CONVERGENCE, OR, WELCOME TO KINCADE, EMERGENCY EXITS ONLY 3 page

The girl hacking and vomiting water on the stones wore jeans and a sweater, clothes that didn’t belong to her. They were cheap and the sweater was too large. She pulled in deep breaths and kept her eyes on the rock. She seemed afraid, but not panicked. Water ran out of her thick mass of red hair as she tossed it back over her shoulder.

A foot clad in a slingback heel stepped before her and the vision opened up. Two women stood in the back of the cave, both dry and hideously beautiful. The one nearest had dark blond hair, cropped short. The second lingered behind and swayed on bare feet. Long yellow hair hung down her back. Dirt streaked across her fragile blue dress. She was young, and unbelievably beautiful, except for the bruises that marked her arms and legs.

Those aren’t from fighting. It’s sickness. And she isn’t young. She just appears that way.

Her big blue eyes blinked, vacant and wild. Insane.

Aphrodite. And the other …

She saw a stone fist, heaviness in her limbs. A peacock feather.

Hera.

Hate streaked through Cassandra’s blood, hate that she hadn’t known she had. The vision jerked; it sped up and skipped ahead in a montage of torture. Something dark erupted from the greenish water and dragged the red-haired girl back down. Red clouds bloomed in the water and churned up flashes of pale bits, pieces of loose skin. Screams mingled sound with bubbles and spit.

Poseidon. And not Poseidon. At least, not the sea god I knew.

When he slammed the girl back onto the rocks, he rose out of the water to his waist. Sea plants shot through his skin, cracking it. Long, red cuts crossed his torso from kelp leaves working their way inside. His once handsome beard was infested with shells and creeping claws, and in the place of his right eye was a piece of bone-white coral, jutting from the socket. Where his blood oozed, it was oily and reddish black. The sea was polluted, and so was he.

Cassandra remembered the god he’d been, golden like the sand and strong. The waves on the rocks used to ring with his laughter. At least two Trojan girls a year came back from swimming giggling, with Poseidon’s babies growing in their bellies.

They’d run from him now. They’d run screaming.

Across the slippery sound of water, Hera’s voice rolled like thunder off every wall.

“We can bring the others. Is that what you want?”

The girl shivered and twitched on the stone.

“Talk, you stupid witch!” Aphrodite shrieked and threw a stone. It bounced off the girl’s shoulder and drew blood.

“Don’t, daughter. We don’t have to be cruel.” She held out her arm and Aphrodite ran to her and held her tight.

“She says nothing. She lets us die. Lets us burn and bleed and crack!”

Hera shushed her and stroked her hair. Aphrodite keened softly for a few moments, then quieted. “She’ll talk. She’ll talk because she knows we are their gods. The witches of Circe do not belong to Athena alone.”

The girl shivered. “You killed us.”

“I had to, little one. You took things from me and my family. Things we have looked a long time for.” She kissed Aphrodite’s brow and sent her away, back to hug herself in a corner. Hera stepped forward and knelt before the girl. She reached up and tucked wet strands behind the girl’s ear, almost tenderly. “Look. You see Aphrodite. Goddess of love and beauty. She’s dying, and dying cruelly. Losing her cheeks to clotted blood and her mind to madness. Because love is madness.” She wove her fingers into the girl’s hair and twisted, yanking it tight. “Love is madness. We kill for it like you do. I’ll kill you and every remaining witch to save Aphrodite and my blighted brother. Or I can spare you and kill somebody else.”

The girl breathed hard. She looked at Aphrodite and glanced back toward the green water. But she said nothing. Hera sighed and nodded to Poseidon.

Cassandra wanted to look away as he threw himself onto the rocks. He wrenched his jaw open and sank his teeth into the girl’s leg, his expression horrible and vacant, close to mindless as he tore her skin away and chewed. He would have bitten again had Hera not held up her hand.

The girl fell back, clutching the wet red hole above her knee. She trembled, her breath shallow and ragged. She’d go into shock soon, and then it would all be over.

“Go back for the others.”

“No.”

The girl spoke, her voice deep and sweet, softly accented with French. “No. Leave them alone!”

“I will and gladly. If you strike the bargain.”

The girl wept. She took several deep breaths before she spoke again. When she did, it was only a few words.

“Kincade. New York.”

