by Diana Tyler
There was a knock at the window, and Hermes materialized outside seconds later, before floating through the glass. He stood beside Hermogenes, doffed his cap and nodded hello to everyone. “The Ashers didn’t change anything, sister. They merely told the truth.”
Athena pouted and crossed her arms. Chloe thought she looked somewhat human for the first time.
“And if you didn’t believe that in your heart,” Hermes said, “I doubt very much you would be standing here now.”
“You know why I’m here, Hermes,” Athena said.
Chloe’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Athena and Straton exchange a simple glance. In that split second she could see, and nearly feel, their love for one another, a love that had survived untold years of separation, a love for which Athena had betrayed her family and flown to Tartarus to restore.
A tear slid down Chloe’s cheek. It didn’t seem fair that Athena and Straton, a rebel spirit and a rebel Asher, could be reunited while she and Ethan, both heroes in the world’s eyes, had been torn apart just as their love was budding. But she’d seen too much to question the All-Powerful. She knew Ethan would tell her the same thing if he were standing here: Trust, Chloe. Don’t lose your faith. You’ve come too far.
“So how do we get the jars back?” Hector asked.
“A good question.” The councilman swiveled in his seat and looked at Hermes, waiting.
“Simple,” said Hermes. “You obey what has already been laid out for you to do, thereby eliminating the War from history, and with it, the need for Ashers, and the Moonbow and its relics.”
If Hermes had feared the plan before, he didn’t appear to now. He had the bearing of a seasoned commander before his troops, ready to lead them courageously into battle. Except that now he was not only their commander, but the enemy as well. After all, it would be Hermes they would have to defeat behind heaven’s gates.
Chloe’s stomach lurched as a swarm of butterflies stirred inside it and flapped their wings all at once. “We go to heaven, then.” She realized she’d been subconsciously hoping that a second, less terrifying plan would have taken shape by now. Or, even better, that the Titans and Olympians would decamp from Xirolakos and head north to the icy hinterlands, never to be heard of again.
“Yes, and soon,” said Hermogenes. “Before the jars are destroyed and our domas are, too.”
Chloe’s eyes caught a flash of red at the window. It looked like the edge of a garment, maybe a blanket, rippling like a flag in the wind. It inched left, and now she could see that it was a crimson cloak. “Get away from the window,” she shouted.
Hermes turned to the window to see Ares hovering in the fading mists of a cloud. Even with his helmet covering his face, Ares’ fierce eyes were burning like cinders as he glowered through the window at them. He raised his spear and, holding it like a baseball bat, swung it against the glass. It shattered instantly, ushering into the room the crisp smell of autumn and the bone-biting chill of his presence.
Slowly, he pulled off his helmet and set it on the windowsill behind him. He stood still, too still.
Chloe’s hand flew to her mouth when she saw his face. His left eye was swollen shut, covered by a purple bruise that ran from his brow bone to the top of his cheek. His nose was twisted and twice its normal size. Dried blood was caked around his nostrils. The entire right side of his neck was burned black, with bits of the muscle exposed. His hands were no different, save for the greenish discharge oozing from them.
“Traitor,” he growled, lifting his glassy eye to Athena and gesturing to his face. “This is what you have to look forward to. This, and much, much worse.” He spun around to Chloe. “Say your goodbyes, lass.” Then he jerked his chin at Hector, but did not look at him. “You too, you miserable pile of buzzard dung.”
As Ares’ hand went to unsheathe his sword, Hector’s hand shot out, pinning the war god in place. The sword ripped out of the scabbard and flew with a smack into Hector’s grip. Ares grunted as he took the spear and twisted back, eager to sink it into Hector’s heart. But Hermes was too fast. With a swift stroke of his wand, he knocked the spear free then sent it soaring out the window, where an owl swooped down and snatched it with its talons before taking off again.
Athena grinned at her owl as it hooted, then she, too, joined the fray, pushing her shield toward Ares, helping Hector hold him in place as the war god thrashed and growled, his wounds already starting to heal.
