Antigoddess

20 ARISTEIA

Aphrodite wrenched the improvised spear out of his chest, her sneer like a spoiled child. Aidan dropped to his knees.

“No!” Athena raced down the slope, not caring as Aphrodite turned tail and ran, only pausing to scoop up Poseidon’s severed head before fleeing up through the trees toward the road, her stained dress mocking them like a flag, blue and green.

“Get him to the car. Hermes, help me.” She grabbed Aidan under his arms and dragged him back up the hill. Cassandra scrambled along with them, crying and pressing her hands down on the wound. Leaves crunched and rustled beneath them in a thick, shifting carpet. Hermes tried to take hold of Aidan’s legs, but his ankle was ruined, and he kept slipping against the soggy ground. There was so much blood. Aidan coughed and Athena saw it on his teeth.

He’s all right. He’s a god, he’s fine. It won’t kill him. He’s fine.

They got him up to the road and leaned him against the side of the Dodge.

“I need water and a towel, something to stop the bleeding,” Athena barked. Odysseus nudged Henry and they ran to get what they could from the Mustang. “It’s okay, brother. It hurts, but you’ll recover.”

“He’ll recover,” Cassandra repeated, and Athena nodded. The way Cassandra stared at her, eyes coated over with tears, jaw clenched down tight to keep from screaming, what else could she say? She needed to believe her. They both did.

“Cassandra.” Aidan held out his hand and Cassandra took it, wincing at the blood. She wiped tears quickly from her cheeks.

“I’m not crying. Your sister’s right; you’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry for lots of things.”

“Don’t try to talk.” His hair clung to his forehead, still wet. She pushed it back and rubbed blood off his chin with her thumb. “Athena’s going to stop the bleeding. It’ll be okay.” She looked at Athena. “Aren’t you? You’re going to stop it?”

Athena glanced at the wound, at all the red pulsing out of it. Cassandra’s eyes were desperate, but she kept her voice even and measured, like she didn’t want Aidan to be afraid.

“Here.” Odysseus handed Athena a rolled-up shirt and a bottle of water.

She knelt and gently moved Aidan and Cassandra’s hands away from the wound. The bleeding was bad, spurting slowly through their fingers. It should have slowed. It should be slowing.

“We’ll have to wash this out when we get back to Kincade.” She pressed the shirt against his chest as hard as she could. “And you’ll need to be stitched up. Don’t worry. Odysseus is pretty good at it.”

Aidan barked a short laugh and grimaced. “We can’t go back there. They’ll find Cassandra.”

“Don’t argue with me right now.” Blood soaked through to her fingers. His eyes were glassy. Cassandra held his hand to her chest.

“Don’t argue. And don’t worry about me.” She looked at the blood and again at Athena. “Why isn’t it stopping?”

Athena shook her head helplessly and pressed down harder. She didn’t know what to do. “Take a sip of water,” she said. Aidan tried, but coughed most of it back up.

“I was just yanked under a lake. I’ve had plenty of water today.” Sweat stood out on his forehead in fine dots. His skin is cold. He’s never cold. He’s god of the sun.

“But this isn’t enough,” Hermes whispered. “It shouldn’t be bad enough to—it shouldn’t be able to. I don’t understand.”

“Somebody do something,” Cassandra began to shake. She looked at Athena. “Do something!”

Athena held Aidan’s shoulder.

We all go in our own way. This is Apollo’s way. He’s dying a mortal’s death. Aphrodite killed him and she probably didn’t even know what she was doing.

“It’s not her fault, Cassandra.” Aidan put his hand over Athena’s, over the wound in his chest. “You can’t let anything happen to her, sister. Promise me.”

You’re her protector, not me. Stay. Stay, brother. Don’t go somewhere I can’t find you.

“I promise.” The blood beneath her fingers slowed to a crawl. There simply wasn’t any left to bleed. He looked at Cassandra with such love and such regret, it almost stopped Athena’s heart.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” Cassandra kissed his hand. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re immortal. I’ve got my whole life to—”

Athena’s shoulders slumped. She’d felt it pass through her as Cassandra spoke. He was gone. Her fingers clenched into his shirt, tight enough to wring it out.

“No,” Cassandra moaned. Andie took her by the shoulders, but Cassandra looked like she was choking. Like her screams would explode inside her chest.

He can’t be gone. All this life, leaked out onto the pavement.

