by Diana Tyler
Lydia sighed. “Then what will happen?” she said, as her hand slid off the suitcase.
A moment’s pause, and then: It doesn’t concern you. The Asher’s voice sounded stilted once again, as if his lines were being fed to him.
“Come on.” Ethan reached for his mother’s hand and pulled her up.
Reluctantly, she turned from the suitcase and followed him out of the office.
When they were in the elevator, she squeezed Ethan’s fingers. “Besides the councilman, the only ones who know about those jars are the rebel spirits, and they’re chained up in Tartarus.” One look from Ethan told her everything. “They’re not in Tartarus anymore, are they?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
DIRECTION
It was near dusk and, despite the excessive amount of coffee she’d consumed, Chloe was still struggling to keep her eyes open as Hermes and Athena debated and discussed and debated some more.
For the better part of the afternoon, Hermes had filled the goddess in on the crucial bits of history she’d missed while trapped in Hades’ bowels, everything from Iris and the hope-shedding Moonbow, to his troubled affair with Mania, which ultimately led to his severance from Apollo.
After that, Damian had informed Athena of his and Chloe’s failed attempt to prevent Eione from taking the dýnami, which was the perfect time for Damara to step outside with a warm plate of brownies. She played it cool in the presence of her bronze-breasted guest; she even asked if Athena wanted a cup of milk or if she could hang her shield inside. But as soon as her mother was back in the house, Chloe saw her yank open the refrigerator door and stick her head inside.
“What do you think, Chloe?”
Chloe jerked her head toward Damian as the swing she sat in unraveled, spinning her around and around. “What do I think about what?”
She glanced inside and saw Jacey standing on her hind legs at the window, her ears pricked as she stared at the strange, tall woman now leaning against the swing set’s fireman pole. The poodle barked when she caught Chloe looking at her, then jumped and pawed at the glass.
“That rat would make an excellent meal for my owl, Ajax,” said Athena, eyeing Jacey as though the dog were a juicy steak.
“That rat’s a descendant of the wolf,” Chloe said. “Despite her looks, she has killer instincts.” She looked back at Damian. “Now what were we talking about?”
“Stopping Straton from accepting Apollo’s offer,” he said.
“By going back in time?”
“That’s sort of the only viable option.”
Chloe rocked back and forth in the swing, eyeing the treehouse she’d longed to climb into a few hours before, hoping, irrationally perhaps, that sitting in its solitude would have magically made the world right again. But now, despite her tiredness, she was thinking more clearly. She was the same Asher she’d been a month before. All she had to do was remember Orpheus’s final words to her: You mustn’t lose faith.
Chloe looked down at the row of snakeheads littering the yard, then the brown nubs of their bloody necks hanging loose from Athena’s shield. “There will always be more snakes,” she whispered.
“What did you say?” Hermes asked, his eyes following the path hers had just taken.
“I said there will always be more snakes,” she repeated, this time interpreting the sentence’s meaning in her mind. Although it hadn’t come from Carya, it still carried the same oracular weight of one of her messages.
And then, as if summoned by a psychic signal, a column of white hazy mist materialized in the middle of their circle, accompanied by the familiar herbal scents Chloe associated with just one person…
“Well, speak of the devil.” Chloe rose from the swing and went to Carya with her arms open, ready to embrace her ethereal friend.
“I don’t think Carya’s a hugger,” Damian said, taking a single step toward the messenger.
Carya’s violet hair cascaded around her shoulders, delicately framing her girlish face, which glowed like a pearl freshly plucked from the sea. She smiled at Chloe’s outstretched arms, but did not walk into them. Maybe they didn’t hug in heaven, Chloe thought, or maybe Carya was literally too “holier than thou” to touch.
Damian laughed. “Told you.”
The purple of Carya’s robes deepened as the cloud she was encased in faded slowly and drifted apart, flooding the air with a sparkling spray of dust particles.
