Antigoddess

fist-sized crescents.

“What are those?” Hermes asked, cocking his head and peering closer.

“They’re teeth marks,” Athena replied in a dull voice. She ran her hand over them gently, and the Nereid tensed. Athena shook her head to soothe it. The anger had leaked out of her as her fingers had traced those scars. She thought she could see wetness clouding the Nereid’s eyes and understood. They were tears of humiliation and powerlessness.

“Do you want me to see?” she whispered, and the Nereid strained toward her. She stretched out her hand and pressed her palm to the creature’s forehead.

The world was water. Clear greens and blues and diamond sand. Cold surrounded their bodies, but didn’t chill them; it was a constant breeze upon their cheeks. They might have been in any shallow cove anywhere in the world. Beams of white light cut through the water and illuminated the sea floor in rippling patches. And someone was screaming.

Many of them were screaming. It had been so still a moment before, glittering and calm. Now the water churned, it turned dark, it stank of blood. Sand was kicked up to mingle with the red cloud, a cloud that would attract no sharks, and continued to grow along with the sound of screaming. In the center, a bearded figure seemed to be nothing more than arms and teeth, reaching fingers and clenching jaws. He was eating them, wrenching their flesh loose, tearing their limbs free, cracking their bones. He called them and they came, because they always had, because they had to, and he swallowed them in chunks. Some died gratefully. Others, like this one, survived to swim away and heal, until the next time he called.

Athena jerked her hand away, and the Nereid’s head dropped to the floor and bounced. It was dead, and she was glad that it had died here, at the hands of those it called enemies, rather than be murdered by him that it called master, that it called father.

“Take a breath,” Hermes said. He had her by the shoulders and she put her hand over his. “What did you see?”

I saw Poseidon gone mad, Poseidon surviving in the way of the Titans, only worse than the Titans, more savage, disgusting.

She gestured to the bite scar. “Poseidon did that. He ate most of his Nereid’s leg.” Bile rose up into her throat and cold ran over her in waves. The Nereids were Poseidon’s most loyal servants. They had loved him, and he them, since the moment of their creation. They were his children. And he was eating them.

“That is … disgusting,” Hermes said. “It’s like sampling the family dog.”

“Anyway, it’s nothing useful,” she said, and spat onto the floor. A taste of bad fish coated her mouth. She had to get out of the bar, away from oily blood and salt. Hermes helped her up, and she bolted jerkily for the door. She didn’t breathe deeply until she was fifteen feet into the night air.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” she said, and spat again. Then she started walking. If she didn’t get away, she might throw up all of her beer, and that was beer she had paid plenty for.

“What are we going to do?” Hermes asked for what felt like the millionth time.

“You’re going to burn down that bar, and then catch up to me,” Athena said without turning. “And then we’re going to find Cassandra. Before they do.”

5 INTO THE DARK

The backseat of Henry’s Mustang was way too hot. They’d cranked the heat up, not wanting Cassandra to get a chill, but it was stifling, and when she came back to herself she jerked upright, trying to get air. Her foot knocked against the side armrest and made everything worse; it felt cramped, too hot and too small. The camel- tan interior bled through her vision and as the car lurched to the left her stomach heaved.

“Open a window,” she mumbled.

“Roll the window down,” Aidan said, and a moment later the cold hit her face. She sucked it in hard through her nose, feeling it saturate down to her toes.

“Is that better?”

“Yeah.” She blinked at him. She was half on his lap, her legs twisted down behind the passenger seat. The dome light was on and Henry was driving, a little too fast maybe for the way he kept glancing into the back.

“Is she okay?” he asked. “Are you okay, Cassie?”

“I’m okay.”

“Do I need to drive to the hospital?”

“No,” Aidan answered for her. “I think she’s okay. Just head to your house.”

Henry’s eyes met hers in the mirror; she nodded.

“Where’s Andie?”

“Right behind us.”

Cassandra lifted onto her elbows and looked back. The familiar headlights of Andie’s silver Saturn followed close behind. She took one more deep breath. She must’ve blacked out. When she remembered why, her eyes snapped to Aidan, but he was just Aidan, no feathers or blood. He reached up to touch her face and she jerked away. There had been feathers coming through his fingers as well, red-tinged quills breaking through the joints and twisting out from beneath his fingernails. It made her fingers sore just thinking about it, like a nail had been torn off.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Aidan held his palm up and didn’t touch her until she’d relaxed. He looked from one eye to the other, checking her pupils.

“She’s never done that before,” Henry said from the front. “Has she eaten today?”

“Probably not enough. And then she had a beer on top of it.” But not a lot of beer. Not so much that she’d hallucinate. They turned onto Ticonderoga Drive, which led to Somerset Street and their house. Henry kept watching her in the rearview mirror, ready to jerk the Mustang around and drive to the hospital at the first sign of distress. When they pulled into their driveway, he came around to get her door.

“Hold still,” he said when she got out. He put his hand on her chin and turned her face into the beam of their garage door light. “Do you hurt anywhere?” Cassandra moved her shoulders and shifted her weight from foot to foot. She shook her head. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I think she’s fine,” said Aidan.

Henry ignored him.

Andie’s Saturn turned into the driveway, bathing them in its headlights. Her shoes squeaked on the pavement a few seconds later.

“You screamed and fell down.” Andie’s brows knit. “That’s weird even for you.”

“Nice going,” Henry snapped. “I wanted to find out if she remembered what happened.”

“Shut up, Henry.” Andie shoved him, but did look sort of regretful.

“Let’s just get her in out of the cold,” Aidan suggested. They walked with her to the front door in a tight formation, ready to catch her if she fell. It was nice of them, but the tone of the conversation had started to change, taking a turn toward talking about her like she wasn’t there.

When they got through the door, Cassandra squirmed free and took off her coat and shoes, grateful that her hands weren’t shaking. “I probably just didn’t have enough to eat today,” she said. “Andie keeps stealing my lunches.”

“You never fight me for them.”

Inside the house she felt better. There was space to move, even in the entryway, and it was familiar. Home. The TV was on in the den, and canned audience laughter from the sitcom rerun their parents were watching carried down the hall. A hint of garlic laced the air, along with roasted chicken.

“I think I’m fine now,” she said, right before a black-and-silver German shepherd barreled past her legs on his way to Henry.

“You kids have fun?” Their dad came into the hall holding an empty snack bowl. Cassandra looked at Henry. When he looked away first, she knew he wouldn’t say anything.