The Petros Chronicles Boxset

by Diana Tyler

  Damian cocked his head sideways and looked at Chloe. “What’s he talking about?”

  “I told you Ethan and I threw the chip into the ocean, right?” she said. Damian nodded. “Turns out some mermaid took it to get her father out of Tartarus. At least, that’s my guess.”

  “She was a sea nymph, not a mermaid,” Hermes said. “But you’re halfway correct about her intentions.”

  “What’s the other half?” Chloe asked.

  Hermes breathed deeply and turned to stare out the window. “She didn’t just release her father, but all the gods.”

  Damian raised his palms and squeezed his eyes shut as he, too, struggled to comprehend what he’d just heard. “And when, exactly, did this happen?”

  “Yesterday,” said Hermes, scratching his stubbly chin.

  A thousand questions darted through Chloe’s mind, alternately dissolving and coalescing as they collided with one another. She seized upon one and forced it to stay still long enough to speak it. “What does the dýnami allow her to do?”

  Hermes stretched back and interlaced his fingers behind his head. “A better question would be what it doesn’t allow.”

  Chloe watched the tips of Damian’s ears grow red, as they always did when his patience was wearing thin. “What do you mean?” he asked. “I thought the chip just took on the powers of people it had been in close proximity to.”

  Hermes leaned forward, his gold-encrusted hilt like a costume piece as it brushed against a floral pillow. “Yes, but not only that. The dýnami also possesses the powers of Straton, your ancestor. Eione wished to use Chloe’s doma to travel to the past and warn her father of Apollo’s coup, but her efforts were futile.”

  Chloe tapped a finger against her throbbing brow. She needed coffee to get through this conversation. “I don’t get it. That seems like a straightforward solution to me.”

  “Because. So long as there’s another Asher with the same doma she wishes to employ, she will be thwarted.” Hermes stood and turned to the window, scanning the bleak horizon like a sentinel in his tower. “And so, as we now know, Eione has not had her wish granted and thus continues to try different methods.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year,” said Chloe. “You make it sound like the evil mermaid-thief is having a hard time nailing a lasagna recipe when in reality she just opened up the gates of Tartarus.”

  Damian coughed. “Sea nymph.”

  Chloe stuck out her tongue at him. “Same difference.”

  “And speaking of overstatements, Chloe,” Hermes said, his voice smooth and professorial, on the verge of chiding, “evil is a strong word to describe a daughter who only desires to free her father from Hades.”

  Chloe looked down at the rabbit as she rubbed her lips together. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Then she glanced at Damian. Maybe he’d felt something like this when she stepped through the portal at Lake Thyra with Orpheus, literally hellbent on searching for answers at the risk of endangering herself and the family she still had left. In the back of her mind she’d known the Fantásmata would find her actions suspicious at best, and incriminating at worst. But she’d ignored Damian calling her back from the mist, and proceeded to walk directly into a trap. It was easy to label someone as evil or selfish or insane when you’d never stood in their shoes; Chloe, however, had stood in Eione’s shoes, which made Hermes’ reproach sting all the more.

  “Your frustration is understandable,” said Hermes, hands joined behind his back, “as is righteous indignation. But lingering on them won’t do us any good.”

  Damian paced the floor, then stopped and pointed out the window. “So the volcano was caused by Apollo.” The redness in his ears sank down into his cheeks and throat, giving way to an emotion Chloe rarely saw in him: panic.

  “Hephaestus,” said Hermes. “Either under duress or of his own free will. As far as the rebel immortals go, he seldom found reason to be bellicose.”

  “Maybe the other gods promised him Medusa,” Chloe said.

  “Oh, I’m sure they’ve made their offer irresistible,” said Hermes, finally turning from the window, his face barely brighter than the smoky sky behind him. “I’d hoped the struggle for power would stay confined to the Underworld, but I was only fooling myself.”

  Chloe stared blankly at the walls as they closed in around her, every ounce of warm nostalgia draining out of them as memories of her cell in hell rushed in. “They want to take over the world.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CYCLOPES

  As if her legs were moving involuntarily, Chloe sprang from the loveseat and headed to the door.

