What was with you leaving Ariel’s with Andie?

Henry texted back.

She needed a ride home.

His phone buzzed again.

Oh. So you 2 not dating? Good.

And again, before he could reply.

I knew you weren’t. She’s in tenth and you know.

Henry frowned.

You know what?

A delay this time, and then,

Well she’s not exactly hot and Ariels totally into you.

The urge to tell her what he really thought, that Andie was more beautiful than Ariel and all her friends put together, wrestled with the urge to tell her to shove it. Instead, he shut his phone off and tried to pay attention to Mr. Fisher. Strangely enough, Mr. Fisher was lecturing on the Industrial Revolution, and mentioned the Derby family at length. It took all Henry’s remaining restraint not to raise his hand and say, Yeah. And they’re also Hephaestus.

When the bell finally rang, he walked to his locker and scanned the halls for Andie. Two days had passed since Hermes left. He should’ve been back by now. They should have gone with him. If anything happened to Hermes, they would be stuck in Kincade, rudderless.

But that was stupid. If something could take out Hermes, who was faster than a cheetah and still strong, what the hell did he think he would be able to do about it?

But maybe I could, if I really had that shield.

The idea had crept into his head more than once since Demeter suggested it. Half the time it sounded ridiculous, as if one weapon could suddenly make him the equal of Achilles. He’d seen Achilles fight. He’d seen the inhuman strength Achilles had, and how fast he moved.

But Henry couldn’t deny that he wished it would. He wondered what it would feel like to have that kind of strength. That kind of confidence. To be able to stand against Achilles and not be afraid. To be able to win.

“Henry.”

He turned and saw Max and Matt Bauer. He nodded, mostly toward Matt. Max’s comments about Andie’s rack at the party had almost earned him a punch in the face.

“What’s going on?” Henry asked.

“Nothing, man,” Max said, and leaned against the lockers. “What’s going on with you? Ariel’s pretty pissed about you leaving.”

“Ariel’s not my girlfriend. Let her be pissed. I don’t care.”

“I know, right? And what’s she got to be pissed about anyway? You just left with Big Andie.”

“Stop calling her that. You’re not going to make it stick.”

Max and Matt laughed, oblivious to his darkening expression.

“Wanna bet? There she is. Hey, Big Andie!” He waved to her, and Henry turned. The look on Andie’s face was carefully balanced. Only someone who knew her like Henry did could tell that Max’s jibe had gotten to her.

Come over here and pound him. Come on. I’ll help.

But she didn’t. She nodded their way and turned to go.

“Oh, come on, Big Andie!” Max shouted. “Come hang with the rest of us guys!”

Henry slammed his locker shut. He didn’t call her name, and he didn’t think. He just jogged after her and spun her around. And kissed her.

After an initial gasp, the hall around them went silent, but Henry didn’t care. He wasn’t aware of anything but the warmth of her lips, and the increasing rate of his heartbeat. When he pulled away, he braced himself for anything. Yelling. Glaring. Her fist to his face. What he got instead was her arm slipped around his neck. She pulled him back and kissed him again.

“We’re not them,” she said quietly. “Not Hector. Not Andromache.”

“We’re not. We’re us.” He smiled, and they walked down the hall together. Ariel and Max be damned.

*   *   *

Buffalo, New York. Hermes took a breath and savored the smell of Lake Erie before blowing it out again. The city was still ugly from snowmelt. And around every corner was the whisper of decline. It was a city that knew what it used to be. A city that wept rust. A city that Hephaestus would like.

Last fall, Athena and Odysseus had passed through on their way to Kincade. Strange how close they’d come to another one of their brothers. He wondered what it meant, that Athena hadn’t detected him so nearby. He wondered if Hephaestus had known they were there.

Hermes had traveled north from Kincade in style, hiring a private car and driver, but he’d left them at the edge of the city (the backseat littered with an odd juxtaposition of caviar jars and fast-food bags, champagne bottles and Mello Yello) and walked into town on foot. He’d wasted no time and gone directly to Alexander Derby’s last known address. And he’d waited there on and off for the last two days. Watching and listening to the people who came and went.