He was a god. There had to be some way to put it back. Athena wanted to scream, to cry, to crack the earth. Odysseus slid his hand onto the back of her neck. Behind Andie, Henry stared, looking like he was about to be sick.

“Why did this happen, sister?” Hermes asked. But she didn’t know. There were no answers, and the leathery flap of Demeter didn’t come to whisper wisdom into her ear. Apollo was dead. Poseidon was dead. It all felt pointless.

“Poor, idiotic Apollo.” Hera’s voice rolled across the asphalt, deep and mocking. She had come up from behind them, as Athena had known she would. The weight of her strides made the earth tremble.

Hermes stood quickly, his posture like a prey animal. Athena twisted and watched Hera approach. She stopped thirty yards away, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m not going to say that it didn’t have to end like this,” she said.

Athena stood and gestured toward her fallen brother.

“Like this? Are you mad? He’s dead. You’ll save yourself by killing your family?”

Hera looked at him, and for a moment it seemed that sadness flickered across her hardening face.

“He was a stepson, only. Another bastard put upon me by my husband. Yet I would’ve welcomed him, had he not forgotten what you’ve forgotten. That he was a god. That gods are not meant to die.”

Aphrodite scurried to her, Poseidon’s decapitated head clutched to her breast.

“They killed him! They killed him!”

“And she killed Aidan!” Athena shouted, and Aphrodite edged toward Hera’s protecting arms.

Hera cocked her head.

“Who?” Then she studied Aidan’s jeans, his hooded sweatshirt. She shook her head, disgusted, and stroked Aphrodite’s hair. “I know, pet. I felt the sea god’s light go out. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I would’ve ground them to paste before they ever touched him.”

Athena took quick stock. What did they have? A slow Dodge and a fleet-footed god with a broken ankle. Their getaway would be sad and short.

“Why are you doing this?”

Hera snorted. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Do you really think you can kill us all? All of us and these mortals besides?”

“I know I can.”

Hera whispered to Aphrodite and she slipped quietly to the side of the road, Poseidon’s blood mingling with the dirt streaks on her green and blue dress as she hugged it. “I lived with mortals too, you know. I loved them. Raised them.” She shrugged. “I even married a few. But I never forgot what I really was. The choice between them and us isn’t a choice. It’s just us.”

“Us. But not Hermes and me.”

Hera cocked her head. “Perhaps Hermes. But not you.”

Athena turned an ear back to Hermes, half wondering if the next sound she heard would be his feet, dragging and hopping to the other side of the battle line. Instead she felt the press of his shoulder against her.

“And why not Athena?” Hermes asked. “What’s she done? She’s not a bastard, not a betrayal of you by your husband. He made her out of himself. No paramour required.”

Athena watched Hera’s jaw set bitterly.

That’s why. All this time. All these years. That’s why she’s never been a mother to me, when she was the only mother I knew. I was evidence that she wasn’t necessary.

“Athena.” Cassandra spoke quietly from where she knelt, holding Aidan’s cold hand. Athena turned toward her. “This is what I saw. Why Aidan turned us back. The blue sky and evergreens. The silver-black of asphalt on the highway. Hera’s face, vicious and full of glory, even as chunks of granite form on her arms and shoulders. I remember the exact sensation of striking her skin.” She looked at Aidan’s empty face. “I remember the light going out.” She stroked his pale cheek, then turned to Athena with steel in her eyes. “This is it. This is the end.”

“The end?” Athena looked down at her. “But it can’t be.”

“I don’t have all day, stepdaughter,” Hera called. Her kitten heels tapped against the road. “Come closer so I can kill you and your half brother.”

Athena couldn’t form a thought. As she looked at Aidan’s body, Hera’s words landed sour, like a wrong strike against a tuning fork. They made her spine twitch and sent sharp bursts of rage ringing across her surface.

“Apollo lost his life to save a mortal girl. So now I will too.”

“No,” Cassandra said, and grasped her wrist. “You can’t stop it.”

“It’s not a choice. He wanted you safe. And we need you safe, so—”

“No.” She clenched her fist around Athena’s arm. Athena’s mouth dropped open. Where the girl touched her, it burned. Like the tingling on her face, after she’d slapped her. She looked up, her chest full suddenly with absurd hope and the words of Demeter urgent in her ears. She could be the key to everything.…

Cassandra trembled, then grew still.

