The Petros Chronicles Boxset

by Diana Tyler

  Eione drew up from him and stared into the bottomless pools of his eyes. “Was it not, Father?” She took his hand and brought it to her cheek. “You’re free now. You are home. How is the reuniting of a father to his family in any way unrighteous?”

  “Sweet Eione,” he whispered, “I take responsibility for this.” He removed his hand and turned his face toward the wall of basalt columns that were formed by the same lava of Tartarus he’d been chained beside for centuries. “I thought I was doing right to shield you and your sisters from the ways of the Olympians. This…” He spread his arms and lifted his head to the ceiling, now awash with yellow shafts of sunlight. “This sanctuary, and all the secret hiding places below, were meant to shelter you from harm.”

  “And they did,” Eione exclaimed. “Because of your wisdom and foresight, we were safe. We are safe.”

  Nereus jerked his head back to her as fish scales, vein-blue and golden, dappled his face and neck. “You are wrong.” The rumbling words of the sea god shook the stalactites above them and caused the grains of sand beneath their feet to jump like fleas. “The safety Poseidon assured you of, the castle he created for you, is all an illusion, Eione. A bedtime story to soothe and appease your childish heart.”

  “You sound just like Hermes,” Eione mumbled, remembering the day she’d met Hermes at Hades’ gates, the day he’d tried to stop her, warn her.

  “Aye,” her father replied. “Hermes is the better of us all.”

  Eione shuddered as a breeze, either real or imagined, swept around her. “Tell me plainly, Father. What is happening on Olympus now that the most powerful among the immortals have been liberated?”

  “I haven’t been made privy to that answer, for we lesser spirits are debarred from their assemblies. I only know that they still belong in Tartarus.”

  Eione choked back her salty tears. “And you would be willing to remain there, suffering unjustly for all eternity?”

  The ground quaked as Nereus took a step toward her, the iridescent scales of his face flickering in earnest. “What is unjust, dear child, is the suffering of innocent mortals made to contend with the greedy gods’ cruelty and caprice.”

  “I might know what your crazy uncles are up to.”

  Eione’s spine stiffened as the voice echoed from wall to wall.

  “Over here, Madame Mermaid.”

  The sea nymph growled and spun toward the mouth of the cave, where four people were standing. The two on the left were dressed in the manner of the ancients, while the other two were arrayed in denim trousers called jeans, and short hooded capes called jackets. It was these two she recognized.

  “Eione, do you know these people?” Nereus asked, his right hand raised, ready to rip a stalagmite from the floor and smite them if she called them foe. “She speaks in a barbaric tongue.”

  “She speaks the modern language, Petrodian.” Eione frowned. She hated to admit the girl had done nothing to deserve Nereus’s wrath. “Her name is Chloe,” she said, “and she is an Asher who can travel through time. The boy beside her is her lover, Ethan. The other two are strangers to me.”

  “He is not my lover,” Chloe said in Próta, though her crude accent was barely intelligible.

  The boy’s cheeks were as red as yew berries.

  Eione rolled her eyes as the two separated from one another. The pair behind them huddled closer. It was then the sea nymph saw it: the golden lyre hanging from the strange man’s side. He was no stranger at all.

  “Orpheus!” Nereus called out, the scales on his face disappearing as he effervesced over the unexpected visitor.

  The poet nodded, and with his wife’s hand still in his, came near to Nereus and genuflected on the cold cave floor. “My lord. I wish I could say how I find myself here in your august presence. Eurydice and I are convinced we are dreaming the same outlandish fantasy.”

  “It is no dream,” Eione said, bowing her head in respect for the famed musician. The modern world had long forgotten his songs, but she and all her sisters still remembered. They often hummed and sang their tunes together, sometimes so well that the fish and dolphins followed them closely to listen. “The Asher went back in time to retrieve you, a clever idea sprouted from Hermes’ head, I’m certain.”

  “They saved our lives,” said Eurydice. “Apollo sent his raven to drop vipers at our feet. If not for their warning, one, or both, of us would be dead.”

  Ethan took Chloe’s hand and led her out of the cave, leaving this unforeseen conference all the more uncomfortable.

