The Immortal Fire

by Anne Ursu

  “I know,” said the psychiatrist. “And I told Mr. Ward so.”

  The psychiatrist studied Steve’s face. He was a complicated kid. She did not know the story of Steve’s father, only that he was not in the picture. The psychiatrist had seen this before—a boy who takes out his anger at his absentee father on other male authority figures, not to mention the world at large. She worried with Steve too that this lashing out was concealing something deeper: a fear that his own father had left because of something wrong with him, a need to be loved and accepted, and that need could lead to him latching onto the first father figure who showed him kindness.

  “So he told you, too,” Steve grumbled. “Does everyone think I’m a cheater? And dumb, too?”

  “No. It’s all right. He was wrong, and he’ll apologize to you tomorrow. But you have to apologize for calling him”—she looked at her notes, then raised her eyebrows—“what you called him.” Steve began to protest, and she held up her hand. “I know, I know he was wrong. He should have gotten all the facts before he accused you. But that doesn’t excuse what you said, and now you might be suspended again. Remember what we talked about. When you feel yourself getting angry, take a step back, take time to calm down, think about the consequences. Okay?”

  Steve tightened his arms and stared at the ground. “Step back, calm down, consequences,” he muttered. And then his face contorted and he kicked the small table next to him. The spindly leg cracked, and a plant slid off the top and came crashing to the ground.

  The psychiatrist blinked. “Well,” she said mildly, “we can try again next week.”

  When Steve got home that afternoon, he burst in the door to find his mother waiting for him in the living room.

  “Mom, I didn’t—”

  “I know you didn’t,” she interrupted. “You would never cheat. I know that. But what you did wasn’t right either.” She sighed. “Sweetheart, I know things are hard. But someday someone is going to show you what a good place the world is. And nothing else is going to matter then. And when they do, I want you to thank them, and then come home and tell me about it, all right?”

  “All right, Mom,” Steve grumbled. He shuffled his feet over to the big picture window and leaned against it, staring off into the distance. He did not notice the black car parked in the shadows of the tall pines across the street, nor the man in the passenger seat focusing small binoculars right at him.

  “The mom seems like a nice lady,” the man said to his partner, who was in the driver’s seat. “Very pretty.”

  “Well, sure,” said the partner. “When do we move?”

  “Tonight,” said the first man, “when they’re asleep.” He patted a black briefcase. “He won’t notice a thing.”

  PART THREE

  Earth

  CHAPTER 13

  Good-bye to All That

  AS MR. METOS’S WORDS SETTLED IN THE AIR, Charlotte could not believe her ears. After everything, they were finally going to join the Prometheans. It was all she had wanted since they’d come back from the Underworld, all she’d hoped for, and it had seemed it would never happen, that she would be stuck in the unbearable purgatory of ordinary life, or at least math class (which was pretty much the same thing), while the Dead suffered and other people fought her fight. And now she was going to get it.

  So why wasn’t she happier?

  Next to her, Zee was sitting wide-eyed and still, as if he, too, could not believe what he was hearing. He had been all ready to knock Mr. Metos unconscious, then start running and not stop till he got to Greece, but now they didn’t have to.

  Mr. Metos was saying something now about travel plans and passports, but his words seemed to blur together. There was something he was leaving out, something very important.

  “Mr. Metos, what’s the plan?” she interrupted.

  He frowned. “I’m telling you the plan, Charlotte.”

  “No, I mean”—she looked over to Zee, who was staring at her with a confused expression—“what about our parents?”

  “Your parents?” he repeated.

  “Well, you must have some plan for them, right? So they won’t notice we’re gone?” She could feel a twinge of urgency in her voice.

  “Ah,” said Mr. Metos. He let out a long exhale and regarded her for a moment. “Forgive me, Charlotte,” he said slowly, “but I am not used to considering family.”

