Ungodly: A Novel (The Goddess War) (2 page)

“Like me falling dead to the floor in a pile of papery, sagging skin and bones?” He chuckled.

“That’s not funny.”

Except it was, a little. He was so thin that the whole mess would look like a pile of T-shirts and a basketball. That’s all that would remain. They could bury him in a knapsack. But it wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Strength still heated his fingers when he made a fist, even if that fist wasn’t much more than knuckles and tendon.

“Hermes? Where do you think they are?”

He took a deep breath. The last time he’d glimpsed Athena, she was clutching a bloodied Odysseus to her chest and throwing herself off of Olympus. He couldn’t feel her anywhere, didn’t know if she was still slogging through sorrow or if the rage had taken over. Because it would.

“Maybe she and Cassandra have already found each other,” he said. But they hadn’t. If they had, he’d have heard. They would trail a wake of god’s blood a mile wide. The Fates would be screaming.

“But what if Demeter’s wrong? What if they really are dead?”

Hermes shook his head. “She’s not wrong.”

“How do you know?”

“Because we need her to be right.”

*   *   *

Henry stood at the end of his driveway holding a white plastic bag of trash. On the way back up to the house he’d get the mail. He glanced up at the spring sky. There weren’t many clouds. After dinner there might be enough light to work on cleaning up the yard.

His new list of self-imposed chores made the days go by, he could say that at least. Picking up the slack that Cassandra used to tow, so his parents wouldn’t have to worry about one more thing. He’d been in overdrive since she’d been gone, taking on some of his dad’s tasks and his mom’s, too. It was easier than he thought to be two kids instead of one. It was easy to get lost in it.

Beside him, Lux shoved his black nose into Henry’s elbow, asking why they never played anymore.

He dropped the garbage into the can and closed the lid, and thought of how many chores he could get Cassandra to do when she got home. He’d never have to clean his room again. He’d make her drive up to State to clean his college dorm. That would really piss her off, if she got back.

When she gets back. Cassandra’s not lost.

A car horn sounded, and Lux ducked as from a gunshot. He hid behind Henry’s leg as the vehicle slowed, and he didn’t jump up to greet it, not even when the girl rolled the window down. Henry knelt and scratched him, treading lightly on his surgery scars.

“Hey.” The girl inside leaned across the seat and turned down her radio. “Cute dog. What’s his name?”

“Lux.”

“Here, Lux!” She held out her hand, and Lux retreated farther behind Henry’s pant leg. Since Ares’ wolves attacked that winter, Lux hadn’t been the same. All the bluster had gone out of him. It had taken Henry a while to get used to the fact that Lux was a new dog, one that shied away from corgis in the park and only barked for people he knew.

“He’s a little shy.” The girl in the car was Ariel Moreau. They’d been partners on a history project first term.

“What are you doing here?” He tried to smile so it wouldn’t sound so rude, but she didn’t seem to notice one way or the other.

“Mary lives over on Red Oak.” She gestured back the way she’d come. “I was on my way home, and saw you.”

Her voice took a big upswing at the end, as though seeing him had been the best thing to happen to her all day. It was actually a nice thought. Almost made him smile for real.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He pointed at the garbage can, and she blushed.

“Oh. So, nothing cool.”

“No,” he agreed. “Nothing cool.”

“Still no news from your sister?”

“No.”

“But you’re pretty sure she’s okay?”

“Pretty sure.”

Ariel made a sympathetic face. “Must suck though, still. Not knowing. I bet your parents are clamping down on you pretty hard. Are they really worried?” She exhaled and smiled. “Sorry. Stupid question.”

“It’s okay. I should get back inside. Before Lux starts drooling all over your door.”

“I don’t mind. He seems sweet. He didn’t jump up or anything.” She reached out again, and the dog whined. She looked back at Henry. “I’m not upsetting you, am I? When I stopped I didn’t mean to ask about your sister. It just popped out.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged. “It would’ve been weird if you hadn’t mentioned it. But why did you stop, then?”

“I don’t know.” She looked away, down at her steering wheel and the front of her jacket. “Do you want to … go get something to eat or something?”

Henry blinked. He hadn’t expected that. But she was pretty. And seemed cool. And it had been a while.