  “Where are you going?” Damian asked.

  “Nowhere. You two, out.” She opened the door and gestured for them to leave. “I need peace and quiet if I’m going back there.”

  Hermes sighed and removed his cap, as if about to inform her of someone’s death. “I’m sorry, but you cannot correct this by going back to the past.”

  “Why not?” she said. “All I have to do is go back and stop Ethan from flinging the darn chip into the ocean. Piece of cake.”

  “And I can go with her and tie up Eione for good measure,” Damian said, only half joking.

  Hermes folded his cap in half and wrung it like a wet rag in his hands. “All sensible ideas, but it’s just too late. Eione is one step ahead of you. She took the Cyclopes back to the beach to prevent that very plot from unfolding, let alone prevailing.”

  “Well, that’s fantastic,” said Chloe, shutting the door again. She leaned against it and slipped down to the floor, her formerly spry-feeling legs now refusing to support her.

  Damian raised a shy hand. “Um, excuse me, but I’m the guy with the invisibility doma, remember? The Cyclopes can’t beat up people they can’t see, can they?”

  Hermes looked at Chloe, as if waiting for her to object or show some sign of uneasiness. She lifted her eyebrows and shrugged. “It’s our best shot,” she said.

  “No sooner do you return from fighting Leto than you’re marching straight back to the battlefield.” Hermes unsheathed his wand and extended it to Chloe. “Hopefully this won’t be necessary.” He locked eyes with her, still clutching the wand as she stood up and grabbed it. “But don’t hesitate to use it. Cyclopes show no mercy.”

  Chloe nodded. “You can’t come with us?”

  Hermes donned his cap. “I’m only the messenger, my friend. Duna created this world for mortals to rule, not so-called gods such as I.”

  “Tell that to your buddies,” said Damian gruffly. “Former buddies.”

  Hermes didn’t hear Damian’s comment, or at least pretended he didn’t, and began to float back toward the window to leave.

  “That’s it?” Damian asked. “There’s nothing we need to know about these dudes?”

  Chloe laughed. “They’re merciless, one-eyed, bone-crushing giants. What else is there to know?”

  Hermes turned back to them, one side of his mouth tugging upward into the faintest arc of a smile. “There is something, although part of me thinks it unwise to share it.” Damian and Chloe muttered their disapproval until Hermes faced them and proceeded. “Not only are the giants master builders, they also stoke the fires in Hephaestus’s forge.”

  “In Aetna,” said Chloe. “So they’re the ones who caused the volcano to erupt.”

  “At Hephaestus’s command, yes,” Hermes said. “They’re the only beings strong enough to do so.”

  Damian’s eyes flickered with excitement. “If we kill them, Aetna will become dormant,” he said. “For good.”

  Chloe folded her arms, fully aware of how much she resembled her mom when she did so. “But the eruption didn’t hurt anyone, Damian. I say we leave the giants alone, take the chip and then be on our merry way.”

  “I would agree with you, Chloe…” Hermes began.

  “But?” said Chloe.

  “But…” Hermes’ gaze lifted to the sky once again. The haze was even darker now as the hidden s
un began to set. “The eruption was never intended to harm anyone. It was intended to free the immortals by carving a way out that would escape Apollo’s notice.”

  Damian’s hands fidgeted at his sides.

  Every fiber in Chloe’s body tightened and froze. She could feel her brother’s eyes on her, waiting for her response. She already knew what his was, but she didn’t dare voice her suspicions as to why he was raring to go. Since the day she’d seen him again after her stint in Hades, Damian had been different—less reluctant about things, and much more reckless. She could only guess that it was his way of compensating for his past cowardice, namely, leaving her in hell to cope with her decisions. But part of her reasoned that this was all in her head. Maybe he’d simply grown out of his fearful phase. Maybe she’d inspired him to do so.

  Chloe gripped the wand as her mind jolted back to the memory of Lake Thyra, of leaving Ethan alone in the rain. “Tell Ethan I love him,” she said, her voice cracking.

