The Cassandra Curse

by Chantel Acevedo

  “Maybe she’ll invite you someday,” Elnaz said. I laughed. If my Cuban mother knew I was currently four thousand miles away, she’d invent a way to teleport to my location and ground me for life.

  Then it was just me and Nia again. “The muses, they’re from everywhere,” I said to Nia quietly. I don’t think I managed to keep the awe out of my voice.

  “Inspiration knows no borders, and all people and places are equal and worthy of inspiration,” Nia said. “Those are rules number four and five, by the way.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  Soon, Thalia and Mela showed up, and they took seats next to us. Thalia was chattering away at Mela, who had her headphones planted firmly over her ears. Thalia had a worn copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe on her lap. Thalia and Mela were in matching pajamas—blue, with yellow hearts all over.

  “You two plan this?” I asked.

  “No,” Mela said, scowling, tugging her headphones off.

  “Yes!” Thalia said, giggling.

  I thought of the theater mask rings they both wore—happy and sad. They really did seem like a balanced pair. I watched as Thalia opened her book and thrust it in Mela’s face. “Proof that it’s real,” I heard her say.

  “For the last time, it’s fiction,” Mela said roughly.

  Finally, Clio arrived. She was wearing a dark business suit. Her white hair was done up in an elegant bun and her face was drawn, dark circles ringing her eyes.

  “Muses, welcome home,” she said. She walked behind a large podium and fiddled with some controls. The lights dimmed. The screen began to glow. “Now that you are all here, I have a story to tell.”

  The first slide came on the screen. It was a painting of nine faceless women.

  “Are we about to get a lecture?” I asked, incredulous. I left school for . . . more school?

  Mela leaned over and whispered, “Weren’t you listening? You’re about to hear a story.”

  Chapter 12

  Clio’s Tale

  “For the benefit of the newest among us, who has yet to make her decision about staying, I thought a brief history was in order,” Clio began. I knew they were all staring at me. I probably should have waved or something. I was biting my lower lip so hard I thought I had made it bleed.

  Clio gestured toward the image on the screen. “The original nine Muses were the daughters of Zeus and the Goddess of memory, Mnemosyne. They were tasked with inspiring poets, musicians, scientists, artists—and heroes. Their influence was profound. The nine were protectors of the human spirit and its creative light.”

  A new image appeared on screen. It was a black-and-white photo of the V and A.

  “We have always had our headquarters in museums. We inspired the very name of these places. The earliest headquarters were in Greece. They were temples then, where artists came to worship us. Later, our home was in Alexandria, Egypt. We made the Ashmolean in Oxford home for a long time. The Louvre in Paris. The Quito Astronomical Observatory in Ecuador, and The Gyeongju National Museum in South Korea. Then there was the Indian Museum in Kolkata. We were there quite a while. And, for the last several years, here at the V and A.”

  Thalia’s hand shot up. “Why not stick around one place?”

  Clio clicked a button and the picture changed. Now it was a drawing of an ancient, smoldering building, fire licking the walls. “Sometimes, our location gets compromised,” she said darkly, before adding, “Look at us. We speak many languages. We sing different songs. We worship in different ways. As a group, we don’t belong to any one place. Besides, it’s fun to get new entrance points in new places, don’t you think?”

  Mela beamed, and I knew she was thinking about that unicorn tapestry.

  Clio stepped away from the podium. Behind her, the screen glowed with the image of the muses, frozen in cold marble. “There can only be nine of us. That was as our mother, Mnemosyne, wished. When a muse dies, or decides that she can no longer serve, a new muse is awakened.”

  “We lost several muses who had been with us a long, long time,” Paola clarified, turning to look at us, her face full of sadness.

  What had happened? I wondered. Had there been some kind of attack on headquarters? The thought frightened me, and I wrapped my arms around myself.

  Clio must have noticed, because she said, “As much as I wish it didn’t, time marches on without a care. We are mortal, after all. The last muses of science, comedy, tragedy, and the epic poem all left our sisterhood over the course of the last two years. If you’ve done your math, you’ll realize that the transfer of power doesn’t always happen right away. The time has to be right,” Clio explained.

