.

“A fitting tribute,” she said softly. “The huntress would approve.”

“I hope so.”

“Show me your back,” Hera said, and gestured with her good arm. Ares pulled at his buttons sheepishly.

“It was the girl,” he said.