Eternity is at war. My lover Beelzebub has been marked a traitor. My best friend Josie is dead.
This was the hardest part of my day. Not braving the unkind streets of Limbo City. Not reaping souls or fighting demons. Not looking my boss Grim in the eyes and wondering how long I had until he found out what I’d done.
I knew things I shouldn’t. I’d done things that—if revealed to the Afterlife Council—would earn me a swift execution. It was a very long fall from the top of the totem pole at Reapers Inc. Everything had happened so fast. And now it all felt pointless and foreign. I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything beyond my own pain. It was selfish, but I didn’t care about that either.
I turned the water off and stood in the dim stall until the steam faded and I began to shiver.
Limbo City was slowly waking beyond the frosted window. A car alarm went off. The six a.m. gong at the Pagoda Inn parried with the bells of Our Lady of Immaculate Reception, where Mary made herself available to the souls under contract at the Three Fates Factory. It didn’t matter. All souls were stripped of their memories before being sent back the human realm. More lessons in pointlessness.
As I combed through my tangles, my mind drifted to Josie’s pixie haircut. She was always so efficient. Why couldn’t I have been more like her? Why hadn’t I paid better attention? Who was going to keep me in line now? Who was going to nag at me to hang up my coat? Who was going to tell me when my socks didn’t match?
By the time I dressed and stepped back into my room, Gabriel and the hounds were awake. Gabriel sat on the edge of my bed, rubbing a meaty hand over his five o’clock shadow. He yawned and scratched his cheek. Saul and Coreen walked lazily around the room, stretching and shaking out their ruffled fur.
I stopped at my closet and pulled on a pair of boots. “You keep leaving your sandals lying around, the hounds are gonna have new chew toys.”
Gabriel snorted. “Think they’d be able to muscle past the gag reflex? Peter’s been keeping me on my feet. Those suckers are rank.” His halo of golden curls bounced around his face like he was in a salon commercial. It wasn’t fair.
I thought about Josie’s hair again and decided I was going to get a cut after work. Bub had always liked my unruly curls, but it wasn’t like he’d be dropping by to admire them anytime soon. The lump in my throat returned. “I need coffee.”
Gabriel lifted his arm and sniffed his pit. “I need a shower.”
I opened my bedroom door, and the hounds pushed past me. “Make sure you clean the down out of the drain this time.” I shouted over my shoulder as I headed for the kitchen. “And shake your wings off before you step out of the shower.” Gabriel was hell on my bathroom, but at least he was going to bathe.
By the time Gabriel was ready, so was the coffee. Kevin, my apprentice and the empty shell of a man Josie left behind, migrated out of his room and joined us at the breakfast bar for a few moments of quiet caffeination. Jenni, our other roommate, had already left. As Grim’s second-in-command, she kept unbearable hours.
The morning silence was broken by Coreen belching into her empty food dish. She whimpered up at me before nudging Saul aside to steal a bite of his Cerberus Chow.
“Manto,” I told her. Josie had been teaching the hounds Latin commands before she died, and while I hadn’t been on board with it at first, now it seemed of the utmost importance.
Kevin shot Coreen a sideways glance over the rim of his coffee mug. His brows rose up and nearly disappeared behind his shaggy mop of dark hair. “What’s up with her? Man, she’s getting fat.”
I grimaced and went to fetch both hounds a second scoop of chow. Coreen would probably polish off their bowls again, but I’d be damned if I was going to put her on a diet. I hadn’t realized until recently that Coreen was a comfort eater. The hounds missed Josie too. Saul sulked and nuzzled everyone, but Coreen was too proud to beg for affection—not that she cared for it much to begin with.
Kevin’s judging brows rose at me next. “You sure that’s such a good idea, Lana?”
My retort was interrupted by a symphony of ringtones—mine, Gabriel’s, and Kevin’s.
Gabriel stepped into the hallway to take his call. From the stiff tone of his voice, I was pretty sure it was council business.
Kevin frowned at his screen a second before accepting his call. “What’s up, Ellen?”
