Immortal's Spring (The Chrysomelia Stories)

by Molly Ringle

  Landon shook out and massaged his cramped fingers.

  “Shall we set ghosts to guard you, just to unnerve you?” Niko speculated.

  “I’ll take a shift on that duty,” Terry said. He was staring at Landon with the closest thing to hostility a soul could manage, which was more like coldness.

  Pity he wasn’t still alive, Sophie thought. Her dad in full anger mode had been a frighteningly righteous dude indeed. She remembered him sitting with a baseball bat, glaring at Adrian when he’d found them asleep together in her bed.

  Her mouth stretched into a smile. Wow. She’d never, ever thought she’d smile at that memory. It had seemed like a nightmare at the time. Now it actually seemed pretty funny.

  She stole another glance at Adrian, half hoping he’d be thinking of the same moment. But he was squinting at Landon, probably wondering what on Earth to do with him.

  “Thank you, Terry,” Niko said. “I wouldn’t mind a chance to rest.”

  Poor Niko did look tired. Even the divine trickster had to sleep.

  “Niko,” Liam said. “Give me that.” He held out his hand for the knife.

  Niko lifted an eyebrow but handed the knife over. “Don’t shed too much blood yet, mate.”

  “I won’t. Here Dad, hold out your hand.”

  Terry reached out, looking curious.

  Liam uncoiled the willow-and-ivy rope from over his shoulder and wrapped it around the knife’s handle, then wound the rest of the length around Terry’s immaterial wrist. The blade stuck out across Terry’s hand. “There,” Liam said. “Can you stab with it?”

  Terry made a few punch motions, which indeed looked like they’d stab someone who got close enough. He and Liam beamed at one another.

  Adrian stared at the knife. “Liam, you’re a genius.”

  Niko studied the innovation too, as did Sophie and all the rest.

  “Huh,” she said. “That’s pretty brilliant.”

  Liam sent a crooked grin at Adrian and then at her. “You guys never thought of this? What kind of gods of the dead are you?”

  “I kind of like being an armed guard who can’t get hurt,” Terry said, flourishing the knife.

  Landon shrank to the back wall of the cave.

  “You look afraid,” Freya told him. “As you should. We could form an army of the dead against your side.”

  “That would be sweet,” Liam said.

  “I will stay too for a while,” Freya added, to Niko, “if you’d like to rest.”

  Niko nodded and walked away from the cage. Terry, Isabel, and Freya stayed behind while Sophie and the rest followed Niko.

  “Is it possible, you think?” Adrian asked Zoe as they got out of earshot. “Army of the dead?”

  “Well. Yeah,” she said. “I’m sure there’d be a limit to how hard they could stab, and how accurate they could be. And probably if their weapon got smacked hard enough, it’d come off and they’d be useless again. But at least they can’t get hurt. So.”

  “That,” Adrian said, “could be handy indeed.”

  “Lot of new things to think about today,” Sophie said.

  “Therefore I’m sleeping,” Niko said. “Cheers.” He flapped a hand in farewell and veered off the path and over a hill.

  Zoe frowned after him. “I’m just going to make sure he’s okay.” She turned and followed Niko.

  Sophie watched her go, wondering again about relationship complexities. Then Tab stepped between Sophie and Liam and slung an arm around each of them. “Do you know what makes me super proud?” Tab said. “You two. My Darrow peeps. Do you guys realize you faced one of the biggest triggers you’ve got—one of the actual assholes who attacked you—and you didn’t lose your shit? And all without Zoe doing any magic to help you. You realize that? It was all you, dudes.”

  Sophie glanced at Liam, who looked similarly thoughtful and pleased. “I guess that is pretty cool,” Sophie admitted.

  “Not only that.” Tab whumped Sophie’s shoulder. “But you walked right up to him and punched him in the face. And you,” she swayed Liam, “booted him in the gut. Seriously. You guys rock! Am I right, Ade?”

  “Completely right,” Adrian said from behind them.

  “Thanks.” Sophie slipped her arm around Tab’s waist. “You rock too, Tab.”

