by S. L. Stacy
“I don’t see anything.”
“See the way the air seems to glitter?” I thrust a finger toward it, guiding Dionysus’s gaze. “And the river. It looks…wrong.” When he frowns, I can tell he’s seeing the same thing I am, a section of the river that seems to veer off course, the current moving until it hits an invisible wall, and then just stops. The unnatural shimmer is suspended above it, extending across the river and a few feet up the bank.
“Impossible,” he gasps, turning to look at me with wide eyes. “What is it?”
“I think I know.” Bending to pick up a small, smooth stone, I take a few cautious steps closer, then chuck it into the anomaly. The stone vanishes upon impact. Dionysus’s eyes grow wider. “It’s another rift—like the one Victoria and I saw in the woods after the Sigma Iotas opened that portal.”
“But how did it get here?” he asks no one in particular. “And what’s on the other side?”
“I have no idea, but Moira’s prophecy led us here for a reason. I think we’re supposed to go through it.”
Dionysus considers this for a moment, eyes bouncing back and forth between me and the rift a few times before he finally says, “Ladies first.” He smiles encouragingly.
“That’s okay,” I insist, taking a step back and gesturing for him to go ahead. “You can go first. Scope it out.”
“Women,” he groans. “You’re all strong, independent warrior queens until there’s a weird crack in spacetime. Then, you send the muscle in first—”
“It makes more sense if you go,” I talk over him. “Whatever’s on the other side, you’re probably going to be more familiar with it than I am—”
“That’s a lame excuse, and you know it!”
There’s a feline grunt from below us that almost sounds like a throat being cleared. Startled out of our argument, we look down at the same time to find Apate peering up at us, eyes shining like green marbles in the dark. I swear she shakes her head in disappointment before taking off toward the rift.
“Apate—no!” I lunge, reaching for her, but it’s too late. The shimmery air swallows her up, inch by inch—first her face and front paws, then her body, and finally her long, slender tail. Dionysus and I gape after her, frozen in shock.
“I guess we should go in after her,” he says, sounding like that’s the absolute last thing in the world he wants to do.
“Let’s just give her a minute.” A minute that feels like an eternity passes. Then another. Just as my optimism starts to falter, a paw steps out of thin air, and the black cat reemerges, seemingly unscathed. There’s a skip to her step as she trots back over, and she gives us a reassuring mew.
I look over at Dionysus. “I guess that means it’s safe.”
“Unless she’s playing us,” he points out, eying her suspiciously. “I don’t trust her.”
“I’m not sure I do, either,” I admit, and the cat bristles, “but we don’t really have a choice.”
He nods, looking resigned. “Let’s just get this over with,” he grumbles, reaching for my hand. I just look at it and roll my eyes.
“We don’t need to hold hands. Strong, independent warrior queen, remember?”
“It wasn’t for you. What if I get lost?”
I smirk. “I can put a little bell on you. That way, if we get separated, I can hear you jingle.”
“Fine.” He takes back his hand, crossing his arms instead. “No hand holding. And definitely no bells.”
We both take a deep breath, steeling ourselves. In front of me, Apate disappears back through the rift. After a moment’s hesitation, I step forward, crossing the glimmering threshold.
As I pass through it, I’m met with the same sensation I had in my recurring dreams, making me wonder if they were some kind of premonition. A sudden blast of cold air latches icy fingers onto me, shocking the breath out of my lungs. Their grip only tightens as I push forward, squeezing me until I feel like I’m about to slip away into unconsciousness without ever making it to the other side.
All it takes is one more small, desperate step forward and I’m through, able to breath normally once again on the other side. Although it’s much colder here—wherever “here” is—than it is in the park, at least the deadly tendrils of rift mist have released me. The streetlights and full moon gone, my eyes meet an impenetrable darkness. Other than the gentle sound of rushing water in the background, there is only a heavy, lonely silence.
