Mortal Gods

“What the hell is this, Ares?” she asked. “Killing college students?”

He shrugged. “College students. Tribesmen. All your fault. You shouldn’t have taken my wolf. You shouldn’t have goaded me.” He fixed his eyes on Achilles. “Give me Panic.”

“Not so fast,” Athena said. She yanked the wolf out of Achilles’ arms and squeezed its scruff hard enough to make it whine. “Questions first. Where’s Hera hiding?”

“Let Panic go, and I’ll tell you.”

Athena huffed. “Sure, I trust you.”

Ares said nothing. He stood casually, seemingly unafraid and slightly somber. Anyone else would think him a beautiful boy, there to mourn his fallen frat brothers. Under the circumstances, the way he looked seemed particularly wicked.

“You can trust me,” he said. “I was sent to tell you, anyway.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of obeying mummy dearest?” Achilles asked. “Aren’t you a little old to be tied to a set of apron strings?”

“I look forward to tearing your head off,” Ares said.

“I look forward to stickin’ it back on.”

Athena gave Achilles an irritated glance.

“Let him say what he came to say,” she said, and tightened her grip on Panic again. “Don’t piss him off so soon.”

Ares tensed as Panic whimpered.

“I’m not pissed off,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here. Sister.”

“Why’s that exactly?” Cassandra asked.

“Athena,” Ares said, ignoring her, “if I offered you a deal, would you take it?”

“A deal?” Athena asked. “Hera must really be afraid.”

“Not from her. From me.”

“From you?”

“If I agreed to stand down,” he said, “if I told you all of the plans and secrets, would you let us walk away? Me and Aphrodite?”

“No.” Cassandra stepped forward. “Not you after this, and definitely not her. Aphrodite dies, one way or another.”

Oblivion raised its hackles and growled. Ares spoke through clenched teeth.

“You won’t get within fifty feet of Aphrodite.”

“Wanna bet?” Achilles asked.

Athena frowned. Ares’ dogs were better trained. Another five minutes and they’d have a real fight on their hands. Gods’ blood, wolves’ blood, and mortal blood in the snow.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Ares said to her, “whether I’ll cease to exist when you’re gone. Whether we need each other to survive. These two arms of war. Then again, maybe your death means I’ll just burn brighter.” He paused. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for you to die. I want it, and I don’t want it. But it doesn’t matter. Because you will.”

He looked Athena straight in the eye, and the sadness she saw shocked her so much she loosened her grip on Panic. The wolf snapped the tape around its jaws and bit her hand. She barely had time to drop it before it scampered safely back to Ares.

“Goddamn it!” Cassandra shouted, and Athena couldn’t tell if she was more frightened or angry. “What did you let it go for?”

“Wait,” Athena said, and put her arm out to block Cassandra’s path. “Ares. You have your wolf. Tell me where she is!”

“She’s on Olympus,” he said softly.

“Olympus,” Athena said. Achilles’ face filled with awe. The gods’ home. Returned.

“I’ve never given you any good advice,” said Ares. “But you should listen to me now. Don’t go. Turn around and run.”

Athena shook her head. “We can’t spare her, Ares. However she’s managed to heal herself … however you have … that belongs to us now.”

He barked sad laughter, and the wolves cringed.

“You have no idea what’s waiting for you inside that mountain.”

“You always give Hera too much credit,” said Athena. “She has no idea what I have. None of you know. What these weapons can do. What I still can. You’re the one who should run.”

“Run?” Achilles asked. “After all this? All this burning and murder and wolves? We’re going to let him go?” He nodded to Cassandra. “This might be your best chance. You should take him and take him now. I’ll handle the dogs.”

“I—” Cassandra stuttered. But after a moment her eyes changed.

“No,” Athena said. “There’s too much risk.”