  A while later, sitting alone in a grotto where a stream pooled and the Underworld vines formed a pretty screen, she gazed at her phone-app list of triggers and considered crossing off “the people who took me.” But then she thought of facing Quentin’s soul—or facing Krystal, the truly horrible one who had actually fired the weapons—and her courage wobbled again. She closed the app and played her flashlight beam across a dripping stalactite.

  Okay, but punching Landon in the face and then marching away under her own power did count as progress.

  Also, smiling at a memory about the night when she and Adrian had been purring naughty things about olive oil to each other? That was progress too.

  ***

  Zoe found Nikolaos inside a circle of strawberry trees, one of his habitual places to camp out down here. He was lying on his spread-out red sleeping bag, on his side with eyes shut. Zoe paused to rub one of the trees’ leaves between her fingers. She wondered if they were the descendants of the same little strawberry tree Hermes had once brought Hekate. Down here, they developed pearly white leaves and deep purple berries instead of the green foliage and red berries of the upper world.

  Niko must have sensed her coming, but didn’t open his eyes, not even when she came and sat on her knees beside him.

  Dark shadows lurked under his eyes. He hadn’t shaved in at least two days, and hadn’t laughed in…well, longer than anyone liked to see in the merry Hermes. Now he was obliged to be a jailer, and possibly a torturer.

  “You okay?” she whispered.

  He swung his arm out without opening his eyes. He hooked it around her waist and drew her down beside him. She wriggled in to spoon him. When she settled her hand on top of his, at the base of her ribs, she felt only unhappy turbulence in him, no lustful intentions. Her sympathy deepened, and she nestled closer on the edge of the sleeping bag.

  “Would you have forgiven me,” he asked, “if I had simply killed him?”

  “Yes, Niko.”

  “And will you forgive me if I don’t?”

  She drew his hand up and kissed his knuckles. “Of course, you twit.”

  He hugged her tighter, and said in the Underworld tongue, “I love you, sweet Hekate.”

  For some reason the declaration in combination with the sadness emanating from him made her feel like crying. She squeezed his hand and sent him a flow of soothing, soporific magic, and stayed there a long time, even after he had finally fallen asleep.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Erick Tracy glanced into the rearview mirror of the van as he sped south. Yuliya and Krystal were waking up at last, stirring and groaning on the blankets. Krystal’s arm flailed in undoubtedly lethal intent, but she only succeeded in smacking Yuliya and making her grunt.

  “It’s all right, Krystal,” Tracy called from the driver’s seat. “No need to shoot anyone at the moment. Besides, they stole your gun, as they are wont to do.”

  “Fuckers.” She sat up, her face white and wincing in the mirror’s reflection. “What happened? Where the hell are we going?”

  Tracy kept his voice smooth. He’d had two hours now to quell his alarm. “Landon’s been taken. The unnaturals knocked you two out—some sort of magical blow to the head, I wager—and made off with him. I’ve heard nothing of whether he’s still alive, but regardless, I’ve packed all our things and we’re moving shop. We’ll fly out of L.A.”

  “What?” Krystal shrieked.

  “God, my head.” Yuliya lay down again.

  “It’s interesting they didn’t kill the pair of you,” Tracy said. “Shows either weakness or fear, either of which would benefit us.”

  “Also good that they didn’t kill us,” Krystal said. “Hello
?”

  “Yes, naturally,” Tracy said.

  “But they have the boy?” Yuliya said. “Oh, poor Landon.”

  “We can’t help him now,” Tracy said. “We merely need to move so they can’t stop the rest of us so easily. Also, assuming they keep him alive to torture information out of him, we’d best go to some location he doesn’t know about, so that whatever he says doesn’t harm the rest of us.”

  “He was an idiot,” Krystal said. “He did it all wrong.”

  “They may offer ransom, or trade,” Yuliya said, her Russian accent thickening. “If so, is a shame and I’m sorry for him, but we must not deal with them.”

  “Agreed,” Tracy said.

