However, goddesses, even those who deal heavily in secrets, cannot know everything. Unaware of those aforementioned events, Hecate merely sipped her blackberry smoothie, snuggled into her deck chair, and contentedly watched the stars twinkle. As there is no currently accepted unit of measure for impending mortal suffering, it cannot be quantitatively expressed just how unfortunate this is.
This is not meant to impugn blackberry smoothies, which shared almost no blame in the matter (unless you listen to the loganberry lobbyists, but they’re just a bunch of instigators).
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Though it pains me to say so, our Withdrawal must be absolute. I will tolerate no god to give hints or signs, or to accept sacrifices of any kind, lest they jeopardize this. Your mortal servants and priests must believe us to be gone completely. Toward that end, I command that no god shall go anywhere within a quarter-mile of any of our temples, for any reason, ever. Know that my law in this is resolute and inviolate; I do this to remove from you the temptation to risk my wrath. In time, we shall become used to existence without temples.”
—Zeus’s Withdrawal Edict, Article II, Section IV
AS APOLLO EXPLAINED EN ROUTE, they were bound for a temple of Zeus that was only a short hike away from the spot where they would leave the Styx. Zeus originally ordered its construction after a particularly spiteful feud with his brother, and he placed the temple on the edge of an exit from the underworld as something of a signpost: Hades’s kingdom had limits, beyond which stood the dominion of Zeus. The wind long ago eroded the original lettering carved into the rock in ancient Olympian, displaying, Zeus’s domain. Suck it, Hades! But according to Apollo, none of the Olympians had forgotten that the sign once existed, Hades especially. Meanwhile, the temple itself remained.
The river journey went quickly. Shut away in his shack, Marcus failed to notice the ex-god, Muse, and two living mortals who slipped down to the shoreline, inflated their river raft, and pushed off into the Acheron. (Or if he did notice them, they failed to notice his noticing, and for the purposes of this slipshod narrative, that’s more or less the same.) Tracy thought she caught a glimpse of the shack’s door opening when they fired up the raft’s outboard motor, but by then, they were so far downriver that she couldn’t be sure in the dim light.
Apollo also managed to shield them from the effects of both rivers as they traveled: Tracy’s headache did not return on the Acheron. As no one began trying to beat anyone to death after the Acheron passed into the Styx—a.k.a., the River of Hate—she assumed Apollo's protection was working there as well. She did suggest that Leif try a swallow of Styx-water in hopes it would shake his fascination with her, but Apollo assured her that it was more likely to kill him. Despite everything, she decided she didn’t want him dead, and so, after five or ten minutes of arguing, she dropped the matter.
Leif was starting to grow on her, she considered. Oh, he’d still end up with a broken heart, she was certain of that, but she would at least feel bad about it when it happened. Tracy guessed that would be of little comfort to Leif. She spent half the raft trip hating the position she was in, hating Leif for getting her into it, and hating that he just didn’t get that “I’m not interested” wasn’t a flimsy wall he could chip away at over time. She hated the smell of the water, hated the color of the raft, hated the stupid way bunnies would quiver their whiskers at you when they—
All right, so Apollo wasn’t able to shield them from the river completely, she’d decided toward the end of the journey.
Thankfully her anger subsided when they pulled ashore above ground, along a thin shelf in a narrow canyon. The Styx only appeared on the surface for a brief stretch before disappearing again back down a rocky maw―much like the one from which it flowed up out of thirty yards upstream, defying gravity in a way that natural law seemed unwilling to debate. Above, the sky was clear beyond the edges of the canyon. Tracy couldn’t help but recall the Erinyes chasing them down a similar stretch just a few days ago. A path led to a small tunnel (again with the tunnels!) through the rock. They left the raft and stood before the tunnel, through which further daylight beckoned.
“What are the chances the myriad of other ‘gods’ arrayed against us have guessed what we’re doing and have the temple staked out already?” Leif asked.
“You really shouldn’t do that air-quotes thing,” Thalia advised.
Leif just shrugged with a grin.
