Coils

by Barbara Ann Wright

  “Toward the entrance. And if they get Charon to drive them back, I don’t know how we’re going to follow. It seems like a really long walk. I don’t know if I have enough supplies or if June has enough to wait for me. And they took the string that leads out of the labyrinth.”

  Medusa glowered at the hallway beyond. “Don’t worry about that. Aix, can you see the way out?” Her mother stared blankly, and Medusa gestured wildly, saying, “Out, we need to get out,” several times before her mother seemed to get the gist. She reared up and then started through the tunnels.

  Medusa seethed as they hurried toward the entrance. The others had to have been planning on dumping her from the beginning, which meant Medea had told them to do it, maybe under the guise of Hecate, but who knew.

  But how had Medea known the way to the vault for the aegis? Medusa had been feeling her way through when she was looking for the harpe, but Pandora always seemed to have some inkling of where she was. Maybe they had someone else on their side who knew all the ways of the labyrinth? Someone who knew where the aegis was? A god? A goddess?

  But Pandora had seemed to be playing it by ear, too. She’d even made a few false turns. Maybe she hadn’t really known the way. Maybe there was no map.

  Medusa put the heel of her hand to her forehead. “I’ve been such an idiot!” Even her mother swung around to look at her. “Perception. This whole place is built on perception. It creates what the prisoners think their hell should be like. It creates the guardian’s ideal lair. Even this labyrinth. It’s only here because we think it is. Pandora wasn’t finding her way through it; she was opening it.”

  “With her superpower?” Cressida asked.

  Medusa snorted a laugh. “She was unlocking it by not believing in it. If you think you’re lost in the labyrinth, you’ll stay lost.”

  “Like Hecate’s palace? So, all we have to do is think about the way out?”

  “Having something tangible like the string probably helps. And Aix can see over the walls, which will make us believe we’re headed toward the entrance, especially if she believes it, too.” She grinned at her mother. “As for making it out before you go through all your supplies, Aix can help us there. My mother is very fast when she wants to be.”

  Medusa began to walk again with purpose, confident her mother would find them the way out and hoping that confidence imprinted on the labyrinth around them. Cressida stayed by her side, eyes still pinned on Aix, and Medusa hoped she was believing, too.

  “Your mother…” Cressida said.

  “What about her?”

  “She’s a giant snake.”

  “Look, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to picture what’s possible and what isn’t as far as breeding and genetics goes, but don’t. If you try to match mythology and science, you’re going to go insane.”

  “Well…” She drew the word out, and Medusa could almost see her logical brain stretched to the point of snapping. “Your mom is clearly a giant snake. Unless she doesn’t exist, and I’m just picturing her there because you’re seeing her.”

  Medusa gave her a look of mock horror. “Maybe I’m not here and neither are you. Maybe you’re locked up in an insane asylum.”

  “Stuck in a cliché? That is terrifying.”

  Medusa waggled her fingers. “Spooky.”

  Cressida looked as if she was going to smile, but her mouth twisted as if trying to swallow any mirth. “You’re just trying to distract me from the fact that your mom is a giant snake, and you’re not.”

  “I’m not going to explain, but while you were distracted…” She gestured ahead to where the gates of the labyrinth stood wide open. “My giant snake mother and I have found the way out.”

  Cressida whooped, and Medusa couldn’t help a laugh. Even Aix seemed amused, though a stranger wouldn’t have been able to tell. When Aix turned to look at them, purring, Cressida pulled up short. “Is she growling?”

  “It’s a good noise. She likes you.”

  “How can you tell?”

  Medusa shrugged. “She’s my mom.”

  Cressida nodded, but it had a resigned air, as if she’d get used to that fact only under duress. The platform for the trolley stood empty, just as Medusa expected.

  “Give us a hand, Mom.” Medusa gestured upward until Aix lowered her head. Medusa put a foot behind one of her frills and pulled up to sit with her feet just in front of them, right behind her mother’s head. “Riding on her back will be a little stomach turning, but it beats walking. Who knows? We might even catch up to them.” She held a hand down.

  After another look down Aix’s length, Cressida grabbed Medusa’s hand and let herself be pulled aboard. “If we do catch them, what do you plan to do? We can’t keep the aegis from Hecate, can we?”

  As Aix slithered up the tunnel, heading for Asphodel, Medusa frowned hard, wondering how she could explain taking the aegis and keeping it. It held her head, after all. Maybe if she made up some excuse about how Hecate didn’t really want the aegis? But any excuse she concocted might unravel the lies she’d told. She sighed. Lying wasn’t any fun unless she was the only one telling them, and that certainly hadn’t been the case this time.

  “I don’t know,” Medusa said. After lying, stalling was the best tactic.

  “I wonder why Hecate wants the aegis. Maybe she thought you were going to betray her, and she wanted a way to turn your gaze back on you? But she’s the goddess of magic. Surely she doesn’t need your power in order to fight you.”