“Carya,” Athena said, drawing out the name with equal parts delight and disgust. “I could smell your aroma from Olympus’s peak.”
“You know her?” Damian asked.
Athena made a sort of snorting sound. “I know about her. I know that she meddles in Ashers’ affairs and does so with incomprehensible rhymes and songs.”
“And what you’ve been doing all day doesn’t qualify as ‘meddling in Ashers’ affairs’?” Chloe couldn’t help herself.
The goddess’s lips pulled into a tight blood-red line. She flexed the fingers of her right hand, as if debating whether to use force to display her displeasure.
“Let her speak.” Hermes swept off his cap and held it to his chest as he bowed before Carya, a being even more goddess-like than Athena. “Whatever tidings you have for us, we’re ready to receive them with open ears and hearts.”
Athena feigned a yawn.
The golden coronet atop Carya’s head glistened in the frosty dust as she nodded and smiled demurely at Athena. Then she spoke.
“The words that Chloe spoke to you are inspired, true, and wise,
For should you succeed in sparing Straton, another snake will rise.
Like the Hydra with immortal heads, the rebel spirits shall not subside,
But will find new ways to enforce their plan and blow Hades open wide.
Either Apollo will use the Ashers for his own pursuit of power,
Or Zeus shall seal them in hell’s black pits for monsters to devour.”
Carya paused, her sky-blue eyes scanning the others’ to ensure they understood, although there had been not one iota of ambiguity in her words.
“The dýnami’s departure from friendly hands is not mankind’s undoing,
For there is a plan in the All-Powerful’s mind, one he has always been pursuing.
A planet of peace for woman and man, for whom he is their only God,
No rogue immortals waging war where the feet of peace once trod.
To reach this end, you must return to the dawn of the world you know,
When pride took hold of heaven’s own and winds of strife did blow.
It is Hermes you must win, for we know where truly his heart lies,
Without his wits and intellect, the unholy rebellion dies.”
With a gentle turn of her hand, Carya summoned the pillar of cloud she’d arrived in. It wrapped around her like a gossamer web and she disappeared in a puff of warm, lemon-scented wind.
“Five minutes of Q&A would be courteous,” said Damian, when the last wisp of haze had vanished.
Chloe laughed. “Messengers of the All-Powerful are probably very busy people, Damian.”
“You’d better hope she’s flown off to rally the hearts of hundreds of other Ashers,” Athena said, a pompous affectation in her voice. “You’ll need all the help you can get if you expect to stop a war—a cosmic war—before it begins.”
“If she’s not rallying them, you can bet your precious owl that I will,” said Chloe. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a family reunion.”
Athena frowned. Instead of discouraging Chloe, she’d only given her a great idea. “And if by some miracle you succeed in changing the tide of destiny…” The lightest of breezes closed her lips, and she pulled her thick braid over them.
“Then what will happen to Straton?” Damian asked, taking a stab at what the rest of her thought had been.
“What will happen to anyone who is not a native citizen of heaven?” said Hermes, idly twirling his wand in his fingers. “The rebels’ affairs on Petros after their
exile were not insignificant. Remove our thread from the tapestry of humanity and—”
“What?” said Damian. “The whole thing will unravel?”
“No,” Hermes said, annoyed that he’d been interrupted.
“Where else could that metaphor have gone?”
Chloe rubbed her lips together, hoping Hermes would keep his cool and not turn her smart-alecky brother into a squeaking hamster.
Athena drew a breath as she raised her hand, drawing their attention. “All of us, even I, know that it’s useless to speculate about the repercussions of such a colossal exploit. Either these Ashers do it, Hermes, or we stand aside and watch our father slay them.”
Hermes’ wand stopped moving. “And you care not that you may never see Straton again?” His chin quivered as he fumbled to sheathe the staff.
“Don’t be afraid, Hermes,” Chloe said. Was he really so upset about the end of Athena’s relationship? She went to him and took both of his ichor-cold hands in hers.
