by Carmen Kern
Hecate pushed up against him, reaching for a patch of moss growing from the slimy surface. With her black nails, she peeled off a section of green, rolling it back like a thin rug. Underneath was a keyhole, and a dull blue light spilled through the opening. “Thought I saw something,” she said, wiping her hands off on her coat again.
Persephone reached around Hecate, shoved the key in the hole, and turned it.
Another round of banging started up. This time louder, closer. Gears and wheels turned and ground against each other, slotting neatly inside each notch until there was a final click and the door lock released. Steam shot out from a rectangular crack that opened wider, sliding into a hidden panel. They all took a step back, bumping into each other and looking out onto an elevator car swinging over a bottomless cavern. The metal cage rattled as it gently hit the shaft wall.
“Phobetor failed to mention that the elevator was a steampunk version of a birdcage that dangled over the precipice of a bottomless pit.” Bob walked to the edge of the platform and looked up into the elevator shaft chiseled out of a rock wall. “It’s literally hanging by a chain and a hook.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure, Bob? Didn’t you say you love zip-lining?” Persephone asked.
“Sure, when I’m hooked in and have safety brakes and a helmet, which honestly wouldn’t do a thing if you fell, but it makes me feel better.”
Hecate stepped out and into the metal car, steadying herself against the cage as it swung out from the platform. “I wonder what the maximum load is?”
“We’ll find out pretty quick if we’ve maxed it out,” said Persephone, hopping in beside Hecate. “Come on, Bob. If we’re going to go down, let’s do it together.”
“As long as we go down in a safe and controlled manner.” Bob took a deep breath and stepped out. For a moment, he straddled the empty space below, one foot on the platform, the other on the cage floor, the gap widening, his legs spreading further apart. The faraway sound of rushing water echoed off the cavern walls.
Persephone grabbed onto his still-glowing hand and heaved him into the cage. Momentum slammed him against the bars on the other side as the cage door clanged shut behind him. “Sometimes you just gotta jump,” she said. The cage jerked free of its mooring, and they grasped the iron bars, holding on to the swinging cage. It began its swift descent, not straight down, but sideways on a downward slope.
Bob’s fingers strangled the bars. “The last time I was on a gondola I felt better about my situation…you know, skis, brisk mountain air, exercise.” The cage creaked, skipping to another cable, jerking the three of them to one side. “And having too many beers with my friends after a day on the mountain. Yup, this isn’t like that at all.”
Above them, the door to the manhole shaft slid closed.
“Does that sound like the closing of a mausoleum door to you?” Bob asked. His hands were the only light in the cavernous space.
Hecate studied Bob. His face was shadowed, as if he held a flashlight below his chin to tell a scary story. “You talk too much when you’re scared.”
“Damn right I do. Just think, if you guys would stop putting me in these crazy situations, you wouldn’t have to listen to me.”
Persephone laughed, a short, happy-sounding burst. “You’ve got a point. It’s been pretty…intense since that day I got in your cab.”
“You mean the day you turned my life inside out?” The cage shot downward, jerking and swaying in intervals, keeping them all on their toes and hanging onto the bars.
The cage sped up. The air grew moist and foul the deeper they went into the cavern. They rode in silence, eyes scanning whatever they could see in the light Bob threw with his hands.
Wind blew and whistled through their hair and clothes until at last, they slowed and stuttered to a stop against a rubber bumper. Their teeth rattled along with the bars. Another elevator door gave a jittery hiss. A gust of dry, stale air billowed around them as a sliding panel opened without the grinding of gears. It was smooth and soundless, a widening smile, exposing a glass and steel and stone interior that looked like a centerfold for an industrial design magazine.
Bob slid open the cage door and looked down. Water the color of blood roared below, hammering against rock and hard clay. He tore his eyes away from the river, took a deep breath and leaped across the chasm and into a short hallway. There was a door at each end and one across from him.
“You gonna stand there gawking all day?” Hecate asked in a hushed tone, waiting for Bob to move aside.