“I feel it too, whatever it is. And I’ve seen this. I’ve seen this day and this fight. I’m in it with you.”

Athena looked at her, deep into her brown eyes. What is this thing? Like looking at a frozen surface through a pane of glass. She didn’t know what it was exactly. But she knew it was power.

She grasped Cassandra’s hand. “How does it end?”

Cassandra shook her head.

Athena nodded. “Okay.”

They took a deep breath. Conviction laced the air between them, white hot.

“I don’t know how much strength is left in me,” said Athena.

“Enough,” Cassandra said softly. She looked one last time at Aidan’s face.

Together, they rose to their feet and looked down the road. Hera stood with Aphrodite hiding behind. The stone fist hung heavily at her side. More patches of stone were visible too, spattering her neck and cheeks with flecks of gray granite. She wore a finely woven black coat and dark blue jeans. She looked cold, almost indifferent. Someone who didn’t know her would never guess at her violent temperament. She kept it carefully hidden. Swallowing so much vindictiveness and rage must have been like swallowing shards of metal.

“I don’t know how much use you’ll be with a crushed foot,” Athena said to Hermes. “But keep the others safe, if you can.” She glanced over her shoulder at Odysseus. When she turned away, he caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

“Athena.” They looked at each other for a long second. Fear shone plain in his eyes, and for a moment she thought he might actually say it, that he might actually grab her and kiss her and throw her completely off her game. Instead he smiled his cockeyed smile and pushed the tire iron from the Dodge into her hand.

“Don’t get hit,” he said quietly. She wrapped her fingers around the weapon.

Good advice.

“Give up the girl,” Hera commanded.

“And you’ll let us live?” Athena asked sarcastically.

Hera smirked. “Of course not.”

Athena looked over at Cassandra, who stared straight ahead. She didn’t know what she was doing, leading a mortal against the Titans’ queen. It felt crazy. It felt against everything she’d ever known about war and battle and strategy. It felt completely right.

When she walked, the girl walked with her. The tire iron settled into her palm. As they came closer, Aphrodite scurried away, a rat going to hide in the sewers and wait until it was all over. Hera bared her teeth. The stone fist twitched. There would be no bombs this time, no tricks. She wants the satisfaction of murdering me with her bare hands.

“How noble. Standing against me together? All for one and one for all?”

Athena clenched her jaw. “Me first.” The tire iron spun, slicing through the air as she ran and sprang, using it to strike and slash. Hera ducked and dodged, her face a twisted grimace. When the iron finally connected, it caught her in the back of the shoulder and barely knocked her forward.

In the corner of her eye, Athena saw a flash of granite and pulled out of the way.

Don’t get hit.

Cassandra watched Athena and Hera, fists and iron, moving sharply through the air. Fear laced through her insides, but it wasn’t alone. An odd certainty ran in her blood, infusing it with heat. She knew what she had seen in her vision. She remembered what the world had looked like, flying by. Her death was here. And it wasn’t. The images shimmered, becoming transparent. She should have been terrified. She should have been mad with grief, collapsed over Aidan’s body. Instead she waited. Waited for Athena to give her an opening.

Athena was struggling. Speed was the key, both to landing blows and to keeping her skull in one piece. But it was also tiring. Hitting Hera was like hitting twelve tons of rock. It sent painful shock waves all the way up to her 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.

I was wrong to try this. Running isn’t a plan.

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.

Do it quick. And then let them run. Let Hermes take them far away from here.

“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.”

Am I to die then, Aunt Demeter?

“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.

Aunt Demeter, who is this girl? What did you send me to find?

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.

Will she turn that power on me next? Will I explode in a mass of feathers, just a pile of white and speckled brown, cut through with ribbons of skin and sinew?

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.

Just because they don’t disappear instantly doesn’t mean anything. Maybe it doesn’t happen all at once.

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.

“Then don’t look so surprised that it worked.” She took his shoulder to lean on.

Andie and Henry stood on either side of Cassandra, holding her arms for support even though she didn’t seem to need it. The darkness that had swum up and around her in waves when her skull struck the pavement was gone. Hermes limped around behind her on his crushed foot.

“What do we do now?” he asked, and looked at Athena.

“We take them back to their homes.” Her eyes rested on the unmoving form of a god propped against the tire of the car, dressed in a boy’s clothes. “All of them.”