Mortal Gods

“Plane sleep isn’t good sleep,” he said, and got in beside her. After fluffing the pillows, he leaned back and yawned. So much for not being tired. “What’s on the docket for tomorrow?” he asked.

“I want to see what Achilles can do. He broke my bone easy as looking at it. That impresses me. And he was so fast.…”

Odysseus narrowed his eyes. “Right. He’s a real wunderkind. Oughtn’t you better pay attention to the norms instead? You know, the ones who might actually get their heads cracked?”

“You and Andie and Henry will be ready,” she said.

“I wasn’t talking about me. I’m no weapon of fate, but I know how to handle myself.”

“Fine. Andie and Henry, then. I think they’ll be all right. Between me, Achilles, Hermes, and Calypso, we should be able to keep them covered. Maybe I’ll put them on Ares’ mutts and let them get a little payback.”

“You’re not the slightest bit worried?”

“What good does it do?” she asked. “Mostly I’m looking forward to setting Cassandra on Hera. Helping her drown Aphrodite for good measure. I wish Hermes had brought me something to drink with that pizza.”

“Want me to go get something?”

“No. It’s all right. It’s not like I need it. Godly constitution and all.” She laced her fingers behind her head. Underneath them, the house felt full to bursting with power. Gods and heroes, stuffed inside. And she lay atop it, ready to wield them.

“Did you know there’s a desert mouse that produces its own water internally?” she asked. “Never has to drink a drop.”

“Fascinating,” Odysseus said. “Do they call it the God Mouse?”

“I don’t think so. But they should.” They sat quietly for a few moments. “I thought you were going to stay with Calypso.”

“Why?” he asked. “Because you told me to? You can’t tell me who to be with, Athena. Come to think of it, you can’t tell me how to feel, either. But it was right godly of you to try.”

“You’re so difficult. Ever since you thought of that stupid Trojan Horse and became convinced of your own cleverness.”

“Yeah, well. I am clever.”

“Pride goeth before the fall, hero,” she said. His eyes closed, and she let hers close, too.

“Where will you go, after the war is over?” she asked. “Back to London? I’d give you money, if you wanted to open a pub or buy Manchester United or something.”

“Try Arsenal,” he muttered. “I don’t know. Thought I’d see what you were up to. We could wander the world again. Odysseus and gray-eyed Athene. Like old times.”

Old times. Good times.

“I’d like that,” she said.

“And sooner or later,” he whispered, “I’ll wear you down.”

She let him drift off to sleep, and she lay there for a long time before going out onto the widow’s walk. The night air was good and cold on her cheeks as she looked at him through the windows of her French doors.

“You’ll never wear me down, Odysseus,” she said. But as long as they were together, he would try. He would have no other love, and no other life. It was a nice dream to have, wandering the world with her favorite hero. But it couldn’t be.

After the war was over, she would have to disappear.

16

THE DAYS OF HEROES

Athena twisted in front of the bathroom mirror and prodded the dark, reddening spot under her ribs. The feather buried inside hurt like an open wound. She pressed, and the quill rolled beneath her finger, down deep. It itched.

“You’ll take your time, too, won’t you, fucker.”

She could cut it out and sew the hole closed. It would heal faster that way than letting it emerge on its own. But there was another, fluttering against the back of her tongue, and there’d be another after that. If she started plucking and cutting, she might never stop.

She wiped fog from the mirror and toweled her hair. Somewhere in the backyard, Achilles had already started training with Hermes and Calypso. Andie, Henry, and Odysseus would join them after school. Athena slipped her shirt over her head and gave the dark spot one last look. Would it turn into a disgusting, weeping sore? Probably. She only hoped it wouldn’t hinder her in the fight to come.

When she went downstairs, Calypso was in the kitchen drinking a glass of lemonade. A long, black bruise marred her right cheek. Achilles’ work. She smiled at Athena through a cracked lip, and the blemishes didn’t make her any less beautiful. How irritating.