  Krystal didn’t say anything, only scowled out the window, rubbing her temples. She wasn’t likely to feel any great urge to rescue Landon, and just as well. Odds were good he was dead already. They’d be better off focusing on their main objective of destroying the tree at its otherworldly source.

  “So you’re the head of Thanatos now?” Krystal finally said.

  “Hasn’t been settled,” Tracy said. “I’m sure everyone would rather we got to safety and moved ahead with our plan first.”

  Nonetheless, he was confident the organization would choose him. Who else had done so much for the cause lately? He patted the flat shape in his blazer pocket: the little gray notebook Betty Quentin had compiled, which had been among Landon’s things in the condo. There wasn’t much in it that Tracy didn’t already know, but taking possession of the notebook felt like receiving a new official insignia.

  “So we’re off to Europe,” Yuliya said.

  “Quite soon.” Tracy felt almost cheerful.

  Yes, he had tried a possibly foolish move today and it had sacrificed Landon. But that wasn’t such a great loss, really, given it advanced Tracy within Thanatos, which was better for everyone. Well, everyone except Landon. But to achieve the conquest of the immortals, he had to use any means available. He was but a mere human, after all.

  ***

  Hekate and Hermes were not exactly being discreet about their affair. Several of the souls in the Underworld surely glimpsed kisses (or more) when he visited her there, and they loved to spread news among themselves. In addition, plenty of mortals at the various sacred sites and their associated villages likely noticed the cuddliness of the two immortals when they were together.

  So it really didn’t surprise her when Dionysos arrived one day in the Underworld looking more solemn than usual, and brought up the subject himself.

  “I hear you and Hermes are together a lot,” he said after they had exchanged greetings. “Is that…?” He left the question open.

  She laced her fingers together in front of her chest, and nodded him toward the river. They walked alongside it and talked.

  She was honest: yes, she’d been sleeping with Hermes, and had feelings for him, albeit confused ones. Of course, that needn’t have any impact on her regard for Dionysos…

  “Regard?” he said with a brief smile. “Not the most exciting word. But…listen, I’ll be honest too.”

  He had met a woman in Crete while investigating the recent Thanatos-fueled turbulence on the island. She was the new head priestess, Ariadne, a staunch supporter of the Great Goddess and the immortals, which put her and her followers in danger from the Thanatos members who had become highly placed in the king’s government. Dionysos was of course going to help her resist them and stay safe. But in addition, Dionysos had developed feelings for Ariadne, deep and stirring ones.

  “Confused ones too, as you say,” he added. “But ones I think I need to pursue. She’s…well, she’s like you, in some ways; mystical and in touch with the elements. Not with your powers, of course, but still easily one of the most magically adept mortals I’ve ever met.”

  “There are such people,” Hekate said. “More than I used to realize. Many end up priestesses, like her.”

  “She’s of the living world, of course, and that’s…well, that’s where I must spend most of my time. It’s where I come from, too.”

  Therefore Ariadne was a better match for him than Hekate could ever be. She understood those words he didn’t say, and she smiled softly. “Most people do. Don’t feel bad about it.”

  “I cherish being able to visit here, though.” He gazed at the dark river winding away between stalagmites. “I suppose you and I can still see each other if you’d like.” He sounded almost comically reluctant.

  “Perhaps it’s less complicated if we don’t,” she said. “We both seem confused enough for now. Maybe in the future…”

  He took her hand and kissed it. “We shall always keep the possibility open.”

  She felt suddenly sad. “I’d still risk my life for you all over again.”

  “And I for you. We all must for each other nowadays. We have enemies enough.”

  She accompanied him back to the entrance cavern. Their talk turned to practical subjects for the short walk, but as he untied his horse, they held each other’s gazes with apologetic fondness.

  “A little calmer than your break-up with Aphrodite,” she remarked.

  “Decidedly. Thank goodness.”

  “Maybe because you and I were never such a grand passion. Only good friends.”

  “Still, good friends can be great fun. You and Hermes know that.” He smiled again, but Hekate looked away in uneasiness. “Great fun” did describe her current affair, but so did more complex words like “shame,” “longing,” and “confusion.” Maybe what she had with Hermes was already more the grand passion than her long relationship with Dionysos had ever been. Oh, Goddess.