“Dion, we did it!” I exclaim, whirling to where he should be standing next to me. “Dion. Dionysus?” Shrill and frantic, my voice rings out into the eerie silence, echoing like there are hundreds of Carlys shouting Dionysus’s name. A meow from Apate is the only response I get, her eyes flashing in the thick blackness wrapped around us.
“Fudge,” I sigh, fumbling with the zipper to my fanny pack. Once it’s open, I dig out the miniature flashlight and turn it on, shining it around the immediate vicinity. Its small circle of light reveals patches of black rock and jagged stalagmites, but there’s no sign of my partner.
“Maybe he chickened out.” But I don’t think this is the case. I felt a shift in the air beside me as we entered the mist together, could sense his presence up until the moment I stood fully in that in-between space, when it felt like my entire body was encased in ice. I know he went through with me. Maybe what we’ve been thinking of as one, long “rift” could really be made up of multiple fragments. I ended up here, and he ended up…somewhere else. I guess we should have held onto each other after all.
I lower the flashlight, almost dropping it as my palms start to sweat, my chest tightening. Everything is coldness, darkness and silence—I feel like I’m trapped in Pandora all over again, without the aid of Dolos’s illusions to keep me sane. Sensing my distress, Apate pads over, rubbing herself against my leg. She lets me pick her up and stroke her silky fur for comfort.
“It’s not Pandora,” I remind myself, taking slow, deep breaths. “It’s not Pandora, not Pandora—”
“Carly Dragonjac!”
A low, rumbling voice erupts in the cavern, sending shockwaves through the ground and a jolt of fear through me. The flashlight flies out of my hand, landing on the rocks with a clatter before blinking off. Apate jumps out of my arms, touching down in her usual soundless, ninja cat way.
“Yes. W—Who’s there?” I stammer, getting down on my hands and knees and feeling around the cold ground for the flashlight.
“Trespasser!” The voice booms again just as my fingertips brush something plastic, another mini earthquake pushing the flashlight just out reach. I’m briefly reminded of Victoria and I standing outside of the Delta Iota Kappa house, trying to get past Five, only this time the accusation fills me with dread, my pulse skyrocketing. “Cheater!”
“I didn’t mean to trespass,” I insist, wishing my voice didn’t sound so strained. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“You did not pay the toll.” A blast of cold air rolls over my back, freezing me in place. “You have to pay the toll.”
“What toll? I—I didn’t know I had to pay something.” Recovering myself, I crawl forward, my hand finally grasping the flashlight. I turn it back on and climb unsteadily to my feet, searching the cavern for the owner of the voice.
“Ignorant girl.” The words are spoken more softly this time, although no less icy. “Foolish human.” The flashlight catches a glimmer of black fabric as a cloaked figure emerges from the darkness, drifting steadily toward me. Gulping, I stand up a little straighter, wrapping my fingers more tightly around the flashlight to stop my hand from shaking.
“I’m sorry!” I shout as the phantom comes to a stop directly above me, slippery robes spreading around me as quickly as a pool of ink after it’s been spilled. I try to meet its gaze, but a low-hanging hood completely covers its face. I flinch as a long sleeve—cold and slimy, like a tentacle—brushes my cheek, leaving a trail of dampness in its wake. Shuddering, I resist the impulse to wipe it away. “I didn’t know. I’ll pay it. Anything you
want. I just need to find—”
“Blood,” he hisses into my face, breath chilly and rank. I swallow a bout of nausea.
“What?” I ask him, confused.
This time, I hold my breath against the stench of his. “To enter, you must pay the blood toll.”
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out at first, my composure starting to slip again. “B—Blood toll—”
“Pay the toll,” the specter demands, robes fluttering ever closer to me like ghostly, greedy hands, “or you die.”
“Excuse me?” I snap, anger yanking me out of my descent into panic. “I told you: I didn’t know about your stupid toll. Now that I do, I’m willing to pay it, but you don’t have to threaten me, you…ass.”
A growl, low and furious, issues from underneath the hood, and the phantom lunges toward me, lashing out with its oily sleeves. Fully knowing that I don’t have enough time to get away, I take a few running steps backwards, bracing myself for impact. But the hit never comes.
