Antigoddess gw-1

by Kendare Blake

  “So everyone keeps telling me. Why didn’t you take another car, then? And why don’t you have one of your own? Super rich, undying god guy?”

  Andie heaved herself toward the front seat. “Stop bickering!” She put her hand on Cassandra’s shoulder.

  “He could’ve bought us twelve Priuses if he was worried about fuel economy, is all I’m saying.”

  “Shut up, Henry!” She gestured toward an exit sign. “Just get off the freeway. The back roads are secluded. We can slow down and save gas and still have cover. We can’t stay on the interstate much longer anyway without risking a high-speed police chase.”

  Cassandra sat quietly in the passenger seat, holding an open bottle of Orange Crush. Andie had finally gotten her to drink a little of it, though she’d refused anything to eat. She glanced up through the windshield. The sky was so incredibly blue and Aidan was driving so fast. But it wouldn’t matter. Her death waited for her beneath blue skies and pines. On a day just like today.

  “Aidan.”

  “Yeah?”

  “If this doesn’t work, will you promise to protect them?” She touched Andie’s hand, still on her shoulder. “I mean it. Will you get them somewhere safe, even if I’m dead?”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Andie snapped. “We’re not going anywhere without you.”

  Cassandra ignored her and watched Aidan. He was a god, and gods were single-minded. She’d always thought Andie and Henry were his friends. But maybe they didn’t matter if she wasn’t around. Maybe he’d just leave them, out of grief, or out of indifference.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to any of you.” Aidan looked at Cassandra. “They’re my friends too.”

  “Promise.”

  “I promise.”

  You promised me too, once. That you had no more secrets.

  The word of a god. Was it worth anything? He’d only known them for a few years, barely a blink in his long life. She would be gone before the sun began to set, and he’d go on forever. She closed her eyes.

  “It’s not going to hurt. It’s just going to be scary, and then everything will be dark. Do you think that’s how it is? My head will crack open, and I won’t know anything anymore. I won’t be anymore.”

  “It’s not going to happen.” Aidan ground his teeth and signaled for the exit toward Seneca Lake. “We’ll cut through the Finger Lakes back to Kincade. But we’re not staying. I’ll just … tell Athena to be ready, and then we’re going north.”

  “What if she tries to stop us?”

  “She won’t. Not this time.”

  Cassandra slid her fingers against his. “This isn’t your fault. Not really.”

  He squeezed her hand and held it to his lips. “Don’t give up. I’ll stand against anything that tries to hurt you. Even my crazy-ass stepmother.”

  They drove, fast and silent, along the curving highway that bordered the lake. Aidan kept one hand twined around Cassandra’s. He muttered to himself, curses and plans and possibilities. She watched him check the fuel gauge for the hundredth time since they left the freeway.

  “Aidan!” Henry shouted.

  Aidan looked up just in time to see the person in the road. He jerked the wheel hard, and the tire caught the edge of the shoulder. For an instant, the Mustang tilted precariously, and the screaming of rubber against asphalt and gravel rose in Cassandra’s ears. But then the car slowed and straightened out. Aidan hit the brakes hard and the jolt of the stop threw Cassandra mostly onto the dashboard. The Mustang sat half on and half off of the road, the front end pointed toward a slender but imposing-looking pine tree.

  “What the hell was that about?” Andie asked breathlessly. The person in the road had been an old woman, and she’d walked right out of the trees into the path of the car. “Some old lady, just walking across the road? Where did she come from? Did you see a house?”

  The stretch of highway was secluded, bordered on both sides by pines and orange-and-brown autumn trees. Farther out, Cassandra saw the slate gray edge of Seneca Lake peeking through the trunks. She thought back over the way they’d come.

  “There was no house. No driveway, not even another car for the last five miles. What was she doing, popping out of the trees?”

  “Thank god we didn’t hit her.”

  “It would have been better if we had.” Aidan stared into the side mirror, looking back with dread. Cassandra craned her neck to look out the window.

  The old woman stood in the middle of the road as though dazed. Her arms hung slack at her sides, and she swayed on her feet, which were planted wide apart. Something was off. Something wrong. The vacant way she stared at the car made Cassandra want to crawl under the seat.

