by Anne Ursu
It hadn’t occurred to Charlotte until that moment that, like everything else, the prophecies were all real, the Oracle of Delphi was real. In other words, she could go to the Oracle and ask about her fate—meaning she had a fate. So if she had gone a year ago—which would have been rather silly, because she wouldn’t have known it was real—the Oracle could have told her she would go down to the Underworld, she would face Philonecron, and she would narrowly escape his shadow army. It would have told her to stay away from the sea—but of course something would have happened and she would have found herself on the sea anyway, because it was fate, after all.
In the quiet of her room, Charlotte lay there, thinking of fate and all it might portend. Somewhere out there, someone knew what was going to happen to her. And whatever she did, whatever she chose, it wouldn’t matter. Because it was her fate.
Charlotte felt suddenly very helpless. Nothing she did mattered at all—her future was already set down before her, waiting for her to dutifully follow along its path. And nothing she and Zee had done—rescuing the shadows, stopping Philonecron, saving the cruise ship—really meant anything, because they were destined to do it.
Sighing, she flipped through her book, looking at every reference to Prometheus, but could find nothing else significant. Her eyes began to droop. Her body felt strange and soft, her muscles ached, even her brain hurt, and it occurred to her that it was night. The words in front of her began to blur, and Charlotte gave in, setting the book aside and closing her eyes.
She was in near darkness, in a room lit only by the soft, eerie glow of the Dead that lined it. They had no faces, but she could feel their attention—unwavering, intense, almost pleading. Something had changed in the Underworld; it was not right. They needed her, they needed her to do something, they needed her to understand.
“What?” she said softly, her voice cracking. “Please, what can I do?”
Then—the Dead were gone, replaced by firelight. She was in the same cave room as before, the small fire in the middle, the drawings on the walls. She went over to look again—the blue man, something in his hand, something that seemed to flicker. She felt the presence of the Dead again, watching, waiting. The small, naked figures huddled, running in fright, starving—all pleading for something, someone to help them. Everyone was counting on her. Charlotte stared at the pictures one by one, following them from beginning to end, and suddenly she knew what she was seeing.
That’s right, said a voice in her head. It was the girl. Now do you know where this is?
No, said Charlotte.
The girl let out an annoyed sigh. Do I have to draw you a map?
Jeez, Charlotte thought, some people are so sarcastic.
She sat up in bed as the sun streamed in her window. It could not be a coincidence. There was no way she just happened to keep having this dream—it was too vivid, too significant. She had to tell Zee.
She got out of bed and went to the door, opening it cautiously. There were loud voices coming from the kitchen, and a man was disappearing down the other end of the hallway. Looking carefully for signs of life (or at least of Timon), she crept to Zee’s door and knocked softly, and soon she was sitting on his floor.
“It’s probably nothing,” she said, “but—I had a weird dream. And I keep having it.”
A strange expression crossed Zee’s face. “Char, what is it?” he asked.
“Well, I’m in a cave, and there’s a girl, and—”
Zee closed his eyes for a moment and let out a long sigh. “Black hair, white dress, white ribbons, bit of attitude?”
Charlotte stopped. “You know her?”
“I’ve been having the same dream,” he said flatly. “There’s a cave, and a fire, and pictures on the wall—”
Charlotte swore. “I suppose it’s entirely random that we’re having the same dream,” she grumbled. Why hadn’t she mentioned it to Zee earlier? In a flash she remembered why the girl seemed so familiar to her—Zee had described her before. She had warned him about the cruise. Charlotte groaned again, awash in her own stupidity.
The cousins sat for a minute in silence, reflecting on what they had just learned.
“It can’t be Philonecron sending it,” Zee said after a time. “He’s banished.”
“No, I don’t think it is,” said Charlotte slowly. “But I think I know what it means. Have you looked at the pictures?”
Zee shook his head. “I can’t really make them out. There’s some people and a big blue guy, and”—he frowned, as if trying to call it up—“he’s giving them something, isn’t he? But I can’t see it—”
“Fire, Zee,” Charlotte said breathlessly. “He’s giving them fire.”
