Antigoddess

without taking notice. It was indifferent to them. That was how she had been for a long time. The world forgot her, and she forgot it, passing through cities and existing on the fringe, an observer rather than a participant. But now it was different. She couldn’t explain it to Hermes, who had lived among the humans and, she suspected, lived right up to the hilt, but dying to her felt strangely similar to waking up.

“No.” He sighed and ate another slice of peach. “Not for you. I can see that. I can see it turning in your brain. You’ve got your old cape of Justice on again. You’re getting it in your head that you could be a hero. Athena and Hermes, last of the sane gods, saving the humans and righting the wrongs.” In the soft-hued light of morning, with the sun coming up over his back, she couldn’t tell how serious he was.

“Don’t sound so high and mighty. You’ve played the hero before.”

Hermes snorted. “Rarely. And never front and center. Face it, sis, I was always the Green Lantern to your Iron Man.”

“Don’t be such a nerd. Besides, you’re mixing Marvel and DC.”

“Who’s the nerd?” Hermes arched his brow. Then he softened. “My point is, there is no point. We’re dying, so we panic and band together. So what? What the hell are we trying to save, anyway? We have no purpose. We’re obsolete gods in a destructive world. The earth wouldn’t shed a tear, not even for withered old Demeter.”

“There was a time when we mattered,” said Athena, but Hermes shook his head.

“No. There was a time when we lived. Rather than just existed. But that hasn’t been for centuries. I walked with mortals, played with them, ate with them. I’ve used up more of them than I can count or remember. But I stopped living. Look at us, Athena. No family, no friends—”

“You’re my family. You’re my friend.”

He squinted at her and smiled sarcastically. “You need a helping hand and I’m afraid of dying. You can’t fight alone and I don’t want to be alone. We call each other ‘sister’ and ‘brother,’ but I don’t know if it means anything. Maybe it never did. Gods are cold. War, killing, and stabbing each other in the back is really what we do best.”

What he said was true enough. What they were probably wasn’t worth saving. But it didn’t mean she would let herself go. She sat peacefully a few moments, watching the water pass, swirling and dark in the early dawn. Then she sighed.

“I want you to stop it.” They locked eyes. “It’s the talk of the dying, and I won’t hear it. I know you, Hermes, whatever you might say. You’ll sing a different tune when this is over, if we come out on top. You’ll fly again, you’ll laugh again.” She tore her eyes away and looked back toward the river. “You’ll call me ‘sister’ and mean it.”

“Athena,” he said, but she stood up and started to gather her things, rolling her thin blanket into her pack and walking toward the water to fill her leather cask.

“Never mind,” she said. “Let’s just get moving.”

“Moving where? Why do we even need to find this girl? Prophets. What good is foresight? We know we’re dying. We know that Uncle Poseidon will try to kill us so he can live.”

Athena crouched by the river, filling the water cask and letting the cold river slide over her fingers, over her wrists with their bracelets of tattoos. The reflection that looked back at her was a girl’s face.

Not a warrior’s face. Not a general’s face. But it will be again. Soon.

“Demeter said she’s more than a prophet.” She stood and shook her hands dry. “And Poseidon wants her; that has to mean something. That trap of Nereids—”

“Might’ve been just laid for us. Maybe he doesn’t want her at all.”

“But he’ll kill her to thwart our plans. It’s the only lead we’ve got,” she said. “At the very least, we’ll be headed in the same direction Poseidon is going.”

“We might want to run the other way.”

“So they can kill the girl, take all our advantages, and hunt us down later?” Athena shook her head. How could he talk of running, of retreating? The fight had barely begun. “Besides, do you really want to let our uncle tear some poor reincarnated prophetess to bits? You’re not that cold, and I’ve got my cape of Justice on, like you said. So let’s go save her.”

Hermes shoved onto his feet and stuffed his unrolled blanket into his own pack.

“How are we supposed to find her?”

“We go to those in the know,” Athena replied. “Those who can track her. Circe’s witches. Chicago.”

“That’s halfway across the country.” Hermes groaned and stared east, like he was trying to catch a view of the Sears Tower. “Do you remember when the world was smaller? When we could get anywhere at the snap of our fingers? God, I miss Olympus.”

“Yeah, well, it’s gone.” She shouldered her bag and started walking.

“Can’t you send another owl? What if Cassandra’s in Arizona and we have to come all the way back here?”

Athena shook her head. She could feel the owls, like she always could. And they knew what she sought. But they weren’t trained spies. They were birds. The chance that one would happen to see Cassandra as they hunted their nightly mice was slim. And even if they did, who knew how long it would take to get back. She looked up at the sun, rising hot over their shoulders.

“We don’t have that kind of time.”

* * *

If this guy looks at my chest even once more, I’m going to crack his rearview mirror into a thousand pieces. She stared at the reflection of the driver, a middle-aged man with a tan, fading widow’s peak of hair, hair that looked as fragile as strands of sugar. The backseat of his ’90s model Caprice Classic smelled like stale aftershave and dirty socks, but it was comfortable. Soft, cinnamon-colored velour, with their packs sitting on either side of her, serving as armrests.

Hitchhiking had been Hermes’ idea. A fast, comfortable way to travel, but as soon as the maroon sedan had stopped for them on the shoulder of Highway 40, she’d gotten an uneasy feeling. Not a feeling of danger, but rather of sliminess. The driver welcomed them in with a coffee-stained smile, yellow to match the old stain spots around his collar and armpits. His name was George, and he was in sales for a company that manufactured air filters. Athena had jerked her head for Hermes to sit up front, and when she made herself reasonably at home in the backseat, George had adjusted his mirror to roughly the level of her breasts and his eyes had lit there like flies ever since.

In times past, a mortal caught ogling would have been treated to a fairly nasty fate. The loss of all his teeth, perhaps. Or his eyes turned to stone inside his head. But times weren’t what they once were. Her power over mortals had dwindled to the point of near nonexistence. She couldn’t even give him a migraine.

Hermes chatted away in the passenger seat, asking lots of questions about George’s travels and the air filter business. It took a few minutes, but gradually, George’s attention shifted from Athena’s rack to Hermes’ curiosity. As he tried to explain the complexities of the perfect air filter sales pitch, Hermes snuck Athena a wink. She smiled and leaned back, trying to cool, trying to relax, trying to think of what exactly they were going to do once they found this girl, Cassandra.

To be honest, Athena barely remembered her. It had been so long ago, and she’d been sort of preoccupied managing the entire Greek Army. Back then she had fought for the other side, hadn’t cared whether Cassandra lived or died. An image of the princesses of Troy rose through the mists of memory: two girls, one tall, one shorter, both graceful in fine woven robes. Trojan gold sparkled around their necks and on their wrists. One had dark hair, the other a rich honey color. One had to be Cassandra, and the other the eldest, Polyxena. She had no idea which was which.

Doesn’t matter, she thought. When we find her, I’ll know.

“You kids got parents waiting?” George asked with his eyes again in the rearview mirror, this time finding Athena’s face. “I’ve got a daughter not much younger than you, and I think I’d have a heart attack if I knew she was out hitching.”

“We’ve just got our dad now,” Hermes said. “And he’s pretty liberal.”

“Besides.” Athena smiled. “We’re older than we look.”

“Can’t be that much older.” George took a moment to scrutinize each of them. “I’d say you’re barely out of high school. Am I right?”