Athena could feel Hermes and Odysseus standing just behind, one at each of her shoulders. They expected her to talk, to make a speech, to rouse the troops as she had once done. Part of her resented it. She hadn’t been a general for two thousand years. The blank row of faces that lined the table seemed miles away, viewed across mountaintops. These were modern women; mystical or not, how could she talk to them about the wars of gods? This wasn’t anything like it had been in those days. This was no great hall where kings drank and feasted, where braziers burned late into the night. It was a damn boardroom.

She took a deep breath.

“I trust that Celine has told you who we are.” She regarded them gravely. “And now I will tell you why we have come.

“There is a war being fought among the gods. It’s not like other wars, wars that conquered cities or which were staged for our amusement. It’s the Twilight, the death of us all, and you know that there are those who would not accept that without a struggle.” Not a single eye moved while she spoke. No one made a sound. “I won’t accept that without a struggle. The gods, my family, are set to consume each other. My aunt Demeter has favored us, and told us of tools, weapons that will help.”

“Who are the enemies?” The voice came from the left side of the table. Athena recognized the blond girl from the room where they had found Odysseus, but just barely. She looked different fully clothed.

“Poseidon,” Athena replied. Then, hesitating, she glanced sidelong at Hermes. “As well as Aphrodite … and Hera.”

Hermes shifted his weight, but stayed quiet.

The witches exchanged glances.

“Hera has always been a friend to women,” said a redhead with striking green eyes. “And Aphrodite has ever been a friend to the coven. Why should we help you over them? You’ve always chosen the causes of men over us.”

Athena swallowed. She wasn’t exactly wrong. But times had changed. “Not always,” she whispered.

“Look.” Hermes stepped forward. “You don’t know Hera like we do. And don’t forget what I told you about Poseidon.”

Celine raised her chin. “What do you need from us?”

“We need to find a prophetess. The reincarnation of Cassandra of Troy. That’s why we came to you. Poseidon and Hera are seeking her as well. We don’t have much time.”

“What can she do for us?”

Athena swallowed. “We don’t know. Not for sure. But Demeter thinks she’s a weapon, and I believe her.”

The redhead shook her head and looked across at the blonde. “It seems reactionary. And blind. Not at all a winning battle plan.”

Odysseus bumped Athena’s shoulder as he moved to the front.

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to,” he said darkly. “This is Athena. She knows strategy better than anyone. She’ll tell you what she wants to tell you. Hell, she might even be lying. But what choice do you have?”

“How can you want us to do this?” asked the blonde, who Celine whispered was called Isabella. “You ask for our help and offer us no protection in return. After you go, your enemies will become our enemies. What’s to stop them from burning us to the ground?”

“The chances that they’ll even come to you are slim,” Athena replied. “They don’t know we’re here.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Isabella,” Celine cautioned, but the girl looked at her like she was mad.

“The gods will tear us apart. They will send things after us.” She looked at Odysseus imploringly. “Can’t you stay at least? Can’t one of you protect us?”

“No,” Athena said.

A number of protests rose from around the table, but Celine hushed them.

“This is not for us to question,” she said mildly. “The gods would do more if they could.” She looked each of the girls in the eye. Physically, she looked no older than any of them, but the fact that she was their matriarch was plain. “The coven of Circe will support Athena. We will help her locate this prophetess. And then we will worry about ourselves.” The witches around the table lowered their eyes in silent compliance. Celine snapped her fingers.

“Mareden,” she said, and the trim receptionist stood from where she sat at the end of the table. “A map on the projector, please. Lilith, we will need candles.” A buxom redhead pushed her chair away and quickly left the room. It was less than a minute before she returned with a silver tray laden with white pillars. As she passed, each witch took one and set it before her.