Zee gasped as it dawned on him. “Prometheus!”
Yes. On the cave wall the pictures were telling the story of Prometheus—first there was an image of him, the great blue man-like man, creating humans from clay; then one of a man starving, another freezing, and another being chased by a fierce animal; then Prometheus arguing with Zeus; then presenting fire to man; then man looking up into the heavens and seeing the gods.
“Why would someone want us to see that?” Zee asked.
The cousins stared at each other, waiting for inspiration that did not come. Zee shook his head, bewildered. “You saw the pictures better than I have,” he said. “Was there anything unusual in there? Anything new?”
“I don’t think so. It just seemed to tell the story…. There’s something we’re missing.” Charlotte rubbed her eyes. “I think the girl would say we were being very stupid.”
“Well, she needs to be a little more explicit, doesn’t she?” Zee grumbled, leaning his head back so it hit the wall with a loud thunk.
Just then there was a commotion from the hallway. The cousins peeked out of the door to find Teodor and another Promethean carrying a stretcher down the hallway, heading for the infirmary. A young Promethean walked with them, holding up an IV that was attached to the person on the stretcher.
Charlotte and Zee stood in the doorway as they passed, and Charlotte’s heart sank to see that on the stretcher was Hector, looking green and weak. As he passed, the young Promethean turned and gave a small wink. Charlotte exhaled.
The trio disappeared behind the door, and soon the other Prometheans had come out again. Charlotte and Zee exchanged a look, then went to the door and knocked on it.
“Entrez!”
They entered slowly, unsurely. Hector was lying flat on a hospital bed. When he saw them, he smiled.
“What happened?” Charlotte asked.
“Ah, the blasted thing stung me,” he said, his speech slightly slurred. “It’s all right.”
Charlotte felt a wave of relief. All right was good.
An older man in scrubs poked his head out of a side room. “Out!” he commanded them.
The cousins nodded. The doctor disappeared behind the door, and Charlotte smiled at Hector. “I hope you feel better soon.”
“Oh, I will,” he said. He blinked. “Hey,” he said, lowering his voice suddenly, “come here for a second.” He began to fumble in his pocket for something. “Come visit me later, all right? I want to hear all about Poseidon.” When Charlotte approached, he grabbed her hand and looked at her intensely. “Listen,” he said, his voice quiet. “Don’t do anything hazardous, all right?”
The doctor emerged, carrying a large syringe. He glared at Charlotte and Zee. “Go!”
And they did.
“He didn’t look so good,” Zee whispered when they got to the hallway. “I bet that was an antidote the doctor had. What was that at the end there?”
“He gave me something.” Charlotte knew what the cool object Hector had pressed into her hand was without looking at it. She opened up her hand and showed it to her cousin.
A key.
“To what?”
“I don’t know. But let’s find out.”
“Now?” Zee blinked. “I thought we were going to wait to look around until nighttime.”<
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“Ah, who cares. Anyway, it’s Mr. Metos’s job to keep us out of the way, right? So really,” she added brightly, “if we’re out wandering around, it’s his fault, not ours. They can’t keep two teenagers locked in their rooms, there are laws. Come on!”
CHAPTER 16
Behind Closed Doors
THE HALLWAY WAS EMPTY, AND MOST OF THE DOORS that lined it were shut. Charlotte tried the key Hector had slipped her in a couple of the locks, to no avail. They passed by one that was open a crack, so Charlotte peeked in to find a bedroom that looked very similar to hers. “I bet they’re all like this,” she said. “Come on, let’s see what’s on the other floors.”
They headed up the stairs and opened the door off the stairwell to find themselves in an immense, extremely well-stocked gym.
One wall was lined with a long series of large weight machines. In another section was some gymnastics equipment—a vault, rings, and parallel bars. There was a rock-climbing wall, and in front of that were some archery targets, next to which was a ten-foot-high dummy with javelins sticking out of him. Charlotte thought it was probably a good idea to avoid rock climbing during target practice.
