by Diana Tyler
As he sat there, enjoying the breeze and the chirping birds, he noticed that every student had attached to his or her back a load called a “backpack.” He felt the tops of his shoulders, grabbed the straps that lay across them and slid them down. He carefully lifted the large gray backpack onto his knees, feeling the familiar weight of his lyre inside it. He zipped it open and smiled.
“Hello, old friend,” he murmured.
Chloe had been looking forward to lunch all day. Her stomach in knots after her nightmare—or time travel, or whatever it was—she’d skipped breakfast and laid on the couch with a cold, damp dishtowel folded over her forehead until Damian called her to the car. The last thing she’d wanted to do was go to school, but skipping without a doctor’s note would land her in detention for a month. So she’d dragged herself to the car, all the while feeling the phantom presence of Iris’s fire hovering close to her skin.
All day long, her mind had flashed with images of the mud-brick house and the blazing tunnel that had nearly engulfed her. She could vividly recall Charis’s freckled face before the girl had disappeared with the scroll, and Iris’s concentration as the woman had held up the flaming walls with her porcelain hands.
Chloe wondered why Iris was creating that fire in the first place; surely not to murder her own family. But as the hours ticked by and Chloe continued to think about it, her question became: what provoked Iris to create it?
Chloe had been a stress-eater for years. It was the first “condition” Aunt Maggie had reported to Chloe’s doctor weeks after her parents’ death, and ever since it had been tightly monitored.
The one time Chloe had tried out for the track team, she had been likened to a turtle, a sloth, and a pregnant mule for the slow and graceless way she ran. That was when she began to nibble insatiably on apples, crackers, peanuts, anything she could get her hands on. The headmaster told Maggie and Travis to lock up the pantry and refrigerator at night, giving Chloe the strict warning that “gluttony and lack of discipline shall not be tolerated.”
A few years later, when she was nervous about the needle that was necessary to inject her contraception, she spent two weeks’ worth of allowance on the school vending machine. That time, she received in-school suspension and had to attend counseling for a week.
For the past four years her stress-eating “condition” had been managed. Chloe had mainly accomplished this by avoiding all athletic endeavors and declining to dance at any festival; she could only imagine the less-than-flattering comparisons that would be made were she to sway and twirl and fall on her face. If she wasn’t chosen to be a mother, and therefore had to receive another injection in two years, she was sure she’d have a relapse. She would just have to cope with the consequences.
Today, seeing as she’d scarfed down her chicken, potatoes, and bowl of raisins with the voraciousness of a lion, she feared she was going to crack. What were those breathing exercises the counselor had taught her?
Chloe took in a long, slow breath through her nose. She placed a hand on her belly and felt it rise, then held her breath and counted to three. Then she pursed her lips, relaxed her jaw, and released a smooth exhale. She repeated the process a second time, but on the third, she rushed the breath out as she noticed Ethan sit down at the table cattycorner to hers.
When she hadn’t been preoccupied with replaying her visions over and over, she’d toyed with the idea of discussing all of it with him. What if he’d been given a walnut, too? What if he’d seen Carya in the museum, or knew if a half-man, half-horse creature had ever existed? At least then she could rule out schizophrenia for sure. But every time she resolved to scout him out and pick his brain, she remembered the law of paráxeno theáseis.
She had no doubt that having dreams of a mother–daughter duo with superhuman powers, and a man with a horse’s body, would be deemed strange sightings. She’d be carted off to who knows where, no questions asked. Ethan would have no choice but to turn her in, even if he did know something. Perhaps he was keeping mum for similar reasons.
Ethan smiled at Chloe, and she realized she’d been staring at him as she reviewed the pro/con list in her head. There were definitely too many cons associated with talking to him, and so plan A was foiled. Her only plan B was to find Damian and see if he’d give her any leftovers. But before she could get up, she saw Ethan coming toward her, bringing his backpack and food tray with him. Chloe quickly spread her napkin over her tray to conceal the fact that she’d cleaned her plate before most of her peers had even sat down.
“Mind if I have a seat?” Ethan asked. Chloe nodded and took a sip of water. “Don’t you normally sit over there with your friends?” he said, pointing to the far side of the cafeteria.
Chloe looked over. A group of girls were huddled close to their laptops; she assumed they were studying for a test that was two weeks away. All antisocial over-achievers like her, which made them friends.
“Yes,” Chloe said. The rest of that answer was she didn’t feel like conversing with anyone, no matter how antisocial they were. She couldn’t risk disclosing anything sensitive. “Just needed some alone time.” It wasn’t really a lie…
Ethan set down his backpack and food, and took a seat across from her. “I understand that. I get plenty of alone time at the museum,” he said. “A little too much, probably. By the time I get to school on Mondays, I’m actually looking forward to some human interaction.” He put his napkin on his lap and started cutting into his chicken.
Chloe searched her purse for a mint to keep her taste buds busy. He’d come to the wrong human to interact with.
“I’m sorry we had to kick you out yesterday,” he said. “My mom said the museum is closed today and tomorrow, too.”
He had to pique her curiosity. “Really? Do you know why?”
