“At this rate, it’ll be dark by the time we get there.”

“All the better,” Achilles said. “We can’t go around killing gods and talking wolves downtown in the daylight.”

*   *   *

In addition to providing good cover, the dark made it easier to spot the flashing lights of the last lingering fire crews. They drove past the burned-out buildings and stared at them in angry silence before parking a few streets over.

“How close do you think we’ll be able to get without attracting attention?” Achilles asked.

“I don’t think we’ll have to get close at all,” Athena said. Above the houses smoke puffed skyward, still visible in the well-lit night of a normally safe, civilized neighborhood.

“I hope they partied hard the night before,” Cassandra said. “Is that weird to say? I hope they togaed the shit out of this town. Had the time of their lives.”

It didn’t matter now.

“No,” said Athena. “It’s not weird to say.” She opened her door and stepped out; Cassandra and Achilles did the same. The wind carried burnt wood and chemicals to their noses, scorched flesh and smoke. Death and shock hung heavy in the air as well. But that wasn’t what Athena focused on.

Ares was there. She felt his darkness and rage, smoldering like the fires he had started. Her legs itched to head for the trees, for the shadowy sides of buildings, but she waited long enough to listen, to feel for anything else. Any other god. But he was alone.

“Is he here?” Achilles asked.

“Yes.”

Cassandra moved to Athena’s side.

“Stay close,” Athena said. “And let me know if you get any kind of updated vision, okay?”

“Okay.”

Their words registered as puffs of air. Ares would be able to see that and know when they spoke even if he was out of earshot. But weather was weather.

“Achilles,” Athena said, “get the mutt.” She tossed him the trunk key and listened to the squeak and scuffle as he opened it and grabbed the wolf. It lay docile in his arms, four paws dangling like an oversized red calf.

“Good. Now let’s get somewhere dark, where we’ll have some privacy.”

They crossed the street, Cassandra keeping close, as she’d been told, Achilles following behind. Athena listened for movement and paid attention to the angry heat in her consciousness. But it didn’t move.

She scanned the houses and the shadows of large, bare trees. One spot seemed darker than the rest, under better cover, isolated from streaks of yellow light thrown from streetlamps and windows.

“There,” Athena said, and pointed. Their feet moved silently through powder-light snow. When they reached the cover of trees, Athena put her hand across Cassandra’s chest.

“What? Do you see him?”

“No. Not yet.”

“What are we going to do?” Cassandra asked.

Athena studied Cassandra’s face. In the darkness, Cassandra didn’t bother hiding her expression like she did in the light. She was afraid, yes, and a little reluctant. But she was also angry, and hungry. Part of it was vengeance, justice for those boys. But it wasn’t all. Cassandra’s eyes moved through the dark like a hunter’s eyes.

“I want to hear what he has to say,” said Athena. “I want the message.”

“What if it was just a challenge?” Achilles asked.

“No. It was a message.”

Cassandra turned her face toward the smoke and red flashing lights, her face a grimace of disgust.

“There are better ways to send one,” she said.

Before Athena could reply, the smell of Ares’ blood drifted toward them, along with the darker, richer scent of wolf fur.

The black wolf walked out from between the trees before Ares, watching them with silent eyes, on legs long and thin as sticks. Pain, the sick-smelling gray one, slunk out from behind a tree to the left. Famine came last, with its master, blending into the snow. And just like that, they were outnumbered.

Doesn’t matter. Achilles can take the wolves. I can handle Ares.

But if a wolf got hold of Cassandra, it could tear her throat out in a flash.

Ares’ black hair ruffled in the night air. He looked well. Whatever Cassandra had done to him in the rain forest hadn’t stuck to him any better than it had to Hera.

“Ares,” Athena said. “I see you’ve brought your best attack dogs.”

“So did you.”

She clenched her jaw. He always said they were alike. Two sides of the same coin, and she kept proving him right.