I waited until I had closed myself in my room before answering my phone. Grim never called unless it was dire. I’d had enough dire lately, but one did not simply ignore Death when he rang.
I sat down on the edge of my bed and pressed the phone to my ear. “Yeah, boss?”
Grim’s voice tumbled through the receiver like a handful of gravel. “I’ve got a special assignment for you today.”
I swallowed a groan and tried to be diplomatic. “You know, I have a unit to manage and lots of souls to harvest—”
“Ellen has already called Kevin in to collect your paperwork. I took the liberty of filling in everyone’s dockets. Surely Kevin can handle passing them out for a day.”
I sighed. “Where should I meet Jenni?”
“You’re going with Gabriel,” he said. “To Summerland. The Drunken Dove Brewery. Apparently, Apollo is having a meltdown.”
My heart nose-dived. Apollo had been a casual flame of Josie’s. They were never an exclusive item—more friends with benefits—before Kevin came along. But even stained with sorrow, the irony was not lost on me. Apollo was the other side of Dionysus’s coin. If Dionysus represented booze and madness, then Apollo stood for sobriety and order. Well, he used to anyway.
“And what do you expect us to do?” I asked.
“Most of the council members, including myself, own stock in the brewery. Many of the employees are minor, unpredictable, pagan entities—who would be easily persuaded to the wrong side of this war if they lost their jobs due to Apollo’s rampage. You understand? You know Apollo. You know what this is about. Fix it.” He hung up.
A sour taste rose in the back of my throat. I wanted to convince myself that Grim was trying to connect us with Apollo to work through our grief together. As if this was all a prearranged group therapy session. But that was too much credit for Grim. Still, he could have left off the bit about having stock in the brewery. Like I gave a damn about his investments. Jerk.
Kevin was gone when I emerged from the bedroom. Gabriel rinsed his coffee mug and turned to mirror my bitter expression. His wings flicked nervously, molting feathers on the hardwood floor. “No beer tasting today, I’m afraid.”
As if on cue, my brain throbbed, reminding me of my hangover. The clattering of Coreen’s food dish didn’t help. She pawed at it again and whined.
“Sorry, girl. Duty calls.”
* * * * *
Summerland was my happy place. There was a little cottage on the edge of the faerie glades that Josie and I had once rented out for a weekend. We swam in a brook with water sprites, and at night, we watched the Wild Hunt from the front porch swing, bundled in scratchy wool blankets and sipping cider so strong it set our lips on fire. It seemed like a million years ago.
The Drunken Dove Brewery was in a more industrialized region of Summerland, situated along the base of Mount Olympus. When the First War of Eternity ended and the territories were settled in the afterlife, the old Greek gods requested that many of their temples and monuments be replicated from the human realm. Mount Olympus was one of the larger requests.
The brewery was added later, but it was a relic in its own right. The stone and marble structure sprouted from the side of the mountain, as if it had gotten stuck halfway through its birth. The production rooms were stacked on top of each other, ending with the bottling facility on the ground level, and then the finished product was stored in a cave that served as a cellar. Dionysus updated his equipment occasionally, but the lobby and gift shop were set up like a museum. The tasting rooms were old-fashioned as well, displaying the season’s best in rustic wooden barrels, opposite a w
all of coolers holding an impressive collection of glassware.
The notorious Greek god of booze owned a winery too, of course, but his ever popular Ambrosia Ale had captured the limelight for the brewery recently. His secret ingredient was the envy of all. How he managed to lure in the doves that delivered the ambrosia was a topic of much discussion.
It was still quite early when Gabriel and I arrived. The morning sun lingered behind the Olympian peaks, sending long shadows out to greet us. They grew darker as we approached the brewery. I’d been here before, on more than one occasion, for tastings and parties. I never thought I’d find myself here on business though. It felt all wrong.
Gabriel and I climbed the stairs to a narrow patio shaded by a slab of marble held up by gray pillars. It was reminiscent of Dionysus’s old temples, though it lacked the tasteful sculptures he was often depicted in. Instead, round braziers were scattered down the length of the patio. Lounge chairs filled in the gaps, piled with dark red and purple cushions.
Before we had the chance to knock, the front doors flew open.