“I only know that the Religious Council is meeting there with the Fantásmata. Why at the museum, of all places, is beyond me.”
Chloe felt a spark of hope. Her hands might not be tied after all. Maybe if she was clever enough, and discreet enough, Ethan could provide her with a lead or two simply by answering a few questions. If she was lucky, she might get a hint as to whether or not he had secrets of his own. It was worth a try.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” she said.
“Sure.”
“You might’ve been joking yesterday when you said it, but you referred to the Fantásmata as ‘crazies.’ What did you mean?”
Ethan sat back in his chair and pulled back his shoulders as he swallowed a piece of potato. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he said, looking at the end of the table. Then he took a swig of water and began biting a cuticle on his thumb.
Chloe pushed her tray aside and leaned forward as she whispered, “I’m not going to tell anyone anything you tell me, Ethan. I promise.”
He relaxed a bit, but still avoided her eyes. She would have to open up, at least somewhat.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about the field trip we all took when we were kids. You know, to the Religious Council building.” Ethan nodded. “Did your class see a Coronation take place, too?” He nodded again. She noticed he’d stopped eating. “Ours was for a man named Acacius. It’s sort of been haunting me lately. The man didn’t want to be coronated, or whatever the word is. He was scared. Why would he have been scared?”
Ethan shook his head and pressed his lips together. “Old people can act strange sometimes. Maybe he didn’t even know what was happening. His meds might’ve been off. Who knows?”
Chloe wasn’t buying it. She knew Ethan had more to say. He’d called the Fantásmata crazies for a reason. He’d said they didn’t care if their decisions made sense. He knew how they’d treated his mother by kicking her off her site just as she was making headway. Why wasn’t he talking? What was he afraid of?
“Chloe, maybe inviting you to the museum wasn’t such a good idea.” He was looking at her now, his leaf-green eyes filled with a mixture of pity and concern.
“Why are you loo
king at me like that? What you said in the museum…I thought you…I thought…” Her mind and heart felt like they were racing each other as her thoughts and emotions collided and swelled like a tidal wave.
“I don’t mean to upset you.” He placed his silverware on top of his half-eaten chicken. “I’d better go.”
As she watched him walk away, everything in Chloe’s body rushed to a halt. Every breath and cell and thought and heartbeat shook in its place as a fierce wave of loneliness swept through her.
She had no true friends, no family who truly cared for her; even her own brother was too embarrassed by her to admit he loved her. No bright future to look forward to. All she had was an experience that either proved she was clinically crazy or a criminal in the eyes of the Fantásmata. And neither prospect was favorable.
After lunch, Chloe went to the school office and requested the use of her cellphone. She explained to the secretary that she needed to inform her brother, who was in wrestling practice, that she didn’t need him to drive her home from school. When the secretary asked why, Chloe coolly replied that she needed the exercise and wanted to walk on such a lovely day. Satisfied, the secretary then handed Chloe a form and had her record her reasoning and sign her name.
This piece of protocol fell under Petros’s law of vigilance, by which the whereabouts of all citizens were known at all times. Ostensibly this was for everyone’s safety, but for the first time Chloe felt more threatened by the law than protected by it. Maybe it wasn’t wise to deviate from her daily routine. She’d already been behaving strangely as it was. But changing her mind and erasing her name would only have drawn attention.
Chloe’s walk home, which she’d intended to be her chance to center herself with deep breaths and mindfulness meditation, was only making her more distraught. It was even adding paranoia to the mix as she wondered whether Ethan had reported her questions to the headmaster. She could be arrested any second.
For whatever reason, Chloe kept on trudging. She followed a footpath formed by the cross-country runners until it reached the turnaround point at the bridge over the Maqor River. Her thighs were aching and her breathing was labored, but surprisingly, she was enjoying herself. It felt good to exert more than her mind for once.
She stopped in the middle of the bridge to take in the lazy turquoise river as it snaked its way down the mountain. It looked so inviting, so peaceful with the juniper trees and evergreen shrubs nestled around it. It was a shame it was against the law to swim in the river. She would have given anything to let it carry her away. She wouldn’t have cared where it took her.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Chloe jumped at the voice coming from the far side of the bridge, closest to the mountain. She turned to see a young man her age she didn’t recognize. He was tall, with dark, tousled hair that fell in loose waves around his face, touching the tops of his cheekbones.
Chloe nodded and stared back into the river, hoping he’d pass her and be on his way.
“I read that the river’s named after an ancient spring,” he said, walking toward her. “Two aqueducts fed its water into Eirene, to the temple that used to be there.”
Chloe had never heard of any temple in Eirene. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?” Chloe asked, not caring whether she masked her irritation or not.
“No. My apologies,” the man said as he joined her at the bridge’s wooden railing. Chloe pretended not to notice. “I’m Orpheus,” he said. He extended his hand, and after a moment’s apprehension, Chloe took it and gave him her name. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Orpheus said.
