The Eternal City

by Paula Morris

Laura wanted to freak out and scream. Could Sofie see Dan or not? She crawled to the edge of the hole in the hill, and stuck her head in.

  “Dan!” she called, her voice echoing. There was no reply—nothing they could hear, anyway—so she leaned in farther.

  “You should really stay back from that thing,” Maia observed. “It may crumble some more and you’ll go straight down.”

  Laura recoiled and, as though on cue, another chunk of earth fell away, disappearing into the void. The crow flapped by again, even lower this time. Help us, Laura thought, knowing there was no way a bird could do anything tangible at this moment. Fighting harpies in seagull form was one thing. Rescuing two tall teenage boys from a cavern on a hillside was beyond the capability of any bird, even if Apollo was its boss.

  The crow didn’t land: It hovered, bouncing on the breeze, directly above the jagged hole in the ground.

  “There’s the light,” Sofie said. For a moment Laura thought she meant that the flashlight—Kasper’s flashlight—was shining up from belowground, wherever the boys had fallen or crawled or reached, before the earthquake hit. But the light, Laura realized, was coming from the sky. The billowing gray clouds, all they’d seen above them for days, had parted just a sliver, enough to reveal the moon. It was a sickly yellow, still clouded by shadows, but its light was strong enough to pick out the trees, a tumble of fallen branches, the fence—uprooted and askew in places—and Maia and Sofie’s scratched faces.

  The crow rose a little in the air and then dove into the fissure, its black wing tips the last thing to disappear belowground.

  “We should follow,” Maia said, as though a bird flying into a hole in the ground was totally normal and expected.

  “I think maybe this is crazy.” Sofie sounded doubtful. “If it’s deep, then none of us can climb out. Maybe we take some of the fence, the parts on the ground over there. Then we make some kind of ladder to get in and out.”

  Maia had climbed to her feet while Sofie was talking and was busily tugging at one of the fallen tree’s branches.

  “Now you’re thinking,” she said to Sofie. “I’m going to need some help—this is heavy.”

  Laura walked over to see what they were doing. When the tree had been uprooted, some of its branches had snapped off, and Maia had picked out the biggest, one that sprouted potentially useful mini branches, reeking of sap. It took all three of them to drag the huge branch over to the hole in the ground. They lowered it in until it struck earth, and only a foot or so of its splintered end stuck out. Maia tried to wiggle it around, and it moved a little, but it seemed sturdy enough.

  “I hope we are not dropping it on someone’s leg,” said Sofie. “Maybe they would scream if we did that.”

  “I don’t hear any screaming,” said Maia, unsmiling. These girls were so weird, Laura thought. How could they be so calm about everything?

  “I go first,” Sofie announced, and wriggled into position. Laura held her breath as she watched her disappear, bit by bit. The thick branch trembled as it took Sofie’s weight, although Maia and Laura were both trying to hold it steady.

  “Okay!” Sofie called up, her voice echoing.

  “You go next,” Maia said to Laura. “I’m smaller than you. It’s not so important to have someone holding the branch up here when I go down. You guys can catch me.”

  “Right.” It sounded more like an order than a question. Laura hesitated, not sure exactly what she was doing.

  “Go,” Maia told her, clearly puzzled that she was still standing there, and Laura lowered herself into the pit, grasping for the branch with her legs. Some of its smaller offshoots had already snapped off, because there wasn’t much to hang on to apart from the branch itself—rough, jagged, and lumpy. Laura wished she were wearing jeans instead of a dress: Her legs were going to be scratched to pieces.

  There was a little light from the moon, and as she descended, scraping and sliding her way down, Laura was aware of the pinpoint light Sofie had mentioned, possibly from Kasper’s flashlight. All she could see clearly, though, was the sharp fins of bark scratching her nose and hands and shins.

  When her foot finally thwacked someone’s head—Sofie’s, she saw, looking down; she was holding the branch steady—Laura could barely believe she’d made it down in one piece. She jumped off, shivering even though the air was really humid in this space, this cave, whatever it was.