“It’s a good question, though,” Tracy agreed. “Any prophetic visions along those lines?”
Apollo shook his head sadly. “No, nor is there likely to be. The cost of my exit from the Fates’ realm was my skill with prophecy. I’m no better at it than the least of my peers, which is, I mourn to say, quite poor.”
Apollo wiped the regret from his face before anyone could think to offer sympathy and tossed the matter aside with a smile and a wave of his hand. He turned to address them in a statesmanlike, Olympian fashion that Tracy deemed as impressive as it was unnecessarily flashy.
“Happily,” he continued, “I may still answer Leif’s question. Know this: in keeping with Zeus’s edict of withdrawal millennia ago, the gods were physically barred from approaching within a quarter-mile of any temple. The Return cast down this law, yet its effects still remain in places to which Zeus was especially connected.”
“Like his temples,” Tracy finished.
“Correct. For now, this works to our advantage.”
“So you’re saying you can’t get any closer?” Leif asked. “This is the part where the mentor has to die and/or go away so that the hero and his babe can soldier on alone, right?”
Tracy bristled. “‘Babe’?”
Apollo shook his head. “Fortunately, no. My diminishment is ideal for slipping past this particular obstacle, so I will be with you the entire way. Of course, with Zeus gone these past nine months, the barriers he erected are fading with time. Eventually they will vanish entirely.”
Leif cleared his throat. “And how long before that happens, out of curiosity?”
“About an hour, maybe less.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Tracy insisted.
Leif just sighed and shook his head.
“Yeah,” consoled Thalia, a hand on both their shoulders. “Drama’s a knock in the neck, huh?”
Apollo waved them on. “As such, we should probably hurry.”
“As such, you should probably not have stopped to tell us that,” Leif said. “Can you do that speedy-running thing again?”
“No.”
Tracy missed hearing Apollo’s explanation for that as she took a few steps down the tunnel and stumbled when her knees turned to noodles beneath her. She managed to catch herself before crumpling to the ground entirely. Thalia offered a helping hand before the others noticed.
“Still getting your land legs back, huh?”
“I know, right?” Tracy answered. “Thanks.”
In truth, she’d felt a brief surge of weakness that didn’t seem related to the transition from raft to solid ground. Her first instinct was to blame the Styx, yet somehow the amulet seemed the more likely culprit. Leif and Apollo continued on ahead, Leif continuing to yammer—so although her irritation remained at the “babe” comment, the chance to speak about it had passed quickly. They were almost there, anyway, right? A small hike to the temple, a little ritual, then Zeus would be resurrected, and all their problems would be solved.
“I smell the ocean,” Leif was saying.
Apollo nodded. “The Mediterranean Sea is just on the other side of this ridge.”
“I thought the Styx wasn’t accessible from the surface? Or is this tunnel just so isolated that no one notices?”
“Both, in fact,” the ex-god explained. “Watch.”
They stepped out of the tunnel into the open air of a mountainside. Tracy watched. Nothing happened. She looked back at the tunnel behind them only to find it gone, replaced with solid rock. “Ooh,” she whispered, rapping her knuckles on it.
It looked solid, felt solid, sounded solid . . . and as she wasn’t about to taste or smell it, she figured it must be solid.
Leif shrugged. “Big deal. Holograms and force fields.”
Thalia shook her head. “There’s no such thing as a hologram, sweetie.”
Tracy wondered at the omission but let it pass, still feeling the rock. “I didn’t even hear it close.”
“It didn’t. It’s just one-way. I’d explain how it works,” Apollo said, “but we’ve more pressing matters at the moment.”
“Convenient!” Leif laughed, adding in Tracy’s ear, “He just doesn’t know.”
Apollo turned and motioned for them to follow. “This way. Zeus’s temple is not far.”
“Not far!” Thalia added in a queer little voice. “Temple not far!”
They made their way up the mountainside. Apollo guided them along an animal trail at the edge of a ridge that overlooked the sparkling Mediterranean below. While not a sheer cliff, Tracy realized that if her legs grew weak again, she could very well stumble off the path; roll down a steep, rocky hillside of grass and wildflower tufts; and eventually pitch off a sheer edge into the water below.