Ariel giggled nervously. “What? If you’d rather not—”

“No. It’s just that I just realized I haven’t been on a date since Jennifer Sanford this fall. And before that, the two—”

“—week thing with Melissa Miller,” she finished for him.

“You’ve been paying attention.” Between them, Lux whined and twisted away to bark at an approaching car: Andie’s silver Saturn. She pulled up and flipped on her blinker, but Ariel was blocking the driveway.

“I guess I should get going.” Ariel smiled. “Maybe some other time?”

Henry nodded. “Sure.”

Andie honked once, long and loud. Ariel waved at her as she drove past.

“Who was that?” Andie asked once she’d parked and gotten out.

“Ariel Moreau. She’s in my class.”

“Oh.” She scrunched her face. “What’d
she
want?”

Henry snorted. “Nothing. What do
you
want?”

“Nothing. I was just over at Hermes’ place. Stocking the shelves, as they say. Hey, I was thinking about trying to get some assignments in advance. For after spring break. In case we don’t get back on time. Are you going to?”

Henry looked down at Lux, who leaned heavily against Andie’s legs. The longer he stayed silent, the more Andie talked.

“I mean, who knows how long it’ll take. Or how far we’ll have to go. Hermes says it’ll take days just to find Demeter, and then if she’s not sure where they are—let’s face it. We could be talking summer school.”

“I don’t think I should go.”

“Noted. So are you going to get your homework or not?”

Henry sighed and stared down the road.

“You have to go,” Andie said. “We have to find them. Besides, you can’t stay here by yourself. We don’t know where Ares is, or that asshole Achilles.” Her fists clenched when she said his name.

“Andie, will you shut up for five minutes?”

“Not effing likely.”

Henry took a breath to quell the urge to throw her in a headlock and roll her around the yard.

“I’m pulled in a lot of different directions right now, if you haven’t noticed,” he said. “My parents, school, the parts of my life that aren’t freaking insane.”

“You’re not the only one. But we have to go. There isn’t a choice.”

“There’s been a choice this whole time. Just nobody’s made the right ones. I’m not going.” He frowned. It was a shitty situation they were in. That they were all in. “I’m sorry. My parents would worry themselves to death. With Cassandra missing … and then me…”

Of course, they’d forgive him if he could bring Cassandra home.

Andie’s glare made him hold his breath.

“Of course I noticed,” she said. “You idiot. What do you think I was doing here?” She opened her door and ducked inside.

“Andie.”

If she heard she didn’t show it. She just backed out and drove away.

3

UNDERNEATH

The dark is not total. There is some light still, and movement of air that isn’t my breath, and isn’t yours. There’s still time, before the light sets on another passing day, or week, or hour, whatever arbitrary chunk of time she’s decided to turn into a cycle. There’s still time for you to open your eyes.

Athena trembled, cold despite the warm blood on her arms. Odysseus lay before her on soft, slate-colored sand. His eyes were closed. Achilles’ sword was still lodged in his chest. She’d tilted him onto his side to accommodate it.

“I can hear his blood, singing down the edge of that blade.”

“Shut up, Persephone.” Athena jerked her head in time to see the trailing edge of her cousin’s dark dress. Persephone laughed, and Athena bit her tongue, saving whatever strength she had inside a body that felt clammy and pliant. Persephone couldn’t hurt him here. Not where Athena had set him, on the far bank of the river Styx, in the hinterland between the living and the dead. Not while he still breathed. Even the queen of the underworld had limits. But Persephone could send things: shades, and worse than shades, across the river in the night. Athena swallowed. The light around them faded like a waning candle, and when it was gone, she’d have to be ready to fight again.

“You can’t keep this up forever, Athena.”

“Watch me.”

“He won’t live here.”

“But he won’t die, either.” Odysseus would breathe, and lay unconscious and shivering, with a monster’s blade through his chest. A bead of sweat, or a tear, rolled down Athena’s cheek. She held his hand gently and there was no letting go. Over and over her mind replayed those last seconds inside of Olympus. She saw Achilles walk to Hera and the Moirae. Saw him smile. Had it been a sudden betrayal? Or had he played them all along?

It doesn’t matter. Whatever it was, it came easy. And I should have known.

“Is that what you really want?” Persephone asked. “For him to linger here, half dead and always dying?”

