Jacky came awake slowly. She was having the most deliciously erotic dream. Spike (from season six of Buffy, so he was still the Big Bad) had his glorious cheekbones between her caffe latte thighs and he was putting that beautiful mouth to excellent use. She’d always believed there was a whole other world in that mouth…

She jolted awake.

There was, indeed, a beautiful blond man’s face between her legs, but her thighs were young, too damn skinny and too, too damn white. Not that that little fact really mattered much to her at that moment.

“Patroklos…” she murmured. He looked up at her and paused briefly in his work.

“Yes, my beauty. Are you awake?”

“Almost,” she said sleepily, considerately spreading her legs so that he fitted more comfortably between them. “Why don’t you see if you can bring me the rest of the way awake?” As he got back to business, Jacky thought it was like he’d been blessed by the Goddess of Love herself, which, she realized, might truly be possible and made a mental note to thank Venus. Then Jacky found that she was having trouble thinking at all…


"Psst! Kat! Wake the hell up.”

Kat’s eyelids fluttered. God, was she having an awful dream? She could swear Jacky was bending over her, shaking her with one hand while she carried a wooden bucket (bucket?) in the other.

“Go away,” she rasped to what she hoped was a dream apparition. “I’m calling in sick—crazy people be damned. Let them counsel themselves today.”

“Get up, fool. You’re not dreaming. I got somethin’ to do and you’re comin’ with me.” Jacky snapped back the bed sheets, exposing all of Kat’s naked body. “Damn, you’re young,” she said, studying her friend.

Kat rolled out of bed and snatched up her underrobe. “Do you mind? You do not need to see all my business.”

“Please. I know all your business. By the by, your thighs are much thinner in this life than they had gotten in the last one.”

“Jacqueline. Your ass is narrow.”

Jacky sucked air and got ready to launch into an all out assault when a deep snore made both of them turn to statues. Kat looked slowly back at the mound of bedclothes and the naked man. Jacky tiptoed and peeked over her shoulder.

Achilles lay on his side, his torso and one scarred but distinctly muscled thigh poking nakedly from the crisp linen sheets. Kat turned back to Jacky and put her finger against her lips. “Shh!” She snatched up the rest of her clothes and grabbed Jacky’s hand, hauling her from the tent. Outside Kat looked incredulously up at a sky that was just beginning to show a hint of rosy dawn’s fingertips. “What in the holy hell are you doing: one—awake at this insane hour, and two—waking me up, too?”

Jacky glanced at the sky and then back at her BFF. Then she fidgeted.

“Oh no, no, no. You woke me up for a really, really stupid reason,” Kat said.

“Maybe,” Jacky said.

“Why are you holding a bucket?”

“We have to get somethin’.”

“Something?”

“Yes, somethin’ for Patroklos,” Jacky mumbled.

“Pardon moi?”

Jacky cleared her throat. “Somethin’ for Patroklos,” she repeated, this time so that Kat could hear her.

“You want to get something for Blondie Bear. So explain why my sleep is being disturbed.”

“Don’t call him Blondie Bear. I’ve decided I adore him for himself, and not for his fortuitous resemblance to Spike. And you have to come with me because you’re my best friend and you love me.”

“Oh, it’s that embarrassing?”

“Absolutely.”

“Can we drink this early?”

“In my professional nursing opinion in the ancient world it’s healthier to drink wine than water.”

“Which means yes?”

“Definitely. I’ll grab a wineskin on our way out the camp,” Jacky said.

“Are there any fried swine sandwiches ready, too?”

“Already thought of that.” She pointed to a cheesecloth-wrapped packet nestled inside the bucket.

“All right. I’ll go with your silly ass.” Then Kat hesitated and glanced back at Achilles’ quiet tent. “But how long are—”

“Oh, please. Your boy is sleepin’ like a drugged old woman in a rest home. He’ll be out for hours.”

“Okay, fine. I’m coming.” Kat followed Jacky as she grabbed a wineskin from the table by the banked campfire. There was no one around except a sleeping maidservant, and she didn’t move when the two of them trudged from camp. “And for your information, the simile is supposed to be sleeping like a baby, not like a drugged old woman.”

“Kat, you need to spend more time in a hospital setting. Babies sleep like shit. Drugged old women sleep for days. Get a clue.”

“And now you’re being fresh. Maybe I should just go back—” Kat began but Jacky grabbed her hand.

“Sorry—sorry. Ignore me. I haven’t had coffee since I’ve been white. It’s made me a little cranky.”

