She’d never felt any of those things. Not once.
Not even with you. And of all mortals, I loved you best.
Athena blinked and snapped her arm back to her side. She grimaced. The movement hadn’t been quiet. She watched Odysseus carefully. His eyes wandered and stilled again.
“If you’re having trouble keeping up, just say so,” she said quickly.
“I’m having trouble keeping up,” he said with a wry smile.
“All right. We have to keep moving, but—” She thought of ways to carry him along, using her arm to hold him up beside her. “I’ll help you.” She reached out and took his hand. The gentle pressure of his fingers sent a jolt down her spine. Then she tugged him forward, and they walked quickly before breaking into a run. As they went she pulled him up and along, and sensed his fear change to exhilaration as they streaked through night-black trees, their feet barely touching the dirt.
* * *
Athena stuck her thumb out as the tenth pair of headlights approached in the morning fog. Hitching was a pain in the ass, especially when there was fog so thick that the driver couldn’t see that the thumb was attached to a good set of legs. Visibility was also a factor when it came to Odysseus, who consistently stepped too far out into the lane and was going to get his arm taken off at the very least.
They were on Route 6, walking the shoulder and hoping to get a ride that would take them onto the freeway and, if they were lucky, out of Illinois. Two more cars passed by in the pink-orange light of dawn; the second one honked loudly. Athena and Odysseus gave it matching middle fingers.
“Just some scared house lady,” Odysseus mused. “Probably scared to death that we’re going to steal her car, cut her up, and stick her in the trunk while we go joyriding.”
“You can’t really blame her,” said Athena, gesturing to her clothes, which were still torn and caked with dirt. Blood had dried to brown spots and patches on her knees and the belly of her t-shirt. Odysseus looked even worse. Unlike Hermes, they hadn’t taken a trip to the local mall.
Hermes was probably halfway to Kincade by now, Athena supposed. He was probably holed up in some swanky hotel and figured that “laying low” meant using a very convincing alias to book it under. Athena frowned.
Don’t worry so much. He can take care of himself. He’s done it since forever.
But things were different. They were all vulnerable, and she regretted letting him go ahead on his own.
“Why are we looking for Cassandra, anyway?” Odysseus asked.
“You remember her?”
“Of course I do. She was a right comely little princess. Maybe not so much as her sister, but…”
Athena rolled her eyes. “Do you remember her with something besides your penis?”
Odysseus laughed. “I remember that everyone said she was a prophet, but nobody believed what she prophesized. They said she was crazy. Even when everything happened the way she said it would. People were jerks, back then.”
“It wasn’t the people.” Athena put her thumb out for another pair of headlights, but they went right by. “It was Apollo.”
“Apollo? Patron god of Troy?”
“He was in love with her. He was the one who gave her the gift of prophecy to begin with. But then she pissed him off, somehow, so he cursed her. He made it so she’d always see, but no one would ever believe her.”
“Sounds pretty crazy-making.” Odysseus waved his arms at an approaching minivan.
“Don’t flag the ones with children inside. They’re never going to stop for two bloodied vagrants, and they might call the cops.”
“I thought maybe they’d think we were in an accident and pull over like good Samaritans.” He sighed. “So when we find Cassandra, what makes you think she’ll help? She must hate gods, after what was done to her.”
“She probably doesn’t remember. And even if she does, not all gods are bad.” She smiled over her shoulder. “Some of them work for years to save the skins of cocky, ungrateful heroes.”
“Hey! You coming?”
She turned toward the voice, shouted from the rolled-down window of a silver, late-model Ford Taurus. A jacket-clad arm hooked out onto the door and gestured for them to come on.
Odysseus grinned and slung his bag over his shoulder. In the fog they hadn’t even noticed the car pulling over. They walked up and Athena got into the front seat. Odysseus piled into the back and immediately tossed his bag down to use for a pillow. He’d probably be snoring in less than a mile, but he shook hands with the driver before flopping onto his side.