room. They weren’t expecting anyone. The knock came again, louder and more insistent. None of them made a move, and Athena watched curiously as the handle turned and the door swung open.
“You don’t lock the door?” Cassandra asked.
“There isn’t much point,” Hermes explained, relaxing. “Anything strong enough to hurt us could just take the door off its hinges.”
“I guess.” She stood framed in the open doorway. Silvery sleet fell onto the sidewalk, turning more and more to ice as the sun sank lower. Behind her, Henry’s black Mustang idled in the parking lot with Andie and Henry inside.
Cassandra swallowed. When she spoke her voice came out a dry crackle, and the handprints on her neck stood out like a neon sign.
“Come in,” Odysseus said. “Close the door. You’re not the only one who feels the cold, you know.”
Cassandra stepped through and shook moisture from her hands and jacket. Odysseus helped her brush off. In the chaos of the deadfall, she hadn’t really looked at him.
“You’re human,” she said, and another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “You’re the boy I saw in my dream. Being attacked by the Cyclops.” The dream came back for an instant, the smell of cold and caves and blood, the wry curl of his lip, and the Cyclops falling on him. Looking closer, she saw fading red punctures down the back of his neck.
“Here.” He twisted to give her a better view, and she felt her cheeks flush. He was good-looking in the daylight. In a rough-around-the-edges, shaggy-haired sort of way. “It goes most of the way down in the back.”
“I thought you were dead.”
He chuckled. “That makes two of us.”
“What are you doing here?” Athena stepped forward, and Cassandra regarded her coldly. She seemed less crazy than Aphrodite and less powerful than Hera. Her left eye was red and watery and someone had sewn the flap of her scalp back in place. She could just barely see the stitching of black thread behind her hairline.
Aidan stood apart, saying nothing. He didn’t greet her or try to protect her. Beside the others, the similarities in their faces were more apparent.
She thought of Aphrodite’s shrieks, of Poseidon tearing the girl apart. She thought of Hera, snapping her neck. Three gods. Three monsters.
“I had a vision,” she said. Aidan’s arm twitched, to comfort her maybe, or just to touch her shoulder, but in the end he stayed still.
“What did you see?” Athena asked. Eagerness lit her eyes. It was like watching all the hackles rise on a hunting dog. The possibility of an advantage had crept into the room. They looked so hopeful, Cassandra almost wanted to lie and give better news.
“I saw a red-haired girl. Hera and Poseidon were torturing her. And before they killed her, she told them exactly where to find us.”
17
HEROES
The announcement was met with silence. Cassandra watched it sink in, watched each of them process it individually. Their eyes lost focus and then snapped back. Aidan shifted his weight. Odysseus’ eyes narrowed and stared through Cassandra’s head. Hermes’ mouth dropped slightly open, and his brows knit.
“We have to get out of here,” said Aidan. “We have to get out of here now.”
“And go where?” Athena asked. Her expression hadn’t wavered for more than a second. “Was there anything else? Could you see where they were?”
“A cave, maybe. Someplace near water. Nothing definite. Who was that girl? Why did they kill her? How did she know where we were?”
“Her name was Celine,” Hermes whispered. “She led the coven in Chicago. She knew where you were because we asked her to find you. And they killed her for it.”
Cassandra blinked slowly. “The building in Chicago. You didn’t blow it up.”
The stricken look on Hermes’ face confirmed it, but Athena shoved past him and snapped, “Of course we didn’t blow it up.” She paced near the foot of one of the beds. “Hera blew it up as punishment. And to stop us from getting to you. So if you can remember anything else from your vision, pipe up. I’d like to know where she’s at.”
Aidan stepped toward his sister. “It doesn’t matter where she is if we know where she’s going. We should be gone before she gets here.”
“Hang on,” said Odysseus. “How much time do we have? I mean, how does it work exactly? Are these visions, or premonitions? Has it happened already, or is it just going to happen?”
Cassandra shook her head. “I’m not sure. The building blew in Chicago about two days after I saw it. When did you get attacked by the Cyclops?”
“I don’t know.” Odysseus ran his hand across his face. “Days on the road tend to blend together. Not to mention the days I spent tangled up with the girls at The Three Sisters.” He glanced at Athena and cleared his throat. “That’s not much help.”
Hermes grasped her arm. “Were there other witches there?”
“No. That’s how they got her to talk. They said they’d spare the others.”
His face crumpled. “Spare the others? Hera doesn’t spare the others.” He looked at Athena miserably. “I didn’t run fast enough. I didn’t hide them well enough. Celine. Mareden. Estelle. Bethe and Jenna and Harper.” He said their names like a lament. “That coven spanned thousands of years and that bitch wiped them off the planet.”
Odysseus put a hand on Hermes’ shoulder. “You did what you could. And so did you, Athena.”
“Did I? I could have stayed. I could’ve fought her in the rubble. I might have lost, been beaten to paste, but I could’ve taken part of her with me.” Cassandra watched as Odysseus touched Athena’s arm. The way his fingers lingered, and the concern in his eyes. He loved her. Athena didn’t touch him back, didn’t put her hand over his. She didn’t even look in his direction.
Hermes pressed to the front. “It doesn’t have to be enough. It doesn’t have to be all. She might not have gotten to the others yet!” He looked to Athena for permission. He seemed ready to force wings through his back, as long as there was a chance. “I could still get there. I could save them.”
“If they listened to us, they won’t be where you left them,” said Athena. “They’ll have moved on. And we don’t know how much time Cassandra’s vision gives us. It might not give us any.”
“If I get there too late, then I’m too late. I’ll come back.”
It was a lie, there for everyone to see. He cared about those witches. If he arrived too late, he’d do something stupid and heroic. He’d take on Hera alone, and she would forcibly remove his spine. Cassandra wanted to ease his conscience. He seemed so guilty, and so earnest. She’d thought she’d hate them all, but she couldn’t hate him. Not with so much desperation in his eyes to save someone he cared for.
Athena shook her head, once.
“We can’t risk it. I’m sorry.”
“Athena—”