  “A new muse receives her powers in a moment of a peril. Not her own, but that of others. It is a test of her will, and her love, given freely even to strangers,” Etoro added.

  Clio turned her attention to Nia, Mela, Thalia, and me. “You four are very young. Eleven years old, all of you.” I could hear some of the older muses taking a deep breath. I wondered what they remembered about being eleven.

  “Nia?” Clio prompted. “Might you share your story with us?”

  Nia cleared her throat. “A little kid fell into Lake Michigan back in February. Don’t know where his parents were. But I took him out of the icy water, wrapped him in my coat, and called nine-one-one. The next day, Clio was our substitute teacher in my social studies class.”

  “And you did very well on that quiz I gave you,” Clio said, which made Nia smile. Clio nodded at Mela next.

  Fidgeting in her seat a bit as she spoke, Mela described the night an alarm went off in her apartment in the middle of the night. “But the strange thing was I woke with a start before the alarm went off. It was a carbon monoxide detector. I woke my family, then my nani, and I went around the building waking people up and getting them out. Clio was among the police who had come to check on everyone. You looked very smart in that uniform, Clio,” Mela added.

  Thalia laughed. “I’ve got you beat. I was in maths class, and our teacher was giving out lollipops, and I was like, ‘Bags the strawberry sort!’ And anyhow, this one girl, Sarah, starts to choke on her lollipop, and I thought, ‘Well, that’s pants,’ so that’s when I went over there and gave her the Heimlich, and out popped the lolly. She puked all over me afterward, true story, but that was all right because she was okay, wasn’t she?” Thalia didn’t wait for an answer. “Then Clio shows up at our door that night with takeout from my favorite curry place, and freezes Mum and Dad right on the spot, didn’t you, Clio?”

  I stopped blinking for Thalia’s entire speech.

  “Your turn,” Thalia said, shaking my shoulder and snapping me out of it.

  “Pass,” I said. They’d all done such incredible things. Brave things! What had I done? Stood there in terror while almost falling out of a moving elevated train, that’s what. Or maybe Clio wanted me to tell them about accidentally turning my best friend into a pop star. How very heroic of me.

  “Callie?” Clio prompted.

  “No thanks, I’m good,” I said, as if I were turning down one of her brownies.

  Etoro turned in her seat. “It’s all fine,” she said. “You are meant to be here.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I’m sure my face said, “I’m not so sure.”

  Clio looked at me as she spoke, her voice strong and clear. “Callie inspired an entire train car of people to risk their lives for one another’s safety.”

  Tomiko spoke first. “She made heroes on her first try?”

  Elnaz let out a long whistle. “Wow, girl,” she said, and high-fived me from a distance. I lifted my hand weakly and high-fived her back.

  “I don’t know how—I didn’t—I didn’t mean to,” I said softly, unsure if anyone actually heard me.

  “Yes, impressive,” Clio said. “But there is still a lot of learning to do, especially for you four,” she added, turning her gaze on Thalia, Mela, Nia, and me.

  Clio worked the podium’s electronics again as I sat there,
confused as ever. Weren’t they going to tell me why what happened on the Metrorail was impressive? I glanced at Nia and she was staring at me, wide-eyed. “You didn’t tell me you did that,” she said.

  “For the last time, I don’t know what I did,” I whispered back.

  Before Nia could say anything else, Clio pushed a button and a new image appeared on the screen. Three figures came into view, cloaked in dark hoods, only their bright teeth visible in the shadow.

  “We empower the light within others. We conduct it. We guide it. But where there is light, there is also darkness.”

  Paola started to mutter something like a prayer in Spanish. Tomiko had drawn up her knees to her chest. Elnaz was staring straight ahead, her mouth a grim line, while next to her, Etoro had her eyes closed tight.

  “There are always three, and they have had many names. The dark muses. Temptresses. Sirens. They are our counterparts—vengeance, jealousy, destruction. They can travel long distances in an instant. Through time, they, like us, arrive in different forms,” Clio said, then clicked on another picture.

