It had been tense in the house with Hermes ill, and tense between Athena and Odysseus. The ghost of Calypso was around every corner. Sometimes, Athena passed Odysseus in the kitchen and felt the pressure of a hundred things keeping them apart. Other times, such as there on the walk with him, they felt closer than skin to skin.

“We shouldn’t stay up here long,” she said. “Ares is out running the wolves, and I don’t want Hermes to wake up alone.”

Odysseus said nothing. But it hung in the air anyway. Hermes might not wake up. She might never hear his annoying, wiseass voice ever again. The fever was high and mean. A mortal would have been dead hours ago.

Odysseus bent his head and kissed Athena’s shoulder. He turned her toward him and kissed her cheeks, her closed eyes, and finally her lips. He slipped his arms around her and held her tight, kissing her deeper until her mind was a blank, until she was nothing but body.

“It’s not wrong,” he said. “I was just afraid.”

“It is wrong,” she said, but she kissed him again.

A branch snapping underfoot made them draw apart. It was Cassandra, walking slowly across the grass.

“Good thing Ares is in the woods,” Odysseus said, and waved, but Cassandra didn’t look up. She didn’t look at much of anything.

Athena’s hackles raised with every step the girl took. Just before Cassandra disappeared from view, her eyes flickered to the widow’s walk.

Brown eyes gone half green.

She grabbed Odysseus’ arm.

“That’s not Cassandra.”

*   *   *

They dashed down the stairs. Odysseus grabbed a sword off the wall and made a good show of being ready to use it.

“What do you mean it’s not Cassandra?” he asked. “Who the bloody hell is it, then?”

Athena leaned down and, as gently as she could, shoved the couch and Hermes away from the door as far as it would go.

“I don’t know who exactly. But I think it’s the Moirae. Wearing her face.”

Whoever it was knocked. Three times. Odysseus swore. Athena shook the fist out of her hand and walked to the entryway.

She took a deep breath, ready to knock the Moirae flat on Cassandra’s ass. But when the door opened, Cassandra simply stood there without a jacket on. Wet dirt and trampled grass stuck to her bare feet. Beneath the weak house lights it was hard to tell that something was wrong with her eyes. If she hadn’t looked up at the balcony, Athena might not have noticed at all.

“What is it?” Odysseus asked, and the thing wearing Cassandra smiled a wrong smile, as though it hadn’t figured out quite how to use her face.

“Aren’t you going to invite us in?”

“Who are you?” Athena asked.

“Clotho,” a voice that wasn’t quite Cassandra’s voice replied.

“And Lachesis,” added a voice that wasn’t quite Cassandra’s voice but wasn’t exactly the first voice, either.

Athena waited a long beat before asking, “But not Atropos?”

They shook their head.

“It is she we come to discuss. But we have to hurry. We don’t have much time.”

*   *   *

Cassandra sat mute inside her mind. She felt Clotho and Lachesis’ reactions as if they were her own, and heard every thought they had. Athena looked so frightened. She wished she could tell her that there was no guile in these Moirae. That they meant her no harm.

Walking into the house, she saw Odysseus standing in front of the couch where Hermes lay. A sword was in his hand, gripped tight. It seemed somehow amusing to Cassandra, and she wanted to wave to him from inside her mind. Inside her mind, as through a window. But when she tried, Lachesis pressed her hand gently down.

*   *   *

Clotho and Lachesis. The Moira of Life and the Moira of Destiny. They maneuvered Cassandra’s body poorly; one eye tracked later than the other, and the way they walked had a strange side-to-side tilt. Beneath the lights of her living room, Athena saw that strands of red and silver-blonde hair had twisted into Cassandra’s brown.

“What are you doing with Cassandra?” Odysseus asked. “Is she all right?”

“She is fine. Here with us. We would not harm her.” They looked around the house, jerking Cassandra’s head like a puppet.

Athena wanted them out. Out of her living room, and out of Cassandra, and she wanted them out now.

“Then what do you want?” Athena asked.

“We want to tell you what is.” They made their way to the middle of the room and stopped, seemingly content to stand and go no farther.