Hera smiled. And snapped her neck.

The vision threw Cassandra back hard. The legs of her chair skidded across the hardwood of the kitchen.

“Cassie?” Henry jumped forward and held her steady. But that was no comfort. Hera, Aphrodite, and Poseidon had killed that girl. Even after she told them what they wanted.

They know where we are. They’re coming.

She swallowed and looked at Henry.

“We’ve got to get out of here.”

* * *

Athena was at the mirror when he came in, leaning close to the glass, using her fingernail to coax a small, blood-tinged feather out of her eye. It had been floating just below the lid for the last hour, making her eye water and sting. When Apollo came through the door, he didn’t bother to knock, and her reflection shot him a sour look. Then she went back to scraping her nail along her eye.

Hermes sat up quickly, but with more curiosity than alarm. Apollo couldn’t stand against them when they were all together.

Odysseus clicked the TV off and cleared his throat in the awkward silence. He bounced up off of the bed and extended his hand.

“Ody,” he said.

“Aidan. I remember you. You used to be trouble.”

He smiled. “Still am.”

Behind them, Athena let something drop loudly against the countertop. The feather had come out; she rolled it between her fingers, staining them red before rinsing the lot of it down the drain. Odysseus raised a brow in her direction. She arched hers back, but her expression softened. Apollo looked like walking shit. His clothes hung on him in a wet bundle.

“I’ve come to find out what the fuck’s going on,” he said.

“Might’ve been a better question to ask before you attacked me.” Athena turned from the mirror and rested her hip on the counter. She’d changed into a different t-shirt and sort of wished she hadn’t. She should have worn the blood like a badge.

“Don’t waste your time,” said Hermes. “He’s gone Rambo on us. Break bottles first and ask questions later.”

“I was only trying to protect her.”

“And look how well that turned out.” Hermes lay back on his propped-up pillows.

It was enough. Anyone could see that Apollo was beat. Athena pushed away from the counter and walked toward him.

“We’re trying to protect her too,” she said gently.

“You killed her.”

“She was dead already. She still is. She’s been dying for as long as we have. Her fate is tied to ours.” She clenched her teeth. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t seem to be anything but harsh with him.

Apollo straightened. When he did, he almost looked like a god again, instead of a post–garage band sack of rags. “Why is this happening? What’s killing you?” Athena shrugged. Those were stupid questions to ask. “I heard about Artemis,” he said. “Cassandra had a vision of her, hunted down in her jungle. Something was running her to the ground. Was it true? Is she dead?”

“Maybe not yet. But that’s the end result. The means are different for all of us. Have Hermes tell you about Demeter.” Apollo’s eyes fell, and she restrained the urge to place a hand on his shoulder. Denial was strong, and so was panic. His actions weren’t so unforgivable. Hearing about Artemis couldn’t have been easy. Athena thought of her, just for an instant. Skin as pale as the moon, hair that always looked silver no matter what color it really was. She’d hunted everything in the forest. Now she was the prey.

Why does it have to be so cruel? So humiliating?

In her mind she saw a flash of a green leaf, dripping with dark blood. She smelled carrion breath.

Is that my vision, or Cassandra’s?

“So what do you want?” Apollo looked from Athena to Hermes and back again. “Do you want to save yourselves somehow? Do you think Cassandra can stop whatever is happening to you?”

“To us,” Hermes said. “And why isn’t it happening to you, exactly?”

“I don’t know.”

“I hate to burst your bubble,” Odysseus interjected, “but it probably is. There’s no good reason for you to have escaped. You probably are dying in some way that hasn’t shown symptoms yet. I mean, face it, mate, aside from your questionable decision to reenter high school, you’re no different than any of them. You’re not separate.”

Apollo shrugged. “I don’t care. Dying or not dying. I just want to know what you want from Cassandra. She can’t be harmed.”

“But she can’t be left out,” Athena warned. “Demeter said that she could be the key to everything. That she’ll become more than just a prophetess.”

“How the hell would Demeter know?”

“Let’s just say she kept her ear to the ground,” said Hermes, and looked at Athena meaningfully before dissolving into giggles. The little asshole was always being inappropriate. But she had to cough harshly to stop from laughing herself.

