by Audrey Hart
―Do you still have that coin in your possession?‖ I nod again.
―Show me.‖
I pull the obolus out of my back pocket. Hera takes it from me and holds it up for examination.
―Where did you come from,‖ she says quietly to the obolus, weighing it in her palm. ―It‘s very dense. And heavy. For the Petros,‖ she tells me. For a moment, I think she‘s going to keep it, but then she just smiles and hands it back. ―If you place this in the black door at the center of the labyrinth, it will take you home.‖
I swallow, unable to mask my hesitation about the prospect of leaving.
Since the moment I arrived, all I‘ve wanted to do was go home, but now I‘m starting to realize that I don‘t feel quite done here.
―Home,‖ I mumble unenthusiastically.
Hera stands and takes the empty goblet from my hand. She carries it over to the marble counter and rests it beside the elegant silver kettle.
―Zoe,‖ she says with a sigh. ―I know it‘s difficult to hear this, but the world is made up of couples. Every entity has its match, its counterpart, its other half. This is how we maintain balance.
Here, you see, there are twelve gods—six couples. An even number. Perfectly proportioned. There is no number thirteen because there is no need for a number thirteen. A number thirteen could only invite chaos and disorder and—‖
―I get it.‖
―Good. Then you should be on your way now, shouldn‘t you, dear?‖
―I guess so.‖
―The entrance to the labyrinth is by the olive tree grove.‖
―Um, okay.‖
―Oh! Zoe. I meant to ask…‖
―Yes?‖
―The Kardashian woman. Is her hair as thick and shiny as mine?‖
―Yep.‖
Hera swipes her hair over her left shoulder and retreats through one of the doorways. As she disappears from sight, I count them all. There are six doorways in this vast, palatial room—not seven and not five, but six.
All evidence confirms Hera‘s theory of even numbers and balance, and I sit back on the chair to try to calm down, wishing I was anywhere but here, being toyed with by the gods.
Chapter 31
It‘s still dark when I wake up in my room. My head feels puffy, and when I sit up in bed, I moan. Ambrosia is not for the faint and weary. How much of it did I drink? I shuffle out of bed. I need to find Zeus. I don‘t know if I should stay or go, and I have so much on my mind, and I just want someone I can talk to, to rest my head on his shoulder. I can‘t help but laugh at myself. God, when did I become so sappy? But one thing‘s for sure. My chances of a great romantic life are probably better if I don‘t look like some kind of greasy-haired, unhygienic mountaineer.
Thank god—not Hera—for bathrooms. The one in my room reminds me of the bathroom at a bed-and-breakfast in Spain I went to with Aunt Sophia and Uncle Alex. It‘s very simple, sparse.
There‘s a jug of water, a giant tub and a few confusing metal instruments. I can‘t help but laugh. Of all the challenges I‘ve faced in this journey, somehow shaving my legs seems like the most difficult one yet. The gods‘ idea of a razor is a giant and heavy metal thing I can only call a knife.
I slip out of my once-upon-a-time white pants and sit on the edge of the tub. There‘s another jug here with some kind of goop in it. I can only hope and assume that it‘s soap as I watch it plop and sink into the tub.
Once my legs are oiled and covered in the yellowish suds, I pick up the knife. But my hand is shaking. Breathe, Zoe. You have faced monsters of all kinds. Surely, you can steady your hand.
But as soon as I manage to steady the blade, my legs start to shake.
Distracted, I relax my fingers too much and the blade slips out of my grasp and into the milky water. Now what? If I reach in there, I could accidentally grab the long, sharp end and slice my hand open. But if I don‘t, then I‘ll leave this room in such a self-conscious state that I‘ll probably act all weird and distant around Zeus.
For a few seconds I just sit here, very still, staring into the opaque water, taking stock of it all. And then I start to laugh because I‘ve become so boy crazy that I‘ve actually forgotten about my powers. And not the ones that involve moving mountains and throwing rocks; I mean the powers of my brain.
I get out of the tub, pick up another jug of water and empty it into the tub. Now I can see the blade and safely reach for it. The whole debacle has lightened my soul and I shave without so much as a single knick. It‘s clearly a sign. Usually I screw up and have to dab at my legs with toilet paper because I‘m in such a rush to get to class. But I‘ve found a new inner peace.
I‘ve heard that this sometimes happens to people when they‘ve found their soul mate. And I believe it now. There‘s not a doubt in my mind when I exit my room, clean and rested, that my entire life has changed.
It‘s late at night but it‘s not the darkness you might expect in an ancient land without electricity. The air is tinged with a faint blue hue, like the light from a television screen. As I walk across the grounds in the direction of the boys‘ apartments, I get a nervous chill at the thought of being the only one out here among the empty open-air marble halls. It‘s okay, Zoe.
Soon you‘ll find Zeus and you‘ll never be alone again.
I turn the corner and the source of the light comes into view. It‘s the Petros, giving off its faint blue glow. I think I hear voices coming from somewhere behind the pool and I kneel down, out of sight. I guess I am still a little scarred from what I overheard at their meeting, or else I would just walk right up to whoever is talking. But instead, I keep low to the ground and creep forward, hoping to see who it is before presenting myself.