More or less, anyway. She’d probably have to be pushed to get enough momentum to roll down the hill at least, and there’d likely be some chance to stop herself before she got to the drop-off into to the sea. There was also the fact that she was traveling with someone at least as powerful as a demigod who didn’t want to see anything happen to her―not that she had any idea what demigodhood meant in terms of quantitative power, any more than she had an idea of what godhood meant, but she expected it at least included a parachute―so she relaxed a bit and enjoyed the view. Even so, she was growing out of breath.
“How high up are we?” she huffed finally. “Air feels thin.”
“Not very. What’s wrong?”
She pondered whether or not to tell them and decided there was no point in hiding it. “Weaker. Been feeling that way for a while. Did the Fates say anything about the amulet doing something to me? It wasn’t in the vision I got.”
“No,” Apollo answered. “As it’s my first immortal resurrection, I regret I have no theory to offer you.”
“Maybe we should stop for a rest?” Leif suggested.
“Great.” Tracy shook her head. “And no. Let’s just get there and get this over with before it gets worse. We’re almost there, right?”
“Not far now.”
Thalia cast an encouraging smile back at Tracy and then appeared to focus on something farther behind. Frowning, she stopped walking and shielded her eyes from the sun as she peered.
“Apollo? I think something’s coming.”
Everyone stopped except Tracy, who continued on the path past Thalia toward Apollo. No sense stopping now, she kept telling herself. Get to the temple. Do the ritual. Worry about the rest later.
“Should we be worried that she said ‘-thing’?” Leif asked from the rear.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure . . .”
Curiosity and fatigue got the better of her. Tracy sighed and turned around to see a line of stirred-up dust making its rapid way toward them on the trail below. The dust obscured whatever caused it. Unless, she realized, whatever caused it was invisible.
“You can’t tell?” she asked with a step back. “Don’t you have some sort of . . . god-vision or whatever?”
“Yeah, flip it on!” Leif insisted. “God mode!”
“Diminished-god mode,” Thalia corrected.
“Still better than nothing. What do your diminished eyes see?”
Apollo made them wait only a moment for an answer. “Get behind me. Now!” All right, so that wasn’t really an answer. Regardless, they did as they were told.
“What is it?”
Apollo drew a sword from somewhere down the back of his shirt, which is a neat trick if you can do it. “No time to explain!”
The dust drew closer up the path. Closer. Closer. Somewhere in the world, someone important checked a clock.
Thalia began to hover. Her hands patted anxiously at her hips. “Um, clearly there’s explainy-time here, Apollo!”
Anyone who’s been paying attention has by this point guessed that the Orthlaelapsian wraith had found them (and more to the point, they’d be correct). Incorporeal muscles pounding, it bounded across the final stretch of trail between them, flinging snarls from both snapping jaws. It flung itself at Apollo, left head catching the swing of his sword in its teeth to clamp down on the flat of the blade before it could do any damage. Wraith or not, the beast sent Apollo tumbling backward as Tracy and the others scrambled out of their way.
Now that it was upon them, Tracy could at least make out something of its form: like Cerberus but only two-headed, sleeker, and half the other’s size without seeming any weaker for it. She could discern only part of its shape at any one time, as if it were partially concealed in an invisibility cloak that was low on batteries. The fierce wrestling match it waged with Apollo wasn’t exactly helpful either.
Just after it pounced, the wraith gave a howl that was cut short by Apollo’s grip locking around its right neck. It enraged the creature instantly. For a moment it seemed to be all Apollo could do to hold on as he tried to choke the beast and keep it from achieving the apparent goal of either giving Apollo a kiss or chewing his face off. The two combatants rolled to the edge of the path, kicking up even more dust and forcing the spectators back farther as they tried to avoid being caught up in the melee. For a moment no one could speak, mesmerized at the sight.Tracy picked up a rock, ready to hurl it at one of the wraith’s heads, unsure if it would do any good; the wraith remained darned near transparent. Of course, it had knocked Apollo down and wrestled him just fine, but she would risk actually hitting Apollo with the rock during the scuffle. He probably wouldn’t like that (really, few people did)―but she couldn’t just stand there.