Keeping her voice even, Athena told Apollo everything they knew. She told him how they’d found Demeter, stretched across the desert. She told him about the Nereid, and what it had shown her. She told them what they’d learned at The Three Sisters, and what Hera had done. As an afterthought, she told him about Aphrodite’s asylum escapee. When she finished, he walked around the room thoughtfully and sat down on top of the cheap plastic-wood table next to the TV.

“Hera, Poseidon, and Aphrodite. That’s who we’re fighting?”

Athena exhaled. “I like it when you say ‘we.’ I don’t want us on opposite sides, brother.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes.

“I haven’t made any promises yet.”

Athena clenched her jaw. She’d shown her olive branch too early. “Well, you’d better make some. Because if Hera gets her hands on Cassandra, you can bet she won’t survive it. I might have killed her to bring her back, but Hera will use her, then kill her, and let her stay dead.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Take her word for it,” Hermes said, his voice low. “She’s gone insane. She was cold as ice when she murdered Circe’s coven.”

Apollo hung his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Well, that’s a shame. Since no one’s ever been able to hold Hera back when she gets a hair across her ass. No one except maybe Zeus.”

“Yes,” said Hermes. “Where is good old Dad when you need him?”

“Wait,” said Odysseus. “That’s a bloody good question. Where is Zeus? You’ve said that Hera is dealing in some serious strength, right? What if he’s giving her some extra juice?”

The three gods looked at one another. They were Zeus’ children. One of them, Athena, was his favorite child. But not even that made her really special. Certainly not indispensible. Zeus had fathered almost too many children to count. He had made her; he could make another one of her just as easily. Their minds circled the idea warily before turning their backs on it.

“No. Zeus is gone.”

“Maybe Hera—”

“No,” Athena barked, and winced. When she spoke again, her eyes were soft. “Even if he is still alive, he’s chosen not to interfere. I’m sure he sees all this as Fated, and if there was ever anything he was afraid to fuck around with, it was that. He was always concerned with keeping the balance between us and them. Besides, he never took sides between me and Hera.”

Apollo ran his hand roughly across his face. “I don’t think we should fight. I think we should run.”

“Interesting idea,” said Hermes. “And I’m totally open to it. But with the world ending, I don’t know where you suggest we run to.”

Athena crossed her hands over her chest. They couldn’t run. And even if they could, they still had a stake in this. They still had some responsibility. Hera had killed dozens. She’d kill more while hunting them if they ran, Athena was sure. Apollo was willing to forget everything he was for Cassandra. He had shed his godhood, tossed it away like it was nothing, to live like a mortal with her. He’d have to be watched. If they didn’t keep him close, he’d break all the rules.

Odysseus caught her eye, and she looked away. Once upon a time, she’d broken plenty of rules for him, and she was in no mood to feel like a hypocrite.

A knock at the door made all four of them snap to attention. An uneasy expression rippled through the room. They weren’t expecting anyone. The knock came again, louder and more insistent. None of them made a move, and Athena watched curiously as the handle turned and the door swung open.

* * *

“You don’t lock the door?” Cassandra asked.

“There isn’t much point,” Hermes explained, relaxing. “Anything strong enough to hurt us could just take the door off its hinges.”

“I guess.” She stood framed in the open doorway. Silvery sleet fell onto the sidewalk, turning more and more to ice as the sun sank lower. Behind her, Henry’s black Mustang idled in the parking lot with Andie and Henry inside.

Cassandra swallowed. When she spoke her voice came out a dry crackle, and the handprints on her neck stood out like a neon sign.

I hope they do. She stared at Athena. I hope the handprints look like yours. That if you turn your palms over they’ll be stained the same black as my bruises.

“Come in,” Odysseus said. “Close the door. You’re not the only one who feels the cold, you know.”

Cassandra stepped through and shook moisture from her hands and jacket. Odysseus helped her brush off. In the chaos of the deadfall, she hadn’t really looked at him.

“You’re human,” she said, and another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “You’re the boy I saw in my dream. Being attacked by the Cyclops.” The dream came back for an instant, the smell of cold and caves and blood, the wry curl of his lip, and the Cyclops falling on him. Looking closer, she saw fading red punctures down the back of his neck.

“Here.” He twisted to give her a better view, and she felt her cheeks flush. He was good-looking in the daylight. In a rough-around-the-edges, shaggy-haired sort of way. “It goes most of the way down in the back.”

