by Wagner, Raye
“Don’t presume to know me well enough to tell me who means what. Especially to me. Arseface,” Dahlia muttered the last word under her breath.
Xan chuckled.
This was going to suck on so many levels.
The silence in the car crawled over Athan, snaking its way through his gut. He wished he could shudder and wipe the discomfort away. But it wasn’t going to get better. Not anytime soon.
“So, we’re all going to the Underworld on a fieldtrip,” Xan said. “Since Dahl and I haven’t been before, do you want to fill us in? Do we need to bring anything special?”
Athan began to compile a list in his head. “We better stop and get a few things.”
Xan pulled off to the side of the road and handed Athan his phone.
Athan tapped on the screen, and the small device piped out new directions for them.
They picked up backpacks and filled them with freeze-dried meals, beef jerky, energy bars, trail mix, and dried fruit. They each took a change of clothes and some toiletries and then stuffed every remaining crevice with pouches of drinking water.
There were many myths about the Underworld. Some were ridiculous stories, like Admetus getting out of dying by letting his wife take his place. Others were laced with half-truths, like Hercules borrowing Cerberus to complete one of his labors. But every single demigod and mortal knew if they ate or drank anything from that realm, their body would absorb the power of the Underworld and, with that, bind them to the realm of the dead, unable to leave without the help of a god.
Athan zipped up his bulging pack. “Here you go.”
Xan took it and tossed it in the trunk. “Right. Is there anything else? I don’t want to be caught in the Underworld with my pants down.”
Athan raised his brows at the other demigod. “You have your blades?”
Xan gave a withering stare. “What do you think? I’m asking if we need to stop anywhere else? Do we need coins for passage or a doggie treat for Cerberus? Does Hades accept bribes? Does he have a favorite wine we could take him? Maybe some pomegranates for Persephone?”
Athan cringed. His pride took a hit with each of Xan’s questions, but Athan had never dealt with the goddess of the Underworld. “I didn’t think of that.”
“Of course not.” Dahlia leaned against the car. The wind lifted several dark curls from her ponytail, and they momentarily floated on the breeze. Her dark eyes were onyx, and she folded her arms over her chest.
He knew it was her natural instinct to cause strife. The power from her mother, Eris, would seep into her every action, unless she chose to check it. Athan took a deep breath and tried to release the tension with his exhale. He could be the bigger man. “I’m sorry.”
Dahlia curled her lips. “Well, that’s all right then. I’m sure being sorry will take care of everything you forget.”
He balled his hands into fists as he clenched his teeth to prevent the words that wanted to spill out.
Before he could take a step forward, Xan stepped between them.
“This right here has to stop.” He waved between the two of them. “You said the same thing earlier, Dahl. We’re on the same team, so no more.” He pointed at her. “No more. You hear me?”
“Fine.” She leaned to the side, glaring past Xan to Athan. Her gaze shifted back to her cousin. “I’ll be back in five.”
Without waiting for a response, she stormed off across the parking lot toward the camping store.
Xan turned to Athan. “Don’t be provoking her. Hope was her best friend. She’s been pretty torn up.”
Athan thought back to all the times he’d seen Hope and Dahlia together. They definitely had done things together and seemed friendly enough, but best friends? “So, why does she hate me?”
“She’s never liked you since you played Obelia.”
Guilt churned in his chest. He was never going to live that down. Yes, he’d been stupid, but his motives were good. “Then why did she yell at Obelia before we left the conservatory?”
Xan closed the trunk. He faced Athan and let out a slow breath. “Dahlia doesn’t like you, but she has no respect for Obelia either. Obviously. And Dahl can hold grudges like no one I’ve ever met before. You know, contention and all that.”
“I’m not trying to provoke her.”
“Which probably makes it worse.” Xan hitched his thumb at the store. “Let’s go get her and then figure out what else we need afore we head to the hospital. I want to be as prepared as possible before we go declare war on the gods of the Underworld.”
“We’re not declaring war.”
Xan stopped with a frown. “So says the man leading the invasion.”
It wasn’t really an invasion. They were going to get Hope back. From the Underworld. Where Skia lived. And Hades ruled. It was more like they were going . . . behind enemy lines. Which could be construed as an act of war. Skata !
Athan hurried to catch up to Xan.
They stopped at a temple and traded for several obols and drachma, coins that would buy them passage on Charon’s ferry. They decided the beef jerky would be saved for Cerberus, although Athan didn’t have much hope that it would actually help. Hades’s pet was practically the size of a horse, and any one of his heads could consume all of their meat with one swallow. But the only other idea had been to kill the large dog, which Athan insisted was no way to garner favor with the gods there. As for Hades and Persephone, the demigods stopped at a large market and bought three of the goddess’s favorite fruit, and Athan pulled out his change of clothes to fit the pinkish-red globes into his backpack.
He looked up to see Dahlia zipping her bag, her spare pants hanging out of the trunk.
With a shake of his head, Xan told Athan not to bring it up. Curious. But he heeded Xan’s advice.
