“I’m—I’m glad to hear that.” She blinked at him a moment, blanking on anything to say. “This is weird, isn’t it?”
“First time for me too. So why, ah . . .” He pointed to Cerberus. “Changed the show?”
“This is more to do with the whole amulet-slash–Zeus’s daughter thing, really.”
He laughed. “And somehow I don’t see the connection.”
“Like I said, long story. Completing a quest is part of bringing back Zeus. Once I do this, then I’ll have enough . . . whatever you want to call it. Heroic mojo or something.”
Certain suspicious readers are likely now weighing the possibility that what Tracy has encountered at this point in the story might not actually be Jason, Jason’s shade, Jason’s spirit, Jason’s soul, or anything related to Jason in any way whatsoever. These readers may have noted that Tracy stands just over the border in the kingdom of Hades, one of the conspirators arrayed against her, and they may have wondered if there might, just possibly, be some sort of trickery going on. This narrative has little to say to confirm or deny that possibility at this time, other than pointing it out to those who have not yet thought of it (not including the skimmers who skipped over this lengthy paragraph after detecting zero dialogue in it, and nuts to them). One might expect this whole question wouldn’t be pointed out at all were it irrelevant, but this may vastly underestimate the desire of the narrative to mess with the reader.
Having said that, we shall continue, as lingering on the edge of Hades over the unconscious form of Cerberus isn’t the wisest thing one can do.
“Then what?” Jason asked. “Find a hydra, give it earmuffs?”
“No, then we finish bringing Zeus back. We just have to find a—”
Cerberus growled softly in his slumber. Tracy glanced at the creature, considered something, then loaded another dart into the rifle, just in case.
“Find a what?”
She frowned and grabbed a few ribbons. “A place to resurrect him. I need to finish doing up the doggy, but don’t go anywhere.” She began to tie one ribbon in a tuft of fur. “Hey, he’s knocked out, not guarding the gate. Does that mean you can come back with me?”
Jason considered the question. “I honestly don’t know. I’d have to get the cranky guy on the river to let me back across, but how hard can that be?” She could feel him watching her as she brushed the fur on Cerberus’s middle neck to fullness. “How much do you figure you need me?” he asked finally.
“I don’t need you.” The honesty came out before she could stop it. “But, you know, when this is all over the show’s going to need a star. Plus, like I said, I hate that you died for us.”
“Don’t like owing me, eh?”
“Yeah, that too.”
“I’ve had a glimpse of what the afterlife’s got in store for me, Tracy. The show was great, like, really, really great, but I’m thinking I’m going to like it here. I’m tagged for a place called the Elysian Fields, and if it’s anywhere near as fantastic as the brochures say . . .”
He crouched down near her. “Plus, you know me: I didn’t really have anyone back there, anyway. That’s why I could fight monsters each week and not care. Well, that and the adrenaline rush.”
“And the babes,” she smirked as she worked.
“You mean the fans.”
“Don’t forget that you’re a little bit stupid too.” Her smirk turned more than a little rueful as she flashed it up at him.
“The fans didn’t seem to mind. I’ll miss them.” He blinked. “Which reminds me of something else I wanted to tell you: I think something kind of bad’s about to happen.”
Tracy’s hand shot to the rifle. “Is he waking up?” Cerberus didn’t seem to be stirring. Maybe the creature was playing at being asleep, trying to fool her into—into what? Being complacent so it could surprise her? Did a seven-hundred-pound, three-headed dog really need trickery to overpower someone her size? Don’t be stupid, Tracy.
“No, not him. In general, back up there. When I died—right when I died—I caught a glimpse of something that was about to happen, or that just happened, or . . . I don’t know.”
“People sometimes get visions of the future as they’re crossing over into death, according to classical myth.”
“Yeah, that’s what the pamphlet said.”
“What’d you see?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“How helpful.”
“Something’s going to get loose. Or be let loose. If it hasn’t happened already, it will soon. Something was taken from a shop in a place called Swindon from a man named Sidgwick.”