In the far corner of the gym, a man in sweats wielded a sword and battled an unseen foe, wearing what seemed to be virtual reality glasses. He jumped, ducked, and even did a backflip before lunging forward, striking his nonexistent quarry.
“Brilliant,” Zee breathed.
“As long as nobody makes me use it,” Charlotte grumbled. She’d gone a long way to escape gym.
They closed the door and went up another flight to find themselves on another narrow, marble hallway lined with offices. The offices all looked similar—small, wood-paneled rooms filled with big desks, bookshelves along the walls, and computers. Charlotte popped into one, Zee standing guard. It was impeccably clean. The books (all in Greek) were all lined up perfectly on the bookshelves. The chair was pushed neatly against the desk, the trash was empty, the desktop was shining. Charlotte tapped the space bar on the computer, but nothing happened. It didn’t seem like anyone had used the office for a while.
“Mr. Metos said everyone’s in Greece,” said Zee, clearly having the same thought.
Charlotte looked into the next office and caught a weird shape out of the corner of her eye. She turned to find the head of a Gorgon mounted above the fireplace, with a gleaming golden sword above that.
“Cool,” she murmured.
The next room was much larger than the rest. One wall was lined with buzzing radio equipment, and another with GPS monitors like Charlotte had seen on her cruise ship. There was a giant control panel in the back of the room. In the center was a large glowing table, the size of a banquet table in a castle. The cousins peered at it to find the top was an enormous monitor with the entire Earth displayed. There were little blinking green dots all over the map, from Brazil to north Africa to eastern Europe to New York, but most scattered around the Mediterranean. There was a small concentration right in the center of London, and a much larger one off the southern tip of Greece. And then, as they studied the screen, that one suddenly disappeared.
“Huh.” Charlotte shrugged, looking at Zee.
Zee shrugged back, then went over to the radio equipment and put on a pair of headphones. He listened, frowned, and shook his head. “Not English,” he whispered to Charlotte.
They moved around the room, studying the various monitors, and then moved on.
Across the hallway was another series of glass windows that looked in on a dark, sterile-looking room. A man in a white hazard suit was leaning over a table on which a large spotlight shone. As the cousins watched, the man moved away from the table to reveal the disembodied head of a Cyclops, its one eye staring dully at the cousins.
“Ew,” Charlotte whispered.
“Let’s go,” said Zee, grimacing.
Across the hall was a large glass-paneled room, this one brightly lit. The cousins peeked in to find Mr. Metos, Timon, and two other Prometheans sitting around a big table looking serious. The doctor from the infirmary was talking to them. Pulling quickly out of view, Charlotte leaned in as close as she could to the wall but could hear nothing. It was dead silent. She looked at Zee and shook her head.
“Soundproofed,” she whispered.
“I’m sure they’re not saying anything we’d want to hear,” he muttered.
Charlotte was about to move on when she surveyed the group and noticed something. She whirled around and hissed to Zee, “They’re all men!”
“Huh,” Zee said, as if she had told him she really fancied some cabbage.
“Huh?” she repeated. “Huh? I say they’re all men and all I get is huh?”
Zee blinked at her.
“Everyone we’ve met, they’re all men! Women aren’t any good for protecting humanity? They’re just there to answer phones?”
“Well,” Zee said, “maybe it’s a bloodline thing. They’re all descendants of Prometheus, right? So maybe it’s carried along the male side, you know?”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes. Honestly.
Just then the stairwell door burst open and Teodor appeared, looking wild. He did not even seem to see the cousins as he pulled open the meeting room door and rushed in. There was some commotion as the door closed behind him, then all was quiet.
“Late for the meeting, I guess,” Zee said. “Come on.”
The topmost floor had just three doors. The cousins headed for the first one, only to pull back as soon as they looked inside the doorway. There was a man sitting in there with his back to the door, watching a bunch of TV screens, a steaming mug at his side.
