by Kristin Cast
Crone paused and laid a bony hand on Maiden’s arm. She caught her breath and said, “Mother is correct. Our son is our only remaining defense, and we cannot wait any longer. The fate of more than just Tartarus is at stake.”
“I understand.” Maiden was silenced, but only momentarily. “But if they are plotting against us, it will do no good to thrust an unprepared boy in their path.”
“Boy?” Mother stopped at the entry to the large dark chamber. Frustration controlled her voice, and she shouted back her retort. “Your judgment is clouded. You cannot see him for what he is. He is a young man.”
“Sisters!” Crone hissed. “This is not the time to bicker. We must have faith in our teachings and in our son. When we summon him, there will be no more talk of doubts.” Her blue eyes lingered on Maiden.
Mother’s hand slid to her hip. “Then you believe he will succeed, wise sister?”
“I do not pretend to know what his future holds,” Crone said and proceeded into the chamber.
“I suppose now our only hope is to trust in him and everything he has learned during his time in the Mortal Realm,” Maiden said, following her eldest sister into the hollow space.
“Like Tartarus, this plan is cursed,” Mother muttered.
“Enough!” Crone’s voice surrounded the women. “He will never succeed while you are in possession of such negative thoughts. This discussion ends now. We have no choice. No more time can be spent debating. Tartarus will not bow to the evil it once jailed, and the Mortal Realm will not fall to its wickedness. We must act now. Come together, sisters.”
Maiden, Mother, and Crone joined hands and spoke as one. “Alek, we summon thee.” From their cave twisted deep within the Underworld, the Furies, daughters of night, beckoned their son home.
Swirls of brilliant energy spun together as Alek appeared. The air around him shimmered in waves from the heat of his skin. The trip home stunned him for only a moment. He straightened to his full height, tucked a blond curl behind his ear, and opened his arms, flashing a gallant smile. “It is good to see you, Mothers!”
“And you, Alek.” Maiden pulled him close, enveloping him in the refreshing scents of honey and citrus as her head pressed into his chest. “It is wonderful that you are home and safe. It seems an eternity since you last were here.”
“It has only been a matter of days,” Alek protested.
“We know, Son. Time ticks by slowly below.” Crone spoke softly. Her smooth silver hair glistened in the lifeless tomb their home had become.
“True, but the days are too long,” Alek said, rolling his neck and stretching his thick shoulder muscles. “I feel like shit. I am weak and achy and tired.”
Crone caressed his cheek. Her savory smells of sage and wet earth washed over him, soothing his restless body. “We are…pleased…that your speech has adapted so well to the Mortal Realm. Well enough to blend as one of them, but you must not forget that your home is a different land.” She gave his cheek a light slap. “Watch your tongue while you are in the presence of your mothers.”
He sighed deeply.
Mother squeezed his hand before ushering him farther into the poorly lit cavern. “Your training, how has it progressed?”
Her cinnamon and vanilla scents fought for attention, and he stifled a sneeze. Her scent was the most powerful, but it bordered on overwhelming. “You have brought me back from Vologda. It is in deepest Russia where the cold is intense and the winds are so strong they can cut a man in half.” Alek looked to Maiden’s eyebrows, arched in worry. He loved spinning his tales of heroism for his youngest mother. “Though my mission was extremely dangerous, I managed to pursue and trap Solomon, the escaped soul. You should find him back where he belongs,” he added smugly.
Mother rolled her eyes. “Solomon was a thief. He stole medicine from his village and sold it.”
“A dangerous thief,” Alek muttered, his pride wounded.
“Son, I have seen Solomon. He was as round as he was tall in death, just as he was in life. I have no doubt you did well and that your training has prepared you, but you have greater foes to encounter.”
“I have yet to meet an opponent I did not crush.”
“You have only been to the Mortal Realm but a handful of times, and have yet to meet a worthy opponent.”
“I assure you, Mother, when I do, the outcome will be no different. I haven’t trained long, but I will prove myself as the Immortal Warrior of Tartarus, and our home shall finally be rid of this curse.”