“Thank the gods!” The Pythia filled the threshold. We’d never met before, but I knew right away who she was. The aura of her soul glittered in a halo all around her, marking her as one of the original believers.
I’d only met a rare few originals, but the Pythia’s awe-inspiring glow did not hold my attention for long. The cowl of her crimson robe was pushed back, exposing a tangle of dark curls and a bony shoulder. Sweat coated her skin like dew, and light scratches ran the length of her neck and chest. She fanned herself with a laurel branch, pausing long enough to usher us inside. When her eyes fell on the hounds, she stumbled back in surprise.
Gabriel’s brow crinkled and his wings twitched. “Shouldn’t you be at the temple, preparing for the council’s reading?”
The Pythia barked out a nervous laugh. “I can’t very well do that without Apollo, now can I?” She took a step back and clawed at her throat, twisting her head to the side as her face distorted. “He’s in the cellar. Silenus moved him down there to hide him from the Maenad.”
Gabriel slowly reached for her arm. “The first half of the ritual doesn’t require him. You could go bathe in the spring for a bit—calm your nerves.”
The Pythia’s eyes brimmed with tears and she looked over her shoulder. “I… I can’t. You don’t understand—”
“It’s okay.” Gabriel pulled her in for a hug and she let out a trembling sigh.
“He’s been like this for weeks. Ever since—well, you know. I thought it would pass, but he just keeps getting worse. I fear winter will come early this year.”
Gabriel hushed her and rubbed circles over her back. “We’ll help you return him to the temple.”
The Pythia was one of Apollo’s oldest consorts—devoting herself to him in life and death. She had been the first oracle at his temple in Delphi, way back in the eighth century BC. In the sixth century AD, when the afterlife was getting its big makeover, Apollo surprised the Pythia with a replica of their temple, which had been destroyed in the mortal world a few hundred years before. Rumor had it that she’d been so thrilled, she vowed to never again leave the adytum—the inner sanctuary of the temple. It was believable enough. She never attended social events, not even the Oracle Ball, which was practically named after her.
When the Pythia composed herself and pulled away from Gabriel’s embrace, she led us past the gift shop and tasting rooms, through a set of unmarked doors at the end of a long hall. The cathedral ceilings gave way to darkness as we entered the mouth of the cave. A narrow ledge hugged the wall, boxed in by chrome railing anchored to the edge. This was as far as the brewery tour guide took guests. They would peer down into the abyss below, and then head back to the tasting rooms to drink away the nightmares they envisioned climbing up out of the darkness.
“This way.” The Pythia pushed open a chrome gate where the railing and ledge ended. The lumpy rock walls sparkled in her presence. Uneven stairs were cut into the side of the cave, barely visible from the glow of her aura.
The hounds bobbed awkwardly down the stairs behind me, Coreen’s stomach growling at the unexpected workout. We descended for a good five minutes, and just when I was sure we had reached the bottom of the cave, the Pythia cut right, into a tunneled entrance.
A flickering flame greeted us, along with a disgruntled whinny. Silenus, the caretaker of the brewery, poked his head around his lantern as he neared. Floppy horse ears framed his weathered face.
“You shouldn’t be down here.” He tried to escort the Pythia back through the tunnel, then stopped as he noticed Gabriel and me standing behind her. Another horsey noise escaped him when he spotted the hounds.
“We’re here to help,” Gabriel quickly offered, seeing the distress in the old man’s face.
Silenus didn’t look convinced. “Zeus save us all.” He tried to lead the Pythia away again, but she resisted.
“I’m going with them,” she said, tucking her laurel branch in close to her chest like a teddy bear. Silenus lifted his lantern and grimaced. His horse tail swished nervously as he turned back the way he had come.
A low moan echoed down the tunnel. The misery of it was suffocating, and it sent the Pythia to the cave floor, clutching her chest. She whimpered and panted as her eyes glazed over and her face creased in pain. Silenus patted her on the back and looked up at us accusingly. “She shouldn’t be here.”
I folded my arms. “If you can’t send her to her room, what makes you think we can?”