“Afraid? I’m not afraid.” But his façade was paper thin, and knowing she could see right through it, he let it fall, followed by a single tear. “I’m terrified,” he said, squeezing her hands. “I don’t want to fail you.” Another tear spilled down his cheek. “I don’t want to fail the world. What if I cannot be swayed?”
Chloe smiled, once again remembering Orpheus’s face and the simple words that had proven so powerful. “You mustn’t lose faith,” she whispered. “Duna wouldn’t have sent Carya to deliver the message if this wasn’t possible. We just have to believe it.”
Hermes smiled softly, his boyishness returning as the deep creases in his forehead faded. “I dare say your faith is even greater than your doma, Chloe. I suppose I have to remember that we must place our faith not in ourselves, but in the one who calls us to do the impossible.”
“Duna’s helped us do the impossible before. There’s no sense backing down from a fight now.” She realized she was encouraging herself as much as her friend.
“Chloe!”
She looked up at the back porch to see Ethan’s shadowy figure running down the stairs. “Ethan, this is Athena, goddess of war,” she said hastily. “Athena, goddess of war, this is Ethan.”
“The jars just got stolen,” Ethan said, without giving Athena so much as a glance.
It seemed that seeing a fully armed immortal in the flesh just wasn’t as cool as it used to be. Chloe waited for him to expound, but Damian did it for him.
“The jars your mom was keeping?”
“Some Asher got in our heads, said he’d kill my mom if she didn’t give him the suitcase.”
Those jars… “Hector.” The word had barely left Chloe’s lips when Athena bolted up into the air, her dress fluttering in a self-generated wind.
“I must go back. There is little time. Farewell, Ashers.” She inclined her head to Hermes as she put on her helmet. “Brother, I hope that when we meet again it’s above this realm and not chained together below it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
PROOF
Now what?” Hector sat beneath a copse of pomegranate trees, watching Ares approach from the gods’ temporary banquet hall in the valley.
Ares threw him a piece of roasted meat. “Hungry?”
“You guys eat meat?”
Ares look disgusted. “Of course not. But I know you barbarians do. This was from a sacrifice made tonight.”
Hector’s stomach growled as he stared down at the meat, which he assumed was lamb’s leg. It was wrapped in a layer of glistening fat and smelled of garlic and rosemary.
“No hecatombs yet, but they’ll come.” Ares laughed. “You’ll never have an appetite while you’re here, that much is certain.”
Hector bit into the leg, ripping the meat off the bone. He swallowed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Is Zeus done with me now? I did what he asked.”
“Obtaining the relics was the first thing Zeus commanded, not asked. You forget that it’s not the only thing he requires of you.” Ares tugged on a branch until one of its leaves dripped then flowed with a wine-red liquid. He stood under it, waiting patiently as the trickle grew to a steady flow before drinking his fill.
Hector rose and tried the same, but the leaves and fruit only shook. He leaned against the trunk and folded his arms, suddenly feeling like Tantalus, for whom water was tortuously out of reach. Perhaps this was a warning that he would share a similar fate if he failed to follow orders.
“One of your ancestors, a woman, could bring water from anything,” said Ares.
“So what?”
Ares pursed his lips and pushed his finger against them, as if to keep his tongue restrained. It was all the reminder Hector needed to keep his attitude in check. “So, you have the dýnami, don’t you?”
Hector patted the zippered pouch in his jacket where he kept it, then closed his eyes and concentrated, just as he had when he’d accessed the telepathy in the museum. When he felt drops of water splash onto his nose and forehead, he opened his eyes and drank.
“Don’t act so sullen,” said Ares, as he tugged on another limb. “You’re the most powerful Asher Petros has ever known. I admit that I’m already a bit envious of you.”
Hector raised a dubious eyebrow. “Yeah, right.”
“Do you mean that phrase sarcastically?”
Hector squinted as he brought his thumb and forefinger together, leaving just a centimeter of space between them. “Just a tad.”
