Ungodly: A Novel (The Goddess War) (8 page)

“Well, you wouldn’t try to catch a shark with ice cream,” said Calypso, “any more than you’d try to catch a butterfly with a leg of goat.”

Thanatos looked at Calypso like she’d broken his favorite toy. He’d been holding that bit back. For what? His own amusement? Or was he really trying to get one of them killed?

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, considering what he is.

“So.” She passed Thanatos with a look and spoke to Calypso. “How do we put out ice cream? I think the ice cream–loving breed of Fury is the kind we’re looking for.”

Calypso transferred the chains to one hand so she could secure her braids, and the dirt on her fingers tinged the white braid brown. It made her look tired already, and they hadn’t even started. But if Calypso wasn’t strong enough for the job, it was Cassandra’s fault, because of the damage she’d done to her dragging her out of Olympus.

“Unfortunately, Thanatos is right,” Calypso said. “With the two of you calling, we can’t hold out much hope for a minor Fury. More likely it will be one of the Erinyes who shows up. The original Erinyes. And that means Alecto, Megaera, or Tisiphone.

“Knowing you as I do, I wouldn’t be surprised if it
was
Alecto of the Unceasing Anger. But with Thanatos by your side, it might be Tisiphone, the Avenger of Murder.”

“Death isn’t murder,” Thanatos mumbled.

“The one you want,” Calypso continued, “is Megaera. Mild compared to the other two. They call her the Jealous One.”

The Jealous One. That didn’t sound so bad.

“She tends to show up in times of infidelity, or lust.”

“What do you mean, ‘lust’?” Cassandra eyed Thanatos, who chuckled.

“Who’s the one sabotaging you now?” he asked. “But come on. It’s not like I’m bad to look at.”

Cassandra crossed her arms. There was no denying that. He was incredibly easy to look at. Beautiful, and terrible, like they all were.

Except Aidan.

Her eyes moved across his chest, over his shoulders and up to his amused expression. He was so dark and cold. He didn’t have any of the warmth that Aidan had. Aidan’s smile was dashing and open. Thanatos had a secret smirk.

But Thanatos hasn’t betrayed me, driven me insane, and gotten me locked in a basket, either.

She squared her shoulders. Their differences didn’t matter. It wasn’t a contest. It wasn’t real. Whatever happened in the next few minutes was only a ruse. Bait at the end of a hook.

She stepped close to Thanatos and looked up into his eyes. The sound of her breath was loud. After a moment, his hand came up to touch her face.

“I’m not kissing you!” She jerked back. “I’m not here to die.”

He pulled away and rolled his eyes, muttering about stereotypes. “Not all of my kisses kill,” he said. “But you’re really starting to tempt me.”

“Thanatos.” Calypso shook her head. “Don’t joke. Not now.”

“Why don’t you try with me?” he said to the nymph, but Calypso shook her head.

“It has to be real,” Calypso replied. “And I feel nothing, now that Odysseus is gone. But Cassandra, I will help you.”

“Help me,” Cassandra said. She wasn’t sure if she could do it. Lusting for death was not her style. But what was the alternative? To let Calypso try to lasso something called the Unceasing Anger? She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. After a few moments, she felt Thanatos’ hands settle on her hips.

“Make it real,” Calypso whispered. “It has to
be
real.”

It felt impossible. The cold from Thanatos seeped into the air and wound around Cassandra’s body. And there was nothing romantic about standing in the middle of a stone and dirt basement, waiting for a leather-winged hell-beast to burst in between them.

Slow and easy, Calypso’s voice began to weave through the room like a melody. Cassandra wanted to ask what she was saying, but could barely form the thought, and besides, the song didn’t sound like words. It sounded like sunlight filtered through clear water. It sounded like island flowers.

Thanatos pulled Cassandra closer. He didn’t feel so cold anymore, and a tug had started in her chest, sweet and warm. When she pressed against him it felt natural. His fingers slipped into her hair. He whispered something, and she leaned in close to hear.

“Cassandra, be ready.”

She blinked. His voice was strained, as though he’d run a mile.

“The path is open.”

