Mortal Gods

“I had to do it,” she said.

He glanced down at her hands. She hadn’t realized they were clenched into fists.

“And maybe it felt a little good, too,” he said softly. “For all that anger to finally have somewhere to go.”

Cassandra stared past him, at the wall. She didn’t dare move, or make a face. Not in front of Odysseus, who always saw the truth behind her eyes.

“You been to see Aidan lately?” he asked.

“He’s not really there.”

“Where do you think he is, then?” Odysseus asked.

The question made her blink, too fast, wondering if Cally had told him about their conversation in Abbott Park.

“Gone,” she said in a flat voice. “Timbuktu. The other side of the rainbow. Maybe he’s not dead at all and living in Cleveland under an assumed name.”

“Why Cleveland?”

“Because Cleveland rocks.”

“Is that a joke? If it is I don’t get it.”

“Look,” she said, “he’s gone. I know he’s gone.” She stood her ground, and looked straight into Odysseus’ eyes. After a moment, he stepped aside and let her into the classroom.

*   *   *

Hermes breathed hard, bent over with his hands on his knees. Sweat sparkled on his brow and dripped onto the thawing ground. He’d sparred with Achilles for an hour, about fifty-eight minutes too long for his liking. The boy was too fast and brutally strong. His reflexes and his balance were impossibly good, and not just for a mortal. The kid still stood, arms flexed. Small patches of sweat showed through his borrowed hooded sweatshirt, but that was it. He could go another ten rounds. Another twenty.

Of course, Hermes hadn’t hit him. He hadn’t even tried.

“I forget,” Hermes said as he plunked down on the patio furniture opposite Athena, “is breaking this kid’s arms or killing him on the menu? Because short of that, I’m not going to be able to put him down.”

“I’m not sure,” Athena said. “I guess you can if you want to. It’s not like it would stick.”

“Oi,” Achilles shouted. “What are you two clucking about?”

“Breaking your arms and dismembering you,” Hermes shouted back. “Got a problem with that?”

Achilles shrugged. “Won’t be pleasant.”

Hermes groaned and mimed choking him. “Care to tag in, big sister?”

“My foot and shoulder are only at eighty percent,” she said. The foot and shoulder were an easy excuse. Really, she wasn’t ready to tangle with Achilles again. “What are you bellyaching about anyway, Hermes? He hasn’t even managed to hit you yet.”

“Yeah, but if he does you’ll be picking pieces of my pretty cheekbones out of the fence.”

“It’s only the first day.” She supposed it wasn’t fair, him out there dodging and walloping while she sat comfortably on patio furniture. She nodded at Calypso. “Help my poor brother out, would you?”

“Of course.” Calypso stood and brushed dirt from her lap. On her last turn, Achilles had tossed her into the bare flower beds where she had landed on her belly. “But I don’t know why you think two of us are going to fare any better.”

“No,” Hermes said. “No, no, no, no, NO! I need a break, and food.” He stripped his sweatshirt off over his head and let his t-shirt ride up just far enough to give Athena a glimpse of his prominent ribs. She didn’t say a word when he went inside to order.

The sun was high and bright in the sky that day; Aidan was helping them along by warming the joint into the low seventies. The strawberry spring threatened to become not so strawberry at all. Every last bit of snow had melted, even in the shadows at the corners of the privacy fence, and the thawed dirt made a nice soft place for Achilles to throw Calypso around. She made a grab for him and yipped like a surprised pooch when he tossed her through the air. Athena didn’t stop smiling until Calypso landed and skidded into the side of the house.

“Nice one, Calypso,” Athena said. She got up and hobbled exaggeratedly to the sliding door. “Keep at it.”

“No doubt why Hera wanted him now, is there?” she said to Hermes after she closed the glass. “So strong, and he can’t be killed—”

“He can probably be killed.”

“No easier than we could be. And maybe he can’t. Maybe if you tore off his head he’d sprout a new one. Or his body would resurrect itself and join the stumps back together.”