  There is nothing like being carried through the air by a flying, fire-breathing, slime-clawed monster with an extra bonus goat head to make you take stock of your life, and all Charlotte could think of was her conversation with her father the previous morning. As she was leading her unquiet life, he’d said, she was supposed to remember that they were back home worrying about her.

  And she’d remembered. For she had thought, up there in the skies, with the Chimera claw digging into her back, that that was it for Charlotte Ruth Mielswetzski—after being assaulted by a Footman, nearly dumped in the Styx, set upon by a shadow army, dropped into the Mediterranean Sea, and attacked by Poseidon and a sea monster simultaneously, she had finally met her doom. Oh, she’d fought, of course—she’d kicked and scratched and squirmed and bit, but no matter how hard she’d struggled, she could not get free. (And of course, if she had, she would have plummeted to the earth below—but that seemed, on the whole, like a better fate than getting eaten.)

  And what would happen to her parents? She’d almost lost them to Poseidon’s monster, and the worry had torn her heart to shreds—how would they feel if they lost her? She had been so busy thinking of her responsibility to the world that she forgot about her responsibility to the people who loved her most. She wanted to save the world, yes, but wasn’t there a way to do it without making her parents suffer? There had to be.

  “Yes, but you’ve got a plan, right?” She could feel Zee looking from her to Mr. Metos.

  “I’m afraid that I do not,” he said slowly.

  “There must be something. Some kind of spell or potion or something to make them”—and here her voice cracked a bit—“make them forget us?” Even as she said the words, a chill passed through her body. One of the great things about having parents is there’s always someone who knows you exist.

  Sighing, Mr. Metos shook his head. “I don’t like it any more than you do. But I can’t think of another way. The best thing we can do for your families is keep you safe and alive, and…I can’t do that here.”

  “But…what about them? Who’s going to keep them safe and alive? You said the gods’ rampage would spread all over the world, spread…here.” Her mom and dad didn’t have any idea about the dangers of the world, the dangers that were coming. They needed her to protect them.

  “Our job is to protect them. Not just your parents, but the whole world. We can ensure their safety. But right now we need to ensure yours.” He regarded the two of them for a moment, and then added, not unkindly, “You chil—you two wanted to join the fight. That, I’m afraid, involves sacrifice.”

  Charlotte frowned. Sacrifice was, of course, the wrong word; it was not just the cousins who would suffer. What they were doing was not sacrifice, it was cruelty.

  “I think,” said Mr. Metos suddenly, standing up, “I have a few phone calls to make. Why don’t you two wait here and discuss whatever it is you need to discuss.” He got up and began to walk toward the bedroom, then turned abruptly and said, “The Promethean headquarters is shielded from Immortals. They cannot see it. I believe only there can I keep you safe. But as much as I want you to come, I cannot make you. It is your choice. If you decide to stay, I will stay with you and protect you to the best of my ability.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments, Charlotte staring at an unidentifiable dark stain on the carpet below. A breeze blew suddenly through the window, rattling the dusty blinds in a way that sounded to her like a clattering of teeth. She shifted uncomfortably.

  “I didn’t even think…,” Zee said finally.

  “Mmmm,” said Charlotte.

 
“This is why you were so mad yesterday.”

  “Mmmm,” said Charlotte.

  “Being carried off by that creature made you a little jumpy about this sort of thing, didn’t it?” He shook his head. “Sorry. I should have known.”

  “Mmmm,” said Charlotte.

  “I suppose my mum and dad would fly back from London to look for me. They’ll be terrified.” He grimaced, then focused his gaze on his cousin. “Char, do you want to go? We don’t have to.”

