“I’ve missed you, mortal,” Hermes said. “And your little girlfriend, too.”

“We were here,” Henry said. “We came to see you. You had us worried.”

“I should have been the one worried,” Hermes said. His chewing slowed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when Achilles came. I looked after you well enough until you really needed looking after. Then I passed out.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not.” Hermes shrugged. “But nothing ever seems to be. Not my fault, and not my doing. I wasn’t the one who brought our sisters home. Or got us out of Hephaestus’ house. Or even got you that fine shield. You did that. I drove.”

“You can’t think that way,” Henry said. “You did everything we needed you to.”

“I won’t be there,” Hermes said. “I didn’t even make it to the end. You’ll be alone. You and Athena.”

“Don’t talk like you’re already gone. You don’t know that.”

“My heart hurts every time it beats. Like a countdown. And I know when it’s going to hit zero, Henry.” He sighed. “Athena will make it all right. She’ll make sure you’re okay. Even against Atropos, I’d lay money on my sister any day of the week.”

Henry sat on the foot of Hermes’ bed and bit into a cooling hash brown. He wasn’t sure whether Athena had told Hermes that when the battle was over, she’d be gone, joined into the Moirae, but somehow he doubted it.

“She won’t be able to help me,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“She’ll have her hands full fighting Atropos.” He regretted having to ask a favor of a dying friend. But there was no one else to ask. “I saw Achilles last night. The way he moved. The way he fought. I can’t beat him.”

“You can. Demeter said so.”

“She said I could kill him. And maybe that’s true. But I’ll never get close enough. Not like this.”

“Henry,” Hermes said through a cheekful of pancake. “What are you talking about?”

“Ares says that the reason Achilles is so strong, the reason they all are—even Odysseus and Cassandra—is because they embody the myths. Because they died and came back with a hero inside.”

Hermes pressed deeper into his pile of pillows. Henry thought he saw his heart beating through his T-shirt, and looked away fast.

“And you believe Ares?” Hermes asked.

Henry shrugged. But how could he see Cassandra and Achilles and not believe?

“But,” Hermes sputtered, “you and Andie always said that you were yourselves. And you can fight. We trained you, and honestly, you sort of could to begin with. Probably why you both had such stellar ice-hockey careers—”

“Hermes. I’m asking you if you have the energy.” He nodded toward the god’s thin hands. “And the breath to bring me back.”

Hermes looked him in the eyes for a long time. But Henry wouldn’t change his mind.

“All right,” Hermes said. “Odysseus is in the living room. If I don’t have the breath for CPR, I’ll shout for him.”

*   *   *

Athena sat on her back patio, foot up on the damp cushion of a cheap plastic chair. The sun shone bright on young grass, merciless in a cloudless, blue day. Spring gave way to summer already. Beside her, a bucket of beer bottles sat insulated with the ice packs they’d used to cool Hermes.

She took a breath and smelled drying earth and warming leaves. The neighborhood was peaceful. Softly quiet. No indication of the violence that had erupted last night, less than a mile away.

If I was the god I used to be, I’d spur a storm. Something great, and black, and blasting. My winds would tear that little rabbit out from whatever tree he hid under. I’d string him up by his innards and watch him kick.

Wishful thinking. And impossible, even if she possessed the power. Achilles wasn’t shivering somewhere in the woods. He was back with Atropos.

The message from Clotho and Lachesis would come soon. Athena knew it as surely as if they’d touched her with the sight already. The message would come, and they would go. Achilles would fall alongside his mistress of death, and Athena would take her place. She hoped not literally.

Clotho and Lachesis had implied that with Atropos gone, the disease and corruption would also be gone. Athena hoped that meant they would go back to separate bodies. She said she would join them, but not at the hip.

The latch on the back gate lifted; a dark-as-night snout pushed through the privacy fence. Oblivion. Even under a bright sun and clear skies, its coat sucked up light like a black hole.