by Diana Tyler
“How odd that the sea nymphs who see and hear all did not mention you.” She brushed his neck with her hand. “You have the makings of a warrior, Damian.” She stopped in front of him, joining her hands behind her back, her chiton blowing lightly as a breeze passed through. “Do you not?”
Without hesitation, Damian looked at Chloe and pointed. “If there’s anyone I’d put my money on to save the Ashers, it’s Chloe.”
“We are the Vessel, Damian,” said Chloe. “You and me.”
Damian shook his head and gave a sheepish laugh. “I think history’s proven otherwise.” He put up a hand as Chloe opened her mouth to disagree. “I know what you’re going to say: ‘The past is in the past.’ But we have to look at the past if we want to learn from it.”
The same look of dejection that Damian had worn a few days prior returned, and once again, Chloe wished for a cup full of the River Lethe. Maybe just a little bit of it in Damian’s system could make him forget all the things he felt guilty for.
“The past tells me that only one of us deserves to be called the Vessel,” he said.
A deafening silence passed before Athena spoke. “I am not all knowing, nor do any of the Olympians or our predecessors, the Titans, know of the folly that has shamed you. Shame besets us all, young Asher.” She gestured to the serpents’ lifeless heads, their eyes as murderous as when they were alive. “Not even in the Titanomachy, or after my fall from heaven’s walls, has my shield been defaced. It’s a disgraceful thing indeed for any piece of a god’s armor to be impaired by a mortal’s hand.”
Hermes sighed impatiently and stamped his foot like a rabbit. “You’re making me question whether you have accurately disclosed your intention in coming here. I wonder if you’re not prattling on incessantly in an effort to create a diversion.” His eyes sparked with a boastful flicker. “A tactic with which I’m well acquainted.”
Athena lifted her hand and pushed her palm toward Hermes.
He tumbled onto his rump, and then ripped free his wand. “Touch me again, you witch, and I’ll run you through with the sharpest spear my staff can conjure.”
“Oh, quiet, you old cur.” A soft giggle burbled from Athena’s lips. “Lick your wounds and listen. I have no ulterior motives. But let me state plainly the heart of my message lest your feeble mind fail to grasp it.” She turned away from him and placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder; his cheek twitched from the cold of her touch. “Why cower at the past when you can rectify it? The mission for which you say only your sister is fit may be your solitary chance for redemption.”
A wary look of skepticism slid across Damian’s face. “Why are you helping us?” He leaned toward her. “What’s in it for you?”
Though she couldn’t see Athena’s face, Chloe could tell by the way the goddess’s fingers twitched at the side of her robe that the question made her uneasy. Damian was right: she was holding something back.
“Tell us,” Damian pressed. “I’ve studied the history of the rebel spirits and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about you guys it’s that everything you do is out of self-interest.”
Athena turned and looked at her shield. With a flick of her wrist she could summon it to herself and bash Damian over the head with it. Surely he knew the gods didn’t take kindly to insults and accusations. But the goddess didn’t move; she stood completely still, with only her restless fingers rustling between the folds of her linen robe.
“Your judgment is shrewd, young Asher,” she replied, her crystal voice clouded, eclipsed by what she could not deny was embarrassment, perhaps even humiliation. Had a mortal ever had the nerve to question her motives before? “As Hermes can attest, the fact that I have not struck you only further proves my personal interest in the fate of the Ashers.”
Hermes stiffened. “It’s Straton, isn’t it?” he said.
The goddess’s red lips parted as she turned to her brother, and a slow sigh slipped through them, sending a thin column of steam toward the sky. “Another example of my shame, isn’t it, brother, that I, Athena Parthenos, virgin chaste and warlike, have fallen prey to Eros’s arrows?”
She cast her slate-gray gaze at Damian, then at Chloe. “No doubt this sounds foolish to your callow ears. Perhaps you mortals have not yet felt the fiery force of love, how it begins with the strength of a flimsy wick then grows to the size of a solstice bonfire.”