“I thought you were dead.”

He chuckled. “That makes two of us.”

“What are you doing here?” Athena stepped forward, and Cassandra regarded her coldly. She seemed less crazy than Aphrodite and less powerful than Hera. Her left eye was red and watery and someone had sewn the flap of her scalp back in place. She could just barely see the stitching of black thread behind her hairline.

Aidan stood apart, saying nothing. He didn’t greet her or try to protect her. Beside the others, the similarities in their faces were more apparent.

He looks so inhuman. I can’t believe I didn’t notice before.

She thought of Aphrodite’s shrieks, of Poseidon tearing the girl apart. She thought of Hera, snapping her neck. Three gods. Three monsters.

Athena can’t stand against that. And Hermes looks about ready to fall over, he’s so skinny.

This is the losing team.

“I had a vision,” she said. Aidan’s arm twitched, to comfort her maybe, or just to touch her shoulder, but in the end he stayed still.

“What did you see?” Athena asked. Eagerness lit her eyes. It was like watching all the hackles rise on a hunting dog. The possibility of an advantage had crept into the room. They looked so hopeful, Cassandra almost wanted to lie and give better news.

“I saw a red-haired girl. Hera and Poseidon were torturing her. And before they killed her, she told them exactly where to find us.”

HEROES

The announcement was met with silence. Cassandra watched it sink in, watched each of them process it individually. Their eyes lost focus and then snapped back. Aidan shifted his weight. Odysseus’ eyes narrowed and stared through Cassandra’s head. Hermes’ mouth dropped slightly open, and his brows knit.

“We have to get out of here,” said Aidan. “We have to get out of here now.”

“And go where?” Athena asked. Her expression hadn’t wavered for more than a second. “Was there anything else? Could you see where they were?”

“A cave, maybe. Someplace near water. Nothing definite. Who was that girl? Why did they kill her? How did she know where we were?”

“Her name was Celine,” Hermes whispered. “She led the coven in Chicago. She knew where you were because we asked her to find you. And they killed her for it.”

Cassandra blinked slowly. “The building in Chicago. You didn’t blow it up.”

The stricken look on Hermes’ face confirmed it, but Athena shoved past him and snapped, “Of course we didn’t blow it up.” She paced near the foot of one of the beds. “Hera blew it up as punishment. And to stop us from getting to you. So if you can remember anything else from your vision, pipe up. I’d like to know where she’s at.”

Aidan stepped toward his sister. “It doesn’t matter where she is if we know where she’s going. We should be gone before she gets here.”

“Hang on,” said Odysseus. “How much time do we have? I mean, how does it work exactly? Are these visions, or premonitions? Has it happened already, or is it just going to happen?”

Cassandra shook her head. “I’m not sure. The building blew in Chicago about two days after I saw it. When did you get attacked by the Cyclops?”

“I don’t know.” Odysseus ran his hand across his face. “Days on the road tend to blend together. Not to mention the days I spent tangled up with the girls at The Three Sisters.” He glanced at Athena and cleared his throat. “That’s not much help.”

Hermes grasped her arm. “Were there other witches there?”

“No. That’s how they got her to talk. They said they’d spare the others.”

His face crumpled. “Spare the others? Hera doesn’t spare the others.” He looked at Athena miserably. “I didn’t run fast enough. I didn’t hide them well enough. Celine. Mareden. Estelle. Bethe and Jenna and Harper.” He said their names like a lament. “That coven spanned thousands of years and that bitch wiped them off the planet.”

Odysseus put a hand on Hermes’ shoulder. “You did what you could. And so did you, Athena.”

“Did I? I could have stayed. I could’ve fought her in the rubble. I might have lost, been beaten to paste, but I could’ve taken part of her with me.” Cassandra watched as Odysseus touched Athena’s arm. The way his fingers lingered, and the concern in his eyes. He loved her. Athena didn’t touch him back, didn’t put her hand over his. She didn’t even look in his direction.

She’s a virgin goddess. Men aren’t supposed to fall in love with her. She’ll break him, and she won’t care.

Hermes pressed to the front. “It doesn’t have to be enough. It doesn’t have to be all. She might not have gotten to the others yet!” He looked to Athena for permission. He seemed ready to force wings through his back, as long as there was a chance. “I could still get there. I could save them.”

