“I can’t hold you!” She jerked him hard to the right so she could clamber around the end. Thanatos convulsed. She held him, even though the blood coating his teeth made her want to retch.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “Should I do something?”

He didn’t answer, so she lowered him to the floor and went to the sink to wet a towel with cold water. By the time she pressed it to his forehead, the convulsions had mostly stopped.

“Something to drink,” he said. “Something strong.”

She ran to the bar and poured a large snifter of brandy.

“Date-rape brandy to the rescue,” she said, and pulled his head into her lap so he could drink.

“I would never—” He sipped. “—roofie anyone. Don’t be insulting or I’ll barf Fury blood all over your skirt.”

“I was kidding.” She brushed her fingers across his forehead. “And you should have warned me about the seizure.”

“I’ve never had a reaction like that before.”

“Was it because she was dying? I noticed her eyes. All the vessels looked like they’d burst.”

“No,” he said. “It wasn’t the death, but who put it there. Another god. Atropos. I could taste her corruption.” Cassandra pressed the brandy to his lips again. “She’s the one. The Moirae of death. She’s the source.”

The source. Cassandra sucked in breath.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Do you mean she’s the source of the gods’ deaths?”

“Yes,” Thanatos said. “It all stems from Atropos. And trickles down.”

“Do the other gods know?” She was fairly sure Athena didn’t.

“I’m not sure. Maybe some suspect.”

“Does that mean they’ll survive? If they kill her? They won’t be dying anymore?”

He blinked at her slowly. The panic in her voice had been hard to miss.

“Yes,” he said. “But don’t worry. They’ll never be able to kill her.”

11

THE INDUSTRIALIST

A Shield of Hector to replace the lost Shield of Achilles. It wasn’t exactly an easy task, but certainly more attainable than finding the real thing. Hermes sat impatiently in front of his laptop. He’d been searching and printing for the last thirty minutes, ever since he got off the phone with Andie, Henry, and the take-out guys from Stanley’s Wok and Napoli Pizza.

Damn slow Internet.

Everything except his own fingers and mind seemed slow at the moment. He tapped his toes and looked at the growing pile of paper, then at the wall clock. What the hell was taking Andie and Henry so long? Henry lived three streets away, for Pete’s sake.

Someone pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.

Damn it. Not pizza. Delivery guys never turn their cars off.

“Andie!” he said when she walked in. “What took you so long? And why do you look so pale?”

“I went to a party last night.” She waved her hand to keep him from asking more. “Why are you talking so fast? What’s happening?”

“Not until Henry gets here. And at least one of the take-out guys. I ordered a couple of garlic chickens and a Mediterranean special. And the left half of the Stanley’s Wok menu, as usual.”

She made a face.

“No food.” She sat down hard on the sofa and put her hand over her eyes. It was, he surmised, what the mortals called a hangover. Great. She’d be irritable, uncomfortable, and mostly useless for hours. A fine way mortals had of ruining the day after a good party.

Two more cars rolled into the driveway. One was particularly loud. Henry’s Mustang. He came into the house laden with boxes and bags.

“Hey.” Henry nodded. “You wanna go pay them? From the looks of it you owe them hundreds of dollars.”

“They’ve got my credit cards. I just have to tip the drivers.”

“Don’t worry about that. I took care of it.”

“Thanks.”

Henry shrugged. “You’re always feeding us, so.” He walked through to the kitchen and started assembling an eclectic plate of egg rolls, sweet-and-sour pork, and two slices of garlic chicken pizza.

“I take it you didn’t go to the party with Andie last night.” Hermes stuffed a slice of Mediterranean into his mouth. Olives and feta cheese popped on his tongue.

“I did. I just didn’t drink as much.”

“Hmm.” Hermes chewed thoughtfully. “Normally I would find the blush that’s creeping up your neck absolutely fascinating. But we’ve got things.” He jerked his head toward the living room, where Andie waited with a pillow over her face.