Chloe’s own fingers began to fidget at her sides.
“Ah, so you do know.” The clarity of the goddess’s voice returned as she smiled warmly at Chloe. “Your cheeks show the flush of true love’s fire.”
Chloe brought a hand to her face. It felt feverish against her fingertips. She wouldn’t try to deny that she’d loved Ethan, nor that she still harbored feelings for him. But this wasn’t the time to dwell on them, much less discuss them with the iron-fisted goddess of war, regardless of whether or not Athena had a soft spot.
“Think of his face,” Athena said, “and on the pulse striking within your wrist when you hear his name. Recall the sensation of his lips against yours, like soft petals lifting toward the sun.”
Damian groaned. “I’m gonna be sick.”
But Athena didn’t hear, or at least pretended she didn’t. “What if he was ripped away from you, lured to the heart of Hades because of the gods’ great fear and envy?” Her voice cracked as grief misted her eyes with tears. “Would you not do everything in your power to rescue him and restore the love you once knew?”
“What if that love can’t be restored?” Chloe asked. “What if the flames have gone? Or what if they were never there?”
An expression of maternal compassion settled over Athena’s face. She lowered her proud chin and went to Chloe, her gait as steady and smooth as an eagle in flight.
“Now listen well,” she whispered, cupping Chloe’s cheek with her hand. “True love must be tested. Like diamonds formed beneath the crushing weight of mountains, subjected to terrible pressure and hell’s relentless heat, love is destined to endure suffering. It is the endurance through such suffering that proves whether it is genuine.” She pulled her hand away and rested it against her own heart. “It would be the greatest shame of all to give up on love before it has been tried.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
COERCION
Ethan had always had a thing for museums: museums and graveyards. To him, they were one and the same, except the former was for artifacts and the latter for humans. He visited both, often on the same day, whenever he had thinking to do, or, as on this day, when he didn’t want to think at all. He and Chloe were no longer together. He was torturing himself trying to figure it out when he still couldn’t remember most of his life in this timeline. But why had she acted so rashly when she couldn’t remember most of her life in this timeline either?
Women…
Ethan showed his student ID to the docent and politely declined to take part in the tour commencing in fifteen minutes.
The docent laughed. “I can’t believe you’re not sick of this place yet.”
Maybe Ethan would be sick of it if he could remember all the times he’d been there working and helping his mom. But right now, all he could remember about the Eirene Museum was Chloe’s visit on her birthday, and his and his mother’s kidnapping.
“Any new exhibits?” Ethan took a look around.
The museum was nothing like the one that had been here before. The one he knew had been sterile and sparsely decorated, while this one was bright and inviting. Evening light spilled in from the slanted, west-facing windows, illuminating the charcoal walls that swirled with regal streaks of gold. From the ceiling hung a giant metal chandelier shaped like the Moonbow. All seven of the Moonbow’s bands were made of colored glass, each one backlit by pendant lights suspended like stars behind it. A few visitors were taking photos of it while others, kids mostly, were ogling a gryphon fossil in the corner. Could that be the bones of Corinna? Had she ever escaped Circe’s island? Had Mania?
“Not since last w
eek when you visited,” the docent replied. “Are you all right?”
Ethan realized he was still staring at the fossil. “Yeah, uh, I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind.”
“Understandable. Aetna’s eruption has us all on edge, I think.”
Ethan nodded. If you only knew… “I’ll take a headset, please.”
“Sure thing.” The docent reached under the welcome desk and pulled out a pair of black wireless headphones.
Ethan waited for him to produce the other piece. “Are you out of audio guides?”
The docent scratched his forehead. “Ethan, we’ve been using the museum app for personal tours for two years now. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Oh, that’s right.” Ethan gave his best fake laugh. “I’m getting confused with the museum on campus.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and typed “Eirene Museum” into the app store’s search bar. “Got it.”