“You would run headfirst into a brick wall so long as you leave an Alek-shaped hole in it afterward,” Crone chuckled.
Maiden swept her auburn hair off her shoulders as she took a seat at the granite table. “That is why we have called you home, my son. The last looking pool in the Hall of Echoes has grown dark. We can no longer see into the Mortal Realm.”
“We are defenseless,” Mother added gravely.
“You are not defenseless. You have me, Mothers. Send me back to the Mortal Realm, and I will be your eyes.” He pulled out a chair and sat next to Maiden.
“And we shall. However, it is true that you have not been training long, and this matter must not be mishandled. The price is too great,” Crone said.
“I know what’s at risk; the lives of mortals and our place in the Underworld. I will succeed.”
“This is not a battle that can be fought and won in one day. It took centuries to capture the evil chained in this realm. You would be a fool to think you could do the same so quickly,” said Mother.
“I am not a fool, and I cannot be afraid to act. The evil loosed in the Mortal Realm must learn to fear me as they once feared the great Tartarus,” Alek said sternly.
“With time, they will, my son.” Maiden placed a hand on his shoulder. “And with help, you will bring about change much more quickly than you could alone. The spirit of Pythia bestowed upon us an amazing gift with which to aid you.”
Crone sat herself next to Mother. “She has gifted us each with a piece to locate one of her descendants so you might resurrect the ancient Oracle strength still living in her bloodline. As you are only too aware, you are able to walk in the mortal world, but if you venture there too long you will lose your immortality and other divine gifts. You cannot save the mortals if their world has drained you of all that is required to help them. Together, you and this descendant of Pythia will bring about the end of Tartarus’s darkness and free the Mortal Realm of ancient evil.”
“I do not need help, Mothers,” Alek insisted. “Whoever he is, he will only get in my way.”
“No,” Crone corrected gently. “He will not. And he is not a he.”
“The person who is to fight beside me as my equal is a girl?” He crinkled his brow. “I have been around girls, Mothers. I have seen how they act in the Mortal Realm. They are not like any of you. How is a girl supposed to help me protect and restore Tartarus and the Mortal Realm?”
“And that is all he heard.” Crone drew in a deep breath from her place at the head of the table. “Your appearance will stay youthful forever, but it is my hope that that is the only part of you that does so.” The ladies’ laughter made the air around them twinkle and the moonflowers in the center of the table burst suddenly into blooms the delicate color of infants’ flesh.
“She is not simply a girl,” Mother corrected. “She is a descendant of Pythia.”
“And who is Pythia?”
“You will learn. Call upon her. She has foreseen this and will come,” Maiden assured.
“If she has foreseen this, why does she not come now? Why must I summon her?”
“Respect.” Crone’s glare bored into him. “Pythia is the first Oracle of Delphi. She will not assist if the proper channels are not followed.”
“Then I better get started. If she’s waiting for me to call, it shouldn’t be too difficult.” Alek closed his eyes and tried to speak in his most powerful voice. “Pythia—no. No, let me start over.” He cleared his throat. “Pythia,
come to me.” He could feel the women rustle in annoyance as nothing happened. “Oracle, I call upon you.” Alek cracked his eyes opened and was met with the faces of three discontented mothers. “She’s not listening.”
“Alek!” The Furies’ voices melded together as they reprimanded their son. “You are a warrior of the Underworld. The ability to call upon the Oracle, or any God, lives within you. Focus!”
He immediately straightened and did as his mothers commanded. Alek focused, searching inside himself to harness the Grecian blood fueling his abilities. Again he closed his eyes. “Pythia!” A commanding voice he almost didn’t recognize as his own surged from him. “Ancient Oracle, show yourself! I seek guidance. Let me learn from you my future.”
A woman’s breathy laughter filled his ears. Eagerly, he opened his eyes. A beaming white figure materialized and danced behind his mothers as it came into focus.
The Furies stood, turned, and bowed before the specter. “Welcome to Tartarus, Oracle of Delphi.”
