“Ares saved him, the bastard,” Athena went on. “He made a deal, and saved him, and got us all out of there in one piece.” Athena’s eyes stayed on the blood on her shirt; her fingers fidgeted with it. When she looked up, she didn’t look anything like the Athena Cassandra remembered. “That’s why Ares is here, Cassandra. That’s why I let him come. Because he gave me Odysseus back.”

“And Aphrodite?”

“She stayed below. The underworld holds everything in check, it seems. Or at least it slows everything down. Down there, she’s barely crazy.”

“She’ll always be crazy,” Cassandra said. The heat from her hands felt like it might send the whole table up in flames. She clasped them together tight.

“I know. The deal is just a deal, Cassandra. It doesn’t mean they’re forgiven.”

Cassandra saw the way the goddess’ eyes tracked up and down her shaking arms.

“Odysseus will want to see you,” Athena said. “He’ll be … glad. That you’re okay. But…”

“But what?”

“Thanatos told us. About Calypso. That Alecto killed her.”

“Alecto … God,” Cassandra whispered, and closed her eyes. How could she ever face Odysseus, after what she’d done?

“Is he—?” she started to ask, but didn’t know how to finish. Of course he wasn’t all right. Odysseus had loved Calypso in his way. If he ever found out what Cassandra had done, he might strangle her.

“It’ll take time,” Athena said. “A visit from you would be welcome.”

“Soon,” Cassandra lied. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Why are you back?” Athena asked calmly. “Thanatos said you were seeking Hades. To kill him. You should have come looking for me instead. Hades was with us, in the underworld.”

“I must have just missed him,” Cassandra said. “The blood of a Fury sent us to his home in Athens.”

“I ruined your plans again.”

“No. It doesn’t matter. I don’t—” Cassandra started, and stopped. “I’m done.”

Athena looked relieved, as if she thought Cassandra might grab her throat and demand another boat ride to the underworld.

“You seem tired,” Athena said. “But you must be glad to be home. How was it, seeing Andie and Henry?”

“They’re together now,” Cassandra said, and her arms began to relax. “A couple. They think I don’t know. That I can’t tell. But the way they look at each other. When Henry looks at Andie, the scar on his cheek turns bright red. I can’t decide if it’s gross or sweet.”

Athena chuckled, another thing about her that was softer than Cassandra remembered. Whatever happened in the underworld was transforming. Or perhaps seeing a sword through Odysseus was transforming.

“Did you know?” Cassandra asked.

“I just found out. We got back today, too.”

“You and me,” Cassandra said. “Blown dimensions apart after Olympus only to come home on the same day. Does that feel like the hand of Fate to you?”

The light in the hall flipped on, and Cassandra’s dad poked a groggy head into the kitchen. When he saw Athena, he woke up fast and his face hardened.

“It’s her first night home,” he said. “She needs to sleep.”

“I know,” Athena nodded. “I just wanted to make sure she’d settled in okay.”

“That’s not your responsibility. You need to leave now.”

Cassandra watched as Athena stood to go. Her dad had never spoken to her like that before. She really wasn’t using any tricks.

“How did she get in?” her dad asked after Athena was gone.

“I let her in the back door. She just wanted to talk a minute.”

Her dad huffed. “I’ve got to talk to Henry about that fat dog of his. He’s really starting to slack off.”

20

HELL-BENT FOR LEATHER

They approached with stealth. A whisper of sand here, a glimmer of steel there. Just slow enough to make her doubt what she’d heard and seen, to convince her she was dreaming or perhaps just truly getting old. She’d felt safe in the desert for so long. Underneath the same star-speckled black sky. The darkness cloaked her; it settled on her weathered, stretched skin like the softest of blankets. So she was confident, and comfortable. Levelheaded enough to talk herself out of gleams from the shadows. Enough even to push it away as imagination when she felt their feet press her edges into the sand. Not even the sting of that first slice woke her completely. It took four, five, six, seven, the shears cutting so fast and sharp that it felt like being burned by hot pokers.