  “Orpheus, it seems you’re now indebted to the Asher,” said Nereus. “Your story, as history records it, is by no means a happy one.”

  The poet pulled his wife closer. “What do you mean?”

  “Eurydice is killed by a viper,” Nereus said. “Or she would have been had not those two tampered with time.”

  The sea nymph suddenly felt five years old again, sitting at her eldest sister’s knees, hearing the tragic tale of Orpheus and Eurydice for the very first time. The story of their love—his music and charm, her beauty and voice, their carefree days in bowery woods Eione had only dreamt of—had captivated her heart. And the story of their separation—the viper’s fatal bite, Orpheus’s agony, and his valorous attempt to free her from Hades—had torn her tender soul in two. She hadn’t slept for days after that. She just wept and whimpered poignant notes from an Orphic lullaby.

  Eione trembled. An icy tear curved down her cheek and kissed the hollow of her throat. “The Fates have been kind to you,” she whispered, wiping away the tear.

  “And to you, King Nereus,” said Orpheus, his own eyes misty with relief. “How did you escape Tartarus?”

  “We have a similar question for you,” Chloe said, as she reentered the cave.

  “Orpheus, would you be up for a trip to heaven?” said Ethan behind her.

  Orpheus thought the boy’s accent was far better than the Asher’s. He laughed. “You must be mistaken, my friend. I am a mortal just as you are. When I die, my soul shall be ferried across the Styx to Hades’ gates. Besides,” he said, kissing Eurydice softly on her temple, “I have all the heaven I need in this woman beside me.”

  “You really do talk like that, huh,” said Ethan.

  Chloe nudged him and asked in Petrodian, “What’d he say?”

  “Nothing,” Ethan replied. “He said he can’t go to heaven because he’s mortal.”

  “What’s this all about?” asked Nereus. “While I’m pleased to see Orpheus and his bride on this side of the Styx, I cannot deny that I’m somewhat mystified.” He turned to Eione, who was now wishing she could shapeshift, too, and turn herself into a hermit crab. “Daughter, speak truthfully. Could Orpheus’s good fortune be associated somehow with the dýnami?”

  Eione blinked her eyes slowly as she drew a deep breath without replying. His questions were always rhetorical, answered soundly in his own mind before they spilled fluently off his tongue.

  “Or,” he continued, “does our friend truly have the fickle Fates to thank for his fair bride’s life?”

  Chloe leaned over and whispered into Ethan’s ear.

  “Do either of you have any idea what the dýnami is capable of?” Ethan asked.

  Chloe whispered another message for him to interpret, then another, and another.

  “Chloe’s cousin, a young man named Hector,” Ethan said, “we think he was abducted a few nights ago and taken to Zeus. He has the dýnami with orders to use it to kill the Ashers.” He took a breath as he looked, with love, upon Chloe. “He almost killed her a few hours ago.”

  Eurydice clutched Orpheus’s arm. “My love, what evil nightmare have we awoken to?”

  “I wish it were a nightmare,” Orpheus said. “It seems you and I were never destined for a life of poems and Elysian Fields.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  RETRIBUTION

  Eione watched Ethan’s eyes jump back and forth between herself and Nereus. “Do either of you have any idea why Chloe�
�s first on his…” Ethan pondered a moment, but the next part he spoke in Petrodian. “Hit list?”

  “You mean why does Zeus want her dead more than anyone else,” said Eione, clarifying Ethan’s meaning for her father.

  Ethan nodded, and then hesitantly translated her words to Chloe.

  Nereus combed the wispy ends of his beard as he eyed the Asher, pity deepening the weary circles beneath his eyes. “Because she’s the only one who can stop him.”

  He went to Chloe and took her hands in his as he knelt, like a suppliant pleading before royalty. “You must stop him, Chloe. Not just for the sake of the Ashers, and certainly not for the selfish immortals, but for those who are altogether powerless.” He closed his eyes, his face freezing in thought, like the immortalized marble head of a philosopher, forever contemplating the meaning of life.

  “Are you all right?” Chloe asked, her hands numb under the sea god’s.