  Damian placed a steady hand on her shoulder. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Damian kept his eyes shut until he felt the rocky ground beneath his feet. Slowly, he opened them and waited for the wormhole to evaporate. He hoped they hadn’t landed next to a sleeping Cyclops.

  “Look!” Chloe rasped. She pointed toward the ocean. There, just a stone’s throw away, she could see herself sitting with Ethan, the two of them relaxing on the beach as though they didn’t have a care in the world. “Come on, he’s about to throw it.” She inched forward, but Damian pulled her back.

  “Wait.” He squinted and made out the granite sea stack rising like a lightless beacon from the water. “Go back without me.”

  Chloe turned, looking at him like he was crazy.

  “It’s too risky for us both to go. If we separate for a split second, we’ll be seen.”

  Chloe’s face relaxed a little.

  “I’ll use Hermes’ wand to travel back while I’m still invisible,” he said. “If I’m not back in ten minutes your time, all you have to do is come back here, to this moment, and tell me I’m an idiot.”

  “I can already tell you that,” said Chloe. “I’m not leaving you here. That’s not how I roll.” She pressed her lips together, as if trying to smother words that had already been spoken. “I didn’t mean…never mind.”

  Damian could see the regret in her face. His palm loosened on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I know you’re brave, Chloe, but there’s no sense in us both going out there. It’s too risky.” He turned in time to see Ethan reaching into his pocket. “Go, Chloe. Ethan will never forgive me if you don’t.” He could almost hear the wheels in her head spinning as she tried to find a flaw in his logic. “You know I’m right.”

  Chloe took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds as she glanced over at herself and Ethan. Her other self was holding the chip in her hand, studying it. “You only have a minute. Maybe two.” She took his free hand and squeezed it hard before sliding the wand into it. “You’d better make it back, or I’ll never forgive you.” Though her cheeks smiled, her eyes were troubled, darkened by equal parts angst and uncertainty.

  Damian felt the words “I love you” tingling on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d told Chloe he loved her, and telling her now would only make her worry even more.

  “I will,” was all he said. Then he guided her into the shadow of a cliff where she wouldn’t be seen. Seconds later, she was gone.

  Not wasting a second, Damian jogged toward the beach, careful not to take deep breaths that the Cyclopes’ sizable ears would detect.

  Next to Ethan, Chloe sat up straighter, listening, then twisted left, then right, her body stiff as a hare beneath a circling hawk.

  Damian crouched behind them. “Chloe,” he said in the softest whisper possible. “It’s Damian. Don’t look back at me. You’re being watched.”

  Ethan’s spine went rigid as he clasped the chip in his fist. “Who by?” he muttered between clenched teeth.

  The earth shook beneath them, causing the sands to shift and the pebbles to jump like fleas.

  Damian’s heart leapt in his chest as the sound of footsteps, of oak trees walking, approached from the cliff, each one thundering louder than the last. “Cyclops.” He made himself turn to face it.

  The Cyclops was even bigger than he’d imagined, and infinitely more ugly. He appeared to be half the height of the cliff behind him, with swinging arms as wide as barrels. His ragged tunic reached down to his knees, which cracked like snapping twigs with every step. The infamous single eye glared out of his misshapen skull like a satellite probing the sky. Above it, his massive brow protruded, scrunching into a swatch of wrinkles whenever the wide eye blinked.

  Damian felt a hand grab hold of his collar. He was jerked swiftly off his feet, rising so far into the air he thought he might never come back down. He squirmed, and turned to look at the Cyclops who had taken him. This one was even more grotesque than the first, and with rotten breath that nearly made him gag.

  “Damian!” Chloe shouted.

  A third Cyclops plodded into view from behind the sea stack, from where Chloe was sure Eione was watching. This one was the oldest of the three; he had crêpey, eggshell-colored skin that hung loose from his bones like threadbare cloth. His lips were pulled back in a toothless grin as he pointed a finger at Damian, who stubbornly kicked in vain as his captor snickered behind him.

  The old giant said something in Próta, a language that Damian had only just begun studying at university. The Cyclops’ eyes narrowed angrily as he bent over, his black eye jumping between the three of them, waiting for a response.