  “What’s the matter with her face?” Henry asked. As they watched, the old woman’s cheeks began to sag. The lines became deeper, and the corners pulled down until her mouth was a leering scowl. Then it dripped off, leaving behind a wet, black spot.

  “Get it in gear, Aidan,” Andie said shrilly as more of the old woman’s face detached and hit the pavement. All of her skin liquefied; her hair slid down her head to reveal the skull beneath: obsidian black and covered in slime and scales.

  “What is that thing?” Henry asked, but Aidan didn’t answer. He threw the car into reverse.

  “Buckle up.”

  * * *

  We have to go faster. Much, much faster.

  Athena sat in the passenger seat; her knee bounced and twitched nervously. Odysseus was driving as fast as he could, but it was nowhere near fast enough. They were headed south, toward the Finger Lakes, on Route 89. Seneca Lake was close enough to smell, but they were still at least twenty minutes from finding Apollo and Cassandra. She glanced toward Hermes with annoyance. She refused to believe that there hadn’t been anything faster in the car lot than a ’91 Dodge Spirit. She looked back to Odysseus. He was scared. Much of that fear was concern for her. Was he really driving as fast as he could?

  She pushed her neck back slightly and checked the gauges. Eighty miles an hour. Any faster and the engine in the piece of crap would fall out onto the highway.

  Apollo, you fool. What would make you run anywhere near these deep, dead lakes when you know that Poseidon is on your tail?

  * * *

  The tires squealed; the smell of burnt rubber bloomed instantly in the air. The Mustang growled into reverse, aiming straight for the old woman.

  Cassandra would have winced, even if she had been the most evil old woman on the face of the planet. Even if she had been granny-Hitler, she would have winced at the idea of running her down. But the thing standing in the road looked nothing like an old woman anymore. It was hulking and webbed, with teeth like an anglerfish from the depths of the ocean. The last of the old woman sat in a puddle around its feet.

  The Mustang hit it with a heavy thud, and Cassandra bounced as the body passed beneath first the back and then the front set of tires. Aidan braked hard, and the car slid to a stop.

  “What the hell is that thing?” Henry asked again.

  “It’s a Nereid,” Aidan growled. “It’s disgusting and warped, but that’s what it is. They serve Poseidon.”

  “Poseidon?”

  “Poseidon.” Aidan ground the gears in the Mustang. “You know, god of the sea, brother of Zeus. My uncle, and a real prick.” He dropped the car into first and revved the engine.

  As they spoke, two more Nereids emerged from between the trees and sprang onto the highway. Above the burning rubber, the scent of wet rot and fish permeated the air.

  “Hang on.” Aidan popped the clutch and the car squealed forward, aiming straight for them. Cassandra squinted her eyes and turned her face away from the impact. Their huge, muscular bodies were likely to come right through the windshield. Her mind flashed on the image of one of them covered in shattered glass and bleeding on her lap, the rotten, fishy reek smeared across her clothes.

  It seemed that neither Nereid was going to move. But at the last second, one of them dodged around the car, slamm
ing its fists into the passenger side, crushing Cassandra’s door and cracking the window. The other Nereid went the same way as the first, under one set of tires and then the other.

  “Are you all right?” Aidan asked, and she nodded, her eyes wide. He turned toward her, his eyes moving across her arms, making sure she hadn’t been hurt. He didn’t see the goddess step in front of them until everyone else in the car screamed.

  Aidan hit the brakes instinctively as Aphrodite raised her arms. When they slammed down onto the hood, it was like being struck by pillars of marble. The Mustang’s engine was driven six inches into the asphalt, and the rear end of the frame jerked upward, lifting off the ground two feet before bouncing back down again.

  Aphrodite stood amidst the steam rising from the wrecked hood, a broad smile stretched across her flawless face. Her eyes locked with Aidan’s, hot with madness. She leaned against the boiling black paint, laughing a maniac’s laughter as golden hair lifted in waves around her shoulders. The whimsical, gauzy dress she wore was beautiful and ruined, shades of differing blue and green, stained and torn in a hundred places. Cassandra remembered her from the vision, the shadows and water reflections swirling over her features. She was worse in the daylight, with no shadows to hide under.

