by Molly Ringle
Zoe swallowed, leaning toward Tab. “Mm-hm.”
Their lips met, the kiss delicate as it formed around the obstacles—the laptop balanced on Zoe’s thighs, the sunglasses Tab still wore, the uneven rocks they sat upon. Tab slid her gloved hand into Zoe’s short hair and held her closer, and her lips became more ardent. Zoe scooted over till their legs touched, managing to do so without overturning the computer or breaking the kiss.
A flicker of interference crossed her mental screens.
Tabitha felt it too, and sighed against Zoe’s lips. “Niko.”
“Figures.” Zoe nibbled Tab’s lower lip, a lingering touch that stretched into several seconds.
By the time Nikolaos landed his spirit horse in front of them, they were only just pulling apart. He stayed on the saddle, watching with keen interest. “No, please. Continue. Why do you think I immortalized you two together, if not to watch things like this?”
“Gross,” Zoe informed him, though she grinned.
“Old perv.” Tab chucked a rock at him, which sailed through his horse’s ethereal body and bounced down the hillside.
He slid off the saddle and strolled to them, reins in his hand. “What’s new, loves?”
“Well…” Zoe recollected what she’d been doing before the distracting last few minutes, and nodded at her computer screen. “My parents sent a few more bits of information. They pulled some hacker tricks to track down who owns those mobile phones and email addresses, and found out what they could about these people.”
“Not that it helps, though, right?” Tab said. “We can’t call the cops on them for being in a secret club. Especially when we found out by totally illegal spying.”
“There’s that,” Niko said. “Also we can’t tell where exactly they are right now, or what they’re doing. Any luck breaking into the email accounts?”
“For some. I’m feeling my way into how to do cyber-magic, which, needless to say, isn’t something I ever learned in Hekate’s day. But…” Zoe twisted her lips in frustration. “They’re all being too cagey. None of the messages say anything that strikes me as terribly useful. What about you? Been to look in on Landon and Krystal?”
“Yes.” Niko pushed back his fleece hat and scratched his forehead. “They’re still hiding, recuperating. Seem to have met more Thanatos members recently. Landon’s messages suggest some conversations that were lately had, and plans lately made. They’re evasive as to details, as you say.” Niko whipped the end of his reins against his leg. “If only I’d been around on that day, whenever it was.”
“Now Adrian’s over there, though, right?” Tab said.
“Not yet,” Zoe answered. “He’s in New Zealand first. Then he’ll go to wherever Krystal is.”
“So what should we do in the meantime?” Tab asked.
“We take care of Sophie and Liam,” Zoe said.
“But how?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Zoe confessed. “But I was thinking.” She glanced up again at Niko. “You’ve done me good, both of you. Not just these last couple months, but when I was Hekate. It was mostly you two who got me feeling alive again after my parents died.” Zoe looked down the slope into the gray-green valley of olives and oaks. “It was an awful place to be. And that’s exactly the place Sophie’s in now. We’ve got to help her recover.”
“If you’ve got any ideas, I’ll do ‘em,” Tab said. “That girl is made of awesome. No one knows it better than me.” Tab pulled off the sunglasses and peered at Zoe and Niko. “So how’d we do it in the old days? How’d Hekate get fixed?”
Zoe lifted her face again in question to Niko, since she herself hadn’t reached those memories yet, while he had lived with them a couple of years longer.
He was already gazing at her, green eyes narrowed in the sun. “Long story. But if you want the useful parallel, then it’s this: we’re a bit thin on the ground now, same as we were then. There’s only so much the handful of us can do. We need help.”
“But we can’t make new immortals yet,” Zoe said. “The tree isn’t ready. I’d make it grow faster with magic, but that might screw up how the fruit works; I just don’t know.”
“Not other immortals, necessarily,” Niko said. “Allies.”
“How can we be sure who to trust?” Zoe asked.
He nodded, his gaze climbing the hillside. “Isn’t that the eternal human question?”
