“Not in this life.” Henry grinned in spite of himself. “And not in the last one, either.”
She sprang up off the bed and got him in a headlock. Lux whined as they tried to hook into each others’ legs. When they toppled onto the bed, he barked and quit the room with an unhappy groan. His tail thumped against the door.
It was nothing new, the way they wrestled. It felt normal and natural. When she finally twisted loose, she felt Henry holding his breath, and his heart hammered in his chest. Maybe she really was stronger after all.
*
Athena stood in the driveway and looked up at her house. The house she’d bought to keep up the fa?ade of a happy family: sick brother and concerned sister, taking time off from college. The house she’d bought so she could stay close to Cassandra.
On the walk back from the bus station, slush-water crept up the legs of her jeans almost to the knee. Her feet were soaked. Two days away from the desert and she could barely conjure a memory of its heat, though yellow dirt still clung to her jacket and rucksack.
“Hoot.”
She looked up and saw yellow eyes and a clicking beak.
“Hoot yourself, little one,” she said, but the weight of the bird’s eyes got her moving and she walked toward the light thrown by the nighttime windows.
“I wondered how long you were going to stand in the driveway,” Odysseus said from the sofa as she passed the living room.
“You didn’t see me.”
“No, but I knew you would stand, debating whether or not to come back. I’m right, aren’t I? How long? A half hour?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“In your mind maybe. Gods are horrible judges of time.”
She walked into the dining room and set her rucksack on a chair. She cringed at the sprinkling of sand it left on the upholstery. Hermes would hiss like a goose. Odysseus walked in behind her and leaned against the table.
“How is he?” She looked down the hall toward Hermes’ bedroom.
“Keeping the takeout restaurants in business,” Odysseus said, but it wasn’t hard to read between the lines. Hermes was no better. The food wasn’t helping. “Did Demeter know where Aphrodite was?”
“Can we talk about it tomorrow? I just want a hot, hot shower.” A bath would’ve been nicer, but with all the sand in her hair it would be like lounging in a mud puddle before she was through.
“A simple yes or no will do. Or I could join you in the shower, if you’d rather talk there.”
“The punishment for watching a goddess bathe is to be eaten by hounds,” she warned.
“Right,” he said. “By your own hounds. And I’m distinctly houndless.”
“I’m sure Henry would give Lux out on loan.” She opened the refrigerator and grabbed a takeout box. Sesame chicken, and plenty of rice. “Why are there leftovers? He’s supposed to eat—”
“Even he has limits.” Odysseus grasped the back of Athena’s neck. His fingers found their way into soreness she hadn’t known she had. “Do you want him to burst?”
“I suppose not.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. Let his fingers work their magic on the dozen or so knots in her neck, and down her back and shoulders. His touch had come to feel familiar and safe. Until he slipped one hand beneath her shirt and the other up into her hair.
“Odysseus. You don’t know how to not put the moves on someone.”
“Only you, goddess,” he whispered, and then chuckled softly. “There’s sand in your hair. You been sleeping on the desert floor again?”
“Under the stars,” she said. “Scorpions and night spiders danced across my belly.” Odysseus slid his fingers across her stomach and she felt it all the way down. A little more pressure, and she might’ve bent in two. She put her hand over his to stop him.
“How is Cassandra?” she asked.
Odysseus sighed and let go.
“Broken,” he said. “And not healing. But she did do a nifty trick with the maps. Right before she set the maps on fire. You’d better deliver Aphrodite into her hands, and fast.”