Antigoddess

be able to hide in Kincade. It wasn’t like they could make a stand there. Not against what was coming.

“When can we come back?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Will they be safe here? Will they go after them anyway, even if we’re gone?”

“I don’t know. But it’s their best chance.”

“When?” she asked, and held her breath. Whatever he said would be too soon. Too abrupt and cold.

“I thought after this, we could go to my house and figure it out.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “Why is this happening?”

Aidan lowered his eyes. “I wish I had answers, or better things to tell you. If it was anything else, I could stop it.” He clenched his teeth. “But I can’t. Believe me when I tell you, running away isn’t my style.”

The breeze whistled through Cassandra’s hair. It smelled like winter. Like change and dying things. She searched the gray sky for the sun and couldn’t find it.

“What am I going to say to them? They’re not going to understand, Aidan.”

He put his arms around her and tears slid down her cheeks.

“I hate this,” he whispered. “And I hate them.”

Cassandra leaned against his shoulder and stared at her family.

“I’ll kill every one of them, I promise. And I’ll give you your life back, as soon as I can.”

* * *

The light in Aidan’s bedroom was scant, silvery, and indirect, filtered through layers of clouds before it hit the window. Long, dark curtains blocked most of it, and they hadn’t turned on the bedside lamp. Aidan paced quietly in front of his open closet, like he wasn’t sure where to begin, and Cassandra didn’t push. If she didn’t push, maybe the moment would drag out, and everything would go away on its own.

“I think we should go south, find the coast. Athena doesn’t care for the sea; she might avoid it.” He stopped, swallowed.

“If you think so.”

“I don’t know what to think. It’s a guess, and a wild one. I don’t have any idea what my sister might or might not do anymore.”

The muscles in Cassandra’s arms and back ached from raking and from plain old fatigue. It didn’t matter where they went. They were going away. She felt numb and exhausted. Aidan would have to drag her along, wherever he decided to go. She’d asked him when they could come back and he’d said he didn’t know. But they were running from gods. Gods. They’d never be able to come back.

I’ll never come back. This life is over.

Aidan started to move suddenly, like someone had flipped a switch. He grabbed clothes out of his closet and stuffed them into a black duffel bag; he emptied his drawers of socks and t-shirts and shoved them in too.

“I’m going to have to get money out,” he said. He’d paused at his desk, his eyes moving over his things: his laptop covered in stickers, a few paperbacks, a small curved snake figurine made of pewter with gold gemstone eyes. His parents had gotten it for him at a festival they’d gone to. Cassandra watched him slide it into the duffel with his laptop.

“I should write them a note. Tell them we went to—tell them we went somewhere together and will be back in a few days. Maybe then they won’t call the police until we’re too far to be caught.” He flipped open a notebook and grabbed a pen. “You should write one for your parents too.”

His hands shook, and he put pen to paper three times before setting it down and taking a breath.

It’s hard for him. But he’s had to do it before. He’s had to love people and leave them before they knew what he was.

She didn’t know whether that made it easier. Whether it made it better or worse.

“I’m scared,” she said.

“I know. But you’re brave too.”

“Am I? Is that why I want to call you a liar? Why I want to run through that door, and down the stairs, and go back home like nothing ever happened?”

He turned and knelt at her feet. He would be with her. She wouldn’t be alone. But she wanted Andie and Henry. She wanted her parents. Aidan’s hands rubbed along the sides of her legs, like he was trying to warm her after coming in from the cold.

“We’d better get going back to your place,” he said. “And we’d better hope that Henry is napping.”

“Why?”

“Because my parents have both of the cars. We’re sort of going to have to borrow his.”

Cassandra laughed humorlessly. “He’s going to kill us.”

14 CONVERGENCE, OR, WELCOME TO KINCADE, EMERGENCY EXITS ONLY

He cut a welcome figure on the side of the highway. Athena sighed with relief. She knew he could take care of himself.

Hermes lifted an arm in greeting. Odysseus waved and tucked his poor, mortal neck in like a turtle’s against the light, cold mist, too light to complain about, just cold enough to make him miserable. They’d only been walking in it for a few miles, since their ride on Route 17 had let them out, but Odysseus looked about ready to catch pneumonia.

“Took you long enough,” Hermes said when they reached him. The orange polo shirt and black jacket he wore were damp and clinging, but he didn’t shiver. Neither did Athena, standing tall in her wet, filthy cardigan.

“It annoys the hell out of me that I’m the only one uncomfortable.” Odysseus tucked his hands under his arms while Athena greeted her brother.

“You’re not the only one uncomfortable.” Athena had been coughing off and on since they’d parted ways with Craig in Buffalo. And Hermes’ bones looked ready to burst through the skin. Odysseus nodded.

“How did you know where to wait?” Athena asked.

“There aren’t too many ways into this city,” Hermes replied. “I played the odds.” He eyed Odysseus as he stood, teeth chattering. “Let’s get going. I picked up some new threads for you. They’re back at my room.”

“Your room?” Athena asked.

“It’s a Motel 6. I figured that would be an appropriate compromise between the Hilton I deserve and the dirt burrow you’d have wanted me to dig.”

He stalked off with attitude to spare. Athena and Odysseus followed, smirking.

“There isn’t even a Hilton here,” Athena said.

“Believe me, I know.”

They walked quickly up the side of the highway, the Motel 6 sign visible a quarter mile up the road. When they reached it, Hermes let them into the room and got them towels from the bathroom to sponge off with. Odysseus skinned gratefully out of his wet jacket and went in to take a shower without another word. Hermes tossed Athena a bag from Nordstrom. She looked inside and promptly threw it back.

“There are sequins,” she growled.

“Not on everything! Besides, you can’t walk around looking like that.” He pushed the bag back. It tipped over and spilled its contents on the garishly colored bedspread. There were a few t-shirts and sweaters and a couple pairs of jeans. The sequins comprised only a small patch on the front of one of the shirts, winking at her in red and silver.

Athena sighed and ran the white terry towel over her hair.

“Thanks, Hermes.”

“Don’t mention it. How was the road?”

Through the bathroom wall she heard the shower turn on. The road. He asked about it so innocently. What would she tell him? That everything had been screwed? That she’d almost fallen to one of Aphrodite’s plots? That she’d allowed herself to cross a line with Odysseus that should have been a brick wall? No. Some things could be