“If they listened to us, they won’t be where you left them,” said Athena. “They’ll have moved on. And we don’t know how much time Cassandra’s vision gives us. It might not give us any.”

“If I get there too late, then I’m too late. I’ll come back.”

It was a lie, there for everyone to see. He cared about those witches. If he arrived too late, he’d do something stupid and heroic. He’d take on Hera alone, and she would forcibly remove his spine. Cassandra wanted to ease his conscience. He seemed so guilty, and so earnest. She’d thought she’d hate them all, but she couldn’t hate him. Not with so much desperation in his eyes to save someone he cared for.

Athena shook her head, once.

“We can’t risk it. I’m sorry.”

“Athena—”

“We have to stick together now, brother.”

Cassandra watched Hermes slowly sink back into himself, into his prominent bones and hollow cheeks. The light that had briefly flickered went out. Athena should have let him go. But no. The way Athena looked at him, and the sad fury in her face told the whole story. She wants to let him go, but he’s too weak. He’d never win.

“This wasn’t your failure,” Athena said. “It wasn’t the way you hid them, or how fast you ran.”

“Right,” Hermes muttered.

The TV beside them was still on, and Athena struck the button with the side of her hand, hard enough to knock it back against the wall. In her frustration, she seemed to swell three sizes, and the space in the motel room grew small.

Hermes glanced at Cassandra.

“What use is she? If she doesn’t even give us time? What use are visions that you can’t change?”

Athena peered at her. “Do you feel any different now? Now that you remember your old life?”

“No.” Cassandra thought a moment. “The vision was a little strange, but they’ve been evolving since … I guess since you started looking for me. But I don’t feel any different.”

“Useless,” Hermes muttered.

“Hey,” said Aidan. “She’d be more than happy to be useless. Why don’t you face Hera and tell her so? Then you can leave us alone.”

Voices broke out, the voices of gods, and they forgot themselves. The sound of their argument rose over everything else. It thundered through walls and rang out across the nearly empty parking lot. Odysseus couldn’t do anything to shut them up, but he did try, with an elbow in each of their chests.

Cassandra and Athena looked at each other. The time for bargaining had come and gone. So had the time for laying blame.

“Quiet,” said Athena, and the room fell silent. Cassandra stared into the flowered wallpaper. Outside, the city of Kincade went about its business in cars and shops. Meals were made and eaten. TVs played too loud. Lights turned on and off. Just like every other Kincade evening.

This was her life. Her city. And they meant it to be their battleground, just like it was before.

“What good will running do?” Athena asked. “How far can we go before Hera burns up all the land behind us? We’d never be safe.” She looked at Cassandra. “They’d never be safe. We’d run until Hermes’ body eats itself from the inside out and I’m too stuffed with feathers to breathe. Our fall would be pathetic. Unworthy of an epithet.”

“So what?” Hermes shrugged. “Let it be. After we’re dead, it won’t matter anyway.”

“You don’t mean that,” Athena said softly. “And besides, what about them?” She nodded toward Cassandra and looked at the door. Cassandra edged into her view, like she could shield Andie and Henry from her thoughts, but Athena had already looked back at her brothers. “Will you let them try to stop Hera on their own?” No one had an answer. They stared at their feet.

“If you want to know the truth, giving up would be easy. As easy and comfortable as falling into a bed. Stopping these feathers … Saving my life doesn’t seem any more possible than it is important.”

“If it’s not important,” Cassandra said, “if you don’t care, then why are you here? What are you doing?”

Athena looked at her, and for the first time Cassandra saw less a goddess and more a girl. A girl who had fought a hard battle and still come up cornered. Athena smiled, a small smile, through closed lips.

“There isn’t much to me anymore that isn’t push me and I push back. There hasn’t been for a long time. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but there it is. And besides, I can’t do nothing, when they stand here looking, waiting for me to say what to do.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“We have to make a stand,” she said.

“What? Here?” Hermes sounded horrified.

“Kincade is as good a place as any for the world to end.”

Hermes shook his head. “It most certainly is not. Kincade is a place of unclean motel rooms and a mall that’s several dozen stores too small. I vote with Apollo. Running. Running I’m good at. We could run halfway around the world, to places worth seeing once more before dying: London, Paris, Florence. Maybe all the way to fricking Delphi.”