I open my eyes, not even remembering at what point I had closed them, to find that the handless arms have stopped short, positioned vertically in the air as though they’re pressing against an invisible barrier. The phantom recoils before striking out again but, just like the first time, it slams up against the force field preventing it from harming me. It cocks its hood to the side, looking just as perplexed as I feel.
“Charon.” A woman’s melodious but commanding voice sounds from somewhere behind me. She must be the one shielding me from the phantom’s assault. “Leave the girl alone.”
Charon lifts his head, looking over my shoulder. “But Mistress,” he says in a milder tone, “she did not pay the toll.”
“That is no matter. She is here now. Leave us.” Without any hesitation or further protest, Charon turns his back to me and streaks off into the cavern, black robes billowing behind him.
“Thank you,” I breath, turning to face her. “I…” As I direct the flashlight toward her, I lose what I was about to say. Eyes like two black, iridescent pools study me silently for a few minutes. I don’t have the words to describe the woman they belong to, who seems human in a lot of ways and yet…isn’t. She’s tall and thin, her movements fluid and graceful as she glides up to me, almost like they belong to someone’s shadow rather than an actual, flesh-and-blood person. A silky, dark gown drapes her slender frame, her hair coiled into a long braid that reaches her waist.
“You find me strange,” she says, stopping a few feet away from me. “I know it may be hard to believe, but I was human once—like you. The ages I have spent here have changed me. My husband and I do not often venture beyond the comfort of our home. I no longer look like the woman I once was.”
Comfort? I think to myself, looking around the dank cavern. “If you don’t mind my asking…who are you?”
There’s the barest hint of a smile. “I think you know.”
I shake my head slowly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
“Where do you think you are right now?”
I think about the emptiness, the loneliness overflowing in this place, and about Charon and his hooded cloak. I don’t know a lot about Greek mythology, except bits and pieces from popular culture—and what I’ve learned since becoming a guardian. “Well, Charon is the ferryman who transports the dead to the Underworld. So, I guess that means this is the Underworld,” I say confidently. The realization stirs a flutter of excitement inside of me. Jasper had said that the asphodel mentioned in the recipe only grows in the Underworld. That must be why Madam Moira’s prophecy led me here. “And that must make you…Persephone.”
Persephone nods. “Good girl. Now, it is time for me to ask the questions. Did the others send you here?”
“The…others?”
“The other girls.”
I shrug uncertainly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“No.” Her bottomless eyes seem to look me up and down, considering me. “You really don’t. Something else has brought you here. You need something.”
“Yes,” I say, nodding eagerly. “I’m looking for some asphodel. I’m trying to make an antidote to undo a transformation curse, and it’s one of the ingredients.”
“I see. I am not familiar with those,” Persephone admits, clasping delicate hands in front of her. Her tone is flat, her expression unreadable. I’m not sure how she feels about what I’ve just said until she continues, “The shores of the Cocytus are covered with asphodel.
“Go to the river,” she instructs, pointing behind me. “There will be a boat waiting there to take you where you need to go. It knows the way, and it will bring you back here safely.”
“That’s it?” I ask her skeptically.
“Take only what you need, and then leave this place. Your companion too,” she adds, looking down at Apate, who I had almost forgotten about during my encounters with Charon and Persephone. Okay—I had completely forgotten about her.
I frown, still feeling uneasy. “And there’s nothing you want in return.”
“I can think of something if you would like,” Persephone says, a hint of sarcasm in her tone. “No. I do not want anything. This is not a trade. My husband and I do not normally intervene in the affairs of humans—or even of our fellow Olympians—but I do not mind occasionally helping someone in need.”
“Thank you,” I sigh, feeling relieved. “You don’t know how refreshing that is. I won’t forget your kindness.” Bending, I scoop Apate back up. As usual, she thrashes in protest, but I hold onto her firmly. Finally, she gives up, settling into my arms, and I turn to go.