“Jacqueline, where are we going?”

“To dig clams.”

“Huh? It sounded like you said something about digging.”

“Yes, I did. Don’t steamers sound good to you? Lots of butter?”

Kat stared at Jacky and almost tripped over a tuft of sea grass. “Wait. Are you telling me you’re digging clams for Patroklos? To eat?”

“We. We are digging clams for Patroklos to eat.”

Kat’s giggle started in little bursts, but every time she looked at Jacky the bursts got bigger and bigger until Jacky glared at her while she wiped her eyes and gasped for air.

“What!” Jacky said.

“You—are—cooking—for—a—man,” Kat said between fits of laughter.

“Am not. This is almost exactly like going to the grocery to buy the stuff so that someone else can cook for my man whilst he and I sit back and enjoy dinner.”

“Oh, poor deluded girl,” Kat said, only semisuccessfully controlling her hilarity. “Let Dr. Kat help you. Honey,” she said slowly, like she was talking to a second grader. “You are actually hunting and gathering, and coming precariously close to being domesticated.”

“You know, I just saw you naked. You are scrawny. I do believe I could kick your ass.”

Kat burst into giggles again.

“And,” Jacky added, “you need a good bikini wax.”

“Really?” Kat asked innocently. “Are you sure? Could you take a closer look for me?” she said as she pretended to hike up her robes. “This body is new and I really don’t know what’s what with it.”

“Oh, Jesus wept, do not lift your goddamn skirt!”

“No, really, nurse. I think I feel a burning sensation. Can you check it out for me, please?”

“You are the nastiest thing I know,” Jacky said, trying not to laugh.

“Which is why you lurve lurve lurve me!” Kat said hoisting up her skirts and dancing around like a cancan girl.

“Would you stop messing around? My man wants some steamers and that, along with the best sex he’s ever known in his virile young life, is just what I’m going to give him.”

“Hey Miss Smartie, do you even know how to dig for clams?”

“How can you even ask me that question? My people grew up near the water.”

“But you grew up with me near the center of the country in Tulsa. Hello. No ocean there.”

Jacky drew herself up to her full, yet miniscule height, and Kat thought how funny it was that she could be plunked into a body the direct opposite of hers, and still retain so much of her innate gestures and expressions and just plain physical stubbornness.

“I Googled clam digging for that last vacation we were going to take. You know the one—before we died?”

“Yes, I do have a vague memory.” She frowned. “But in the Cayman Islands I didn’t remember anything saying we had to dig for our own food. Hell, we weren’t even supposed to have to get up to get our own drinks.”

“Nevertheless, I did some research. Follow my lead and all will be well.”

“Hey, what’s Patroklos doing right now?” Kat asked.

“Sleeping.” Jacky’s smile was slow and totally nasty. “Did you know there’s a whole other world waiting to be discovered—by me—in that man’s mouth?”

“Do tell!”

“This mornin’ he woke me up with his face between my legs. I thought I’d died, again, and this time there was no question about whether or not I was in heaven.”

“And to imagine that I may have been likewise awakened had you not messed that up for me,” Kat said.

“Relax. Your boy did not look like he was up to any calisthenics this morning. Let him recover, hussy. Anyway this shouldn’t take long. When we get back you can slip into bed beside him and see if you get lucky. By the way, I did notice Achilles has a nice, long length of thigh.”

Kat waggled her eyebrows. “That’s not the only long length he has.”

Jacky laughed, then she caught Kat’s gaze. “We’re completely in love with them, aren’t we?”

“Completely,” Kat said.

“It’s very odd,” Jacky said.

“Yep,” Kat said. “You know, I think I’m going to miss champagne almost as much as hot running water.”

“Well, you could squander your wish on a lifetime supply of champagne,” Jacky said.

“My wish?”

“You know, as soon as the war’s over the goddesses owe us each a wish.”

Kat blinked. “Well, shit. I forgot all about that.” Then she raised a brow at her friend. “You want me to squander my wish on champagne so you can drink it, too, without having to wish for it.”

“That makes me sound very shallow, Katrina.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, definitely.” They’d reached the receded shoreline and Jacky started tying up her skirts, motioning for Kat to do the same. “Okay, this is easy. We just feel around with our toes out there where the low tide has exposed all that naked sand to find the clams. Then we dump them in the bucket and take them to a menial to cook.”

“All right, but if something tries to eat me…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll press your panic button or scream for Achilles. But don’t worry about it. His mama said she’d make sure nothin’ from the sea attacks you again. Hey, now that I think about it, it’ll probably be very cool having a goddess for a mother-in-law.”

