He glanced behind me and his eyes widened. I turned and found myself face-to-face with a Greek warrior. For a second I thought he was Ares, because this guy looked exactly like the god of war—tall and buff, with a cruel scarred face and closely shaved black hair. He wore a white tunic and bronze armor. He held a plumed war helm under his arm. But his eyes were human—pale green like a shallow sea—and a bloody arrow stuck out of his left calf, just above the ankle. I stunk at Greek names, but even I knew the greatest warrior of all time, who had died from a wounded heel. “Achilles,” I said.