“Go ahead,” Ares roared. “Don’t just hold that sword, you coward, kill me with it.”
The walls shook as a thundercloud blackened and boomed, gathering mass and gaining speed as it rolled across the sky. A jagged lightning bolt tore out of its center and stabbed the center of the city. Dozens more bolts sheeted the sky, veining the swirl of clouds with electric shades of yellow and red.
The councilman clutched Hermes’ arm. His wrinkled face blanched bright white as sheer terror overcame him. “It’s Zeus. Ares has led him to us.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
HEAVEN
Your telekinesis might hold me,” Ares said, no longer trying to resist the joined powers of Athena and Hector, “but nothing can restrain cloud-gathering Zeus.”
Lydia and Eione burst through the door, their hair and clothes sopping wet.
“Welcome to the party,” said Ares, grimacing.
There was a peal of thunder and a gust of wind blew through the broken window, causing the papers on the councilman’s desk to scatter like leaves. In moments, a storm was raging.
Eione ran to Athena and sank against the bookshelf, pressing her hands to her ears and crying.
“Chloe!”
Chloe’s eyes watered as she strained to look at Hector through the onslaught of wind and slicing rain.
“Here!” he shouted, then threw her the dýnami while his other arm remained outstretched, ensuring that Ares stayed put.
She shoved the chip deep inside her pocket then took Lydia by the hand. “Everything’s going to be all right,” she yelled above the claps of thunder.
Lydia smiled as best she could, though her eyes were pooled with fear. She moved her lips to speak, but they were quivering uncontrollably and she could not form the words.
The councilman leaned over and turned up the volume on the stereo. He closed his eyes and bowed his head in prayer as the piano music played sweetly amid the chaos of the storm.
Chloe concentrated on the tranquil notes as she slipped out into the hallway. Quieting her thoughts to focus on a time and place she couldn’t even begin to fathom, she felt a hand touch her arm. She spun around.
“I’m glad I found you,” Damian said, dripping with rainwater from head to toe.
Chloe threw her arms around his neck. “Thank Duna. How did you find me?”
Damian bent down, pulled off his sneakers and dumped water onto the floor. “When I saw the sky get crazy, I had a feeling it was a little more serious than a thunderstorm. I texted Mom, and she told me you were here. Luckily, I was just down the street in class and came over.” He touched her awkwardly on the side of her arm. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Damian, we don’t have a plan,” she said.
Damian sighed and scratched his nose. “We don’t really have a choice, either.”
The music was breathtaking. At first, Chloe feared her doma hadn’t worked and all she could hear was the stereo. But this wasn’t piano music; in fact, the music was far different from anything she’d ever heard before. It could hardly even be classified as music, but rather as some combination of nature’s most rapturous sounds, or the harmony of history’s best symphonies coalescing into something altogether new, altogether amazing. It caused her heart to race and her breath to slow all at once. She could listen, and wanted to listen, forever.
“You did it,” Damian whispered. “We’re in heaven.”
Unable to wait for the remnants of the wormhole to disappear, he jumped out of it, leaving a hole in the gaseous matter into which golden light
spilled and spread, swallowing up the tunnel, inch by shadowy inch. “There’s no time in heaven, right?”
“I don’t think so.”
Damian flipped over his wrist to check his watch. “Yep, it’s stopped. So technically that means my doma should last indefinitely.”
“Let’s not push our luck. The faster we can get this done, the better.”
It took a full minute for Chloe’s eyes to adjust to the glowing world around her. She and Damian were standing in front of massive gates, made of pearl, just as Nereus had described. From either side of them extended walls inlaid with giant gemstones that shone with the brilliance of the sun. She could only name one of them: jasper, jasper like the stone from Iris that she kept hanging around her neck.
Then Chloe suddenly remembered that Iris and her brother Jasper hadn’t been born yet, and wouldn’t be for centuries. In fact, there were no mortals in existence. Petros was just another planet, spinning for no other reason than to make that beautiful, soul-gripping music.