“You’re right. Sadly for you, I hear Patroklos’s mom is a Harpy.”

“Jesus wept! Are you kidding me?”

Kat grinned at her and started digging around in the smooshy wet sand. “Would I do that?”


Jacky had been right. The clams practically leapt into their bucket, which made them wonder if Achilles’ sea goddess mom might be lending them a little unseen hand. So it was barely a couple hours past dawn when the two of them, well fortified by swine sandwiches and an abundance of wine, started to meander slowly back to camp.

And then the day exploded.

“Wonder what’s up with him?” Kat asked, pointing to a warrior who was coming in a flat run down the beach.

Jacky shaded her eyes and squinted to get a better look. She shrugged. “Patroklos mentioned something about the men training early today. Maybe they’re starting a new sprint-down-the-beach drill.”

“Training early? Really? Weird that Achilles didn’t say anything.”

“Perhaps his mouth was too busy with other things last night,” Jacky said.

Kat opened her own mouth to agree totally, with some juicy girlfriend details added in, when the runner caught sight of them and instantly changed direction to head straight for them.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Jacky said.

“Crap,” Kat said in agreement.

The warrior reached them. Kat recognized him as Diomedes, Aetnia’s man. He was gasping for breath, but his words were still sickeningly clear. “Princess, you and Melia must come. It’s Patroklos. He is dying.”

Jacky grabbed Kat’s hand. “Take me to him. Now,” Jacky said.

The warrior reversed his path, slowing his pace so that he wouldn’t outdistance the two women. Kat wanted to ask what had happened, but she didn’t have any breath to waste on words. Obviously neither did the silent and stone-faced woman who ran beside her. It seemed to take forever, but they finally got back to the Myrmidon camp and Patroklos’s tent. Kat looked at the somber, blood-spattered men surrounding the tent and her heart sank.

She and Jacky entered the tent to find Patroklos lying on the wide bed, drenched in fresh blood, with Kalchas hovering over him like a carrion bird.

“Get away from him,” Jacky snapped, shoving the skinny old man aside. “Oh, god, no.” Was all Kat heard Jacky say, and then her friend was all business. She glanced up at the two warriors standing bedside. “Help me get him out of this armor.” They obeyed her automatically, pulling off armor that had turned from gold to a damp scarlet.

Kat felt a rush of sickness as she got a clearer view of Patroklos’s nasty neck wound. He was bleeding from several lacerations on other parts of his body, but it was his neck that looked particularly terrible. Jacky bent over him, prodding and poking. Without looking up, Jacky spoke to her. “You have to find me something like a straw. It can’t collapse, but it can’t be too much bigger than a straw. Hurry, Kat.”

“I’ll find something.” Kat paused only long enough to squeeze her friend’s arm and then she ran from the tent.

When she saw Odysseus approaching she could have cried with relief.

“Is he dead?”

“Not yet, but I’m afraid he will be unless you help me with something,” Kat said.

“Anything.”

“I need a reed, or anything about this long and hollowed out like this.” Kat showed him with her hands. “It can’t be flimsy or too flexible—it can’t collapse. Do you understand?”

“Yes. This way.” He turned on his heel and Kat scrambled to keep up with him as he hurried toward the dunes. “Lucky it’s midsummer. They’re too weak during the spring, and too brittle during the winter, but this time of year they may work.” Odysseus seemed to be talking more to himself than to her as he searched through the grasses. “We thought it was him, you know.”

“Him?” Kat was barely listening. She just wished she knew what the reed looked like so she could help him.

“Achilles. We thought Patroklos was Achilles—even I believed it. That’s what Athena had told me.”

Kat looked carefully at his face. Odysseus appeared uncharacteristically angry—almost like he was pissed at his goddess. She touched his arm and his attention went from the reeds he was pawing through to her. “You didn’t know about this ruse, did you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kat said.

“Where’s Achilles?”

That took her aback. “He should be around here with you, or at least with his men. I got up before he did this morning, but I thought he’d be with the Myrmidons.”

Odysseus stared at her for a long minute, before finally saying, “It’s true. You had nothing to do with it. You don’t know what Patroklos did.”

“Odysseus! Enough of this—what happened!”

The famous warrior faced her, locking her in his intelligent gaze. “This morning Patroklos donned the armor of Achilles. He had to have had a goddess’s touch, because the boy was Achilles. We followed him onto the battlefield—we all followed him.”