  “Get out of that car, baby brother. Get out of that car and come home with Mother.”

  “Cassandra,” said Aidan softly. His hand went to the door handle. “When I take her on, you have to run, do you understand?”

  Cassandra looked at the mad thing in front of the Mustang, and the bent steel of the hood. In the mirror, wrecked black bodies of Nereids littered the road, but there would be others. Aidan would be outnumbered. They’d run over the top of him and come for her anyway.

  “No. We stick together. I’m not leaving you.”

  He grasped her hand and kissed it. “You’re the one they’re after. Remember your vision.” He let her go and opened the car door.

  Cassandra watched as Aphrodite backed off to give Aidan space. He kept his body between her and the Mustang, and she seemed happy to let him do it. She circled and crouched and made mock charges, laughing when he jerked to block her way.

  “It doesn’t make me happy to see you this way, sister.”

  Aphrodite clucked her tongue. “Apollo, Apollo, still so pretty. Give up the girl and come home. Mother will not be angry.”

  “Hera isn’t your mother.”

  Cassandra tensed, watching the exchange. In the corner of her eye something dark moved, just a shadow in the trees. Another Nereid. If she and the others ran now, they’d be caught, whether Aidan had a hold on Aphrodite or not. She could feel them, and smell them, moving in closer, tightening around them like a knot.

  “You shouldn’t have run,” Aphrodite scolded. “You shouldn’t have shielded her. You made us chase, made me sad, made Mother tear witches in half.” She looked at him petulantly, her full lips pouting. Then she smiled and half turned away, before hooking her fingers into claws and aiming for his eyes.

  “Aidan!” Cassandra shouted, and opened her door. Before she could get out, Henry lunged from the backseat and pulled her back in, just as the Nereids attacked the car. Three of them beat into the side panels and rocked the frame back and forth. One smashed in the rear window and reached for Henry; Andie punched it in the face over and over, oblivious to the cuts left on her knuckles by fins and scales.

  Aidan twisted out of Aphrodite’s grip and tried to help, grabbing the nearest Nereid and shoving his fingers deep into the creature’s eye sockets, then ripping back hard enough to dislodge the skull. Aphrodite shrieked and clawed at his back, drawing deep furrows of blood, but Aidan kept moving, using the head of the first Nereid to bludgeon the one who attacked the back of the car.

  Henry scrambled to the front seat and covered Cassandra with his body, protecting her from glass and clawed fingers.

  “Henry, door prize!” Andie shouted, and Henry savagely kicked his door into a Nereid on the passenger side. The impact sent it rolling back toward the ditch. He looked at Cassandra, shocked only for a moment before his eyes darkened.

  “Stay here. Both of you.” He got out and slammed the car door, going after the Nereid he’d struck.

  “Not a chance.” The door opened again and Andie followed. She scooped up a thick branch as she went.

  Cassandra sat frozen in the car. It felt suddenly quiet and alone. The Nereids had gone off after Andie and Henry; she saw Henry duck a black, scaled arm and punch the creature in the face. In front of the Mustang, Aidan struggled with Aphrodite on his back. Cassandra looked around the interior, at seats covered with spilled soda and snack wrappers. Nothing she could use for a weapon.

  What am I supposed to do? How do I help them?

  Aphrodite’s hands searched for Aidan’s neck.

  “I’ll snap your spine and tear your head off,” she shrieked. “Then I’ll keep it as a pet.”

  “So you can bitch at me at your leisure? I don’t think so.” He reached back to flip her over the front of him, but she was hooked in. Her teeth sank into the meaty part of his shoulder, and he screamed.

  “Aidan!” Cassandra’s hand went to the car door and she stepped out, ready to do she didn’t know what. “Get off him!”

  Out of nowhere, Hermes blew in like a breeze and collided with Aphrodite. The hit knocked her off of Aidan’s back and dumped her rolling onto the side of the road.

  “You make a fairly nasty turtle shell, bitch.” Hermes’ sides rose and fell rapidly, but his eyes were bright.

  “Where did you come from?” Aidan asked.

  “About ten miles back, Athena opened my door and told me to hit the ground running.” He gave Aidan a small smile. “You shouldn’t be so hard on big sister. She always comes through in the end.”