Athena laughed weakly. “Half dead and always dying. He’ll be just like you. And you don’t seem to mind it much.”

The wind changed, and carried the scent of sweet decay to Athena’s nostrils. She kept her breath shallow to stave off gagging. It hadn’t come from Odysseus. His wounds bled, but were no worse. He remained trapped in between. The smell could have been from anything else in the underworld. From whatever beast Persephone intended to send across the river that night, or from Persephone herself, from the half of her body that was still wet and rotting. Or perhaps it came from the Styx, the river of hate. Often Athena thought she caught a hint of what she imagined hate must smell like. Hot and metallic.

She passed a hand across Odysseus’ forehead. She was so tired. Bone tired.

When the light returns I’ll lie down beside you. I’ll lie beside you, and you’ll keep me, for a little while.

The light would return. She didn’t know when. Sometimes the blackness felt so long, and the cuts on her arms and throbs in her joints weighed her down until she wanted to scream. Until she did scream. And then she would blink, and the light would be back. She could see what it was she fought, and she would fight on. Athena didn’t know how long they’d been there. It wasn’t worth trying to measure the cycles of light and dark. The light wasn’t morning. It was barely real light. And it didn’t matter. She and Odysseus were there, and there they would remain.

“Odysseus,” Athena whispered, and watched him as the dark came. When she could no longer see him, she got to her feet and clenched her fists.

4

THE GODS OF DEATH

The doors of the bar stood wide open and let in a swath of bright light. Which was good, because there wasn’t much light from anywhere else. Just a green glass lamp hanging over the pool table and a few yellow bulbs behind the cash register. Cassandra looked at herself in the slivers of mirror visible between bottles of Pucker and vodka. She looked as young as she suspected she looked.

“Stop fidgeting,” Calypso said into her drink. “You might as well be a blinking neon underage sign.”

“Sorry. There aren’t a lot of bars back in Kincade where sophomores like to hang out.” Cassandra wrinkled her nose. The interior smelled like smoke and old wood, open doors or not.

“As long as you don’t order your beer in a red plastic cup, you’ll be fine.” Calypso smiled prettily at the bartender. Cassandra wouldn’t order anything, but as long as Calypso kept flirting, it wouldn’t make a difference.

“Where is this guy?” Cassandra glanced around the room. It wasn’t exactly a happening scene in the middle of the day. Maybe it never was. The place was a dive, with chipped tables and a Metroid pinball machine in the corner. The kind of bar that saw the same two dozen regulars on rotating nights.

“He’ll be here.” Calypso took a sip of her gin and tonic. “Don’t look too eager. You’ll chase him away.”

“I’ll do my best.” The knowledge of Cassandra’s powers had spread surprisingly fast through the gods’ subculture, considering how disjointed they were and how poorly they kept in touch. This was the third lead that Calypso had tracked down. The first two had hissed and scurried for cover, burying themselves deep within human crowds before she could even tell them what she wanted. It was a lot of trouble to go through for fake IDs and passports. A lot of trouble for the trails of gods.

But it would be worth every minute when she found them.

Frustrated, she eyed the bartender and considered ordering a beer. He might let her slide, if for no other reason than to curry favor with Calypso. And Cassandra could use it. The tension of waiting was getting on her nerves. The guy was twenty-five minutes late already. Maybe he’d seen her from the door and changed his mind. Maybe she shouldn’t have come.

Cassandra sighed and looked at Calypso. The nymph stirred her drink listlessly.

“What? Is it Odysseus?”

“No,” Calypso replied. “Yes. But I’ll be with Odysseus soon enough.”

“Then what is it?” Cassandra asked. “You look really depressed.”

Calypso smiled. “It’s stupid. But it is depressing.” She fingered the brown and white twist in her hair. “I look my age.”

“You do not.” Cassandra snorted. “If you looked your age, you’d look like dust.” She laughed, relieved that it was something so foolish. Of all the things to worry about. Though she supposed that to Calypso, it was important. Beauty defined her. Cassandra watched her tap her hair, almost distractedly. Saying she was still beautiful would do no good. What bothered her was the fact that she had changed. She had changed, and she would change still more. When she died she would wear an aged face. A stranger’s face.