Warrior Rising (Goddess Summoning #6)(95)

“Done. And what do we do about Achilles?”

“Nothing. He’s my diversion.” Kat retreated into her clinical persona—calm, dispassionate, free of clogging emotions like despair and guilt and fear. “If anyone looks from Troy, they’ll be looking at him. The fog should do the rest. This is going to get the Greeks inside the walls of Troy—they should be able to end the war then, right?”

“One would think so,” Venus said. “And what will you be doing?”

“I’m going to be getting Achilles back.”

Venus hesitated before speaking. “I should probably warn you against trying to reach him. It didn’t work today. It probably won’t work tomorrow.”

“But…” Kat prompted.

“But I believe in the power of love,” she said simply.

“I’m finding that I have a newfound appreciation for the power of love myself,” Kat said.

Venus smiled. “I knew I’d made the right choice in you.”

“Let’s hope so. Okay, I need one more thing: a sleeping potion that works quickly. A really strong one.”

Without any hesitation Venus held out her hand, wiggling her fingers. Almost immediately a tiny crystal bottle filled with a clear liquid appeared in a glittering of dust.

“Careful with this. It’s a little something the gods use when they need oblivion. It’s made by nymphs from the Island of the Lotus Eaters. If it so much as touches mortal skin you will feel its effects.”

Kat took it gingerly, setting it down on the polished surface of a vanity desk. “Thanks, that’s perfect.”

The wind suddenly increased, causing the gauzy curtains that framed the balcony to billow diaphanously into the chamber, bringing with it the berserker’s insane roars. Venus stepped closer to Kat and cupped her face with a smooth palm.

“Katrina, I leave you with Love’s blessing.” Venus kissed Kat’s forehead softly, and Kat felt a delicious surge of warmth and tenderness rush into her body.

As the goddess raised her hand, Kat suddenly remembered to ask, “Venus, is Patroklos still alive?”

The goddess smiled. “Alive and recovering from surgery with Jacqueline nursemaiding him.”

“Don’t bring them back unless I get this mess worked out,” Kat said, although it hurt her heart to think about Jacky being a world away from her.

Venus nodded solemnly.

“If—if something happens and I don’t make it out of this, will you promise to take care of Jacky?”

“I will,” Venus said. Then she lifted a slim brow. “Anything else, my delightfully demanding mortal?”

Kat chewed the side of her cheek and then decided, what the hell, she might as well go for it. “Yes. If I die—this time for good—would you let me go wherever it is that Achilles’ soul goes? He’s going to be lonely without me.”

“You have my oath on it, Katrina. Should you die tomorrow I will personally escort your soul to the beauty of the Elysian Fields,” Venus assured her.

“Okay, well, that makes me feel better.”

“You won’t die tomorrow, Kat, darling.”

“Do you know that for sure?” Kat asked hopefully. “Like did a goddess oracle thing show you my future?”

“Let’s just call it Love’s intuition. I see a happily ever after coming on.” Venus raised her arm again, flicked her wrist and disappeared in a puff of glittery smoke.

Kat sighed. “Great, and now I know the origin of the saying: Love is blind.”

Odysseus felt utterly hopeless. He’d failed the princess who called herself Katrina, the Myrmidons, his own men and Achilles. Disquiet ran deeply through the army. No one, not a single man, approved of what Achilles was doing to Hector’s body. The desecration of any dead angered the gods—the desecration of an honorable warrior, a prince of royal blood, would doubtless cause retribution to rain upon them from Mount Olympus.

All of that was bad, but Odysseus had angered the gods before and never felt as he did that night. He knew why. It was Athena’s betrayal that had sliced him to the bone. It didn’t matter what Katrina had said. He recognized her words for what they were—a kind attempt to reassure him. He knew better. Of course Athena had known about Patroklos’s masquerade. She was Goddess of War. How could she not have known?

Odysseus sat heavily on the simple chair in his sparsely furnished tent. He stared into the goblet of wine he’d poured himself, wishing he could divine answers from the blood-colored liquid.

The air in the tent changed, got warmer, sweeter, right before she materialized. It didn’t matter that Odysseus braced himself before he gazed at her. His reaction was still the same as it had been since he’d had his first glimpse of her when he was a young boy. Longing for her heated and sweetened his blood, just as it had the air around him.

“My Odysseus,” Athena said.

She came to him and offered her hand. Odysseus took it in both of his. Dropping to one knee before his goddess, he closed his eyes, pressed his lips to her skin and inhaled her scent.

“My Goddess,” he said. Then he opened his eyes, let loose her hand and stood. “I’m honored by your visit.” His voice sounded as empty as his heart felt.

Odysseus had forgotten that his goddess knew him very, very well. Her gray eyes narrowed as she studied him.