Page 22 of The Shadow Gods

How were these guys real? I had been starved for love for so long, I was a desert, soaking up every ounce of their affection like I might never get it again. And they weren't stingy with it. Not really. Not even Orestes, who moved slowly, or Hector, who ran hot and cold.

Achilles peeled my bag off my shoulder, flicked my bangs out of my face, and gave me another kiss. He left me next to the van, wearing what I was sure was a dopey look.

Orestes opened the driver's side door, and I got in. Achilles, at six foot a billion, had the seat shoved way back. It took a full minute of holding the seat adjuster for my feet to touch the pedals.

I took my time arranging the mirrors and buckling in before checking on the guys. Orestes watched me, a half-smile on his face, and when I turned around in the seat, I found four identical smiles. “What?” I asked.

“You're very careful,” Hector answered.

Achilles sat directly behind me. Scooting forward, he kissed my cheek, then leaned over my shoulder. “Her feet reach, we're good,” he called to the others.

I turned quickly, pressed my lips to his face and gave him a raspberry. He made a sound that—from anyone else—could have been a squeal as he yanked himself away from me. “I'll get you back.”

Starting the car, I leaned away from him. “I'm driving. Be respectful.”

I took my time easing into traffic and getting used to the way people drove. It did the trick of focusing part of my mind on what I could control while I figured out how to tell the others about the part I couldn't.

I saw Medusa in the mirror.

I saw a reflection of me, but as Medusa, in the mirror. Then, one of the snakes licked me.

“The A6,” Orestes informed me. He pointed at a sign. “It's about ten hours to Italy, depending on traffic.”

“Italy,” I repeated. “Roman gods. That's better. We won't have to worry.” It was a lame joke, and given the silence in the van, it didn't land.

Clearing my throat, I decided silence was golden and got us to the highway, or whatever they called it in France.

Once I got used to the way people drove, which wasn't so different from Boston or New York, my mind wandered right back to the crazy left turn my life had taken.

I sighed, pushed my bangs off my forehead, and glanced at my palm as I gripped the wheel again.

This—I flicked my gaze from my palm to the highway—somehow related to Athena and why she was interested in me. It could be the key to why she'd brought me back.

Why would she need me? What was she planning? Was it just revenge? It seemed insane to hold a grudge against me, when the five guys in the van had locked her away like a genie in a bottle.

How was what—who—I'd been, related to the seal?

There was a connection. I just hadn't found it yet.

I switched my grip on the steering wheel so I could lean one elbow on the door and prop my cheek on my hand.

“Are you okay?” Orestes asked, voice just above a whisper.

I peered at him, then into the rearview mirror. Behind me, Hector and Achilles were asleep, and Pollux looked about a second from joining them. Turning my attention back to the road, I answered, “Fine. Just trying to figure things out.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “What kinds of things?”

“Why would Athena care about me after all this time? That's a big question.”

“Oh.” He breathed out the word in a way that made me glance at him quickly.

“Does that surprise you?” I asked.

“No.” But he said it like a question.

“What did you think I was thinking about?”

Another quick look toward him showed a flush to his usually golden skin. I looked to the highway and then back to him. “Orestes? What did you think I—”

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