Tracy raised the rock and looked for an opening. With the creature atop him, Apollo struggled to sit up and strained to force it back with the sword and his own muscle. The wraith’s back arched, its jaws clenched tighter on Apollo’s blade, and for a moment, its hindquarters made a visible target amid the struggle and smoke. Tracy seized the opportunity and—
Leif caught hold of the rock before she could throw. “You’ll hit him!”
“Karlson! Let go!”
“No throwing into melee! It’s a basic rule!”
“Karlson, damn it—”
Then Apollo let go of his blade, trading it for a free hand to pummel the wraith’s left head as he clenched its neck. The assault was enough to stun the creature, if only for a moment. Apollo wasted no time. Rolling the wraith to its back as he got to his feet, keeping his grip strong, Apollo flung the wraith bodily from the path. It tumbled down the steep, rocky hillside of grass and wildflower tufts, unable to stop itself before it reached the edge, scrambled madly, and spilled down the sheer drop to the sea below and out of sight, still clenching Apollo’s sword in its teeth. For a moment they stood waiting, as if it might somehow fly back up again.
It failed to do so. The only sound was Apollo’s labored breath.
“What the hell was that?” Tracy shouted finally.
Thalia flew down to the edge of the drop-off to peer after it while Apollo dusted himself off. “Any sign of it?” he asked her.
The Muse shook her head, flying back. “I can’t see anything.”
Apollo frowned. “It’ll be back. We must hurry.” He put up a hand to stop Tracy’s repeated question. “And that was the Orthlaelapsian wraith.”
Thalia blinked. “What? No, that can’t be! They wouldn’t! I mean, points for sending something that could track you so well, but shouldn’t it be guarding—? Apollo, are you sure? I mean, I’ve never actually gone to see it so I don’t know exactly what it looks like and I don’t really like antiques anyway so I’ll take your word, but—you’re certain?”
Tracy, for her part, couldn’t help but w
onder how many other insubstantial, two-headed hounds were running around to the extent that Thalia could doubt Apollo's identification of this one.
Apollo nodded. “Quite certain.”
Thalia gaped, then laughed. “Well shave my head and paint me blue! I didn’t think—Wow! Speechless. You’ve really got them worried!” She collapsed into giggling.
“We’ve got them worried,” Apollo corrected. “And this is not funny.”
She nodded, still giggling. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry but laugh or cry, ya know? Oh, gods, if they’re pissed enough to send that thing after you, we’re all going down in a burning blaze, aren’t we?”
“We’ve only to bring back Zeus, Thalia, and things will be set right. I hope.”
“He hopes!” she giggled again. “Just had to add the last part, didn’t you? Oh, katratzi, we’re so screwed.”
“They’re going to tell us what’s going on eventually, you think?” Leif whispered to Tracy.
“I sure hope—You’re going to tell us what’s going on eventually, right? Like now?” Her adrenaline was fading and her fatigue was returning, bringing with it the desire to get on with things before she was out of strength entirely. Even so, Tracy didn’t like being kept in the dark, not even on a sunny mountainside overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.
“Yes, but as we go.” Apollo pointed up the path. “And hurry. It will be back.”
Far below, the wraith paddled its way through the surf toward shore. A small setback, but it didn’t mind. This is not to indicate any particular positive attitude on the wraith’s part, of course. After all, it was a wraith; it had no mind. (Were someone to grab it by the tail and vivisect it with a meat grinder, it wouldn’t mind that either. It might wonder, Why a meat grinder, exactly? But would it mind? Goodness, no.) So when it reported via telepathic link to its master, Hades, of finding and temporarily losing Apollo, only to be told, as it swam, to reacquire its target but not to attack again, it didn’t mind that either. Besides, it was a good boy, yes it was! Hades said so. Being a dog (wraith or no), that was enough.
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