  Now an image of a ship appeared. The sailors were tied to the masts, while three smiling women, winged and sharp-toothed, reached out from a rocky outcropping. “When the sirens tried to derail heroes of old, the muses plucked their feathers until they were bald chickens. Our ancestors defeated them in the past. We may be called to do so now. They have been quiet for a long time, working their dark influence in small ways, ways we can’t track easily. But something has changed.”

  Now Clio loaded up what appeared to be security camera footage. It was a familiar but empty courtyard.

  “That’s my school!” I whispered to Nia.

  A long shadow formed along the pavers, followed by a water tank, followed by none other than Maya Rivero, pushing said tank. She stopped for a moment, adjusted her tutu, and kept going. Principal Jackson appeared from the opposite direction.

  I held my breath. I knew what was going to happen next—Maya was about to get the mother of all detentions.

  The two of them chatted for a moment. Suddenly the sky darkened. Three black birds, glossy and large, swooped between them, knocking Maya down. As she fell, she bashed into the water tank, toppling it over and dousing Principal Jackson.

  We watched as Principal Jackson began to yell at Maya. She pointed to the sky, but he looked at her as if she were crazy, as if she’d pushed the tank over on purpose.

  Whatever she was saying, he didn’t believe her.

  Clio switched off the video at that point.

  “As you can plainly see, this particular Fated One, a girl named Maya Rivero, was recently attacked,” Clio said.

  All around me, the muses were shaking their heads and whispering to one another. Thalia and Mela were discussing something vigorously, while Nia had jumped into another row to ask Tomiko a question. Then there was me, an island in the center of the theater, confused as ever.

  I raised my hand and waited. If I had to sit through a lecture, I might as well behave as if I were in one.

  Finally, after a long moment, Clio’s eyes fell on me. “Yes, Callie?”

  “I have a question,” I started, my voice low.

  I swallowed. “Why, in the name of all things Greek, or holy, or whatever, does Maya Rivero getting whooped by some random birds matter?” I asked.

  Clio nodded. “Not random birds. Sirens. Fated Ones are rarely targeted by beings from our world. Titans, centaurs, nymphs—they tend to mind their business these days. The fact that sirens are after Maya is of concern to us all. We will all be involved in protecting her in some form.”

  Nia hopped back into my row, sat up, and whispered, “This is big. This is huge.” I shrugged her away. I bounced my leg up and down until Nia put her hand on my knee to make me stop.

  “Excuse me.” I raised my hand again.

  Etoro spoke. “Sirens only interfere when the Fated One is particularly important.”

  Once more, I tried to get them to listen to me. “Guys. I mean, ladies. Muses. I have a question about Maya—” But the room erupted in conversations, and I felt like a little island in the middle of them again. I fought the urge to just get up and go back to the Great Bed.

  Clio clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “The sirens appear in different forms. They may be human, or not. They are disrupters who do not show their faces easily. Remember that we have defeated them in the past, and we can do so again. Because Maya is also eleven, and because she and Callie attend the same school, I have assigned Maya to Callie. Nia, Thalia, and Mela are on this assignment as well.”

  “Are you certain, Clio?” Paola asked.

  “Honestly, they’re, like, seventh graders,” Tomiko added.

  “Sixth, thanks,” Nia said, and Tomiko shook her head.

  “They are up to the task,” Clio said.

  The older muses stared at us then. I didn’t think they were convinced. I mean, I wasn’t even convinced.

  Clio passed around a plate of brownies as the older muses made their way out of the theater. The four of us exchanged glances and stayed in our seats. We could talk when we were alone. “Thank you for your attention. You are dismissed,” Clio said when the last brownie was taken.

  “I’m supposed to protect Maya Rivero from demented birds? Can someone explain this?” I asked Nia, who started to say something when Clio popped back into the theater. “Junior muses, to my office,” she said.

  “We are the MUSE SQUAD,” Thalia yelled back.

  Nia frowned. “Junior muses is a terrible name, too,” she said, stomping out of the theater. Thalia, Mela, and I followed.