Calypso’s chant was gone, and slowly, Cassandra’s body sank back into her shoes, leaving her to wonder where it had been. Her fingers were clenched onto the sides of Thanatos’ shirt, and for the moment she didn’t let go. She was too busy listening, and studying the change in the room.

Everything had crystallized. The air was clearer and somehow brighter. The stone of the walls and even the dirt floor seemed sharper. It was like standing inside of a mirror’s reflection.

A beautiful girl materialized beside them. She wore a short black dress and black boots. Hair the color of wet sand tumbled to her waist. And before she could speak a word, Calypso threw the chain around her neck and pulled.

The image of the girl disappeared faster than Cassandra could have imagined. The girl’s tanned arm turned shriveled, the skin loose and ropey with veins. Her lovely mouth morphed into a bat’s mouth, too full of teeth and tongue. And her brown eyes rolled so red it was a wonder they didn’t burst and bleed down her cheeks.

The Fury screeched and bucked, but Calypso maneuvered the chains as if she’d practiced for years: a quick loop there to secure an arm, a hard jerk here to throw the Fury off balance. A cuff closed around its right wrist and Thanatos moved in to help, pulling the slack chain taut. It was none too soon. The Fury bit down on air inches from Cassandra’s face. She could smell the decay on its breath.

Wings burst from the Fury’s back and battered Calypso and Thanatos both, but Calypso looped more chain around its body and then jumped onto the wings.

“Thanatos! Secure the legs!”

Before he could, the Fury kicked, and its talons caught Calypso in the shin, tearing a bright red line. And then Thanatos had the cuffs on and Calypso rolled away, leaving the beast to seethe and writhe on the floor.

“Cally! Your leg.” Cassandra held her hands out, to help her walk or apply pressure, but Calypso waved her away.

“It’s all right. It’s shallow.” But blood ran freely down to her ankle and into her sandal.

Thanatos stepped up beside them and looked down on the Fury. He seemed exhilarated, more than anything.

“Wrapped up nicely as a Christmas package.” He dusted his hands off on his jeans. “Let’s go upstairs awhile. Let her mellow. I’d rather not have to suck the blood out of something that looks like that.”

8

LIKE EXCALIBUR

“Achilles will come for Hector. It’s all he’s ever wanted. That, and to be a god. You can bet that the Moirae have promised him both. He’ll come with all their strength at his heel. You won’t be able to protect Hector. The Fates will hold you down, press you to the ground, and turn your head to watch.”

“Great. So what are we supposed to do? Achilles can’t be killed. You kill him once, and he pops right back up to be killed again.”

“Only because it isn’t the right death.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means the boy who can put Achilles to rest is the boy standing right next to you. And he is the only one.”

*   *   *

Hermes sat behind the wheel of the rented SUV, driving back toward the road and on to the airport, and home to Kincade. No one had spoken since they got into the car, but the words of Demeter filled the cab. He could hear Andie and Henry replaying it in their heads so clearly he might as well have been telepathic.

*   *   *

“Why Henry? Why does it have to be him?”

“Their destinies are intertwined. All the way to Troy and back again, it is one or the other. There are threads of Achilles inside Hector and threads of Hector inside Achilles. This time will be like the time before. They will face each other. And you have to hurry, if you want to help him.”

“How am I supposed to do that? How can I help him?”

“By making him equal to the task. No mortal man could best Achilles. Not then, and not now. But then, Achilles was only a mortal himself. Find the edge that he once carried, and give it to Hector.”

“The edge that he once carried. You want me to drag Henry to the underworld and dunk him in the river Styx?”

*   *   *

He was lucky Demeter hadn’t had arms then, or she’d have cuffed him in the head. But she said no more. She waited, and breathed, and blinked her elephant-lashed eye patiently.

*   *   *

“The edge he carried. The edge he carried … Like a sword. Like Excalibur. But Achilles didn’t have a magic sword. He had the Styx dip and he had … a shield. A shield forged by the gods. The Shield of Achilles.”

“Very good, Messenger. Now all you have to do is find it.”

*   *   *

Find it. All he had to do was find it, a legendary shield that hadn’t been seen for a few thousand years.

“My god,” he said softly.

“What?” Andie asked. She sat up fast in the passenger seat and scanned the windows as though Demeter or something worse might be flying up after them. Hermes gripped the wheel grimly.