  And then Mercury stood before her, his slender, feathery form spotlit by jaundiced moonbeams. His dark eyes were wide. Laura was suddenly certain that he was the crow who’d been watching them, the one who’d flown down into the hole.

  “Laura,” he said softly. “You will stay here. Until the morning. This is a safe place for now.”

  “For now?” Laura’s voice was shaking. “The boys …”

  “You will all be safe for now,” he said. “Take care of the eyes of Minerva.”

  He held something out toward her, and Laura saw a thin string of gold glinting in the moonlight—her bracelet.

  Maia thudded to the ground, exclaiming on the impact, and bent over, as though she were tying her laces. She didn’t seem at all fazed by the presence of Mercury here in this hot cavern, and for a moment Laura thought that Maia couldn’t see him.

  But when she straightened, Maia was holding something in her hand; she held it up for Mercury to see, and when he twitched his head, she passed it to Laura. The second star sapphire, Laura knew, without even looking.

  “If we cut a small hole in the waistband of your dress,” Maia said, peering at Laura, “then maybe we can feed the stone in, and the bracelet. There’s a double-layer of fabric, right?”

  Laura nodded, plucking at the material.

  “Kasper’s flashlight has a penknife attached,” Maia continued. “I think this’ll work.”

  “Until the morning,” Mercury said to Laura, his inky eyes like pinpoints. “Don’t be afraid. The sisters will watch over you.”

  He sprang into the air and landed on the tree branch as a bird. His feathers velvety in the moonlight, he scuttled away up the branch and out of sight.

  The sisters will watch over you.

  “What did he mean, the sisters?” Laura asked, but Maia was talking to Sofie about the penknife, and didn’t hear her.

  When Sofie pointed the little flashlight in her direction, Laura could just about make out Kasper’s tall form, lying on the ground. Something leaned against him: a slab of stone, maybe, or part of a column.

  “Churt,” said Maia, and Laura suspected by her tone of voice that she was saying something bad in Russian. Laura stumbled over just as Maia reached for the slab. It seemed to crumble in her hands, a huge chunk coming away. She staggered back, clutching it.

  “It’s turf,” said Maia. “From up there. Just clay and grass. It must have fallen on him when the ground caved in. It’s not that heavy.”

  Kasper mumbled something, wincing when he tried to sit up and rubbing his head while Maia pulled the slab of turf away. He seemed okay, just dazed. But where was Dan?

  “Light!” Laura cried, waving a hand at Sofie. “We need to find Dan!”

  “I’m here,” croaked a voice behind her. “I’m okay.”

  He didn’t look okay. He was propped against a wall, covered in sandy dirt, looking like a dog who’d been swimming in a lake and then rolled, over and over again, on the beach.

  Laura hurried over, tripping on another mound of fallen turf in her haste.

  “You look terrible,” she said.

  “You’re the one bleeding,” he replied, trying to smile, then rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. Laura pulled a water bottle from Dan’s bag and dribbled some of the water onto her balled-up hoodie, using it to clean the grit off Dan’s face. Dan drank some water, and Laura felt herself relax a little: Her neck and shoulders were aching with tension, and her scrapes stung. But the boys were all right, and they had some kind of plan for transporting the star sapphires. And now, according to Mercury, they were safe here, i
f only for the hours of darkness.

  The sisters will watch over you, whatever that meant.

  “Seriously, this is the last time I’m rescuing you,” Laura told Dan, half smiling.

  “Sorry,” he said, returning the water bottle to her. She sat down next to him, her back against what felt like stone. It was hard to see much down here, now that the shafts of moonlight were weak and intermittent. Sofie was using Kasper’s flashlight to examine his wounds.

  Laura cleared her throat and glanced at Dan. “Thanks for trying to—you know. Get the star sapphires back.”

  “I only caught up with him on the hill. He’s a really, really fast runner. The next thing I know he’s dropping into this place, and I’m following. And then I guess he must have taken the stones out of his pocket and held them together in one hand.”

  “Because—the earthquake,” Laura said, and Dan nodded slowly.