  Then he said two words Damian could understand: “Diko mou.” Mine. His long, knobby finger pointed at Ethan. He held out his hand. “Diko mou!”

  “He wants the chip, Chloe,” said Damian, his voice constricted by the tightness of his T-shirt tugging against his throat.

  “Well, he can’t have it,” she shouted, her eyes not leaving the Cyclops.

  The giant holding Damian growled and wrapped his hand around Damian’s ribs. He squeezed until Damian cried out.

  “Stási!” Ethan yelled. Stop. He held out a hand in surrender then slowly opened his fist. “You want this?”

  The old Cyclops smiled as he peeled back his lips, revealing swollen rows of pale pink gums. He plucked the chip from Ethan’s hand and nodded to the goon holding Damian. The other Cyclops lowered Damian a modest distance before dropping him onto the packed sand.

  “Efcharistó,” said the old one. Thank you. He spoke to the other two, and they huddled together, standing tall like a copse of olive trees. A few moments later, they disappeared, leaving nothing behind but six giant footprints, as deep and as wide as potholes.

  “Damian!” Chloe ran to him.

  He was still lying on the ground, moving his fingers and limbs one at a time, testing them for fractures. He rubbed the back of his neck, then slowly rolled from side to side. “I’m fine,” he said. “That could’ve been a whole lot worse.”

  “How in Zeus’ name did you get here?” said Chloe.

  Damian looked up at Ethan. He could see in his face that Ethan understood.

  “Is Chloe here?” Ethan asked.

  Damian shook his head. “I told her to leave before I came over here.” He grimaced as he took Chloe’s arm and stood. “I’m glad I did.”

  “What have you done?” Eione asked.

  The three of them turned to the sea, listening for the woman’s voice to speak again. Then they saw Eione rising out of the water like a phantom, black hair and dark eyes flashing in the day’s last light. Her bare shoulders shimmered with water droplets that didn’t fall but instead seemed to cling to her like a second skin. She trailed her fingertips along the surface of the water as she walked toward them, moving effortlessly through the sea as though gliding on ice.

  “You speak Petrodian?” Of course that was Chloe’s first question.

  Th
e woman nodded. “I have been listening to your kind’s barbaric language for centuries.”

  “Our kind?” said Ethan. “So you’re a—”

  “Sea nymph,” said Damian, almost laughing as the word mermaid echoed in his mind. He had a feeling she wouldn’t take kindly to him calling her that.

  The water sluiced off Eione’s dress as she ran her hands along her sides. When her feet touched the beach, her hair and skin dried instantly.

  “Aye,” she said, her voice the same soft timbre as the surf. “I am a daughter of Nereus and savior of the gods.” Her eyes fluttered to Damian. “I know why you have come, and why the Cyclopes have been patrolling the beach all day. They told me it was my future self who sent them.”

  She lifted her sharp chin and circled Chloe, her long dress swooshing across the sand. “And it was my future self who has ensured your survival instead of letting your marrow flavor their stew.”

  The smell of saltwater grew stronger as she moved to Damian. “But should you set foot here a second time, I will not be so generous.” Eione turned and walked back into the sea, sinking like the evening sun under the waves.

  “Oh my gods,” said Chloe. She stood frozen, agape, eyes fixed on the cliffs. “It’s me.”

  Damian turned to see Chloe—future Chloe—standing a few yards off, waving him over.

  “This will all make sense in a few minutes,” said Damian. He could feel a knot form in his mind as he tried to unravel the logistics. “Or more like a month, technically. But for us, it’s just a few minu—”

  “We know what you mean,” said Ethan. “Whatever you were trying to do here, it took guts.” He held out his hand. “Thank you.” Damian shook it and then walked, head down, back to Chloe.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  PLAN B

  I shouldn’t have left you,” Chloe said, stirring a whirlpool into her tea. They’d been back five minutes, and she’d already devoured three cookies and could utter nothing more than those five words. Her parents and Damian sat around the table discussing time-travel paradoxes and how there could be two versions of Chloe coexisting in the same place and time, topics that only strengthened Chloe’s stress-induced appetite.