“It’s true. You’re powerful, not terribly unattractive, and have the lusty eye of Aphrodite upon you. Do you wonder why you weren’t invited to dine with us this evening?”
“Not really,” said Hector. “I ran away from Zeus, remember? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t keep company with deserters.”
“All of us have turned our backs on Zeus at one point or another. The reason is Hephaestus’s own jealousy. The poor fool thinks he can somehow control his wife’s fidelity.” Ares tossed his head like a horse as he laughed. “You can no easier tame a woman’s heart than you can tame the storms of Zeus.”
Hector’s chest got warm as he envisioned Aphrodite’s emerald eyes smiling at him. “Well, you can tell Hephaestus I’m not interested in stealing his wife.”
“Ah, but that won’t keep her from stealing you.” Ares grinned at Hector’s red, embarrassed face.
“Can we talk about something else now, like what Zeus has commanded me to do next?”
Ares’ grin flattened into a solemn line as he pulled his mantle higher onto his shoulders. “There’s something you don’t yet know about the dýnami. If you wish yourself and your mother to live, you must accept it.”
Hector’s muscles tensed as he waited for Ares’ next sentence. His father’s fate was already sealed. Every Asher was doomed to die, and he was being forced to play a part. How much worse could things get?
“The dýnami can only retain the Ashers’ domas once they’re dead,” Ares said, as a bitter wind rustled the leaves. “This is why your invisibility wore off after such a short time.”
Hector slumped against the tree and slid halfway to the ground. The world was spinning around him. Now he knew why the Ashers’ deaths were so important to Zeus. It meant Zeus would have access to all their domas by virtue of the tiny, hell-born device resting in Hector’s pocket. Zeus would become an unstoppable tyrant, and humanity would have no choice but to submit to him.
“Zeus wants me to kill my own family?” Hector’s stomach tightened a little more with every word. He could feel the lamb burning up his esophagus. He threw up in a pile of musty leaves.
Ares walked toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. “No. It’s abominable to the gods to murder one’s own flesh and blood. But exceptions must be made when a goddess even Zeus bows down to calls for them.”
Hector’s heaving abated and he pushed himself back against the tree. He stared into the canopy above his head. A few seconds later, fresh water flowed out as though from a faucet, and he drank and splashed his
face. “What goddess?”
“Necessity. Incorporeal, yet no less potent than the strong wills of us immortals.”
“What is the exception?”
Ares reached down and yanked Hector up as though he was feather-light. “The proper question is who is the exception.”
“How’s your mom doing?” Chloe asked. “I mean, aside from the whole traumatic-getting-blindfolded-and-tied up-and-forced-to-hand-over-primeval-relics thing.” It was well after midnight, and she could feel a hint of deliriousness setting in, influencing her to say and ask things before she’d thought them through.
“She’s fine,” said Ethan. “Just a little shaken up, you know.”
It was odd to see him sitting so far away from her, all the way across the room in the loveseat, while she sat at her desk. After their first kiss back in Ourania, they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other. Now, they were arranged like psychiatrist and patient. “I haven’t seen my dad yet. Who knows how he’s taking it.”
Chloe suppressed the negative thoughts about his father that rushed immediately to her mind. She’d convinced herself that after more time had passed, she’d be grateful he was alive and forget everything about the old timeline, including his betrayal. “That’s good. I hope she knows she did the right thing.”
“You think we did?”
Chloe paused, turning the question over in her mind. Was Ethan asking if she thought he and his mom had done the right thing at the museum earlier, or was he asking if she thought the two of them had done the right thing in breaking up? She reminded herself that she was the one who had broken up with him. Don’t read too much into it.
“Of course. You can’t take threats from those guys too lightly.” She started chewing on her pinky’s fingernail.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
He leaned back, alternately staring at her face and her hand. “I can always tell when you’re deep in thought because you start biting your nails.”