His white beard pointed up at me. “What makes you think you can subdue Apollo?”
“I don’t,” I snapped back at him.
The malice washed from his face and an anxious nicker escaped him.
“I do.” Gabriel touched Silenus’s shoulder and gave me a berating look. I was sure I’d hear about this later. I shrugged.
“Really?” Silenus said softly, looking up at Gabriel with pleading eyes.
“We were Josie’s closest friends. If anyone can help Apollo through this, it’s us.”
The Pythia’s breath had slowed, and she rose back to her feet. “I don’t understand. He barely knew her for a century.” Her gaze snapped to us. “I’m sure she was lovely.”
I swallowed a snotty reply. “She was.”
Apollo’s open relationship with the Pythia wasn’t so rare. Plenty of the old gods had numerous lovers. Not that it was never an issue. Goddesses like Hera, Zeus’s wife, were notorious for their jealousy and vengeance. As far as I could tell, the Pythia leaned safely toward the other end of the spectrum.
Another moan filled the tunnel. This time, the rock walls trembled in its wake. The Pythia gasped, and I was sure I saw something move beneath the skin of her face. Her eyes darkened and her voice came out husky. “He needs me.” She rushed ahead of us and down the tunnel aimlessly, like a lost firefly.
“This isn’t good.” Silenus hobbled after her with his lantern, the only source of light now that the Pythia had fled.
The rock floor grew slicker as it sloped steeply upward the further we ventured. I pressed a hand to the tunnel wall to steady myself as I tried to keep up. The thought of being swallowed by darkness in the dank cave fueled me forward.
“Where’s Dionysus?” I shouted after Silenus. “Can’t he help?”
I almost tripped over him when he came to a sudden halt. His eyes bulged as he turned them on me. “No! Dionysus isn’t due at the temple for another two months. The Pythia won’t be able to make the council’s prophecy without Apollo.” He rolled his eyes and gave me an annoyed snort before taking off down the tunnel again.
I gave Gabriel a weary look and we followed, the hounds panting behind us.
The tunnel curled sharply and spit us out into a cavernous room—one that clearly rested just beneath the foot of Mt. Olympus. Little nesting holes filled the domed walls, like a giant honeycomb, and faint, natural light spilled down through several small openings in the ceiling, tangled through with tree
roots. Doves occupied every other nest. They cooed, announcing our arrival.
Saul’s tail smacked my leg as he took in the scene, and Coreen whined. I pointed down at both of them, giving them a stern look. “Manto,” I said, before venturing further into the cave with the others. The hounds stood watch at the mouth of the tunnel.
The Pythia had frozen in the center of the room. Her nostrils flared, as if she were sniffing out Apollo. Her glow seemed less in the dim daylight. She gravitated to a corner of the room and bent over, vanishing into the shadows. Whispers rasped and echoed all around us like ghosts—some soft and sweet, others coarse and taunting. I turned in a wide circle, looking for their source as my skin crawled.
Silenus cleared his throat and took a cautious step in the direction the Pythia had disappeared. “You have visitors, Apollo,” he said with forced cheer.
The cave trembled. “Go away. Everyone. Just go away.”
I hadn’t seen Apollo for some time. Not since the Oracle Ball he had gone to with Josie—the same ball that Kevin was introduced among the eleventh generation of reapers. Still, Apollo’s misery felt genuine enough, like he was ready to bring the whole place down with the weight of his sorrow. Kevin was more private about his heartache. I could hear him late at night, sobbing in the room he’d shared with Josie.
“Go away!” Apollo roared again. He followed it with a bitter laugh. The Pythia giggled with him. It was a deep, throaty sound that was so distinct from the soft voice I’d heard earlier, I had to take another look around the room to be sure I hadn’t missed someone.
“Okay. This is getting creepy,” I whispered to Gabriel.
He squinted into the darkness before leaning in closer. “You know how you never see Bruce Wayne and Batman in the same room?”
I raised an eyebrow and folded my arms, rubbing away the goose flesh. “What are you getting at?”
“I think I know why Dionysus can’t help Apollo.”
Limbo City Lights (Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc.) Page 4