  “I guessed that’s what was causing it. I shouted at him to drop them, and then stuff was falling on us, and flying around, and I got thrown over here.” Dan glanced toward the section where Sofie and Maia were bending over Kasper. “Your boyfriend okay?”

  “My boyfriend?”

  “Kasper.”

  “You know he’s not my boyfriend.” Laura would have laughed, but it would require too much effort. She felt exhausted, bone tired, after the dash through the city and then all the climbing.

  “So do you … do you have a boyfriend back home?” Dan asked her.

  “No,” she said quickly, glad now that it was dark here, and he couldn’t see her face flush. “You know that.”

  “Why would I know that?” His voice was low. The others, on the far side of this strange underground space, were talking, but Laura couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “Well,” she said, staring into the darkness, grateful for obscuring shadows, “I’m Mutant Girl, remember?”

  “That’s just stupid kid stuff,” Dan said. “People are in awe of you, that’s all. Because you’re smart and pretty. And you do your own thing—you know what I mean.”

  Laura didn’t, but she didn’t trust herself to speak. Their shoulders were brushing; she was conscious of how loud her breathing sounded. Her heart was about to beat its way out of her chest. Dan was still talking, his voice low and calm.

  “What I mean is,” he said, leaning even closer, “you don’t look the same as other girls. You don’t act the same or talk the same. You’re weird in a good way. You’ll probably make a thousand friends at college. High school doesn’t count. At college you’ll meet other brainy people who value individuality and, I don’t know, imagination.”

  Laura bit her lip. He was giving voice to thoughts Laura had had herself—thoughts and wishes, vague hopes. His hand reached for hers and grasped it, their gritty palms pressing together.

  “Look how calm you’ve been through all this,” he went on. “All these terrible things happening to you the last couple of days, and you’re not freaking out.”

  “What?” Laura couldn’t help but laugh now. “I’m totally freaking out,” she admitted. “Half the time I just want to curl up and hide.”

  She didn’t add and cry. Even though she realized that Dan, at least the Dan she was getting to know now, would understood.

  “Well, nobody could tell,” he said. Laura suspected he was just being nice, but she appreciated his kindness. “Anyone who gets to know you would know you’re something special. I kind of knew this whole trip, but everything that’s happened the past few days …”

  He didn’t finish his sentence, and Laura didn’t speak, either. She didn’t know what to say. Dan thought she was something special; that she was pretty and smart. The words were dancing through her brain.

  “And that guy you were talking to just now, that bird guy—”

  “You saw him?” Laura asked, catching her breath.

  “Sure. Well, I could see his face, and then I think I saw him turn into a bird, but I may have been hallucinating. So that’s … Mercury? Really?”

  “You didn’t believe me before?”

  “I did,” he protested. “Well, I kind of did. I wanted to believe you. But it all seems so unreal. So surreal, I mean.”

  “I know,” Laura told him. She wanted to tell Dan everything, everything Mercury had ever said to her—even the latest weird news that Vulcan and Mars somehow had it in for her. If only her heart would stop thumping and her voice would stop shaking.

  She did her best to remember what Mercury had said, and Dan listened as she explained. He was still holding her hand, so Laura decided he wasn’t about to tell her she was crazy. She didn’t leave out anything—not the crow in the cemetery dropping the second stone into her bag, or the way she’d seen Mercury descend in the rain falling into the Pantheon. She told Dan how Mercury had kept saying that Minerva had chosen her, and was pleased with her, and had decided she should have the two star sapphires—the eyes of Minerva—forever. Dan kept listening, occasionally prompting her with questions.

  “So if you take the two stones home with you, what happens?” he asked.

  “I don’t really know,” she admitted. “If I’m Minerva’s handmaiden or whatever, maybe it means that I’ll be brainy like her?”

  Dan squeezed her hand, and Laura’s heart raced again.

  “But you’re already smart,” he said. “It’s not as though you need help from the gods or whoever. You can achieve whatever you want to achieve without magic, right?”