“Chloe, look.” Damian pointed at the ground beneath their feet. It was golden and transparent, and the streets stretched into the distance for unending miles. “The streets really are made of gold.” He meandered off the street onto a lush sward of grass, the blades of which danced and bobbed to the rhythm of the song sweeping around them like a breeze.
Chloe followed him up the slope to a tree, the only one she could see; it had slender, light-green branches that formed a broad, dome-shaped crown. Around the tree was a smattering of small oval leaves, finely toothed on the edges and shimmering with a soft opalescence. The leaves were there, Chloe knew, not because they were dead, but because they wanted to be noticed.
Stepping back a bit, Chloe saw that the leaves were in the shape of an elegant spiral that worked its way outward, encircling the entire knoll. She bent down and carefully picked one up. It smelled sweet and warm, like cedar and sandalwood, and it chimed with a music all its own.
I want to stay here, Chloe thought. I don’t want to go home.
But as her eyes caught sight of a sea of flowers just downslope from the tree, shining with all the colors of the rainbow plus a thousand more, she felt her heart sink. The only thing that could make this place more beautiful was being here with her family, and with Ethan. Then she reminded herself that no matter what happened, they would all end up here, safe behind the majesty of heaven’s walls, surrounded by nature in its purest, most glorious form, never again fearing the rebel spirits, the threat of sickness, or the sting of death. It gave her hope, and that was enough.
“It’s hard to believe the rebel spirits would rebel against this,” said Damian, his eyes sweeping over the wild waves of petals, tendrils, and flowing vines.
“I was thinking the same thing.” Chloe looked down and saw that she was still holding the leaf. She held it up by the stem, and then let it go, but it hovered in the air, unwilling to return to its place in the spiral. “Go, little leaf. Be free.” She smiled and turned it in the right direction, but it circled back and floated in front of her face. The music emanating from the leaf stopped abruptly, and its aroma changed. Now it smelled like lavender, and lemon…
“Carya?”
The leaf gave a girlish giggle as it lengthened and shaped itself into Carya’s slim silhouette.
“Carya, do you know who we are?”
“Within these walls there is no time—time is a dimension made for man,
I know you, Vessel, sister and brother, as I know well the plan.
It is Hermes of the golden wand you must find and turn to reason,
With the powers that you now possess, you can change the course of treason.
Seek him in the lilac hills, bedecked with crocus flowers,
You will see him with his fleecy flocks in the quiet twilight hours.”
As was her style, the messenger vanished faster than she’d appeared, and the leaf, resuming its melody, flitted away, back to its place beneath the branches.
“Did she say ‘change the course of treason’?” Damian asked.
“Yeah, she did.”
Chloe looked up at the sky. She’d seen her fair share of pretty clouds before, but these… There was no word to describe them. They looked like living things, moving and playing in the cobalt vault of heaven. Some were small, tiny puffs dappling a section of the sky as they twirled merrily in circles, while others billowed like thunderheads, backlit by the light that imbued everything. The colorful castles reminded Chloe of the nebulas she’d seen that day—or was it night—with Orpheus. She was tempted to use the dýnami that second and fly to one of them, to see if there were rooms inside and golden floors of glass.
“I thought we were here to prevent the treason part, not redirect it,” Damian said. “Didn’t Carya say the rebellion would die?”
Chloe made herself look away from the clouds, but it didn’t matter where she looked; her imagination was stimulated even by the ruby-winged ladybugs crawling on the grass. “Maybe she meant that what matters is keeping the rebellion away from Petros. Or maybe she just ran out of rhymes.”
Damian laughed and pointed at her jeans pocket. “Do you have any idea what that thingamajig can do?”
Chloe pressed a finger to her lips as she thought. “Steal identities…move objects with thought… I know it can do more, but unfortunately it didn’t come with a manual so we can find out.”
Damian’s eyes went wide. She couldn’t tell if he was excited or terrified. “Chloe, that’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“Stealing identities. We can make ourselves look like Apollo and Zeus, and convince Hermes that the coup is off.”