“I’ve never heard of Swindon, but Sidgwick sounds English. What sort of something?”
Jason chuckled nervously before answering. “Cans.”
“Cans?”
“That’s what I saw.”
“What’s in ’em? English cuisine?”
“I wasn’t really paying attention, being busy dying. I just know that whatever it was, it was canned for a reason, not to be opened.”
She nodded. “Definitely English cuisine.”
“Not food—something destructive. And angry.”
“You’ve clearly never had black pudding.”
“I’m serious, Tracy.”
“You’re never serious, Jason.”
“Well, that’s fair.” He shrugged. “But I’m serious now, so don’t make jokes.”
She finished tying the bow on Cerberus’s third neck. “I don’t mean to, but I’m grooming a creature likely to kill me when it wakes up, and I’m trying to resurrect a dead god, and there’s only so much I can handle at once, right? I mean, what do you want me to do?”
“I didn’t tell you to annoy you, though God knows that’s something else I’ll miss doing.” He winked. “But hey, even if I'm dead I’ve still got to live up to that hero image, so I figure as long as we’re chatting, I should warn you now while I’ve got the chance. They won’t even let you e-mail the living from down here.”
She chuckled, weary. “So I should just hear your message of impending doom and take or leave it as I see fit?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Oh, and one more thing: if you do manage to bring Zeus back, get him to do something about all those monsters. Fighting them was fun, but if there’s a choice, the world’s got to be better off without them.”
“That’ll kind of put a dent in the show, don’t you think?”
“Ah, you can’t replace me anyway.” He grinned. “Call it a favor. Then I’ll have died to rid the entire world of monsters, and how heroic is that?”
She chuckled again. “Okay. If I can, I’ll ask.”
Jason cast a glance behind him as if reacting to something beyond Tracy’s ken. “Sounds like my number’s up; gotta go off to my eternal reward and all that. Good luck with everything, Trace. I’d hug you but I don’t think you’d feel it.”
“Hey, before you go: if it’s so crowded in there, why haven’t I seen anyone but you and the ferryman since coming down here?”
“They’re dead. Maybe you can’t see them if you don’t know ’em?”
“Didn’t think of that.” She stood, a bit frustrated that she couldn’t hug the big heroic jackass. “Take care of yourself. I might even see you soon, depending.”
“Ooh, cheery.” He turned to go. “Is that Leif guy still following you around like a puppy?”
“Don’t remind me. One of the good things about coming down here is that I had to do it alone.”
He grinned. “Give the guy a break, Trace. He’s sweet on you. At least have a little fun with him.”
“Yeah, but he’s so damned fixated without even knowing me! It’s weird. And anyway, just because a person likes you is no reason to just ‘have a little fun’ with them.”
Jason blinked. “We’re very different people.” He glanced behind him again. “Second call. Gotta go! Good luck! And be sure to think of some good last words for me when you air the retrospective!”
And wi
th a wave, Jason Powers dashed into the haze beyond the gate.
Tracy watched him go before recalling the poodled-up Cerberus snoring behind her. She gathered up her gear and dashed down back the tunnel with the fervent hope that Cerberus couldn’t track or swim. And that Marcus wasn’t an outright liar. And that the headache wouldn’t be so bad the second time she crossed the river. And that there’d be a good ice cream place on the way to Zeus’s temple.
It was a less pressing need than the others, but after all the Olympian strangeness lately, she was really starting to crave a sundae.
Marcus picked her up a short while later and ferried her back as agreed. Along the way he told her how the gods themselves had created all the monsters running around up on the surface, as a means of entertainment. The revelation annoyed her at first, but she decided that getting too bothered about something from which she’d made a living was hypocritical, and so she let it go for the moment. Also, she had bigger problems to worry about.
And still no sundae.
Leif shot another perplexed look between the cards on the table and his hand. Tracy was overdue, he didn’t understand the game Apollo was trying to teach him, and the motel they’d holed up in smelled like beets. His rapidly souring mood didn’t help the learning process, and he was distracted with worry, but the card game passed the time at least. He frowned, threw down a pair of spades, and drew a card. It was a joker.