“Wonderful.” The docent handed him a sticker. “If you have any questions, you know where to find me. We close in half an hour.”
Ethan thanked him, then slipped on his headset and made a beeline for the gryphon fossil.
“Welcome to the Eirene Museum.”
Ethan looked down at the virtual female docent smiling at him from his phone.
“We hope you enjoy this customized audio tour,” the docent continued. “If you would like me to speak about a particular artifact, simply tap its icon on your smartphone screen. You may press pause, rewind or fast forward at any time.”
The image of the gryphon popped up and the docent’s face disappeared. He tapped the screen again.
“Comprised of an eagle’s wings and forefeet, and a lion’s tail and rear feet,” the docent recited, “gryphons were revered by the ancients as the king of all beasts. Before their extinction, they were used by Petrodians and the rebel spirits to guard precious treasure and coveted territories.”
Ethan paused the commentary and circled the fossil, surprised by the fear it evoked in him. It didn’t take much imagination to see it covered with ash-colored feathers, yellow eyes blazing as it beat its wings violently. Even after Corinna had been turned back into a beautiful woman with smooth white skin and soft pale-purple wings she was a thing of terror.
Before he could find out whether history had remembered her, the earphones crackled with static then emitted an earsplitting series of beeps. Then silence, and a young man’s voice began to speak. If you think those bones belong to Corinna, you’re wrong. The words sounded robotic, as if the man was reading from a script. She’s alive and well, enjoying the form you left her in on Aeaea.
Ethan pulled off the headset and spun around, searching frantically for the speaker.
But soon, very soon if you don’t cooperate, she’ll come back to avenge herself.
Ethan stuck his fingers inside his ears, but he could still hear the voice loud and clear. I’m in your head, Ethan. The voice sounded normal now, almost recognizable. And I will be until you do as I say.
“Who are you?” Ethan whispered as he turned to the wall.
No need to speak. I can read your thoughts. You’ve been thinking about my cousin Chloe since you walked in here.
Chloe had a lot of cousins, but right now Ethan couldn’t even remember their names let alone their voices.
This is creepier than it needs to be. Meet me in your mom’s office upstairs. It’s on the third floor, in case you’ve forgotten. He answered Ethan’s mental question next. If you don’t go, I have orders to hand you over to Ares. And Ares has orders to take you to Zeus.
Ethan sighed as he turned the corner and took the elevator to the third floor. His mother’s office door with the sign LYDIA ROSS, MUSEUM EDUCATOR was the first one he saw. Thankfully, his mom had the night off. He’d do anything to keep her and his father out of whatever was happening.
Open it.
“What do you want?” Ethan said, fishing for his keys. “There’s nothing in here.”
A muffled yell emanated from the other side of the door.
Apparently there is.
Ethan’s anxious hand struggled to fit the key in the lock while the distressed moan grew louder. “You’re a son of a—” He finished the thought in his head as he pushed the door open and found his mother tied to her swivel chair, her mouth covered by a strip of duct tape. “Mom!” He ran to her and gently pulled off the tape.
“He said if I didn’t come here, you’d be killed,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. “As soon as I got inside, that sack was put over my head and I was tied up.” She pointed to a sackcloth bag lying on the corner of her desk.
“Do you know who it was?” Ethan took out his pocketknife and cut through the ropes that bound her.
Lydia rubbed her raw wrists. “I have no idea. It was the strangest thing. I was on my way home from the grocery store when I heard a voice in my head.” She shook her head and touched it lightly, as if to make sure the voice was gone. “I take it you heard it, too.”
Ethan nodded. “Oh, I heard it. One of Chloe’s cousins, apparently.” He ducked his head into the hall. “He’s a coward, whoever he is.”
I’m being smart. Do as I say and no one will get hurt, do you understand?
“Did you hear that?” Lydia and Ethan said to each other in unison.