  They said farewell, and he flew away—likely back to Crete to see Ariadne. Strange that Hekate would know less, going forward, of what he was doing. Or would she really? Likely she had never known as much as she thought she did. They had already fallen into the habit of spending so much time apart.

  When Hermes arrived at nightfall, and she told him she was free now, he echoed those thoughts: “But you already were, weren’t you? Not so much has changed.”

  “I suppose not.”

  He pulled her closer. “You seem a bit down. What would make you happy? I enjoy those little touches of magic you use sometimes. Maybe you have ideas you’ve been too shy to try out? I’m up for it, whatever it is.”

  It made her laugh, which helped.

  As a matter of fact, she did have some ideas, for which he was indeed game. Those helped too.

  Just a couple of months later, as if life felt the need to change for her all at once, her parents approached in the fields and told her they wanted to be reborn into the world.

  Tears pooled into her eyes. She tried to swallow them back. “But—but Zeus’ soul, he wasn’t reborn immortal.” They had found out that much by now. Hermes had tracked him, flying farther east than any of them had ever journeyed, and finally located Zeus, now a little boy living in a mountain village. It took a few more visits of observation before he could bring back the verdict that the boy did get sick or injured sometimes. He was not immortal.

  Hera’s soul, for all they knew, had met the same conditions. They couldn’t trace her. The only one who could have tracked her was Zeus, and he could only have done so if he were once again immortal. Demeter had left to be reborn a year ago, and though she had ended up not far away, in Egypt, she too had been born a mortal baby.

  “We know,” Persephone said. “But we want to live again nonetheless.”

  “Most people down here,” Hades added, “are waiting for their loved ones to arrive, to speak with them again. But we’re blessed. We already have our living daughter and our friends coming to see us all the time. We’ve exchanged all the final words we need to for this lifetime.”

  “But I need you,” Hekate said. A tear escaped each eye and trickled hot down her cheeks.

  “Ah, but sweetheart,” Persephone said, “you’ll be able to track us. You’ll see us again.”

  “You’ll belong to someone else. You wo
n’t know me.”

  “It’s pulling us,” Hades told her gently. “The living world. It’s like the Underworld pulling newly dead souls to itself. Life, eventually, pulls everyone back too. And dear girl, you don’t need us, not really. You’re so full of power and strength. You’re the true jewel of the Underworld.”

  “But…” Hekate wiped the tears off her face, though more were flowing to replace them. “Can’t you let the others come down to say goodbye to you? Hermes, Rhea, everyone?”

  They consented. So the next day, a cluster of loving friends, living immortals and souls both, gathered at the end of the river where it flowed into its last tunnel before escaping as a sunlit waterfall outside. Hades and Persephone smiled in buoyant anticipation of their new adventure, and spoke farewells to each of their friends in turn.

  Hekate didn’t hear most of their words. The river rushed loud over the rocks, and her ears rang in grief and disbelief.

  They came to her last.

  “You know we’ll see each other again,” Hades said, “so please don’t be sad, my darling. But come find us. See how we’re doing. See if there’s anything your magic can do for us.” He smiled.

  Hekate nodded, too choked up to speak.

  “I only wish I could hug you again,” Persephone told her. “Oh, Hekate, be happy. Promise?”

  Hekate shrugged with a despairing smile, then finally nodded.

  Her parents’ souls drifted out over the river. The living world was pulling them. There was no coming back now. They called goodbyes, as did everyone around her. She lifted her hand in farewell, and gazed upon her mother and father until they swept out of sight into the tunnel, with the other departing souls.

  She tottered into the fields, which looked darker and gloomier than ever. Her immortal companions touched her arms and back, and murmured soothing words to her. She nodded absently in response. Eventually everyone took the hint and left her alone. With Kerberos at her side, she walked through the white fields and gray groves, over hills and paths, until grief caught up with her and toppled her knees. She huddled under a black cypress and hugged Kerberos, letting her tears drip into his fur.