“I accept your invitation. Sit.”
“The invitation was not ours, Oracle.” Maiden gestured to Alek as Pythia noticed the young man and turned a curious gaze to him.
“Pythia, I’m glad you could come.” Alek’s eyes roamed across her body. She was gorgeous, with eyes like amber gems pressed into a perfect sculpture. A thick fall of moonlight-colored hair rested on bare breasts while her see-through skirts played around her legs.
“Hm. He looks human. Tastes…” A tongue snaked from her mouth and writhed in the air, “human. Even sounds human. But, what is it?”
“I’d be happy to let you inspect me further. After dinner in the Mortal Realm, perhaps?” He smirked.
The corners of her mouth lifted. “Come here.”
As Alek’s strides brought him closer to the ancient being, the heat from her skin became palpable.
“Closer.” Pythia slowly bit her bottom lip as her jeweled gaze studied him intently. “You believe you could fulfill the desires of a powerful Oracle?”
“Of course.” He grinned.
As Pythia’s vision shifted, Alek watched her appearance do the same. For an instant, he no longer saw a goddess-like creature. Instead, her smile slashed her face from ear to ear releasing putrid tongues that flopped wet and limp like bloated, drowned fingers from their toothy den. Her eyes shuddered in their sockets, exhausted from centuries of glimpsing the future.
Alek forced himself not to cringe away from her.
“You could not conceive of how to even begin to satisfy me. Perhaps you should focus your,” her brows lifted sardonically, “talents on young mortals. I seem to remember they are more easily amused.” More laughter spilled from her lips and playfully twirled through his hair, making the skin on the back of his neck tingle.
Alek felt redness build in his cheeks, and he retreated to his mothers’ side. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Rarely is a woman,” she purred. “Did you call upon me because you are in need of guidance, or did you simply want a glimpse of something deliciously, irresistibly unattainable?”
Alek glanced at his mothers who nodded encouragement. He cleared his throat. “I summoned you because I need your help in finding one of your descendants.”
“Really? My descendant? Why?” Her laughter was seductively sarcastic.
“She is to assist me in my mission, although I’m not sure what role a girl will play in battle.”
Light ripped through the black hall as Pythia screeched. Her curvy figure rocketed to twice its normal size, engorged with power.
“There is much you do not understand. Questions penned on your face and through your being. Hollow as ice. You sample from the plate of a world and a time of which you know nothing and wonder why it is so bitter.” She glowed hot gold as her voice hardened. “I am the Oracle of Delphi. My prophecies halted war and ravaged men. Power so great and awarded by the Gods is not easily diluted. A mortal girl carries this magic within her blood, within her bones. I can hear it sighing, sleeping in her lungs and her blood until it is awakened.” The vibrant figure’s colors cooled, and her body contracted. “Until you awaken it.”
Realizing he was very close to cowering behind a chair, Alek squared his shoulders and his will; he stepped forward, and in a voice that almost didn’t crack, said, “How?”
“Only at the moment when her mortal heart ceases to beat will her destiny ignite and the strengths of the Oracle become free. This will be the future, or your beloved Tartarus will decay beyond repair, and you will be responsible for its extinction.” Pythia’s gaze held Alek’s as she faded into nothing. A roar of laughter echoed in her absence.
Confused, Alek collapsed back into his chair.
“The Fates have decided. The young woman’s cord of life is being cut,” Maiden said, covering his hand with hers.
“Her mortal existence will end,” Mother explained, cupping his free hand.
“However, you will be there to intercept and rewrite her future,” Crone said, looking to her sisters. She took their hands, closing the circle.
Alek remained still, stunned, and uncertain. He watched as each of his mothers settled, and with a combined hum, they opened their eyes and mouths in unison. From their eyes poured an amber smoke. It swirled into Alek’s nose and filled his chest. He writhed in his chair. The Furies held his hands tighter, pinning him to the stone table with strength only found in immortals.