Chapter Ten
Hekate had weeded and pruned the Underworld’s gardens and orchards. Persephone had instructed her how to care for each plant, and they had exchanged ideas about new plants to try. Dionysos returned to the living world to preside over a festival, and came back a few days later to report it had gone better than expected.
“We do still have allies, lots of them,” he assured Hekate, along with the souls of Hades, Persephone, and Demeter, who stood with her. “Yes, Thanatos is still going strong too—I heard stories about vicious speeches and new recruits. But the good people are with us, and they’re the majority.”
Hermes reported the same when he dropped in for his visits, which he did every few days. He had gone back out into the world about a month after Hekate’s parents’ death, because confining Hermes to one place was as impossible as keeping water cupped forever in your hands. But he always did return, reliable as rain (if as erratically scheduled), and brought Hekate gifts each time: food, potted plants, an interesting animal she could study before releasing it back into the wild, or linen and wool for clothes. “Next time,” he kept chiding her, “you’ll go out into the world and get these things yourself.”
It was her father who finally tipped her courage into resolve.
One day in summer, she went into the fields and found Hades surrounded by a small crowd of souls. He appeared to be talking to them like a teacher, addressing each in turn and soliciting their responses. Persephone wandered nearby, listening to him, running her intangible hand through the branches of a willow.
“Ah, Hekate,” Hades said. “Good, you’re here. I’ve collected a group of souls who need justice. They’re from areas we know how to get to, and places we’ve usually been able to speak the language.”
Hekate smiled. “You know, Father, most people retire from their life’s work after they’ve died.”
“Only because most people can’t do their life’s work in the Underworld. But I can. I’ve done the seeking and sorting, at least. You’ll have to do the errands into the living world, or send someone to. I’m sure Hermes or Dionysos would help.”
Hekate glanced over the assembled souls. They watched her with hope in their benign faces. A middle-aged man, an elderly woman, three young men of various sizes and coloring, four women ranging from teens to thirties, and a boy and a girl not yet ten years old. All murdered, for that was who her father weeded out of the crowds. All with grieving families who wanted their murderers found and brought to justice. Hekate could see it done, if she only would.
You see, she told herself, you are not alone in your grief. People’s family members are murdered every day. You have hidden down here long enough.
She met her mother’s gaze, then her father’s. Both of their faces radiated trust, pride, and encouragement.
Hekate swallowed, her mouth dry. But her voice carried clear enough. “Let me fetch a tablet. I’ll write down the details.”
That afternoon, Hekate walked to the entrance chamber, leading her black spirit horse, a stallion she had allowed to roam free in the fields these past months, since she hadn’t been using him. He could have vanished to be reborn, for animals did that as well as humans, but he had remained. In fact, he still approached her nearly every day when she entered the fields, as if checking whether he was needed. Finally today she could reward his loyalty and take him out again.
She saddled him, and put on a light cloak over her gown. Even in the summer the winds would be chilly at those speeds, and she might be out long after sundown. In a sack over her shoulder she carried the wax tablet with the names and towns etched upon it.
She planned to visit the nearest two towns today; that would be enough to occupy the afternoon and evening.
She mounted the horse, snapped the reins, and commanded, “Up!”
He soared out of the cave. The sunlight blinded her and warmed her. She twitched the reins northward, and the horse obeyed. Her vision adjusted to the daylight, and she caught her breath at the beauty of the land beneath her.
The air smelled of warm saltwater and wild herbs. The sea gleamed clear blue in its depths and crashed in white foam at the shore. The forest rolled out across the land, dipping into valleys where the trees turned brilliant green at river shores, and climbing halfway up mountains before giving way to crags and cliffs. A flock of red and white spirit-world birds, easily a thousand of them, wheeled together above the trees and soared out to sea. Chirps, roars, and screeches arose from the beasts hidden under the trees.
Oh world, you’ve never stopped being magnificent, and I’ve neglected you.