He stepped further into the hallway, past the stairwell flanking the elevator shaft and gazed over the banister to the floor below. Nooses dangled from thick rafters above small balconies, some with beings swinging from the knots, their eyes blinking. Others hung empty.
“Not cool,” Bob said.
The goddesses stood on either side of the demigod.
Persephone looked up to the ceiling. “At least we know we’re in the right place.”
Bob tore his eyes away from the swaying characters. “There’s no one else around. Why is there no one around?”
“See, that’s the kind of thing you don’t ask out loud. You can think it. Just don’t say it. You don’t want to draw the attention of the Fates.” Hecate looked out the massive windows across from the landing. It was night, or maybe it was always night here, but outside, dark clouds rolled over one another, a purplish hue painting the sky and sheet lightning showing itself between the layers.
“Thanatos has better taste than I thought he would, other than the public hangings.” Persephone tried each of the doors, but they were locked. She joined Bob at the railing. “I kind of pictured his world as all medieval goth. Kind of kitschy, like most Arthurian movies.”
“The only thing I hated more than the architecture of that era were the corsets,” Hecate said. “Every time we came up to the Overworld, I thought I would die from lack of oxygen, even though technically, I can’t die.”
Persephone scanned the interior. “Is this where Thanatos lives or…what is this place?” She turned to the others. “Do we go down and search for Ferret? Or do we bust our way through these doors and see what’s behind them?
“Go down,” Bob and Hecate said in unison. A boom of thunder shook the building. Four thick black letters—boom—appeared to hang from the dark clouds. The letters faded along with the sound.
The three of them glanced at each other and then out at the dark sky. Ghostly shapes stirred in the clouds, a fluttering of unnatural motion rose and then descended to the highest rooftops, flitting from one to the other. The silhouettes moved across the city, highlighted by flashes of lightning.
“What are they?” Bob asked.
Persephone glanced at him. “Something made up, and most likely nasty as hell.”
“They don’t seem to mind the weather…maybe this is a usual thing?” Hecate stepped away from the banister. “A permanent state of night. Seems fitting, doesn’t it?”
Another boom shook the building.
“I think I’ll take the stairs,” Bob said.
“What? You don’t want to get back into an iron cage in the middle of a thunderstorm?” Hecate patted Bob on his shoulder and followed him down the steps.
Persephone drew her knives and followed them, her eyes scanning the balconies of the higher levels.
The air was warmer on the ground floor, heavy with the promise of rain, even inside the building. They could feel a power building, a pulsing thrum like a heartbeat getting stronger and faster, propelling them toward the front door. Outside, the streets were lit up with flickering lanterns and low-flying creatures who flicked the ends of their glowing green tails in the air, swishing and swooping, leaving trails of light behind them.
“It’s like a dream.” Bob reached out to open the glass door.
“Not a dream. A nightmare that’s just ramping up.” Persephone placed her hand on top of Bob’s, holding him back. “Don’t get
sucked into this world, into its story. Watch out for traps and other nasties.”
A thud outside the window startled them. They stepped back from the glass and the creature that rose up from the sidewalk. Its silver claws crept up the wall, slithering upward, its wet sinewy body expanding outward, spreading its limp tattered wings before speeding away on twiglike legs to launch into the air like a confused butterfly. Once airborne, its tail began to glow.
“At least it didn’t look hungry. Either that or it didn’t see us in here,” Hecate said.
Persephone addressed the others. “As I was saying…don’t get separated. We stick together. If you hear something or see something you want to check out, we’ll do it together.” Persephone exchanged glances with her two companions. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.” Bob pushed the door open, and a gust of sweaty air engulfed him.
“After you, my queen,” Hecate said, smiling as if they were off on a grand adventure and going for ice cream afterward.
Outside on the streets, there were wails and screams from a crowd at the end of the block. Uniformed soldiers were dispersed among the characters, beating them with clubs across the back of their necks, pushing them down to their knees while they shrieked in terror.