Zee was ahead of Charlotte, so, pressing himself against the hallway wall, he looked into the room, then turned back and mouthed, “Security cameras.” He looked back again and studied the monitors while Charlotte waited. After a couple of minutes he looked back and motioned her forward. They snuck past the doorway, Charlotte wondering how the man with all the security monitors failed to notice the two kids spying on him.
“Were we on there?” Charlotte asked.
“No,” Zee said, looking somewhat puzzled. “It’s all the parking garage.”
Charlotte frowned. “Maybe it rotates?”
“I thought so, but I kept watching and it didn’t change. The parking garage and one bedroom somewhere.”
“A bedroom?”
Zee shrugged. “Yeah, just somebody’s room.”
“Huh.” She shrugged and looked around. They were in a small nook in front of a door that read STORAGE. Zee tried the doorknob, and it opened.
“I wonder what the Prometheans store,” Charlotte said. “I mean, do they have, like, mops, or—”
She was interrupted by a loud intake of breath from Zee, who had stopped short in the doorway. Charlotte looked inside and gaped.
Before her was a vast room filled with weapons—spears, bows, swords, axes, a small trident, whips, shields, staffs. The cousins stared, wide-eyed.
“Want to invade any small countries?” Charlotte whispered.
“Yeah, in 300 B.C.,” Zee responded. He had a point—they were a couple of chariots away from being perfectly prepared to make their run on Alexander the Great.
They moved into the room slowly, looking around in wonder. “I guess this is where Mr. Metos got the spear,” Zee muttered. Charlotte couldn’t help but wonder how exactly Mr. Metos got the spear from England—overnight shipping? And wasn’t the delivery guy a little suspicious?
The cousins walked around the room, studying the bounty before them. Some of the objects seemed impossibly old, and Charlotte had distinct flashbacks to the Ancient Worlds exhibits on museum field trips in elementary school.
“Do you think one of these is Prometheus’s weapon?” she whispered.
Zee shook his head. “I don’t know.” The cousins moved through the room, studying the weapons with no idea what they were looking for. There were so many different things, but none of them looked any more special than any
thing else. Chewing on her lip, Charlotte studied a wall of swords. She didn’t know what she expected to find—a note taped to a battle-ax with the message, Charlotte and Zee, it’s this one!!!! Hugs!
“It’s hard to imagine they’d leave something like that out in the open like this,” Zee said with a shrug.
“Maybe not,” said Charlotte. “Anyway, even if it is in here, we’re not going to find it unless we know what we’re looking for.” She picked up an arrow and examined it. The tail was a rich blue and teal and seemed to be made from peacock feathers. The head came to a point so sharp it almost hurt to look at. Unthinkingly, she touched it with her finger and let out a yelp. A pinprick of blood seeped out of her finger.
“Careful!” Zee gave her an are-you-crazy look, which Charlotte had to grant was fully deserved. “I wonder what these are for,” he added, pointing to a glass cupboard. Inside were three very small, very sharp-looking daggers. Charlotte grimaced.
It wasn’t just weapons in the room. On one shelf sat a small, glimmering harp with strings that looked like gossamer. Next to it was a pan flute made of reeds that looked as if it would break if you breathed on it. There was a glass jar filled with rotting, pointy teeth, each about the size of Charlotte’s hand, and another with an apple made of gold.
Suddenly a string of curses came from Zee, accompanied by a very loud bang. He had pulled a small bronze shield engraved with the image of a Gorgon head off the shelf, and immediately it fell to the floor, dragging his arms with it.
“Heavy,” he explained sheepishly.
Along one wall were some shelves filled with small vials of herbs, roots, flowers, liquids, and powders. Charlotte moved over to the shelves and looked at the contents carefully. “Wolfsbane, borage, eyebright, fennel,” she said, reading the labels aloud. “flax—hey, my dad puts that on his cereal. Garlic, nightshade…” Each label had a drawing on it—some had a medical symbol, more than a few had a skull and crossbones, and some had illustrations of a part of the body. On one was a drawing of a head resting against two hands. POPPY AND AGRIMONY, the label announced.