  At the edge of the ditch, Aphrodite got to her feet, crying at the fresh dirt streaks on her already stained dress.

  “Bastards,” she hissed, and Hermes and Aidan made ready to fight, but she turned and fled through the trees, down to the water. The Nereids too had pulled back. Andie and Henry backed up toward the car.

  “What are they doing?” Andie went to Cassandra and held her shoulder. Henry came too, his forearm bleeding from cuts made by sharp gills and razor teeth.

  “Cassie, get back in the car.”

  “Don’t bother.” Hermes watched the Nereids. They stood on the edge of the highway, their posture attentive, like they were listening for something. They had all turned to face the lake.

  Something’s coming.

  The dark water rippled along the shore. Cassandra could almost feel it against her arms, the depth and the cold. It raised goose bumps across her shoulders. She thought she saw something skimming along under the surface, some ragged, shadowy shape, hulking and enormous, the Loch Ness Monster in the flesh.

  When Poseidon reared his head out of the water, his jaw jerking open to reveal shark’s rows of jagged teeth, Cassandra gasped. Next to her, Aidan stared at the monster his uncle had become.

  “Big sister better not be far behind.”

  * * *

  The road twisted north and curved; Odysseus had to slow down, sometimes to as low as fifty miles an hour. Athena struck the dashboard, eyes bright with fear and frustration.

  “I’m sorry,” Odysseus said. “It won’t help anyone if we flip the car.” He glanced at her, a question in his eyes. She shook her head.

  “Don’t ask me to turn back. And don’t try it. I’ll just throttle you and drag you bleeding back into the fray.”

  He smiled. “I know. Is Hera there yet? Can you sense her?”

  Athena shook her head. She’d sensed Aphrodite and Poseidon clearly enough. Their arrival, so malevolent and sudden, had practically blown a circuit out the back of her head. But Hera had not yet made the scene. It was the only thing that gave her hope.

  “They won’t last long,” Athena said.

  “Don’t sell them short. Apollo got the drop on you for a minute, when he bashed your
head in. He can do the same to Poseidon.”

  Athena looked at him doubtfully.

  “Just drive faster.”

  * * *

  A Nereid sprang out of nowhere and dove for Cassandra. They’d all been so busy staring at Poseidon that they hadn’t noticed it coming close. It knocked Andie and Henry aside like toys. Cassandra tried to dodge, but it grabbed her by the wrist.

  “Aidan!”

  It was so strong. No matter how she dug her feet in or clawed at its grip, the ground only seemed to go by faster. Her ankles caught on the dirt and rolled painfully.

  Fall. Let me fall. Slow down.

  But it didn’t. It held her up and kept on, speeding her mindlessly toward the lake, while Aidan screamed her name. She glanced back. Nereids had swarmed the Mustang like black beetles. Hermes had his hands full with three, and two dragged Aidan down toward the ground. Andie and Henry fought back-to-back, but there were too many. Cassandra shouted as she saw one rake its claws across Andie’s stomach.

  Ahead of her, Poseidon yawned like a nightmare, barnacle shells eating away the surface of his arms, blood like black oil draining from cuts made by coral that twisted up his body and sliced tunnels into his face. She remembered his teeth in the witch’s leg, and her own legs turned to rubber.

  “Cassandra, I’m coming!”

  She looked back; Aidan had gotten free and dashed down through the trees. Black Nereid bodies littered the ground around the car. Hermes tore another head loose and dashed down after him, so fast. But in the next instant, cold struck her belly and closed over her head as the Nereid dragged her into the water.

  She held her breath as they went under, all her limbs twisting toward panic. Panic at the teeth with her in the lake; panic that her lungs already burned from lack of air. She kicked against the Nereid’s side and it let her break the surface.

  “Aidan!”

  Her teeth chattered in the frigid water. The shock of it made all her muscles seize. If the Nereid let her go, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to swim to shore. Through weak splashes of protest, she could still see Poseidon, standing suspended, his torso covered in seaweed and slime, a god purified and corrupted all at once. His death transformed him, made him elemental, enormous. More a Titan’s offspring than he had ever been.