A low chant, an almost sign-song chorus, hummed beneath the yelling and screeching. “They’re praying.” Persephone grabbed Hecate’s elbow. “Do you hear it?”
“They’re forcing the people to worship,” Hecate whispered.
“Thanatos needs power.” Persephone watched the soldiers move through the buildings, tossing people outside and going back in to find more. Red clouds of billowing smoke arched over the streets like a sick rainbow. Small children cried in their parent’s arms, some wandered down the middle of the street, crying, calling out momma while they stumbled on the uneven cobblestones. High up in the buildings, gangs of youth threw rocks and garbage lids and shoes at the soldiers from open windows, their angry voices adding to the hysteria of the night.
Bob started down the street toward a small girl who clutched the hand of an even smaller boy who wore diapers and nothing else. They stood in the middle of the street holding hands, their faces tipped up to the sky. They had no eyes to speak of, just holes, sunken pits bored into their skulls. They flicked forked tongues in the air, tasting it for the promise of food. They had no fear. Only hunger.
“Bob!” Persephone tugged at Hecate’s sleeve before taking off after Bob. She sprinted after him, catching up as he stepped off the sidewalk and into the street, just meters from the nightmare children.
Hecate and Persephone reached him simultaneously, grabbing him from either side, pulling him back. Hecate jerked him back into a viselike hold, pressing him against her body. He struggled to pull away, but she gripped him tighter, talking in a hushed voice, her lips brushing his ear. “They aren’t kids, not like the kids you know. Look at them. Take a look.”
Bob stopped struggling.
“They are creatures made of nightmares. They cannot be saved.”
Bob slumped against her, his eyes wide as Frisbees. “They’re just little kids.”
“They aren’t.” Hecate released her hold on Bob.
The wind shifted, blowing against them now. The nightmare creatures turned their empty eyes to the trio alone at the side of the street, their little black tongues darting in and out. The creatures began to walk in their direction.
Persephone rested her hand on Bob’s shoulder. “You’re more of a kid than they are. Didn’t I tell you not to take off?”
Bob hung his head. “Yes.”
“Okay, then. Now let’s get out of here before we become dinner.” Persephone pointed behind them to a half-lit alleyway. “Down there.” The three of them ran into the alley, their feet splashing in puddles that stuck to their shoes and pants legs, sucking at them with loud schluk-schluk noises. “Keep going,” Persephone called out over her shoulder.
“I’ve had this dream,” Bob yelled. “Where I’m running but the ground becomes soft like sand or mud and the ground tries to suck me under.”
Hecate came up beside him, her strong legs pumping high to break free of the rubbery strands attached to her legs. “Well, don’t let it. Come on, Fireboy.”
They ran, lungs and legs burning, each breath, every step harder to take than the last one as they sunk a little deeper with every stride, from foot to shin to knee, until at last they rounded a corner. The thick tendrils stretched like elastic bands and finally snapped and shot them forward onto the doorstep of the Gear and Pulley Pub. The dank street was empty and lit with only one lantern that sat on the ledge of a window above the pub’s entrance.
Bob bent over, hands on his thighs, catching his breath. The other two seemed unaffected by the nightmare alley and the mud run. Persephone stood beside Bob, scanning the street in both directions. Hecate peered into the pub’s front window, her hands cupped around her face.
Hecate turned around. “There’s a few people in there, not many. All of them are armed with two or more weapons, and most are the size of incredibly old, very round trees.”
Bob straightened up, taking in a couple of deep breaths, and stretched his chest.
“Hec, I don’t think we should go in. Let’s duck in there”—Persephone pointed to a large alcove leading into a series of shops—“and scry for Hades.”
Bob looked from the alley to the goddesses. “How are you going to see…scry…whatever, an image of Hades without a reflection, or light, for that matter?”
“Bob. Bob,” Hecate said, and shook her head. “I come prepared for anything,” she paused and pointed at his hands. “And don’t you have a light in those fingers of yours?”