But as she followed the landmarks to the location of the first village, and lowered the horse to touch the ground at the crossover spot, fear stole back into her heart. This was farther from the Underworld than she’d been since her parents’ death, but it was still the spirit realm. The living world, that realm ruled by the most dangerous blood-spilling creature of all—humans—could she cross its boundary again and re-enter that maelstrom?
Heart pounding, she tied up her horse and stepped to the switch-over spot her fellow immortals had set up for this village, a tall bundle of sticks set up in pyramid shape, their ends planted wide in the earth, their tips tied together with strips of blue cloth. She closed her hand around one of the fluttering strips, and breathed deeply. But her fear continued to mount, rising all the way into panic.
She stood immobile and sick, eyes closed, wondering if she would have to return to the Underworld in defeat.
Someone’s essence intruded on her terror-hazed mind. Hermes. She opened her eyes and turned in his direction, her hand still clutching the cloth strip.
He landed his brown spirit horse a few paces from her. His red cloak swirled in the warm wind. “Good afternoon.” He studied her a moment, then dismounted and led his horse to her.
“You followed me?” Her voice felt faint.
“I was roaming about and sensed you this direction. Quite far from where you usually are lately. Thought I’d investigate.”
“I’m on an errand. For the souls. The way my parents used to.” But she stood motionless, surely looking an anxious mess.
The bright sun lit up the green of his eyes. “Has something happened? Are you all right?”
“Nothing. Only…” She let go of the cloth strip and dropped her hand to her side, where she clutched a fold of her skirt instead. “I’m not sure I can go back to that realm.”
He clicked his tongue. “Is that all? Gracious, I thought someone had tried to murder you again, the way you looked. Here, wait a moment.” He tied up his horse next to her stallion, then walked up and interlaced his fingers with hers. His hand felt so warm that she knew her own must be clammy.
“Look at me,” he said.
She did. Her heart still palpitated, but the presence of a friend took the sickening edge off her panic—his warm hand, familiar green eyes, youthful shaven face, and ever-mischievous half-smile.
“You can do this,” he said.
She nodded, just once and jerkily, but an agreement nonetheless.
“I’m coming with you,” he went on. “But only for my own peace of mind. I want to make sure no one tries any nastiness on you again. You could do this alone, we both know that.”
Her mouth relaxed into a sheepish smile. She fully doubted she could do this alone. “Please come,” she said.
“Shall we? Three, two, one.”
They switched realms. The forested wilderness transformed into a green and gold field of barley. They stood on a dirt path between the rows, their feet atop a small heap of grains and flowers.
“Ah.” Hermes lifted his sandal and looked down at the crushed red poppies. “We’re standing upon our offerings.”
Hekate breathed in the warm air, which smelled of barley grass and the smoke of a distant cook-fire. Men and women worked far off in a neighboring field, singing a cheerful, chant-like song as they picked vegetables. She let out her breath. The knot of panic melted to a small kernel. The living world: it had charmed her when she was younger, and now she remembered why.
Hermes let go of her hand and removed one of his gold-threaded sandals to shake grain out of it. He replaced it on his foot. “Ready?” he asked.
She nodded and stepped down from the heap of offerings.
“Hurray,” he remarked, and flung a handful of red poppy petals into the air above her.
She smiled and shook them off her head. Then she turned toward the village and set off down the path, Hermes at her side.
Chapter Eleven
Adrian’s dad let him get through the whole picnic dinner, eaten outdoors in the summery spirit realm of New Zealand, before he brought up Sophie. Adrian had told him about the disaster not long after it had happened, in a broken and jumbled phone call. Adrian hadn’t told him the whole of it since then—how their relationship had pretty much come unraveled as a result. They didn’t get to talk much, given the caution they had to use so Thanatos wouldn’t target his dad, nor use his dad to find Adrian.
Still, his dad and Sophie had met once, and had got along well. Adrian knew his dad must be concerned about her.