The sharp smell of disinfectant greeted them as they stepped through the sliding glass doors of South Olympian Medical Center. The lights reflected off the dark tile floor in bright cones. At the semicircular reception desk sat three women. A dark-haired, middle-aged woman sat behind the marble top, dressed in a mossy-green matching shirt and cardigan with a lanyard around her neck. The badge on the end of the black cord was flipped upside down, so only the back of her badge was visible. Her features were drawn into a grimace as she eyed her desk mates. The other two women were well into the winter of their years, with hair that matched their season. However, they leaned toward each other and giggled as if young school girls. Their cotton-candy pink jackets were clearly a uniform.
“He thinks she doesn’t know. And you know she’s going to take him for everything he has,” one of the senior volunteers whispered.
“I haven’t seen that episode—”
Xan cleared his throat. “Pardon, ladies.”
When she awoke, there were two bottles of water and a package of beef jerky on the ornate nightstand. The canopied bed was draped in dark damask, but the sun neither rose nor set, so Hope didn’t understand the need to curtain the bed. Nevertheless, she’d been so exhausted sleep descended swiftly.
But sleep fled as memories of Priska assaulted Hope. Anguish drove her to the bathroom as her physical body churned in protest of reality. Her stomach heaved, and Hope retched over the toilet bowl. When she rinsed her mouth of the sour taste of bile, Hope spit the water back into the sink. She wouldn’t swallow anything here. Just in case.
“Did you sleep well?” Thanatos met her on the landing outside her room. The god of death was dressed again in soft grays and deep black, making his slight physique appear even thinner. His slicked-back hair curled around his ears.
She shrugged. “Yes and no.”
He tilted his head as he studied her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Did she? He was an impartial . . . He was a god. “No.”
“May I give you a tour of the Underworld?”
His inflection made it sound like he was really making a request of her, but Hope reminded herself it may or may not be a real invite. Nevertheless, it would
suit her purpose just fine. “Do you know where my mom would be?”
He paused mid-step. Without looking back at her, he continued down the stairs. As he got to the bottom, he said, “Come on; let’s go.”
She rested her hand on the door to her room and debated. But there really wasn’t anything to debate. She had no one to trust, and at least at this point Thanatos was being . . . accommodating, if not kind. But she didn’t trust him. “Okay.”
“May I get you something for breakfast? Are you hungry yet?”
Hope closed her eyes. “Will you please stop? I’m not going to eat or drink anything here, so stop offering it to me.”
Thanatos chuckled. “You have been well-warned, but that which is from the mortal realm will not bind you here. You have my word.”
She leaned toward him and whispered, “Nothing personal, but I don’t trust you or your word.”
If Thanatos was offended, he hid it well. The only indication of his displeasure was the downturn of his lips.
She straightened. “Now, let’s go see the Underworld.”
His face cleared, and he extended his elbow.
Hope stared and then slowly brought her elbow up. Was this something she was supposed to know?
Thanatos chuckled. He grabbed her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “You are mixing with a rough crowd if you don’t recognize common courtesy.”
She couldn’t help the blush that spread from her neck to her scalp. Of course. “Well, Skia aren’t usually so kind.”
His dark gaze made her stomach flip.
“I was talking about the demigods you’ve been fraternizing with.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand. “Please don’t defend them. I will not agree, no matter what you say.”
She exhaled and dropped her shoulders. “All right, let’s go.”
They passed several Skia working on various household tasks. One was sweeping the entryway, and another the steps outside the door. So weird to see the vicious killers cleaning.
Thanatos and Hope stepped out of the door, and the heavy, humid air slapped her in the face like a wet blanket. The darkness made the air feel thicker, too. Dense clumps of glowing spots on the rocks above allowed for visibility, much better than had been present at the River Acheron. It was more like dusk than actual night. The air smelled of dirt and loam, the musty stench of a garden shed closed up for too long.
Just outside the front door, in a large circular drive, sat an old buggy. Like from the Old West. Unlike the Old West, the contraption was hitched to a centaur. The creature’s body was thick muscle covered in a mouse-gray coat that darkened to almost black on his legs and tail. Across his withers was a transverse strip of the same rich tone that inched up his human back. His skin was a similar pallor as Thanatos’s, but the creature’s chest and arms were built like a professional wrestler. His thick hair was pulled back with a leather strap, putting his blue eyes on full display.
Hope stopped moving, pulling Thanatos off-balance before he quickly recovered. She pointed to the monster, a deep sense of betrayal welling up from within.
“Did he enslave you?” she demanded of the centaur. If Thanatos had, Hope would kill him. Could you even kill a god? She was going to find out, because enslaving mixed breeds was not okay at all. Seriously—
Thanatos released Hope and clapped the horse-man creature on the back. “Asbolus, how are you, old friend?”
The centaur turned and swatted the god’s hand away. “It won’t work with her. She’s not going to stay.”
“Are you certain?” Thanatos asked, tilting his head to survey Hope.
“Quite,” Asbolus replied. “But it is good you are doing this.”
Hope opened her mouth to ask what was going on, but Thanatos beat her to it.
“Asbolus is an auger.”
A seer? She briefly thought of Myrine.
“Are you good?” Maybe he could tell her what to do.
He nodded, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a smile. “I am very good. You should come speak with me before you leave.”