“And Carly,” Persephone calls out, making me look back over my shoulder, “there are other entities in this realm that are not as kind as I am, and they do not answer to me. If you encounter danger, I will not be able to help you. From this point forward, you are on your own.” The encouraging nod she gives me next does nothing to calm the shiver going down my spine. “Take care.”
“I will. Thank you.” With the cat still bundled in my arms, I carefully point the flashlight straight ahead and strike off into the dark cavern, toward the sound of rushing water.
Chapter 14
The walk to the river is shorter than I expected and, just like Persephone promised, there’s a small, wooden rowboat pulled up to the rocky shore, waiting for me. The river’s inky black waves rock it gently back and forth, but the boat stays put, even though there doesn’t appear to be anything anchoring it in place. There aren’t any oars, either, I realize as I quickly inspect the boat and surrounding area.
“I guess we just get in,” I tell Apate, setting her down first before gingerly lowering myself into the boat. Almost as soon as I’m seated, Apate curled at my feet, the boat surges into motion, backing away from the shore and moving at an even clip over the water. I hope it knows where it’s going.
As the boat takes us deeper into the Underworld, I settle in, relaxing a bit as I watch an eerie yet beautiful landscape unfold around us. A gray light has started to filter in from above, illuminating jagged walls of glassy black rock that seem to go up and up forever. There isn’t a hint of green or any other color as far as I can see, nor do I catch a glimpse of the other “entities” that supposedly inhabit this realm. It is vast, empty and lonely, and the more I look around at my dark, monotonous surroundings, the smaller and more hopeless I feel.
Soon, we come to a fork where the river branches off into two directions, mirroring the juncture at Point Park. The boat veers confidently to the right, picking up speed. I grip the edge, heart beating faster, a cold wind battering my face. Apate keeps to the floor of the boat, face buried in her paws. A sudden, swift current jerks the boat back and forth violently, almost like a giant hand has taken hold of it and is trying to capsize us. I squeeze my eyes shut against the nauseating motion.
“Please don’t tip over,” I mutter under my breath, repeating the words over and over until the waters grow calm again. Opening my eyes, I see the cat lift her head an
d dry heave a few times before sinking back down, looking miserable. I’m starting to feel sick myself, but the boat presses onward without any sign of slowing down.
As a blanket of gray-green, spongy grass and pale colored flowers gradually replaces the rough, black stone of the river bank, I become aware of the distant sound of wailing. Like the warning cry of a banshee, a prolonged moan rises up, thick with despair, from somewhere below the choppy surface of the water. After a minute or two, the final notes of the solitary lament fade on the breeze, only to be taken up again by several more voices seconds later. With each refrain, more and more voices join in the haunting melody, until they’re filling up the cavern with their tireless, misery-filled song. I can feel it reverberating deep in my core, an uncontrollable sadness welling up inside of me as a result. I bring a hand up to my cheek, fingertips sliding over the moisture there. When did I start crying?
At last, the boat slows to a stop, pulling up alongside the shore. I clamber out, the soft, moist ground making gurgling sounds underneath my boots. Reaching back in, I lift Apate out, setting her gently down beside me. She gags again, this time throwing up on a patch of small, light pink flowers.
“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” I tell her, not sure of what else to do or say. She curls up on the ground, closing her eyes, and I turn away from her, letting her rest for a few minutes.
The wailing voices become rather ominous background music as I try to block them out and get to work, taking an empty, plastic sandwich bag out of the fanny pack. I kneel down beside one of the clusters of pink flowers, plucking three silvery leaves from the stem. Persephone said asphodel grew on the shores of the Cocytus, so I’m assuming these must be what she was talking about. Straightening up, I slip the leaves inside the sandwich bag and pinch it closed.
Gazing out over the marsh, I can see why the poem called it “ghostly” asphodel. The carpet of silvery leaves and pale flowers reminds me of a thick web of ghosts clawing their way up either side of the river bank. Despite the continuous moaning in the background, an unexpected peace comes over me as I take it all in—the gray landscape, dotted with the palest pinks and greens, and the dark, restless river winding through it.