Hera screamed, and the sound only brought Cassandra on faster. A touch here, a shove there, murdering a goddess in bits, and the whole room paused to watch as Hera trembled and jerked. As she cried for Ares and Aphrodite, telling them to get the head, the head, whatever that meant. As she tried to protect her own head, putting her stiff, stone arms in front of her face.

Her pleas to Ares and the Moirae unheeded, Hera finally looked at Hermes.

“Stop her, please!” she begged.

The fear in her eyes was terrible.

“I can’t,” he said.

Hera strained under Cassandra’s touch, and then, all at once, her screaming stopped. Hera was dead. Past the point of recovery or miracles. A stone statue, her face forever frozen in a twisted howl of pain.

“No,” Aphrodite keened, and reached behind a column. What she pulled out was something Hermes never thought he’d see again. Poseidon’s head.

It was severed and ragged at the neck, but remarkably well preserved. His uncle’s dead jaw hung slack, ringed with swollen, purple lips. The eyes remained intact but had no color. Just white orbs, not so dissimilar to Hera’s marble eyes. Aphrodite lifted the bloated, still-wet thing to her mouth and whispered into its ear.

“Shit,” he whispered, and called to the others. “Come on, move! She’s calling the sea!”

Water rushed up the sides of the mountain like thunder, ready to serve the last of Poseidon, to crush them and drown them. Hermes looked between Andie, Henry, Calypso, and Cassandra. He’d never get them all out in time.

“Cassandra, now!” he shouted.

“No!”

He darted to Calypso. “Come on. Get up!” But she wept and remained slack. He couldn’t get them all out. He could only carry two. The first wave crested and broke into the room, cold and frothy and furious. He cursed and made his choice, going for the ones he wouldn’t have to drag kicking and screaming. He grabbed Andie and Henry, and fled Olympus.

*   *   *

The water cut a strange, deliberate path through the room. Gallons of it surged and splashed against the confining edges of the door, so hard it reminded Cassandra of Wile E. Coyote hitting a wall when chasing the Road Runner.

But no roadrunner was ever as fast as Hermes. Andie and Henry were gone. Safe. They’d make it out.

The thought was a shy whisper in Cassandra’s angry brain. One small, unimportant piece compared to the other part that killed gods. Fire burned inside of her, inside and all around. She glowed with it. Hera was stone beneath her fingers. A few seconds more and she’d be reduced to rubble, then dust.

Water slipped up into her shoes and drenched her feet in cold. Cold enough to snuff part of her rage out like a candle. She glared at Ares and Aphrodite. At the Moirae and Achilles. She couldn’t burn him up with a touch, no matter how much she wanted to.

So what? If I kill the others, what does he have left?

“Don’t make me slice you up, princess,” Achilles warned. But he only guarded the Moirae. Ares and Aphrodite were fair game.

Ares held Aphrodite around the waist. She hugged Poseidon’s head, and the water didn’t touch them.

“You think an ice bath is going to stop me?” Cassandra asked, and Aphrodite wailed. She stepped forward, treading water to the knees. Ares glared at her, and thrust Poseidon’s head in her direction. Salt spray and a strong wave rose up like a wall, crashing into her and knocking her to the ground. She spit and sucked air and tried to get to her feet. But Ares was no fool. Through the water, she saw him run, and take Aphrodite with him. They disappeared through a door, and the door disappeared right after.

“No!”

She coughed, and her limbs sagged in frustration. The fire inside her flickered and grew weak. But she could find a way. A way through the walls to Aphrodite.

Cassandra took a step, and heard Calypso cry. She looked back and saw Calypso on the floor, drenched to the waist. The stupid girl would probably stay there, weeping for Odysseus until she traded tears for the sea. The water rose so fast, already up to Calypso’s ribs. Another minute and it would be too deep to run in. Cassandra glared at Achilles and the Moirae, protected from Poseidon’s waves. Only the barest inches of water touched Achilles’ feet.

“You can’t get past me, princess,” said Achilles. “Take her and go.”

Cassandra looked again at Calypso.

“This isn’t over,” she growled.

“It is today,” Achilles said as Cassandra turned and clutched Calypso around the waist, throwing her arm around her shoulder. It took most of her strength, but she got the nymph to stand and dragged her toward the door they’d come in through.