  Nereus flinched and dropped her hands. “The premonition is as I feared.” He pivoted back to Eione, his blanched skin the color of a moon snail. “Every Asher dead, every mortal forced to worship the pantheon, and the name of Duna left to legend.”

  “Sounds a whole lot like what happened two thousand years ago,” said Ethan. “Well, what almost happened two thousand years ago.”

  “And what was that?” Nereus asked. “Forgive my ignorance, but we imprisoned spirits heard little of humanity while bound below in Tartarus.”

  Eione gazed at the Asher. There was nothing remarkable about her, no beauty, impressive raiment, or outward sign of strength. And yet it had been she who had defeated Mania all those years ago, although the sea nymph had never learned how.

  “I shall inform you, Father,” said Eione. “But at a later time, when we can sup together and discuss for hours the trifling affairs of men. But now I must make a proposition.”

  Chloe raised both her hands. “Wait, wait, wait. Can you please speak Petrodian or at least slow down a little? Próta obviously wasn’t my forte in school.”

  Orpheus grimaced at the strange language spewing from the Asher’s mouth. “King Nereus, is there something to be done about the foul-sounding tongue of this maiden?”

  Everyone laughed—except Chloe, who hadn’t understood the insult.

  “Perhaps.” Nereus knelt and collected a handful of sand, then scattered it into the air. The grains dispersed in all directions, howling like a harpy as they circled and swirled in a snowy-white blur. His lips were moving; forming an incantation only the laws of nature could hear. Everyone else pressed their palms to their ears to dampen the piercing din.

  Orpheus was raising his lyre to lull the sea god to sleep when the sands stopped spinning and collapsed to the ground.

  Eurydice rubbed her temple. “I think I would’ve preferred a viper bite to that ungodly ruckus.”

  “I understood that.” Chloe pointed excitedly at Nereus. “You did the thing.”

  “What thing?” Orpheus said in response to her nonsense, returning the plectrum to the leather satchel at his waist.

  “The translation-spell thing, like Carya did for us.” Chloe turned to Ethan, who nodded slowly.

  “You realize my father is a god, don’t you, Asher?” Eione said to Chloe, unwilling to curb her condescension. “His powers, unlike yours, are not limited to one doma.”

  Like a deflating sail, the enthusiasm drained from Chloe’s face. “At the risk of offending you and your highness, Nereus isn’t a god.”

  Orpheus and Eurydice exchanged glances and took a wary step away, wisely expecting Nereus to retaliate with magic far more painful than the bewitching sand.

  But Nereus didn’t retaliate. To Eione’s surprise, he gazed with respect at the Asher, as if she were Queen Hera or even Zeus himself. “It’s often difficult to determine whether one is being senseless or brave when they speak so boldly before their betters.”

  “Can one be both?” Chloe asked.

  Nereus smiled. “Perhaps you are a discerning soul, Chloe, as am I, and therefore perceive that I am not your enemy. Nor do I disagree with your assertion regarding my deity, or lack thereof.”

  Eione’s heart pounded. She dug her nails into her palms. What had happened to her father in the pit? He had always been conciliatory, but now it seemed he lacked a single shred of self-respect. He had divine blood in his veins. He was as immortal as the sun, as mysterious as the moon, able to take on a thousand creatures’ forms—in a single hour, if he chose. What else was he if not a deity, to be feared, to be worshipped?

  “I am a rebel spirit,” Nereus said. “An enemy of the All-Powerful. My own folly is in part to blame for the curse of Petros.”

  “What curse?” Ethan asked.

  “The curse of war,” said Nereus brusquely. “The curse of irrepressible pride and avarice, both of which drive men to destroy each other and spirits to vie for power.”

  Eione squinted as the sun’s glare reflected off the rose-colored flowstone, illuminating the cave with a soft, celestial glow. “Why did you come here, Asher, knowing full well that I’m the one who instigated this crisis to begin with?”