My hair is still damp and I‘m starting to shiver. Apparently the Petros doesn‘t give out heat.
Ignoring the frantic buzzing of the obolus in my back pocket, I take cover behind a bush and listen.
There are two voices, one distinctly male, one female. I hear a couple of words and start shaking my head. It can‘t be. I pry apart two branches just enough to make out figures, and it‘s the last two people in this world, in any world, that I want to see together.
Zeus and Hera.
So they‘re talking, it‘s not a big deal, I tell myself. They‘re friends. They talk all the time.
Yeah, sure. But alone, at night, by the romantic glow of a natural pool?
Come on Zoe, you‘re smarter than that. Just look at them. That is not a casual conversation going on. Whatever they‘re saying to each other is very personal. And suddenly I feel painfully aware of my status, alone in the bushes like some stalker in the night. There‘s an intimacy between them I haven‘t seen until now.
Or did I just not want to see it?
Hera reaches toward him and runs her hands through his hair. He doesn‘t push her away.
Girls like Hera always get what they want eventually.
This is all my fault. I let her take me into that den of ambrosia. I stupidly accepted her drink and I drank so much that I confessed everything.
Hera‘s hands are still in his hair. What if she‘s told him everything?
What if she‘s told him about the future and my pathetic crush on him? He might think I‘m not half the person he thought I was.
She lifts her chin. He doesn‘t back away. She leans closer and her lips touch his and his wings flutter and I gasp and I‘m running as fast as I can.
I need to get away. I desperately need to get out of here.
My tears dry in the wind, salting my cheeks and disappearing into streaks. How could I have been so stupid? I could never get a guy like Zeus.
Even if he wasn‘t a member of the Olympus clique, he‘d never go for me.
Ever.
Every few seconds I turn around. He‘s not chasing me. I kick at the dirt. I don‘t want to be here anymore. Olympus‘s beauty only makes me feel worse about everything, brings me this heightened sense of insecurity, of displacement.
I wal
k the rest of the way to the olive tree grove. A hundred feet past the edge of the grove, a single olive tree stands, as if unaware that all the other trees stopped a while back. I go up to the tree and run my hand along its bark. A wind ruffles through the branches and I watch two small green leaves detach and start to fall. They dance and graze each other with ease, like synchronized swimmers, as they slip through the air. I put out my hands. The two leaves land in my hands.
And that‘s all I need to see. It‘s like the theory of pairs has literally fallen into my hands.
Hera was right. There‘s no place for me here.
I leave the solitary olive tree and make way down the slope until I reach the entrance to the labyrinth, feeling a sad peacefulness overtake me. Zeus was never interested in me. And I‘m so lonely and desperate that I wanted to believe that Hera was, at heart, humane, that there was goodness under all that ecru vitriol.
The door to the labyrinth is huge and forbidding, a mammoth piece of iron hinged directly into the side of the mountain. I bring my hand to the large handle. It is my destiny to be alone.
There is nothing I can do, ever, to change that, and it‘s this knowledge that gives me the physical strength to pull and yank until, finally, the thick, iron door opens just enough to let me in. I step inside with one foot.
My legs are shaking. I can‘t seem to bring my other foot in. A big part of me isn‘t ready to go. And another part isn‘t sure that I even can go. Hera claimed the door to the future is in the center of the maze. But Hera also tricked me into revealing all my secrets by giving me all that ambrosia.
I would be a fool to trust her. But then again, the last thing she would lie about to me would be the way out of here. After all, she wants me gone.
I exhale, mustering my courage, and bring my other foot inside.
It‘s dark and hot, and there‘s no word for the smell that I encounter. I‘m reminded of the foulest smell I‘ve ever smelled in my life—the bathroom on a bus on the way home from a field trip to a marsh, that combination of hot dogs and low tide and cheap air freshener. I pinch my nose but the force of the scent is stronger than my fingers and now it‘s as if those bad hot dogs and satchels of air freshener are being shoved into my mouth. I‘m coughing and I can‘t see more than a few feet in front of me in this dark, low-ceilinged vault. This can‘t be right, I think, the temple was nothing like this, and I start to back out but the door slams shut behind me.
I grope for the handle but can‘t find it. There has to be one, I tell myself, there was a handle on the outside so there has to be a handle on the inside. After all, as I know all too well by now, everything in this world comes in pairs to maintain the natural order.
Only as hard as I try, I can‘t find the handle and I can‘t take the smell and I‘m banging on the wall because there is no handle in here. I scale every inch of the wall but there‘s nothing. My hands are flat, my fingers pulsing.
This cannot be. There has to be a handle. Everything comes in pairs.
And at once I stop hunting. My spine tingles.
I may not be able to see, but I can hear. And the sound that assaults me is a perfect companion to the smell that I can‘t escape, a coarse and ungodly growl. It sounds like it‘s coming from the bottom level of hell or the soul of a mother who just lost her firstborn. It‘s a roar and a call and a threat, and whatever demon made it is in here, in the labyrinth with me.
