shoulder. And Hera’s fist came dangerously closer.
She swung once more and leapt away, breathing hard; the feathers lining the lower part of her lungs held her back. The tire iron sat heavier and heavier in her hand. Hera’s arm swung and Athena leapt out of the way, half a second too late. The ribs on her left side cracked and disconnected. The world turned colors as she flew through the air and her lower back thumped into the base of a tree. In comparison to Hera’s arm, it felt soft.
“You’re supposed to be so smart,” Hera said. “What do you think you’re doing? I’m going to smash you to pieces. I’m going to grind you into the road until you’re nothing but a stain.” Kitten-heeled footsteps jarred the pavement as Athena pushed up onto her elbow, and then her knee. “You killed your uncle, my brother!”
“You killed mine!” Athena shouted, and suppressed a cough. Her left lung had mostly collapsed, and breathing through the feathers made it feel like a flapping curtain. Hera advanced, glittering eyes and stone.
“And now I’ll kill you.”
“Maybe. But not before I put a few decent chips in your ass.” Hera threw her fist and Athena dodged to the side. She heard a wet crack as Hera’s arm cut through a tree trunk. Quickly, she swung the tire iron in an arc and caught Hera on the cheek. It gave a sharp crack, followed by the sound of a pebble rolling across asphalt. Athena looked toward the road and saw a sparkle of skittering granite. Hera’s cheek bled from the new hole, leaking down over her jaw. Athena smiled. “See?”
Hera screamed and advanced, moving faster. The weight of the stone slowed her down and Athena used the trees, dodging and scrambling, listening to wood splinter all around. She gritted her teeth. Ducking and running. Scrambling around in the dirt for a hold. She’d never fought this way. The wound to her side sapped her, and the certainty and resolve of the moments before battle seemed a thousand years in the past. She staggered toward the road and glanced over her shoulder, saw Hera bearing down. The tire iron swung once and missed.
“The goddess of battle runs like a rabbit,” Hera shouted. “Olympus would be ashamed of you.”
“Olympus doesn’t exist,” Athena growled. She feinted behind a tree.
Hera wouldn’t tire, but Athena would. She had. Her breath dragged through her throat, and she stumbled.
It was an unlucky accident. There were no trees between them, no seconds of advantage. Hera surged forward. She caught Athena by the hair and dragged her onto the road, presenting her like a trophy while Aphrodite chattered and clapped. Through half-closed eyes, Athena saw her ragged band; saw their faces suspended over terror, believing she would win, willing the tire iron in her hand to rise up. When Hera threw the stone fist into Athena’s side, the ribs that were broken crumbled like chalk.
She went down on one knee, trying to hold her lung inside her body. From somewhere, she heard Odysseus shout. He couldn’t come anywhere near. Hera would kill him instantly, or take him to use to find Achilles. Either way, she wouldn’t be able to stop it. She couldn’t breathe. She knelt at Hera’s feet and waited for the blow she knew would come, for the searing pain through the back of her head, and then the darkness.
“Honestly, Athena. I expected more out of you.”
She looked down at the toes of Hera’s well-kept heels. The Titan was so close. Her breath moved through Athena’s hair.
“I’m going to kill them all, you know. Hermes, and Hector, and Andromache. Even Cassandra and your precious Odysseus, after I’m done with them. I’ll peel the skin right off of their bodies. And they’ll curse you.”
Athena clenched her teeth. It was true. If they died, they would curse her. It would be her fault.
“Get up, child. The goddess of battle does not die on her knees.”
“There is glory on that stretch of road. Glory, and cracked stone, and blood…”
“She never answers the damned question,” Athena muttered.
“Last words?” Hera leaned down close, smiling.
Athena clenched her fists. Demeter might be just a flap of skin, but she was right. If she died, she’d die in pieces and rage, not kneeling with a bowed head. She took a great, tearing breath and erupted off of the ground, bringing the tire iron up against Hera’s chin and knocking her back. Silver slices passed across Hera’s chest and face in a flurry. Chipped granite and blood rained down on the pavement.
“Athena!” When she heard Cassandra shout, she dropped the iron and snapped her hand through the air, locking it around Hera’s stone fist. She held it wide while her other hand clawed for Hera’s throat.
“Cassandra,” she shouted, but hadn’t needed to. Her footsteps ran closer and she dove onto Hera, driving Athena’s weight forward, knocking all of them to the ground. Athena’s fingers struggled to hold on. With fury and adrenaline she held, but each breath was like swallowing fire.
Cassandra grimaced and put her hands on Hera’s cold skin. A strange electricity passed through her. Beneath her touch, Hera became colder and harder. Her skin solidified, turning more and more to stone.
Hera screamed and thrashed; Athena tried to absorb the blows. Cassandra was human; if she was struck, whatever bones were hit would be more than shattered, they’d be powder. But Cassandra moved wisely, dodging and pulling back at the right moments. She was cool and focused, her movements precise as she used her hands to infect Hera further with her own curse, to spread her death across her body. Stark patches of rock ran like fissures through her shoulder and up her neck. Her head whipped back and forth and her jaw shuddered as it hardened.
Hera’s left arm slipped free and Athena heard it hit the ground, crumbling the asphalt. It had been close. Cassandra rolled away before locking her fingers in again. The look on her face carried thousands of years of resolve, thousands of years of vengeance. Hera screamed.
In the midst of the thought, Hera’s arm swung again. It caught Cassandra in the chest and threw her back. Athena twisted just in time to see the girl bounce onto the pavement, and to hear her head strike the road with a sharp, final crack.
“No!” When Hera shoved her away, she barely felt it, too busy scrambling across the road to Cassandra’s limp body.
She wasn’t moving. Was she breathing? Fresh prickles rose on the back of Athena’s neck. She was afraid to touch her. Behind them, Aphrodite keened, and a scraping sound told of Hera’s rock-infested flesh being dragged from the road. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Cassandra. Apollo’s Cassandra. And the death she’d faced even though she’d known it was coming. Athena knelt. The others called Cassandra’s name as they ran closer.
“Get up,” Athena said. “Get up and breathe. I won’t have failed my brother so soon.”
Cassandra’s head swiveled, and she locked upon the goddess with empty eyes. Athena backed off a step. It was like looking into an abyss, power she didn’t understand. And then Cassandra blinked, and the window slammed shut.
Cassandra pushed herself up onto her shoulders. The strange electricity was gone.
“It’s over.”
Athena nodded. It was over. Hera would be dead soon if she wasn’t already. Poseidon drifted in pieces at the bottom of the lake to be swallowed by his own servants. Aphrodite, even though she lived, was mad and unable to make much mischief on her own.
Athena looked down at her wounds. Adrenaline still sparked through her exhausted frame, and blood saturated her left side. The impact of Hera’s fist had turned her rib cage into a mess of pick-up sticks and paste. She took a hesitant breath and felt the itch of feathers. They were still there.
She swallowed. It sounded like bullshit even in her head. Hermes was going to be so disappointed.
Odysseus jogged up to her, his eyes bright. She walked back and picked up the tire iron.
“Not a bad plan, was it?” He grinned, and she shoved it into his hands.