“Jokers are bad, right?” he asked.
Thalia glanced up from where she lay on the bed, flipping channels and slowly recovering from her dejection upon learning that Poseidon had locked up her sisters and deactivated her phone. “Jokers are very bad.”
Leif frowned again, glanced at Apollo, and sighed. “Well, that’s not what I drew, then, you can be sure about that.”
Apollo threw down two more cards: two tens that he set in separate piles at his right hand. He then turned one sideways for a reason Leif couldn’t quite remember. (Either it had to do with the trump suit or the times of moonrise in winter in Paraguay, and Leif was actually somewhat sure it was the latter.)
“So that means I have to come up with . . .”
“Three face cards, or two that begin with the letter F,” Apollo answered.
“In English, right? Fours and fives?”
“Of course. Boston rules.”
Leif rolled his eyes. “Well I knew that.” His hand wasn’t promising in that regard. He decided to stall. “Speaking of Boston, are you absolutely sure it was the Eiffel Tower in Paris and not the one back in Vegas?”
Apollo sighed, eyebrow raised. “Absolutely sure, yes, but that’s nothing to do with Boston.”
“Yeah, that part was a joke.”
Thalia tossed him a sympathetic smile from the bed. “Not a very funny one.”
“Gimme a break. I’m learning a weird game here.” He put down an ace this time, drew the two cards allowed him by the rules (if he understood them properly) and got a two and a seven of diamonds.
This meant, so far as he could tell, absolutely nothing.
Apollo laid down his hand to show a collection of twos, threes, fives, and sevens. “All prime numbers,” he declared. “With your ace on the table, that means I’m up a hundred points for this hand, unless you have . . .” The ex-“god” pulled Leif’s own hand down. “Nope, you have nothing. Sorry.”
“Nothing? Oh, come on. Look at that!” Leif fibbed. “It’s clearly a royal fizzbin!”
Apollo just smiled and shook his head.
Thalia giggled. “Too bad it’s not Tuesday.”
Leif couldn’t help but grin. “At least you got that. It flew right past him.”
“He’s not much into the classics.” She winked, apparently cheering up a bit. Beautiful and geeky enough to get an obscure Trek reference— Leif decided he could really fall for her, if Tracy didn’t already have his heart. Normally he didn’t go for older women, but maybe millennia-old was the new thirty.
A knock at the door gave Leif instant hope that it was Tracy.
“It’s Tracy!” announced Tracy from the other side.
He figured it was Tracy. “How’d you do?” he asked when she came in. “Are you okay?”
Tracy tossed her pack onto the bedspread and sat down with a relieved sigh. “It’s done and I’m fine. And I’d thought my year spent grooming dogs was only good for paying for college.”
She imparted her journey to them in what sounded to Leif like a rushed recap—save for details about the Battery Bunker and tense moments with dog biscuits. “Glad to be back. It’s depressing down there, all that rusty light.”
“Ugh,” Thalia agreed. “Makes things all noisome and icky, doesn’t it?”
“It’s not like that when you get past the gates,” Apollo told them. “Well, in the good areas. Just so you know.”
“Yes, but I didn’t get to see those areas, did I? I just got all the dread-filled spaces with monster-dogs and creepy rivers of pain. The Acheron gave me a headache, just from being near it.” She tossed her hat to an empty chair across the room. “I’m glad it’s over, glad to be back up here, glad it’s done with.”
“Well, congratulations!” Leif handed her a soft drink in the mug he’d chilled for her.
Apollo stood. “Yes, indeed. And now that you’ve groomed the fur of the most fearsome dog in all the world, we can be off.”
“Off to where?”
“Ah, back down to the Acheron.”
“Oh, ha-ha. Seriously, where to?” Tracy’s features gradually darkened as she apparently realized he was being serious.
Thalia smirked and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see that one coming.”
“Really?”
Apollo nodded. “Sorry.”