  “I hate birds,” Mela muttered over and over again as we walked through the cold and dark museum, back to the library.

  Chapter 13

  Assignment: Maya Rivero

  I had about a million questions. “Let me get this straight. Those muses I just met? They each have a ‘Fated One’ assigned to them? Is that how it works?” I asked as we walked.

  “There are hundreds of Fated Ones,” Nia began. “They mainly don’t need us day to day. Sometimes they get stuck on an idea, or need a jolt of courage.”

  “And you go about inspiring them or something?” I asked.

  “Yes, but sometimes, it’s more hands-on than that,” Mela said. “For example, Etoro was in Cairo last week helping a Fated One who’s starting a school for girls. Etoro used to be a school principal.”

  “I was on Instagram the other day, and it looked like Tomiko was back volunteering at that dance academy in Sozopol,” Thalia said. “I wonder if muses fly first class?” she asked out loud, but nobody answered her.

  “Mela, Thalia, and I haven’t done much of anything yet. I got here in February. Thalia and Mela got their powers this summer. We’re learning, just like you,” Nia said.

  “You all know more than I do, that’s for sure,” I said. “I think I accidentally made my best friend famous,” I said.

  “Yikes,” Nia said. “The worst I’ve done is inspire my science teacher back home to give us too much homework.”

  “That’s awful,” Thalia said. “The worst I’ve done is ruin a school play. It was Romeo and Juliet, but the whole school started laughing in all the wrong parts thanks to me.” Thalia turned a deep shade of red.

  “I keep making people cry at parties,” Mela said. “Honestly, how is that even helpful?” Her lips turned down into a frown, and I felt my eyes pricking with tears.

  “Quit it, Mela,” Nia said, swiping at her eyes.

  We reached the library, where Clio was waiting for us.

  “Follow me,” she said. We trailed behind Clio as she went through door after door, until we were no longer in any part of the museum that a visitor might see. When she reached the last door, she dipped into her pocket and pulled out the key I had seen the other day. She slid it into a large bronze lock, twisting and pulling on a massive door handle shaped like a bat until the door creaked open. We were in a vast storage room, with rows a
nd rows of shelves full of items of every shape and size. Three sarcophagi sat in one corner. If there were any mummies inside I didn’t want to know. On another shelf were hundreds of teacups. Another held silver spoons. Tiaras lined a different shelf, glittering in the light.

  Clio led us past more and more shelves. “These are the museum’s stores,” she said. “Not everything makes it to an exhibit. Most items are here because they aren’t all that significant. Others remain in the stores because they aren’t safe.”

  She stopped in front of an open case with several small wooden boxes in it. Some were so old and beat-up that they looked like they belonged in the trash. Others were decorated with stones or gems.

  “Treasure chests?” Thalia asked, reaching out to touch one.

  Clio grabbed Thalia’s wrist. “There are curses inside many of these.”

  The smile on Thalia’s face died at once. We all took a step back.

  “But here,” Clio said, pointing to an empty spot on the shelf, “is our biggest problem. Up until last week, there was a small wooden box upon this spot called the Cassandra Curse. You’ve all done your homework?”

  The others nodded, and I did, too. I hadn’t technically done any homework, but I knew who Cassandra was.

  “As you all now know, long, long ago, Cassandra, an ancient one and a Fated One, was cursed by Apollo to speak prophecies that no one would believe.”

  “Like the boy who cried wolf,” Nia said.

  “Correct,” Clio said. “You can imagine how that went for her. She would warn people that an invasion was coming, and they would laugh her off, saying, ‘Oh, Cassandra.’ Then later, she’d have to watch her loved ones die, and her city burn. Again and again she warned people, but they never listened. It must have been torture,” Clio said, her brow furrowed in concern. “Before her death,” Clio went on, “Cassandra rid herself of the curse briefly, and she managed to lock it into a small chest like the ones you see here. It was only a short respite for poor Cassandra. She probably meant to hide the box, but somehow, it was taken from her. Now, whoever opens the box receives the curse.”