“And what happens when he sees the real Apollo and Zeus, and learns that two imposters just pulled one over on him?”
It was a rhetorical question, but even so Damian considered it. He threw up his hands. “Guess it wouldn’t work.”
“At least there are no Cyclopes here, right?” Chloe was grateful when Damian laughed.
“Yeah, and on another bright side, if we get killed we won’t have far to go.” He sighed and looked out into the distance, where a range of mountains cut into the hazy orange horizon. “You think the hills she was talking about are out there?” He turned toward the west, or what he assumed was west; without a sun or stars, there was no way to know. There were mountains that way, too, as well as in the east and south.
“Wish we had a telescope,” Chloe said. Damian turned to her, and she knew in a second what he was thinking. She pulled out the dýnami and handed it to him. “Want to give it a shot?”
“Hey,” he said, flipping up his palms and taking a step back, “there’s a reason you’ve got that thing and not me.”
Chloe laughed. “What, are you afraid it’s going to rip out your eyeballs or something?” She swung the dýnami back and forth. “You’re not scared of a little microchip, are you?”
“Give me that,” he said, snatching it from her. “I’m not scared.” He closed his eyes and squeezed them tightly as he shook his head from side to side. “Geez, that hurts.” His eyelids flew open, revealing huge black pupils ringed by tiny arcs of blue. “Whoa.”
“What do you see?”
“What don’t I see is a better question.” He was smiling like a fool, mouth agape as he looked up at the seahorse-shaped cloud swimming overhead. He turned to Chloe and frowned. “Your pores are ginormous.”
Chloe rolled her eyes and pointed at the mountains. “What do you see over there? Any sign of Hermes or his fleecy flocks?”
Damian shook his head, and panned right, then left, probing the area like a rover camera scanning for life on Mars. “There,” he said, pointing to a jagged blue-gray line of mountains splashed like sea foam across the sky, “purple flowers.” Then he grinned mischievously, and started jumping and flapping his arms like a featherless chicken trying to warm itself.
“Damian, give me the dýnami. It’s obviously sucking out your brain cells.” Chloe was getting tired jus
t watching him.
“Straton could fly,” he said, in between jumps. “I remember reading that in one of my history books.” After his next jump, he didn’t come back down again. “Chloe, look!” He slowly lowered his arms and kicked his feet, then spun around in circles. He stretched his neck toward the sky and took off toward the mountains. He didn’t even have to flap.
She watched him shrink to the size of a bird, then a speck, until finally he disappeared, lost in the city of pink, palatial clouds. Let him get it out of his system, she thought. In the meantime, she would try to think of a way to get through to Hermes.
“What’s your name?”
Chloe wheeled around to see a man with white-blond hair standing under the tree. His striking blue eyes shone like sapphires through the shade.
“Chloe,” she said. What good would it do to lie? No one knew her here.
“Chloe.” He smiled with amusement, as if the name was fun for him to say. “Your name means young green shoot. Are you a Titaness?” He stepped toward her. His chiseled chest and shoulder muscles were visible under the sheer linen of his tunic. Around his waist was a golden belt; Chloe felt fortunate there were no swords affixed to it.
She was aware that he knew the answer to his question. She was probably the most repulsive thing he’d ever laid eyes on, the farthest thing from a Titaness. “No, I’m a young spirit, a green shoot, like you said.”
Her answer seemed to satisfy him. He came closer, studying her like a rare, exotic animal. Chloe tried not to study him back, although his glowing skin, as smooth as marble, was proving irresistible. She felt herself blush as he looked her up and down.
“You have warm blood.” He touched her wrist and lightly skimmed it with his cold fingertips. “I could feel its heat from where I was standing.” He turned his ear toward her, and lowered his head a few inches until it was level with her heart. “And a heart that beats, as loud as a drum. How fascinating.” He straightened again and extended his hand. “I am Apollo, spirit of light and truth.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Has the All-Powerful revealed to you what your aptitudes are?”