“We’ll bring aspirin,” Thalia assured her.
“But . . . why?”
“It's a painkiller, silly! ”
“No, I mean—”
“Quite simply, it’s the simplest and fastest way to get to where we need to go,” Apollo explained. “The Acheron flows into the Styx, and the Styx surfaces in numerous hidden places throughout the globe. Since Zeus himself banned the construction of new Olympian temples thousands of years ago, the only existing temples to him are in our old stomping grounds around the Mediterranean. Transporting you halfway around the world myself would attract too much attention, so it’s either try to catch a plane incognito, or sail the Styx. It’s actually faster than flying anyway, given how the river works, and it’s got enough mystical energy to mask our movements if we’re not unlucky.”
Thalia clucked her tongue. “Don’t say ‘not un-something,’ Apollo. It sickens me.”
“It’s more apt.”
“Sickening me is more apt?”
Tracy waved a hand. “Are we having the ferryman take us? ’Cause if that’s the plan, we’re going to need a lot more batteries.”
Apollo shook his head. “I’ve made other arrangements. Now that you’re back, we’d best get moving. Poseidon has all the gods looking for me now. The longer we stay in one place, the easier it will be to find us. And you. I fear you may have angered Hades with what you did to Cerberus.”
“Oh, thanks. Now you tell me.”
Leif sat beside her and hugged her with one arm. “Ah, we’ll be fine. What’s one more supernatural force arrayed against us when we’ve got our love?” That got him a light rib versus elbow, and he let go. “Sorry. That sounded corny as soon as it came out, I swear.”
He stood to pack up what little things he had as Apollo offered Tracy a hand off the bed.
“Now you’ve completed your quest, does the amulet feel any different?”
“A little.” Tracy lifted it appraisingly. “A little heavier, I think. Maybe warmer too, but I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just tired.”
“That, at least, I can still fix.” Apollo waved a hand over Tracy’s face, and the fatigue in her eyes visibly decreased.
“Wow. That’s almost better than coffee. I don’
t suppose you can conjure me up a sundae before we go?”
“Sorry. That’s more Hestia’s or Demeter’s area.”
“Or Hecate!” Thalia piped up. “Golly, she makes this thing with double-dark chocolate ice cream and almonds and the richest fudge you’ve ever—”
Tracy cut her off. “No torturing me.”
“Oh, and the sprinkles! They’re some sort of secret—” The Muse swooned against the wall. “Swell. Now I’m hungry. How is Hecate lately? I haven’t talked to her in a while.”
Hecate, if any are curious, was atop a cargo ship in the middle of the Atlantic, using the night sky to extrapolate Apollo’s location via a complex mystical method involving star movements, ocean air currents, and ley lines. At least that was her official explanation. Really she was just staring at the Pleiades star cluster for a while because it was pretty.
She cared little for this frantic search for Apollo. He was up to something, and though she knew not what, frankly she applauded the effort. Things could use a bit of a shaking up, and anything that started with clocking Ares in the back of the head had her support. Plus the fact that the Muse Thalia was somehow involved―or at least hadn’t turned up when the rest of the Muses were confined to quarters―increased her disinclination to get involved. Though not her favorite Muse—that title belonged to Terpsichore, who lately mused mysteries along with her older duties of choral song and business correspondence— Thalia was always nice to her, asked after her, and complimented her sundaes.
Hecate might possibly have been somewhat less easygoing were she aware that agents of the NCMA had recently broken into Sidgwick’s Antique Shoppe in Swindon, England, and made off with the set of nine sealed cans that had appeared in the vision she gave to one Brittany Simons (a.k.a. Wynter Nightsorrow, a.k.a. the young woman from Chapters Four, Seven, and Twenty). It would not have affected her search for Apollo one bit, of course; the two topics were at the time no more connected to each other than nuclear physics and sock puppets (possibly less so). Yet she would have been far more worried on levels both personal and professional, and possibly even moved to take action that could have averted numerous catastrophes.
Zeus is Dead Page 33