  Chloe’s eyes skimmed the sand as she twisted her mouth to one side. “I wish I could say I had it all planned out. But when those vipers were coming after us, one right after another, all I could do was think of a place where I thought we’d be safe.” She looked around the cave, at the spear-like stalagmites twisting up from the floor, the cave crystals sprouting from the ceiling, and the stone waterfalls cascading down the walls. “I prayed that Duna would send me to a good one, and he sent me here.”

  Eione’s head throbbed as a stabbing pain shot through her body, disorienting her thoughts, upsetting her balance. She stumbled forward, brushing Eurydice’s robe as she made her way out into the open air.

  “This is my fault,” she groaned, clutching her chest as she splashed into the water. She looked up at her father through bleary, tear-filled eyes. “I wanted to help you, Father. I wanted to save you.” Sensing the Asher’s pitying eyes on her, she thrashed her arms and got to her feet. “But I suppose it’s you who must do the saving, isn’t it, Asher? Perhaps you’re the noble daughter my father never had.”

  Then she dived down into the turquoise waves, arms reaching for the depths the splendid sun could not see.

  Hector tiptoed up the front walk and entered his house as quietly as he could. He knew Ares would track him down at any moment, if he hadn’t already. But he had to warn his parents.

  “Mom? Dad?”

  The house was silent. Usually Poseidon barked at the slightest noise, but the dog didn’t make a peep. Hector crossed the living room and ducked his head into his parents’ bedroom. He opened the blinds to peek outside, but the porch and backyard were dark. Where were they? Did Ares bind and hide them somewhere, just as he’d done with Lydia?

  “Ares?” he shouted, then frantically ran up and down the hallway, searching every corner and room, even the water-heater closet. And then he heard the garage door opening, followed by the sound of his dad’s truck pulling in.

  Hector rushed into the garage, his heart feeling like it might explode as he waited for his parents to get out of the vehicle. But instead of looking happy to see him, they looked perplexed, almost afraid.

  “What’s wrong?” Charissa asked, her face etched with hard, distressed lines. “Have you heard from Hector?”

  Poseidon leaped down from her lap and ran to Hector, wagging his tail as he jumped up onto his shins. Hector crouched down to let the dog lick his face.

  “It’s me, Mom,” he said, standing up. He looked at his father, whose knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. “Dad, I swear.” Then he stood, closed his eyes, concentrating as hard as he could until he felt his bones and muscles burn and vibrate, reconfiguring themselves back to their original form.

  His mother screamed.

  When the metamorphosis was over, Philip killed the ignition and got out of the car. “Your doma?” he asked. Hector nodded
. “Where have you been, son?”

  “This is going to sound crazy,” Hector said, “but you have to believe me. You have to—” His heart stopped as he saw a gray-blue cloud drift down from the sky and land in the middle of the driveway. “Get inside!” He opened the door and waved his family inside.

  Poseidon scampered outside, barking at the top of his lungs.

  “Poseidon!” Hector shouted. “Get back here!”

  But the terrier never listened at the best of times, and especially not when there was something to chase or inspect. He dashed toward the cloud, then stopped a few feet away and tucked his tail between his legs, his aggression turning instantly to submission.

  “Poseidon!”

  The dog darted back toward Hector and hid behind his legs, barking once again. Hector picked him up, stepped inside the house and locked the door behind him. “Call the police!” he shouted to his parents.

  “Hector, what in Zeus’ name is going on?” Charissa said.

  Philip tapped the cell phone in his hand. “Police now, honey, questions later.”

  Before she could begin dialing, the air in the room turned frigid. Poseidon’s tail stiffened as he raised a paw, eyes fixed on the fireplace.

  Ares was inside the house with them.

  “Don’t hurt them,” Hector yelled.

  The bronze and gold of Ares’ armor glimmered as he materialized before them. He held a short sword in one hand, his eight-foot spear in the other.

  “How foolish you are,” he said, his eyes unseen behind the narrow slits of his helmet. “This is the second time you’ve turned your back on Zeus.” Then, with unthinkable speed, he lunged forward, thrusting the spear tip into Philip’s chest. “And it’s the last time.” He pulled out the spear, slick red blood dripping onto the spotless beige carpet.

  Poseidon whimpered and went to Philip, licking his master’s sputtering lips as he struggled to speak.