Thanatos snorted. “Let’s go take a look at the Underworld, shall we?”
He helped Hope into the small carriage then offered her a blanket.
She shook her head. “Is it always so warm?”
“Only because you are still alive, my dear.” He set the blanket in a basket attached to the back and then took up the rest of the space on the bench seat. He glanced at his wristband, a device with several concentric circles, as he spoke. “Asbolus, let’s start at the inner ring and end at the banks of the Acheron, if you please.”
Asbolus extended his arms wide then tilted his head side to side, stretching his muscles. “Hold on,” he warned.
The carriage lurched forward, the wheels bumping along the uneven ground as Asbolus trotted out of the gate. The drive was lined with black trees carved from the same stone as the house—in fact, the same stone as everything around them. But vibrant, polished gems hung from the dark limbs, making a lush, jeweled path. The emeralds and rubies glowed from the light, and Hope wondered how the dim lighting could make the precious stones glow.
Asbolus hit a large bump. Hope collided with Thanatos and then was thrown the opposite way, almost falling from the cart. She gripped the edge of the cab, trying to steady herself.
Thanatos held her with one hand and threw the other out in front of Asbolus. And just like that, the ride smoothed out; the bumps seemingly disappeared into the rocky ground. They were still there; she could see them, but somehow Thanatos had made the ride smooth.
When they left Thanatos’s grounds, the landscape changed to a never-ending sea of black rock and dark mists, a phosphorus glow from above. Asbolus went from a trot to a canter, and a few minutes later the cart lurched.
The lighting brightened minutely, and the mists were more gray than black. Rock formations towered in the air, dotting the landscape with peaks. The air carried the smell of organic char, and Hope wondered what was burning.
A few minutes later, and another jolt, and the sky had more of the phosphorus glow than darkness. The light cast shadows on the ground, and only an occasional mist scuttled across the rocky ground. There was a distinctive smell of human-ness there.
And then the cab lurched again.
“Do you know where we’re going?”
Hope had an idea. “Is all of the Underworld laid out in circles?”
Asbolus nickered a very horse-like laugh. “She’s quick, Thanatos. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Thanatos frowned at the centaur. “Please stop.”
He turned to Hope. “Yes. We are moving into the inner realms, the Fields of Asphodel, Elysium, and the Isles of the Blessed. We will stay in the Isles for only a moment, as those that live there are loyal to Hades. I would hate to have one of them report your presence to him.”
“Is that where my mom is?”
Thanatos shook his head. “No. Very few make it to the Isles. They must be born three times and at judgment be granted entrance to Elysium every time to be eligible. The souls that are visiting have been born at least twice. If they are awaiting rebirth, they are servants to Hades or Persephone. All the ones that live there find ways to be of service . . . somewhere.”
She knew the minute they lurched into Asphodel. Closing her eyes, she let the smell of people wash over her. She breathed in the air, and her eyes popped open. “Do the dead eat?”
Thanatos chuckled. “Only if they want. There is no need to, but some enjoy the taste.”
“Can they get fat? Or too skinny? Can the dead change their body?”
Even Asbolus laughed.
“No,” Thanatos answered with a wry grin. “There is no need. You are here as you’ve always seen yourself.”
Asbolus slowed to a walk as they approached a city of dark rock. The buildings were hewn of the same stone as the street, the windows mere gaps in the stone but occasionally covered with fabric curtains
.
“How do they get the curtains?” Hope asked as she glanced at the people bustling through the street. Some were dressed as if to go to an office job, while others sat outside a café sipping at large mugs. Two kids played in the street, a game of jumping and giggling with a ball tossing back and forth. They drove past an alley, and Hope caught glimpses of a large open market. “People just . . . live here?”
“What else would they do?”
Thanatos’s question made Hope realize she’d never thought about it before. “So they keep on living?”
Asbolus nickered low in his throat. “They can’t progress in everything, and some don’t really even want to. They live their lives, but no opportunity for children or significant changes. Only the mind will change here.”
The cab lurched again, and Hope’s mouth dropped open.
The brightness was similar to late afternoon, the phosphorus light a warm glow that lit the rock above like it were the sky. The homes here were farther apart, with plenty of space for yards with fences. The trees were mostly carved from the stone, but they were beautifully done, with details of bark and leaves that almost looked real. The air was barely stale, more like a closed room than actual stagnation. The few people she saw were smiling, laughing, and chatting as they swept porches, polished rock, or in one case, as a man chiseled into a mountain-sized stone. “This is Elysium?”
Thanatos rested his hand on her arm. “Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful.” It was like a harmonious community from a dream. She watched as a woman in a checkered apron carried a pie across the street and knocked on her neighbor’s door. When the door opened two women embraced, and the one invited the other in. “Is it real? Do they really all get along?”
Thanatos smiled. “This is where the best of humanity end up.”
Another lurch and the visual changes assaulted her. They were outside a stone wall, knee-high, where actual grass grew. On the other side of the lawn were orchards, tree boughs hanging low, heavy with fruit. The air smelled crisp with a faint scent of peach blossoms.
“Persephone’s garden?” Hope asked. As if it could be anything else.
