Antigoddess

EPILOGUE

The coffin was overlaid with flowers. A huge spray of calla lilies, creamy white, draped over an obsidian black box, arranged in such a way that they strained toward the ground. They were good flowers for funerals. Their stems dipped, hanging their heads mournfully. If a plant could weep, it would be a calla lily.

The service was crowded, full of students from the high school and many members of the community. They had all come out for the funeral of the boy they only thought they knew.

Cassandra sat to the side, with Aidan’s parents. Throughout, she said nothing, but she kept her back straight, even as tears coursed down her cheeks. Andie and Henry sat behind her, their faces constricted. Both of Andie’s hands were bandaged, and under her shirt were stitches forming the lines of claws. Henry had a broad cut on his forehead from the window glass, and another stitched together on his hand from sharp gills.

Such a shame, people said, to lose a promising young man to a car accident. It was a miracle, they said, that all four of them hadn’t been killed. The Mustang was completely mangled. State police would never be able to figure out just what happened, how fast they had to be going to lose control of the car so badly.

The service ended, and people began to stand, began to come to her, to Aidan’s parents, and tell them how much he’d be missed. How much he was loved. Cassandra did her best to not hear a word. A hot, seething ball hung suspended in her chest, and she wasn’t sure what it was made of. Screams? Tears? Love, or hate, or all rolled up together. But Aidan’s funeral wasn’t the place to find out.

“I’m so glad he had you, Cassandra.” Aidan’s mom squeezed her hands.

“I’m glad he had you.” She looked at both of his parents. “You gave him a family.”

But then, he’d always had a family. Athena, Odysseus, and Hermes stood on the outskirts of the cemetery, underneath the bare branches of an elm tree. Cassandra waited until everyone but Andie and Henry had filed out, even Aidan’s parents, before nodding for them to come closer. Hermes and Athena leaned on each other. The damage done to her rib cage and his ankle still needed to heal, but Cassandra supposed that wasn’t the only reason.

They stood around the coffin, lost and drained.

Athena’s eyes wandered over the black box. He was in there, her brother, or what was left of him.

“This doesn’t want to sink in. He was eternal. Now he’s in that box.”

“Jesus,” Andie hissed. “Don’t say things like that. Not today.”

Athena looked up and blinked at them like she was bewildered. Cassandra supposed she was. She didn’t have any experience burying family.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and nodded. “But it feels wrong. And I can’t do anything about any of it.”

Cassandra drew a shaky breath.

“I don’t have the energy to say anything to you. He’s dead.” Tears slipped out of her eyes and fell softly on the chest of her black dress. “I think it was a mistake. I want you to take it back.” They would lower the coffin into the ground soon. They would cover him over with dirt. “I was supposed to spend my life with him,” Cassandra said. “And then you showed up.”

“Hey,” Odysseus said gently. “It wasn’t her fault.”

Cassandra clenched her fists. “But whose fault is it, then? Are you still dying?”

Athena glanced at Hermes, then at Odysseus. She nodded, but Cassandra didn’t really need an answer. Athena had coughed twice on the walk across the cemetery, and Hermes shook with fever as much as mourning. It hadn’t stopped. Aidan was dead, and they still hadn’t saved themselves.

“Maybe this was never about saving our lives.” Athena looked at Aidan’s coffin. “Maybe it was about redemption.”

“Or maybe it isn’t over.” Cassandra wiped her eyes. “Do you know what happened? What went through me?”

Athena shook her head. “You kill gods. It must be what Demeter meant. That you could change everything. That you’d be more.”

“Why? And how?” Beneath her gloves, her hands burned. It was still inside her. “It’s not over.”

“It’s over,” said Hermes. “It has to be.”

Cassandra stared at Aidan’s coffin. There were other gods out there. Gods who would fight, just like Hera did, to stay alive. They’d be coming. And the one who had killed Aidan. She was still alive. “This isn’t over. Not for me.”

“Cassie.” Henry shrugged helplessly. “Maybe everything can go back to normal now. Maybe we’re safe.”

“They’re not safe.” She turned to Athena. “You can’t just leave. You promised Aidan you’d protect us.”

“Maybe with Hera and Poseidon gone, you don’t need protecting. Maybe Henry is right.”

“I’ll need protecting when I go after her. I’ll need your help.”

Andie grabbed her arm. “Go after who?”

“Aphrodite.” Cassandra shrugged her off. Athena and Hermes exchanged a glance, and Cassandra’s fists tightened. If they say one word about revenge not being what Aidan wanted, I’ll scream.

But Athena only sighed.

“I wasn’t going to go far. People with destinies like yours are rarely safe.”

“So you’ll help.”

Athena lowered her head, and Odysseus edged forward. “Hey. We shouldn’t be talking about this today.”

“There’s a lot that shouldn’t be today.” Hermes spoke loudly, his eyes on the overcast sky. “He shouldn’t be put beneath the dirt. He was the god of the sun. He should be burned on a pyre of oak, hot and bright. It should be glorious.” He looked at his sister and took her hand. “So let’s make it so.” He nodded toward the gray clouds.

Athena exhaled. “It won’t work.”

Cassandra studied the sky, felt the chill of the wind against her cheeks. Hermes was right. It was all too cold.

“Try,” she said softly.

Athena and Hermes closed their eyes, using the will of gods to move mountains, to wield the power they once had. Not even Cassandra expected anything to happen, until she felt the warmth of sunlight on her face and hands.

Athena opened her eyes and watched the clouds roll back.

“I should have told my brother I loved him.”

Cassandra swallowed hard. “I should have too. I guess I thought he’d be around to hear it later.”

Athena stepped to the coffin and ran her fingers along the shining edge of black. “He was proud to die like this. Like a human. Like one of you. He died a hero.”

Cassandra’s breath hitched. She felt Andie and Henry’s hands on each of her shoulders. Odysseus and Hermes put theirs on Athena’s.

“Good-bye, Aidan,” Athena whispered.

Cassandra stared with wide eyes into the clearing sky, as the clouds dissolved and drew back like a curtain. It took a long time, but finally, a small smile started to curl at the corners of her mouth.

They left the cemetery together. Behind them, the black of Aidan’s coffin blazed like fire beneath the bright light.

And thus was their burial of Apollo, god of the sun.