Finally looking at his face, Chloe didn’t know whether it was the water below or the sky above that made his blue eyes shine like sapphires. She wanted to stare and count the different shades of gold and green she saw scattered within them. His olive skin was even smoother than Damian’s, except for the short stubble that lined his full lips and angular jaw. His nose, which was a tad long and slightly crooked, was the only flaw she could see. He was nice to look at, which made Chloe suddenly aware of how un-nice she probably looked, covered in sweat and splotchy makeup. She bent down and set her purse and backpack on the bridge so his eyes would move elsewhere.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked. Immediately, she regretted the question because she would inevitably be asked to answer it as well.
“Same reason as you, I presume,” he said, and left it at that.
Chloe released her left hand’s grip on the railing and realized she’d been clenching it; it hurt to open her fingers. You’re okay, Chloe, she told herself. He’s not your enemy.
“Are you a senior?” she asked as a gray heron swooped by and landed on the bank below. “I’ve never seen you before.”
“I’m a junior, actually. My father was transferred here at the beginning of the semester.” Orpheus smiled and pointed at the heron. They watched together as the bird spread its wings and plunged its broad bill into the water. “It was once thought that herons were messengers of the gods,” he said.
Chloe marveled at the way he spoke, at how he enunciated every syllable perfectly and spoke so clearly. She had never heard a voice like his, so rich and deep, like thunder rolling quietly before a storm.
“You said there was a temple in Eirene,” Chloe said.
He nodded. “Where a people called Eusebians worshipped, long before the city was burned to the ground, and all its people plundered and shipped away as slaves.”
Chloe had heard Ethan mention Eusebians back at the museum. And another group called Alphas. How could Orpheus have known any of this?
“Do you work at the museum?” asked Chloe, eyeing him suspiciously.
“No. My father is a keeper, one of only a few who know the whole history of Petros.” Orpheus turned back to her and lowered his head as if he were about to share a secret. “He’s told me a few things about the past. Things that the Fantásmata prefer to hide from the population.”
Chloe raised an eyebrow. “And you’re allowed to tell just anyone about them?”
“You’re not just anyone, are you? It isn’t just anyone who hikes up here to get away from the world. Just anyone doesn’t visit the Eirene Museum on the weekend.”
“Wait. How did you know that?” Chloe asked as sweat dripped along her spine.
Orpheus looked down at Chloe’s purse.
She picked it up, spun it around, and sure enough, saw the museum emblem still stuck to its side. “Oh.” She lowered her purse as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “A friend gave me a pass for my birthday. It was sort of a disappointment. Except for the gryphon fossils. Those were unbelievable.”
Orpheus laughed and then rolled his neck, popping it. “The Fantásmata won’t allow anything too interesting. They don’t want any ‘rumors’,” he said, forming quotation marks with his fingers. “They think rumors precipitate insurrection.”
Chloe took a moment to think on his statement. “Why build a museum in the first place if they don’t want people talking about it? The curator seemed to think only the elite ever visit it. But if that’s the case, I wonder why there are only a few fossils and an old scroll. I doubt anyone will go if that’s all there is.”
Her mind traveled back to the brown-and-yellow pages inside the glass case. She remembered Ethan saying he hoped Iris had “sicked her doma” on her master, Acheron. Did Iris’s doma have anything to do with the fire Chloe saw coming out of her hands?
“There’s more than that. Much more,” Orpheus said, as the afternoon sun sank into the trees behind them and a warm wind rustled the leaves. “At the museum, did you see anything regarding a woman named Iris?”
Chloe nodded. “She was mentioned in the scroll fragments. It was written in Próta, though. I couldn’t read anything.” Play dumb. Act normal.
“She’s the reason the Fantásmata destroyed the temple.” Orpheus leaned away from the railing and stood up tall. “They were afraid of her then, and they’re afraid of her now.”
; “How do you know that?”
Orpheus paused as he looked at her skeptically, as if judging her trustworthiness by how well she held his gaze. “Are you sure you want to know?”
Chloe wasn’t sure, but she nodded anyway, silently cursing herself for letting curiosity quash all common sense. For all she knew, this Orpheus guy could be an agent of the Fantásmata sent to ascertain whether she was guilty of experiencing paráxeno theáseis or not. But despite her better judgment, she couldn’t stop herself. If Ethan wouldn’t open up to her, she’d have to take her chances with someone who would.
CHAPTER TWELVE
STRATEGEM
At the beginning of his first day as a mortal reborn, Orpheus thought his father would have been better off finding a dead actor to woo this woman. Some venerated hypokrites from the stage. He’d always admired the way thespians could effortlessly stifle their own personalities and embody someone else’s, like an oracle channeling a spirit. The way they could manipulate their emotions and cry artificial tears. Poets’ tears were always genuine. As were their smiles and sobs, their fury and their fears. He hadn’t expected it to be this easy.
The girl named Chloe seemed desperate for someone to talk to. It didn’t seem to matter who he was or where he’d come from. She appeared to be attracted to him, or to his words at least, like a moth to a flame, and he hadn’t even played a single note.
Throughout their hike, he found himself daydreaming about the first words he planned to whisper to Eurydice. Maybe he would be with her tonight. All he needed to do was get to the portal. Just a little farther.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked Chloe. His thoughts were in Elysium, where he was reclining beneath a poplar tree, tenderly kissing his wife as he strummed the first love song he’d written for her.