In unison their luminous lips formed words that hit Alek’s ears with a boom. “We have breathed into you a piece of each of us, which you must give to the heir of Pythia. Fill her with these fractured pieces of our souls so they may become whole and return life to the lifeless.”
The Furies deflated and flopped back in their chairs like cast-off marionettes. Overwhelmed by the power crackling within his chest, branded to his lungs, Alek struggled to suck in air and get to his feet. The smoky souls that infiltrated his body were too much. He groped the air for anything to steady his shuddering body. Finding nothing and unable to call out, he crumpled to the floor and surrendered to the soft blackness overwhelming his vision.
Two
“Eva, stop messing with it and turn around,” Lori said impatiently.
Eva dropped her hands to her sides and stared at her reflection in the mirror. The top hugged her slender waist, accentuating the curve of her hourglass figure. “It fits great in some places, but not so great in others. I really want this to work, though. I have the perfect skirt to go with it, and it would look great at the party.” She gave it one last tug before turning around to face her mother.
Lori scrunched her nose. “You look like you’re about to audition for a beer commercial.”
Eva let out a sigh and turned back to the mirror. “It’s because I have these giant boobs.” She tried unsuccessfully to stuff her cleavage into the shirt.
“It’s our family curse. Luckily, after you have kids someday in the future, the very distant future, you can do what I did and have them reduced.”
“Like I’ll ever have time to have kids. School is already killing me, and the semester just started. Plus, it’s Bridget’s mission to fill up my social calendar and make sure we’re on the board of every nonprofit that will take twenty-three-year-old members. And to make matters even worse, I’m busy beating off every ridiculous boy-man who thinks I’m on the seven-year college plan just to get a husband.”
Lori chuckled. “You’re going to get carpal tunnel.”
Eva’s cheeks reddened. “That is not what I meant at all. I mean, like, literally beating them back. But not literally. I haven’t hit anyone, yet.” She leaned closer to the mirror and picked away a few clumps of mascara.
“I was lucky and met your dad in college. Don’t discount any of those boy-men just yet.”
Even though it had been just the two of them for the past decade, talking about her dad still made Eva uncomfortable. “So this top is a no?”
“A definite no. Why don’t you try that pretty gree
n dress?” Lori pointed to the rack of clothes. “It’ll look really good with your skin tone.”
Eva peeled off the snug top and walked across the large dressing room. “This one?” She slipped the dress off the hanger and held it out in front of herself.
“It is going to look great. A lot better than trying to squeeze yourself into clothes that are too small. It’ll outline your curves without throwing them in someone’s face. You don’t want people to say hi to your boobs before they even notice the rest of you.”
“I guess. I just want to look as old as I am, instead of getting carded for movies.”
“In ten years you’ll wish you were still getting carded.”
Eva centered herself in front of the mirror. “But this is a party. I don’t want to look like I’m going to church.”
“You don’t want to look like a big ol’ ho bag either. Just try it on. I think you’ll be surprised.” Lori crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair.
Eva threw her long brunette hair to the side as she stepped into the dress.
“Who all is going to this party?” Lori asked.
“A few girls I hang out with sometimes, and Bridget, of course. Other than that, I’m not really sure,” she said, wiggling the dress up her body.
“What about any guys you’re interested in? I know that you’re busy, but there has to be someone you have your eye on.”
“There might be, but I don’t want to talk about it.” She guided the soft straps over her shoulders.
“Why not?”
“Because, Mom,” Eva said with a sigh. “It always turns into some kind of awkward safe sex talk.”
“I just want to make sure you’re protected and know you can talk to me about anything.”
“I understand, but I’m an adult. You don’t have to worry about guys and me anymore. I’ve got it handled. I promise.” Eva smiled at her mom’s reflection. “Now for the moment of truth.” She awkwardly stretched her arm around her back to reach the zipper.
Lori gasped. “It’s stunning, Eva.”
“You were totally right.” The soft chiffon tickled her thighs as she twirled in front of the dressing room mirror. “And the high neckline looks amazing.” She stood on her tiptoes to better envision what she would look like in heels. “Way less churchy than I thought it would be.”