“I might have to do research.”

*   *   *

A day after they returned from their failed trip to the desert, Henry lay on his bed, idly rolling a hockey puck between his fingers. Lux lay on the floor chewing a strip of rawhide. It was the only noise in the house, even though his parents were downstairs.

He, Hermes, and Andie had made it back days before the end of spring break. He wished they’d stayed in the desert longer. Coming back so soon without Cassandra and facing his parents was harder than Henry had imagined. Their faces when he walked through the door showed how much they’d hoped. They’d thought he might be able to bring her home, and he’d thought so, too.

Lux heard the sound of Andie’s Saturn and scrambled up off the floor. Andie knocked once and let herself in, calling out a tremulous “hello” that was met with mostly silence. The house was joyless. Sometimes Henry couldn’t help being pissed off at Cassandra for just how joyless it was.

“Hey.” Andie poked her head through his door. “You finally get the dust out of your hair?”

“It only took three showers.” He sat up on the bed to make room.

“I told my mom what we ‘found’,” she said, and made air quotation marks. “That by the time we got there they were gone. But they left word that they were safe, and would come home soon.” She pulled her black hair out of its ponytail and snapped the binder between her fingers. “My mom went on this tirade about how irresponsible they were. How inconsiderate they were of everyone’s feelings.”

“My parents said the same thing.”

“I couldn’t even disagree. I mean, I do feel like that sometimes, even though I know the truth. Not about Athena, because she’s doing who knows what in the underworld, but then again, she effing
left
us on that hellhole of a mountain—”

“Andie. You’re rambling.” He tossed the hockey puck onto his desk. “But I know what you mean.”

“Why won’t they just come back?” she asked.

“They will.”

“I don’t think Demeter really knows that.” Andie sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, then tilted up again. “I sat on your phone. Here, it’s ringing. It’s … Ariel. What’s she want?”

“Give me that.” He looked at it briefly, and wished she’d called at any other time. “Hello?” He turned slightly and tried to listen, laughed in all the right places, asked follow-up questions, all the while with one ear tuned to Andie, who was not so subtly rubbernecking over his shoulder. It was distracting, but he got the gist of the conversation. Party at Ariel’s house. Come whenever he wanted.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing.” He put the phone in his pocket. He and Andie could just hang out, the two of them. Watch a movie. Be miserable together. He sighed, and got up off the bed. “Want to go to a party?”

*   *   *

“A party at Ariel Moreau’s,” Andie mused as they pulled up to her house. It was in the same wealthy neighborhood as their friend Sam, who hosted epic Halloween shindigs. “What’s she even doing home? Shouldn’t she be spring breaking in Cancun or something?”

Henry smiled. “Don’t be a jerk.”

“Tall order. Maybe I shouldn’t have come. This isn’t exactly my crowd.”

“I’m your crowd.”

“If you say so,” Andie said. “But if you disappear for three hours to make out with Ariel, I’ll be none too pleased.”

Henry watched her get out of the car and start up the street toward the driveway. “Not much chance of that,” he said quietly.

Inside the house, Andie stuck to him for approximately five minutes. Then she was off, talking to everyone and no one. She had a way of making herself seem comfortable even when she wasn’t.

Henry stood with his friends from hockey and drank a beer. There was enough music and enough conversation to keep him from thinking about his sister for five minutes at a stretch. It wasn’t the same with Achilles, though. He thought of that fight every time he looked at Andie.

Henry didn’t remember the first fight with Achilles, that grand duel in the sands outside Troy. He wondered if he would be even more afraid if he did, or if it would be boring, like it was just more of the same.

But boring was the wrong word. He didn’t imagine the prospect of getting a spear rammed through one’s chest could ever be boring.

“Hey.”

He turned and found Ariel with her head cocked flirtatiously. She seemed a little drunk. “You brought a girl to my party,” she said.

“No, he didn’t,” Max Bauer interjected. “He brought Big Andie. She doesn’t count.” Everyone laughed.

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Henry said through a fake smile. “She could kill you.”

“I sort of want her to. Remember Sam Burress’ Halloween party? If she smothers me to death with her rack then I’m all for it.”