I lunge for the wall, hammering both my hands against it in a panic.
But of course it doesn‘t give.
And then it hits me. Zoe, you idiot, you have powers.
I laugh with relief. Of course! I can control the earth, remember? And what is this dark, nasty, hot labyrinth made of except black rock?
I focus my attention on the wall around the door, willing a tunnel to form, like the one I made to spy on Hera and the others at the meeting. In seconds I‘ll be out of here, and whatever monster made that horrible noise can remain a mystery.
Only nothing happens.
The wall doesn‘t move. The rock doesn‘t bend. What is going on?
I try again, concentrating harder. Come on, wall! You‘re made of earth.
Obey me…
It doesn‘t budge.
I try another part of the wall, this time placing my hands directly on it.
Nothing.
My powers. They‘re…gone.
Then the growl erupts again, like a horn calling for war. Only it‘s closer this time.
Whatever is making that sound is coming for me.
Coming for me fast.
I have no other choice. I set off into the labyrinth.
And as I run through the dark, stifling maze, listening to the snarls and roars growing closer and closer, I can‘t help but feel certain that my time has come to an end.
I shaved my legs for this?
Part 4
Ex-Boyfriends And Other Monsters
Chapter 32
It isn‘t fair. I‘m not a dumb girl in a horror movie who followed the noise into the basement only to be slaughtered so the girls in the audience can squeal and cling to their boyfriends. I walked in here assuming I could go out the way I came in.
Another roar. I run with my arms outstretched so I don‘t smack into a wall. I‘m horrified at my lot in life—Zeus kissing Hera, Zeus was kissing Hera—and now this. I get trapped. In a labyrinth. Three thousand years before my time. Maybe I am dead already and this is all just some sort of purgatory. But why would I be in purgatory? I‘m a good person.
I run into the ruddy clay wall hands-first and dust blows at my face and sharply I shift, like a boat tacking in strong winds, setting off in a new direction. But the growl is getting closer, and while I can‘t see in the dark, from the way it‘s gaining on me, whatever‘s growling probably can.
I know I shouldn‘t stop but I can‘t keep going because the smell is swallowing me and the dust is blinding me. I scratch my eyes—surely my lashes are all gone, not that it matters, as I‘ll be gone soon too. I‘m coughing and retching and I don‘t want to slip and I have to run but then it‘s too late.
It‘s happened. It‘s here.
The Minotaur.
Its saturated yellow eyes prove me right—yellow eyes see at night; that‘s one of the many advantages that monsters have over young girls who don‘t follow the rules. But as hateful and huge as its eyes are, they aren‘t the scariest feature on its face—if you can call it a face. The worst thing on that face would have to be the mouth, really just an asymmetrical hole bursting with sharp teeth.
My strength is fading—those teeth are too much—and the Minotaur knows it and flashes something like a mutated smile at me with its off-centered mouth. It bucks its head, showing off its horns, as hard as bone and twisting above its head, rising like spears. Then it snorts through a nose pierced by a thin ring, the breath puffing up its broad, hairy chest.
Nothing should be this big, this cruel and this powerful. It could pick up six bodybuilders from Muscle Beach and eat them like jelly beans.
As I‘m backing away, slowly, I can imagine what it sees. The girl who mistook herself for a god, weak, scared, shaven, scented with olive oil goop.
Look at her, her curly hair spiraling out in so many directions, untamed.
What a mess she is. What a treat. What a fool.
Something this massive and smelly and robust shouldn‘t have a brain, but from the look in its eye, I fear it does. It advances one step toward me but I hold my ground. It stops in its tracks, reconsidering me. A grimace appears on its hideous face. I know it‘s trying to tell me that I‘ll never escape it, that it‘s armed with a multitude of ways to horrify me, to beat me. But you know what I‘m going to tell it?
―Not just yet, demon.‖
I fly around a corner, then another corner. It‘s following me, slowly picking up speed. I notice it‘s not good at quick changes in position, so I zigzag through the maze as often as I can, but even so, I can feel it getting closer. I turn right, burst alon
g a short corridor, and then realize I‘m heading toward a dead end.
No! I don‘t have time to double back and there isn‘t a way out.
I‘m trapped.
The sound of the creature snarling in the distance shocks me out of my stupor. I have to do something. Now. I glance toward the eight-foot-high clay wall on my right. It‘s a long shot, and it probably won‘t work, but what other choice do I have? I sprint toward the wall, and when I‘m a few feet away, I jump as high as I can, grabbing on to the wall with my fingers. My nails dig into the clay and I twist and push, springing upward until finally I‘m on top. The wall is no more than two feet wide and I lie down on my stomach, balancing nervously, my hands at my side. I am trying to catch my breath while also trying not to breathe and then the Minotaur appears at the entrance of the corridor. It thunders forward, searching for me, and I try as hard as I can not to move even a fraction of an inch. If I so much as let one speck of dust fall, it will see me up here, and lord knows it can probably jump.