Page 5 of The Shadow Gods

The memories that the goddess Athena foisted on me ran in a nauseating loop in my head. My skin crawled. Itached.Phantom bruises this body never suffered throbbed. Gently, I extracted my hands from Pollux's in order to grip my upper arms and push my fingers into the same spots I could feel from my memory.

Bile burned my throat.

“Do you have everything?” Paris's question yanked me out of my thoughts. Pushing his hair out of his face, he came to stand next Pollux. The never-ending rain had plastered his blond hair over his head, darkening the light strands framing his face so his blue eyes appeared even bluer. He touched my shoulder, fingertips resting for just a second, before he dropped his hand to his side.

I didn't have time to answer.

“Let's go.” Hector brushed his hands off on his jeans. His knees were soaked through, and rivulets of water dripped from the ends of his dark hair. He jerked open the driver's side door. “We can make it to the ferry by dark and be in France by morning. Do you have her passport?”

Orestes appeared through the mist. In one hand, he held a crocheted blanket, which he held in the air when our gazes met. Smiling, he jogged to the vehicle, distracting me momentarily.

He shoved his way between Paris and Pollux and passed me the blanket. Without giving me a chance to say thanks, he hurried to the other car, where Achilles was waiting. I draped it around my legs.

“Her passport?” Hector asked again. After driving like mad from Oxford, he'd fully focused on a plan he hadn't yet filled me in on.

Of course, I wasn't a total idiot. We were packing, running away, and hoping to find somewhere that an omnipotent goddess couldn't find us. Paris, Pollux, Orestes, and Achilles seemed in on it, even if I was mostly in the dark.

I didn't know where we were going. Or how we'd get to that place. Or if a place like that even existed.

“Leo?” Pollux asked, cutting a glance toward Hector.

I followed his line of sight to the other man who waited, eyebrows lifted. What was the question? Right. Passport. “It's in my bag.”

“Your bag is in here,” Paris informed him. “Somewhere.” He stuck his head half-in the window to eye the mound of stuff in back.

The wind blew harder, and a stream of rain came at me sideways through the lowered window. That brief bit of sun and heat back in September was a distant memory now.

“Get in,” Hector growled at the men, “before she drowns.” His tone was gruff, but when I glanced at him, he gave me a hesitant half smile.

Slouching down, I returned the grin. Things might be bad, but the ever-serious Hector had made a joke, and that was something to celebrate. Reaching across the seat, he gripped my knee with his scarred hand and squeezed. Next to me, Paris smacked the open window with his palms, splashing me a little, and then opened the back door.

“Close the window,” Hector directed, like I didn't notice that my entire left arm was sodden now.

As Paris and Pollux got into the back, Hector released me. It was going to be an uncomfortable trip. They clambered over the bags and boxes to squeeze in. With no room to stretch, and buckled in, it was a tight fit.

“Where are we going?” I asked as Pollux's knees slammed into the back of my seat. I eyed the other car. The headlights were blurry in the rain as they sat, waiting for us to drive. Achilles and Orestes had a few more bags and even less room.

“We're going to the ferry in Dover.” Pollux leaned forward to press a kiss to my cheek. He dripped water on my neck, but I didn't care. Goosebumps that had nothing to do with being wet and chilled erupted along my arms. “We've got a vehicle waiting for us there. A bigger one we can all fit in.” Under his breath, he added, “I don't like being split up like this.”

“It's only for a couple of hours,” Paris replied, though he didn't say it with any confidence.

I didn't like it either. As we pulled onto the drive, I turned to keep track of Achilles and Orestes. What if something happened? I had a sudden flash of a meteor blowing up the car or a lightning bolt.

“Would you feel it?” I asked, suddenly. “If the rest of the gods were freed?”

Next to me, Hector stiffened. “I thought I would.” The words hung in the air.

“But—” I prompted.

“But,” he repeated with emphasis, “I didn't feel Athena until she was in Oxford.”

“She was weak,” Paris argued. “And hiding.”

His brother grunted a sound of disagreement. “Or maybe we're weak.”

“Not so weak.” I couldn't let them think that. “She got her ass handed to her.“ The image of her face as she was held against the wall flitted through my head. She'd been scared of them, because they were stronger than her. “Don't doubt yourself. She thrives on it.”

I said it for Hector, because as a general, he understood strategy. He couldn't let Athena get under his skin.

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