  “I hope so,” Laura said slowly. Her back felt damp against the stone wall. She was all talked out. And so tired, she could fall asleep right now, sitting next to Dan, holding his hand. She hadn’t even told him about the “sisters” comment yet, or how Maia had seemed completely unsurprised to see Mercury standing there in front of her.

  “I think so,” Dan said quietly. Then he leaned toward her, so their temples touched.

  Laura held her breath. Then in the next instant, his lips touched hers—tasting of dirt and ash and sand and grass, but Laura didn’t care. He let go of her hand and stretched his arm around her instead, pulling her close.

  “I promise that I’ll never call you Mutant Girl again,” he said, his voice soft, and that was the last thing Laura remembered hearing before she fell asleep.

  When Laura awoke—her head resting against Dan’s shoulder, her back stiff from leaning against the stone wall—morning light filtered through the crumbling hole above them. Now that she could get more of a sense of this place, she realized it wasn’t a cave at all. There were chipped frescoes barely visible on the floor, and three arched alcoves along the wall. This was a room in Nero’s Golden House! The boys had entered it from above when Kasper pulled the grate away and jumped in.

  Dan was still asleep, his head resting against the wall and his arm still around her, so she tried to wriggle into a slightly more comfortable position without disturbing him. Nearby, closer than she’d realized last night, Kasper sprawled, snoring. Sofie and Maia were each curled up sleeping in separate corners, and Sofie appeared almost as catlike as Maia.

  Laura took a breath. It was chilly and damp in here, and the air tasted like dust, but at least they were safe. Her bracelet and the other stone lay next to her on the dusty floor.

  She’d done what Mercury told her to do—stayed in the cavern overnight, and kept the stones with her. But this wouldn’t keep them safe forever; she knew that. Eventually they had to leave this hiding place and face whatever battle might be brewing. But when could they leave Rome? Should she really take the stones with her?

  Last night Dan had asked her what Minerva’s interest actually meant. Would Laura have some kind of special power? She wasn’t sure. What if it was the power to rule the world, the power to change the world, the power to do harm as well as good? Maybe this so-called power would disappear as soon as she left Rome; maybe everything that was sacred and potent about the stones only meant something here, and other places—like, say, Bloomington, Indiana—were beyond the r
each of Rome’s ancient gods.

  Or would she live out her life under Minerva’s watchful gaze?

  In the past, whenever Laura had thought about her future, she’d thought about going to college and then maybe traveling some more, if she could save enough money to go see the world. She’d thought about learning and exploring and figuring out what she wanted to do with her life—something interesting and useful, she’d hoped—rather than obsessing about being rich or powerful. And what kind of power could you really have if it was bestowed and controlled from on high, dependent on something like possession of a couple of sacred stones? To her it sounded like a power that could be stolen or withdrawn at any time. You’d spend your life paranoid, always worried about what you had to lose.

  Last night, right before he kissed her—had he really kissed her? That felt almost as surreal as everything else—Dan had said something sweet. He’d said that she didn’t need help from the gods. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was smart enough to face the world on her own, even if right now, aged sixteen, she was still uncertain a lot of the time, blushing too much and daydreaming and not paying enough attention in gym class …

  Much as it was an honor to be singled out by Minerva, apparently, and deemed worthy of her “eyes,” Laura couldn’t help feeling that it was all a big cheat in a way, like getting help on a test, or having someone write a paper for you. True, you might try hard and work hard in life, and not get everything you hoped for: Her parents had told her that. Life wasn’t fair; the world wasn’t fair. But they always encouraged her to fulfill her potential and to find her own path. She wouldn’t want them deciding everything for her: Why be beholden to some supernatural power?

  Maybe, Laura thought, shifting uncomfortably on the hard ground, it was time for her to stop being so sentimental. Maybe Kasper had been right. True, he didn’t know all the details, and trying to bring both stones back here, to the Golden House, was never going to work out. There’d always be potential for this kind of turmoil and danger in the world while one or both of these stones were floating around. Much safer, Laura realized now, was that she give the bracelet up. She needed to ask Mercury if he could take both star sapphires back with him to the other world, or wherever it was that the gods lived.