A series of bangs came from above, like wrenches against pipe. Three loud knocks, a clap of thunder, and a jolt of lightning made their hair stand on end. The roiling clouds moved even quicker across the sky as if they were racing for the finish line. The first large drops of rain plopped down on the street and on the end of Bob’s nose before a torrent of water was released from the heavens and came down in driving sheets.
The three of them ran for cover across the street. Wiping the rain off their faces, they huddled together under a storefront awning. Persephone undid the clasp of her necklace and held it out to Hecate.
“Bob, put your hands out,” Hecate commanded. He obeyed, and she took his hands in hers, turning them face up. She opened her coat and pulled out a flat object, twisting and expanding the silicone material into a bowl. She placed it on Bob’s outstretched hands.
“Isn’t this a travel dog dish?” Bob brought it up in front of his eyes to get a better look. “I saw these on Dragons’ Den.”
Hecate opened her coat again, this time taking out two vials from her pockets. “That’s where I saw it too.” She handed one to Persephone. “I ordered it on that As Seen on TV site. Works like a charm, so to speak.” She grinned and thumbed open the lid on her vial, pouring thick liquid into the bowl.
Persephone did the same with hers. The liquids steamed and swirled together, stirred by an invisible spoon.
“I never thought I’d be scrying for the god of the Underworld with a dog dish full of…let’s just call it liquid,” Bob said, gazing down at the bowl in his hands.
“Bob, can you give us some light? No heat, just light the bowl from the bottom.” Hecate and Persephone pocketed the empty vials. Hecate took one end of the hound’s tooth necklace and Persephone took the other. They placed their hands under Bob’s.
Bob’s light shone upward through the silicone. The liquid seemed thinner now and a deep red, like blood mixed with water. Bob glanced up at the goddesses. Their eyes were coated by a white film and their lips moved, but neither of them made a sound. The liquid in the bowl sputtered and rippled out from the center of the bowl. The faded image of a man in a dirty black cape appeared in the tiny waves, solidifying as the liquid grew calm. An ugly, scarred face looked out from under the hood of the cape. Wild e
yes stared. The man’s mouth opened, wide and cruel, to spew angry words at Ferret’s retreating form.
“I’m not sure if I’m supposed to interrupt…but that guy isn’t our guy,” Bob whispered loudly.
The bowl jolted in their hands, rocking the liquid, some of it spilling over the rim.
Persephone exhaled a long breath and rolled her eyes down, the white film gone. Her usual green eyes reflecting amber in Bob’s light. “We saw him. Definitely not our guy. But he must have the other necklace, so that means he’s seen our guy and most likely stole it from our guy.”
Hecate released her end of the necklace. “I’ll take it now, Bob.” She eased the bowl from Bob’s hands, dumped the liquid out onto the street, and washed the bowl out in the pouring rain.
“So you know where he is?” Bob asked.
“Not exactly.” Persephone hung the necklace around her neck. “But I can feel it pulling, leaning toward the other tooth. Like someone is easing me out of my own orbit and pulling me into another.”
Soaking wet, Hecate stepped back under the shelter of the awning. Thick strands of hair hung against her cheeks and over her eyes. “Flames, it would’ve been too easy if Hades had held on to the damn thing.”
“Since when have we done easy?” Persephone asked.
“Okay, but just once, couldn’t we try it?” Hecate slicked back her hair from her face.
Bob looked out at the unrelenting rain. “Where do we go now?”
The hound’s tooth pulled to the side, the tip pointing like a compass. “Left.”
“Left it is.” Bob looked over his left shoulder.
One by one, they left the shelter, rain hammering on their heads and soaking their clothes. They made their way through the strangely angled streets, now empty but for a few creatures who exalted in water above all else. The closed-up shops sat dark, a few of them with dead neon signs in the window that would burn bright come morning, when shop owners would wake up the street and peel back the iron cages protecting their windows and their goods from looters and gangs.