  Turning to her cousin, Charlotte looked at his face but, thanks to his special ability to mask all emotion, could not read it. She knew what he was thinking, though; they were standing in the middle of a road with a large semi bearing down on them, and they had to pick a direction to run. On the left side were their families, innocent and loving, who did not deserve any pain, and on the right was the terrible knowledge they shared. There was a world where Philonecron had never noticed Zee in the first place, where Mr. Metos never came to Charlotte’s school, where none of this had happened at all, and in this world Charlotte and Zee knew nothing of the gods and the way they treated humanity. And in this world, the cousins lived their ordinary lives, never knowing how lucky they were that they did not have to face such choices. In that world, Chimera weren’t being sent after them and in that world, the gods were not running rampant around the Mediterranean. That world was very close to this one, but not, unfortunately, close enough. All of humanity, and her parents, they all had a semi bearing down on them, too. One they couldn’t even see, let alone know how to stop.

  “Yes, we do,” Charlotte said quietly. “We have to go.”

  Zee nodded, as Charlotte felt her heart twist and burn inside of her. They did not speak then, each thinking of duty and destiny and what must be left behind, while the breeze stirred up dust around them.

  Eventually the door to the bedroom opened, and Mr. Metos emerged. He stood in the doorway, appraising the two of them.

  “Well?” he asked quietly.

  Charlotte looked at Zee, who nodded. “We’re coming,” she said, trying to control her voice.

  Mr. Metos straightened. “That is a relief. I still need to make some arrangements, so we can’t leave for a few hours. I will come pick you up tonight. I believe the best thing to do would be to leave after your family is in bed, so we are not discovered.” At these words, Charlotte gulped. “You don’t need to bring much—we can take care of whatever you need there. We’ll go to an airfield, and a jet will be waiting for us—”

  “A jet?” Charlotte was distracted out of her misery for a moment. “The Prometheans have a jet?”

  Mr. Metos gave her a half smile. “Remember, our group is very old. We have always been…well funded.” Eyeing his clothes, Charlotte raised her eyebrows.

  “Do you have passports?” he asked. Zee nodded, but Charlotte shook her head no. Her overseas travel had been strictly limited to Poseidon transporting their cruise ship to the Mediterranean. “It’s all right. That can be taken care of. I’ll pick you up at midnight. Does that work?”

  The cousins nodded solemnly.

  “Good. Before then I want you two to stay inside, and if you see anything remotely out of the ordinary—”

  “Like a flying, fire-breathing, dragon-butted lion?” Zee muttered.

  Mr. Metos attempted a smile. “Like a fire-breathing, dragon-butted lion, call me right away. I can be over in no time.”

  And with that, there was nothing more to say. The three of them got into Mr. Metos’s car, and they drove back to the Mielswetzskis’ in silence.

  The rest of the day passed slowly, with Charlotte feeling as if she were moving through some kind of strange, transparent goo. The sick feeling in her stomach only grew stronger as the day went on, and by dinnertime she felt as if anything she ate would instantly re-emerge, fully formed, from her mouth.

  “Not hungry tonight?” asked Mrs. Mielswetzski.

  “Not really,” muttered Charlotte. Across the table Zee was stirring his fork in his peas.

  “Well, that was quite a thing you two went through yesterday. I’m sure it must have been terrifying.” Her mother was being kind, deliberately kind, and Charlotte knew she felt bad for sounding angry with them at dinner the night before. Her mother hadn’t been angry; she was just worried.

  “Mmmm,” said Charlotte.

  “We’re just so glad you two are all right.”

  “Mmmm,” said Charlotte, looking down.

  There was a moment’s pause while Zee moved on to stirring his potatoes and Charlotte chewed on her lip. She could feel her parents watching them both carefully. “So,” Mr. Mielswetzski interjected brightly. “We had a big meeting at the upper school today. As long as the fire marshal agrees, it looks like the middle school students will be coming there for the rest of the school year!” He beamed. “They’re going to have trailers in the parking lots too, for the overflow. So it looks like you can’t get out of school that easily.” Grinning at Charlotte and Zee, he added, “It will be so much fun to see you two in the hallways!”

  “Right,” mumbled Charlotte.

  “Oh, now, your dear old dad won’t embarrass you, I promise.”

  For the first time that evening, she looked up at her father. “You don’t embarrass me,” she said.

  He blinked. “I don’t?”

  She shook her head.