“Fine. Then hurry up and tell us what you want,” Ethan yelled. He couldn’t care less who heard him. He’d already killed a man to defend himself and his family. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill this guy, too, the second he showed his face. Maybe the Asher behind the voice was being smart.
Your mother already knows, the Asher replied.
Ethan looked at his mother. She was staring at the bits of rope scattered on the floor. “Mom, what’s he talking about?” He could see by the tension in her face that she knew exactly what the Asher wanted.
“He knows I lied.” It was more of a gasp than a sentence. Lydia brought a shaky hand to her mouth. “How could he know? How can he read our minds?”
How can any Asher do the things they can?
Lydia knew as well as Ethan what unexplainable feats Ashers were capable of. That wasn’t her question. He knew her son wanted to know why an Asher had been given the ability to invade people’s thoughts, to eavesdrop and whisper within them without warning.
Never in his life had Ethan felt so vulnerable. “What did you lie—”
Before Ethan could finish his question, the Asher voice was already answering. She has the amphoras that Zeus wants. Get them, and nobody will be hurt.
Lydia sat on the edge of her desk and took a deep breath. Ethan couldn’t remember ever seeing his mother cry, but witnessing it now was breaking his heart.
“I know the jars, Mom,” he said. “You showed them to me in the other timeline. You kept them in a suitcase.”
Lydia’s lips parted as a tear rolled toward her mouth. She brushed it away, gathering herself as she stood and crossed the room to the closet. She unlocked the door and walked past rows of fireproof filing cabinets. Ethan expected her to stop at any one of them and produce the jars, but she kept going, stopping only when she reached the back wall.
“Turn on the light, son,” she said.
Ethan did so and joined her at the back of the small room. She bent down and felt around on the carpet until she found a loose edge. She pulled it up, revealing a wooden floor with a hole just large enough for her to fit her hand. Bracing herself on the cabinet in front of her, she lifted a section of floor and swung it aside.
Ethan peered down into a hole just deep enough for… “The suitcase,” he whispered, then bent down and carefully hoisted it out.
Lydia replaced the section of floor and carpet. “I’ve never told you about the amphoras. Not in this timeline, at least. It’s too dangerous.”
“So you know what they can do,” Ethan said.
She looked at him quizzically. “Didn’t I before?” Ethan shook his head. “They’re powerful, Ethan. Whatever the Asher wants with them, it i
sn’t good.”
Ethan had no doubt about that. He had seen what the avarice of one Asher could do, so he could only imagine what a league of gods had up their sleeves.
It isn’t your responsibility. You can go home now. The voice paused, as if deciding whether to say something more. Please, for your own sakes, don’t come back here until tomorrow.
“I can’t give this to him,” Lydia said, placing a protective hand on the suitcase. “The councilman made it clear—”
Mrs. Ross, please. The Asher’s voice was shrill. Maybe I haven’t made it clear enough. If you don’t give me those jars there’ll be hell to pay, and I think your son can tell you I mean that literally.
Ethan gritted his teeth. He didn’t appreciate his mother being threatened, especially after what they’d been through together in the other timelines: drugged and strapped to gurneys; his own father nearly administering their lethal injections; barely escaping the Religious Council building with their lives—and then seeing his parents lured right back to the councilman under the auspices of mercy.
But there was nothing he could do to defend her. There wasn’t even a body he could throw a punch at.
“Mom, please,” Ethan pleaded. “They’re going to get the suitcase one way or another.”
I could’ve forced your key from you. I’m trying my best here.
The more the Asher spoke, the more Ethan sensed he wasn’t doing any of this voluntarily. The gods had him under their thumb. If they didn’t, wouldn’t the Asher be in Ethan’s head right now telling him otherwise?
Let us help you, Ethan said in his thoughts; he couldn’t be sure who else was listening. There was no response. Maybe Ares was listening to the Asher, making sure he carried out his objective.
“We could die, Ethan,” said Lydia. “Not just us, but every mortal in Petros.”
That isn’t going to happen, the Asher said. I give you my word.