“I don’t know,” he said, and glanced at Cassandra. “I don’t think it’s my fight. But I will if—”

“Just don’t get in the way,” Cassandra said. She reached into the car and killed the headlights. A moment later, flashlights clicked on, and they started up the mountain.

*   *   *

For a long time, the only sounds were their feet breaking through twigs and crushing pine needles and grass. And then of breathing, as they began to tire.

Athena kept her ears wide open, and couldn’t help checking over her shoulder. At any moment, the Moirae could crash down like a sack pulled over their heads. She hoped they had enough of a lead that the attack wouldn’t come while it was still dark. And as the light around them turned first gray and then silver, she hoped the Moirae would strike soon, before the strength in their legs gave out, or they lost their nerve.

*   *   *

No one broke an ankle in the dark, but it was a wonder. In the predawn light, more and more exposed roots and fallen branches came into view.

Cassandra adjusted the medical pack on her shoulders. She’d taken it from Andie an hour ago, when the weariness on Andie’s face was too much to bear.

Cassandra looked back, down the mountain. Surely they’d gone far enough. They should start looking for someplace to use as a sort of stronghold. But Athena kept going up and up, and glancing over her shoulder far too often, unsure as a sheepdog without an owner to command it.

(Athena breaks her word. She runs. But don’t fear. We can be anywhere we need to be.)

Cassandra stopped short and blinked hard. But Clotho and Lachesis weren’t lurking behind the nearest tree. They hadn’t wriggled their way up through her nose or into her ear. It was only their voices. In the dark part of Cassandra’s mind, a curious itch started, like an oiled gear clicking around and around. Turning from a cave in some other mountain to a cave in this one.

Cassandra stole a look in Athena’s direction. The goddess continued to walk. She gave no indication of having heard or sensed anything.

Cassandra exhaled, and the knot of strings in her chest began to relax.

30

ONE FATE

They stopped for a light breakfast, using a fallen log for both bench and table. No one ate much. They nibbled at granola bars and sipped from plastic bottles, and tried not to look as tired as they felt.

Athena perched on the edge. The Moirae should have come by now. She’d thought they’d be enraged that they’d tried to run, that they’d have spurred Atropos and Achilles, driven them out of their cave as horses harnessed to a chariot.

She looked over the sweat-streaked faces of Andie and Henry. She couldn’t keep them going for much longer. They’d have to find a good place to make their stand, and wait.

Or we could just keep on running. The hell with the feathers in my lungs and their plan for us. We could run like Hermes, fast as we could, until they couldn’t even track the dust behind us. Maybe with that much defiance, I could defy even my own death, and we could go on like that together. Forever.

Forever was a very pretty word. A very pretty, very bullshit word.

Odysseus caught her eye, his cheek stuffed full of granola.

“Has anyone else noticed,” he asked, “that all of the birds stopped chirping five minutes ago?”

Everyone stopped chewing. He was right.

“Stay together,” he said calmly, and popped a piece of dried apple into his mouth. Athena watched Andie and Henry carefully. They wanted to bolt but neither moved. They trusted Odysseus like they trusted Athena.

The sound of the hatchet slicing air gave only a second of warning before Athena saw it, aiming end over end for Andie’s chest. Odysseus barely had time to pull her clear.

“Where is he?” Henry shouted. He dragged Andie back behind the shield with him, and Odysseus frowned. That wouldn’t do, in the fight that was coming.

Achilles’ laughter rang out from somewhere in the trees. Thanatos edged in front of Cassandra, and Athena eyed him carefully. Could she count on his help? She didn’t think so. He’d stand against Achilles, but not the Moirae. Athena scanned the woods below. In the Moirae’s present state, they’d be hard to miss. No trunk in the forest was broad enough to hide their twisted form.

Something else cut through the air: a spear this time. The throw was better; it sliced Odysseus in the shoulder as he spun out of the way.

“We can’t just stand here and let him toss things at us,” he said. He pressed his hand to his arm and it came away red. His eyes sought Athena’s. Don’t worry about me, they said. There’s something bigger headed your way.