“More than that,” Aidan said. “Kincade isn’t the best place to face an enemy. It’s settled into a valley in foothills. Not exactly the high ground. You should know that. You should seek advantage.”

Cassandra swallowed. He talked so casually of war and strategy.

“Putting it off will only make us weaker.” Athena looked at Cassandra. “And I think she’s the only advantage we’re going to get.”

“What is it that you think I am?” Cassandra asked.

“You’re a weapon.”

Hermes crossed his arms.

“But what sort of weapon? An amped-up prophetess? What use is someone who tells you the boat is sinking when you’re already bailing it out?”

“I don’t know, Hermes. But Hera is afraid we’ll use her. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t go to so much trouble. I thought, maybe, after I made you remember…” She shook her head. “All I know for sure is she’s a link to the Moirae.”

“The Moirae? You mean the Fates?” Cassandra looked at Aidan. “Is that what my visions are? A link to Fate?”

Aidan shrugged. “It’s what we’ve always thought. But the Fates don’t talk to us.”

“Except through me.”

No one responded. They’d already moved past it to the matter at hand, thinking of strategies and contingencies, and not one of them looked like they expected to win.

“I suppose I should watch the waterways,” said Hermes. “Maybe check the river. That’s where Poseidon would come from. Or Nereids, if he sends them on ahead.”

Athena nodded like she was relieved. “I half expected you to refuse, or to go spend one last season in Paris or Rome.”

“Nah. I’ll stay.” When he breathed, the skin over his ribs stretched and the bone of his sternum was visible. “I wouldn’t have been able to run for that much longer anyway.”

Athena put a hand on Hermes’ shoulder. Cassandra watched the bones and tendons shift underneath his shirt. Most of the muscle had been eaten away.

Athena squeezed. “Not everything’s hopeless. If we throw Hera down, you might heal and grow strong again. I might escape this cage of feathers.” She looked at Aidan.

“I don’t think so.” He moved nearer to Cassandra. “If we stay here, and fight her … You saw what she did to those witches in Chicago. Do you even know what she wants? Is she trying to kill her or trying to use her?”

“Does it matter?” Athena asked, and glanced at Cassandra. Cassandra didn’t reply, but had to admit that one didn’t seem more desirable than the other.

“If we stay here, she could level this place.”

“If you leave, she might level it anyway, looking for you.”

Level it. Cassandra held her breath. Her hometown. The house she grew up in, and her family inside it. Everything up until then she’d managed to swallow, even the idea that she was once again just a tool, a toy for immortals to play with. The longer she looked at Athena, the more she disliked her. That reasonable face. That voice, so steady and unruffled. For her, leading battles was a matter of course. Never mind that innocent people would die. Never mind that a whole town might get caught in their stupid cross fire.

She thought of the freshman with the mop of brown hair who had watched her call the coin. She thought of Sam, unsinkable in his stocking cap, and sweet, sort of slutty Megan in her Bo Peep costume. Every one of them had lives, and plans, going on that very minute. And none of them had any idea it was days away from being ruined. That the gods’ mess was going to ruin it all.

“We can’t do this. Not here.” She looked at Aidan. “Our friends are here.”

“It’ll come to this eventually,” Athena said. “You know I’m right. We live or they do.”

“We live or they do,” Cassandra said. “Us or them. But it isn’t us that you mean. It’s you. Just you, and yours. We die so you can live, just like always.”

“That’s not true, Cassandra,” said Odysseus.

“You’re blind,” she growled. “And you.” She turned on Athena. “I’m not helping you. Not here. Maybe not anywhere. I’m getting out of here. And you’d better find a way to tell Hera I’m gone.” The bruises on her throat cut inside like broken glass when she spoke. She had to turn away quickly to hide the tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

“Wait.” Athena reached for Cassandra’s arm. The goddess’s touch sickened her, ignited a heat deep inside her head and in her chest. Her arm trembled. She wanted them out, all of them; she wanted to break them down with her bare hands. The goddess’s grip was iron. Athena had forgotten everything about being soft, or compassionate, or human, if she’d ever known in the first place. Without thinking, Cassandra drew back her free hand and slapped Athena hard across the face. In the half second it took for Athena to recover from the surprise, Aidan got between them.

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 527