Andie rolled her head toward him.

“Henry. Just about everything about this is weird.”

“Want to add another dimension?” Hermes asked. “Sit still and feel very closely.” He watched their faces turn horrified. “That’s her pulse through your butts.” They groaned and he laughed, but they couldn’t get away from it. Everywhere Andie rolled, the pulse followed. Hermes reached into the coals for a can of stew, double-wrapped it in a sock, and handed it to Henry. “Eat up, and get some rest. Tomorrow we’ll have our answers.”

*   *   *

Today is the day, big sister. Today we pick up your trail. And Cassandra’s trail. But yours first. Hope the mortals don’t have a problem with that.

Hermes stretched languidly. The sun had started to warm the air, but Andie and Henry would probably still wake up shivering. In the early pink hours, he’d let the fire burn down to coals as a sort of alarm clock.

They’ll have to see the logic of it. If we go for Athena first, we’re safer. And who better to get to Cassandra fast than Athena?

It sounded good in his head. But he could just imagine Henry’s stubborn face: jaw set, eyebrows squeezed so close together they formed a line. They’d come around. But they’d argue first. Another reason they needed his sister. They never would have argued with her.

A different sort of thrum resonated through Demeter’s skin. Henry’s footsteps.

“Morning,” Hermes said as Henry came to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. “Sleep well?”

Henry nodded and blushed a little. Hermes stifled a smirk. When he’d left the campsite, Henry had been locked together with Andie in a very solid spoon.

“She makes a better mattress than I thought she would, actually,” Henry said.

Hermes laughed. “I’m going to assume you’re talking about Demeter and not Andie.”

Henry stuffed his hands into his pockets. The muscles in his jaw clenched and reclenched.

“Let’s just wake Andie up so we can get going.”

Andie didn’t say much when they woke her, except to ask for some water and a piece of gum, but Hermes noticed she didn’t look in Henry’s direction the entire time they were packing up their gear.

So much tension. Maybe I shouldn’t have rolled them together last night after all.

“Hey.” He tossed Andie the bottle of sunblock. “Reapply. You, too, Henry.”

She reluctantly squeezed some into her palm, and made a face rubbing it in. It must’ve felt disgusting after the sweat, the dirt, and the night in the cold desert, but it was better than winding up red and peely.

“You’re in a good mood,” she muttered.

“Of course I am.”

“Aren’t you the least bit worried about what she’ll say?”

Of course he was. He was worried about a million things. Athena. Cassandra. The condition of them both when they were finally found. Athena’s feathers. The Fates. His own thinning body. Leading Andie and Henry into danger. He was worried, with a side of sadness and outright fatigue. But what good did it do, when they needed him? He was all that was left.

“Let’s just go meet my aunt.”

*   *   *

Demeter’s enormous, leather-lidded eye swept up, down, and over the two mortals and one filthy god. They stood around it in a semicircle, quietly tolerating the appraisal. Hermes thanked the stars that Andie didn’t have any visible tattoos or piercings. Not even in her ears. But her sweat-stretched tank top didn’t do much to hide her ample chest, either. He glanced at her nervously, noting her tired face shaded underneath a ridiculous floppy hat. Maybe Demeter would just focus on that.

“I was too hard on Athena before,” Demeter said. “Apparently everyone dresses like this.” She fixed her eye on Andie, and Andie squinted.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Hermes said quickly. “She’s old. She likes collars buttoned to your chin and long sleeves.”

Demeter chuckled, or at least it sounded like a chuckle. A lot of air moved across their faces, and the skin rattled beneath their feet.

“I’m not as bad as all that, Messenger.”

Henry craned his neck and looked around.

“Where is your voice coming from?”

Demeter’s eye swiveled his way, and Hermes braced. The mortals were bold and flippant. It was his own damn fault, and Athena’s, too, for befriending them and taking their jibes. But Demeter didn’t seem angry. The eye had an almost affectionate tilt.