After the dessert of packaged chocolate biscuits, his dad crumpled up the wrapper and tucked it into their grocery bag, and finally said, “Your poor girl.”
He sounded so sympathetic, so understatedly grieved, that Adrian already felt tears sting his tired eyes in response.
“It’s all my fault.”
“No. Oh Adrian, don’t think that.”
“She doesn’t…” Adrian scowled at the crumbs scattered on his lap, and pulled in a breath to steady his voice. “She can’t bear to be around me right now. I don’t blame her. If I hadn’t got involved with her, none of it would have happened. She hasn’t said it that way, but of course it’s true. Everyone sees it.”
“You wouldn’t wish such a thing on anyone. Everyone knows that, too. You didn’t know this would happen.”
“I should have, though. I knew the kind of people that were after me. I’m…” Adrian shook his head and shut up before indulging in some rant in which he called himself a monster, a criminal, a curse. Even if he was all those things.
“You have the right to be happy,” his dad said. “Same as anyone. The right to be with people you love.”
“Unless they don’t want to be with me.”
Kiri bounded over, returning from a romp in the meadow. Adrian turned to her and began picking seeds out of her fur.
“Give her time,” his father said. “It’s still so horribly fresh for her. I think she’d rather have you near, even if she isn’t herself right now. I do speak as someone who’s known what it’s like.”
Adrian glanced in guilt at his dad, who had lost not only his own parents in recent years, but his wife when Adrian was just eight. They’d hardly ever talked about that. About Adrian’s mum when she was alive, yes, but not about their grief in losing her.
“It felt like it took ages for us to get over it,” Adrian said. “Years.”
“Some part of you never gets over it. But the worst is over sooner than you think. A matter of months, I’d say. People are resilient, though it never feels that way at first.”
“Well, in any case, she’s got friends and family with her, and I can’t just be there all the time. I’ve got to be out here doing something about Thanatos. What exactly, I don’t know, but something.”
“That worries me more than anything you’ve said. Isn’t there some—some army or detective force you can set to this task instead of doing it yourself?”
“Not so far. I think we have to form our own armies and forces.” Ad
rian flicked the last seed out of Kiri’s fur, and sent his dad a hopeful glance. “Once the next fruits are ripe, you’ll become immortal too, right? Come on, do. We’ll save you a slice.”
He had asked before, and his dad had chuckled and turned him down. But this time Adrian’s voice wavered with anxious sincerity. He couldn’t bear the thought of watching his dad age and eventually die—or be slaughtered by Thanatos.
But his dad shook his head. “That way’s not for me. Don’t you think I want to be with your mum someday in those nice calm fields? Then starting over again eventually…yes, I think we’d both like that.”
Adrian bowed his head in acceptance, but the last hopeful part of his heart seemed to break at the answer. Of course his dad would be among the minority who actually didn’t want immortality.
Someday everyone would leave him. Everyone.
***
Sophie had taken Liam out of school for the coming semester, so he was free to grieve and recover until at least September. As for herself, Oregon State University had a bereavement leave option for students who had lost someone close, and Sophie definitely qualified. It gave her a quarter off—basically three months, till around the beginning of spring—before she had to decide whether or not she would take up classes again.
She discussed the quandary with Tab and Zoe, as they all sat beside a pool of the underground river. It was the same pool Hades, Persephone, and Hekate used to bathe in. It still looked much the same as it had three or four thousand years ago. Rocks like these were slow to change, evidently, even with constant water running through them.
“Would I be safe going back?” Sophie speculated. “Because I kind of don’t think so. Even with all the police protection.”
“I know the feeling.” Chin on her hand, Tab glumly watched the river. “If I go back to being Tab On The Internet Who Interviews Famous People And Goes To Parties, which I would totally love to do, then some Thanatos asshole is just going to car-bomb me again.” She sighed. “Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve, and I have at least three awesome party invitations, and I can’t go to any of them.”