  His grin widened. “Even when I dance?” And with that, he got up and began to do some sort of spastic boogie. “I could come into your classes and give lessons! Kids these days don’t know how it’s done!”

  “Oh, Mike!” said Mrs. Mielswetzski.

  “What do you think, Lottie?” he asked, jerking his body around like a fish stranded on land.

  “Um,” Charlotte said, pushing back from the table, “I have to go.” With that, she ran upstairs to her room, closed the door, and flopped on the bed. In the distance she could hear her father say, “That bad, huh?”

  Charlotte allowed herself to cry for exactly five minutes. Then she punched her pillow, sat up in bed, set her jaw, and wiped her face clean. It was time to get moving. Resolutely she went into her closet and got out a small duffel bag she’d used for sleepovers at Maddy’s. Mr. Metos had said to pack lightly, so she threw a few changes of clothes and some toiletries in there. They probably had deodorant in Greece, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Then she put the duffel and the backpack in her closet, and sat on the bed and waited.

  She could hear Zee banging around in the room next to hers, filling his bag with a few boy essentials, and wondered what he was thinking. She, at least, got to say good-bye to her parents—his had left for a few days in London a couple of weeks ago and then had called to say business would keep them there for a couple of months. They’d invited Zee to join them, but he hadn’t wanted to. Charlotte got the feeling Zee had not liked living in London very much.

  Around her, the room darkened slowly, and soon night had surrounded her entirely, but she did not get up and turn on the light. She watched the numbers on her clock radio change and listened to the familiar sounds of the house—her parents rattling around in the kitchen, then moving to the living room, where she knew they would sit and read and listen to old people’s music. Then, finally, they turned off the radio and headed up the stairs. The bathroom door opened and shut a few times; footsteps went back and forth down the hallway, and then stopped right outside her door.

  “What are you doing?” she heard her mother say.

  “I want to say good night to Lottie,” her father whispered back.

  “The light’s off. She must be asleep. Zee is too. We should let them sleep.”

  “Those poor kids,” whispered her father. “Maybe we should try to do something fun this weekend. Take their mind off things.”

  “Good idea. I have to admit I always thought Charlotte would be happy to see her school burn down.”

  “My Lottie is full of surprises,” said Mr. Mielswetzski, voice full of pride. And then they disappeared down
the hallway and into their room.

  Charlotte did not move for ten more minutes, lest her parents hear her, and then she could sit no more. She turned on a lamp and began to clean her room, straightening her bookshelves and her desk, making her bed the way her mother always wanted her to. And then it was eleven forty-five. Mr. Metos would be there soon.

  Before Charlotte could think about what she was doing, she had opened her parents’ door a crack and peeked in. There they were, two large lumps on the bed, her father snoring steadily, her mother sleeping with her feet sticking out of the covers the way she always did.

  Charlotte took a deep breath and started to close the door.

  “Lottie? Is that you?” Mr. Mielswetzski raised his head.

  She grimaced. “Um, yeah.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I just, um…I was just…going to the bathroom.”

  “It’s across the hall,” mumbled her mother.

  “She must be very sleepy,” whispered her father.

  “Oh, yeah, thanks. Um, good-bye.”

  “Good night,” responded her parents. And Charlotte shut the door, fixing the image of them in her mind, trying not to wonder if she would ever see them again.

  Soon she was back in her room, at her desk, writing her parents a long note, because she simply did not have it in her to just leave. She could not make them understand, but she could try. Last time she’d done this, she’d been going down to the Underworld, and she’d told them, simply, not to worry. They’d worried. This time she would try, somehow, to explain.

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  Zee and I have to go away for a while. Dad, you said that a lot has happened in my life that you don’t know about, and you are right. Zee and I have learned things about the world, and we have to go try to make everything okay. I don’t know if we can, but we have to try.

  I’m sorry I can’t explain more. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But we’re safe. We’re with Mr. Metos, and he’s going to protect us. We’ll come back as soon as we can, I promise.