  Medusa’s gaze wouldn’t work on the real goddess of magic, no. And Medusa would have a hard time petrifying someone as aware as Medea, who had her own magical arsenal. Maybe the aegis was insurance of some sort. Unless Pandora, Agamemnon, and Arachne had truly struck out on their own and were double-crossing everyone. But they couldn’t be stupid enough to risk having Medusa and Medea or Hecate as their enemies.

  No, Medea’s hand was at the heart of this. She needed the aegis for something more than just fighting Medusa, and Medusa had to find out what it was.

  It was her head.

  No, she told herself. She had Cressida, and she had the harpe. Now was the time to make directly for the Elysian Fields, invent a story about why Hecate wasn’t getting the harpe and convince Cressida to lead Perseus out. Her plan had been to have Medea send them to the Fields in her guise as Hecate, but Medusa would have to think of something else now.

  And while she was doing that, Medea would be free to do whatever she wanted with the aegis. She’d use Medusa’s head and Aix’s skin for whatever nefarious purpose she wanted. It was an outrage.

  One that could be dealt with after Stheno and Euryale were restored.

  Medusa curled both hands into fists. She had to find out what Medea planned to do with the aegis. She’d find out first, before she did anything else.

  A very deeply ashamed part of her knew it was more than just the aegis that made her hesitate to bring Cressida to the Elysian Fields. Their time together was drawing to a close, and when it finally did, Cressida would end up hating her. With the lies Medusa had told, there was no other ending. Cressida would have to be the one to destroy Perseus, and she’d probably think of it as murder. And when Medusa really offered to help find June, Cressida might reject that offer. She might run into the Underworld, get herself in all kinds of trouble.

  It made her stomach hurt just thinking about it, and she knew what she should do. She had to direct Cressida to the real Hecate. If June was there, Cressida could probably bargain for her, maybe even with the harpe. Medusa could always go to Hecate later and see if the goddess could be persuaded to help her kill Perseus. Maybe she’d be grateful for something new to do. Medusa didn’t know anyone in the Underworld who wasn’t bored.

  First things first, though. She was going to find out what Medea wanted with the aegis. It was a quest that wouldn’t wait.

  It was her head.

  *

  And now I’m riding a giant snake through Tartarus.

&nb
sp; No, it was even stranger than that. Cressida was sitting on a giant frilled snake who was also a Titan with the Titan’s daughter, Medusa, herself a demigod who could turn people into stone and occasionally had wings and snake hair. In Tartarus. With the harpe of Cronos strapped to her hip. Yeah, that was one collection of experiences she wasn’t going to top anytime soon. If ever. If she lived a thousand lifetimes.

  But if she returned here when she died, it could happen all the time. She wondered what that would be like. If Medusa had her revenge and her sisters were returned to themselves, the three of them could be happy. And if Cressida came back—and June, too—they could all be happy together. June could date the goddess of magic but as a proper dead person—if Hecate was interested in regular dead people—and she and Medusa could…

  What? Be lovers? Girlfriends?

  Well, as for lovers, Cressida thought, yes, please. Just thinking about it made her hyper aware of Medusa sitting in front of her. They had to ride in front of the frills to keep them from sliding along Aix’s back, and that meant that with every slither, Medusa’s lusciously curvy backside rubbed against Cressida’s thighs, driving them open a bit wider. She closed her eyes and tried not to think too hard about that. It was difficult enough to keep hold of the frills rather than wrap her arms around Medusa’s waist, maybe lean forward and bury her face in Medusa’s neck and have a bit of a nibble.

  Get a grip. Even if she did come back to the Underworld upon her death, who on earth would be left to remember her? She supposed if she had children or grandchildren by the time she died, they’d remember her for a little while, but even if there were pictures, how well would her great-grandchildren recall her? She might be remembered a while longer through her academic writing, if her work gained any success; a few students would carry her memory, but if everything she’d witnessed so far in the Underworld was true, she’d need a hell of a lot more belief to remain aware. Every shade might have once been remembered by someone, but after those people had died, too, shadehood had probably come on pretty quickly. After all, two people as well known as Stheno and Euryale were fading away.

  And even if Medusa wanted Cressida now, she wouldn’t want a shade later. After Cressida left, Medusa would probably move on pretty quickly. She wouldn’t pine for the rest of Cressida’s life. In fact, she might be angry because Cressida had angered Adonis, and he could pull Medusa into the whole gang-culture of the Underworld if he wanted revenge for the loss of his ambrosia.

  It was a big tangled mess, but Cressida told herself she shouldn’t be worried about it at all. She should have been thinking about getting June back and getting the hell out of the Underworld and living her life, no matter where she might wind up in the afterlife.

  But what was there to focus on besides the Underworld’s problems? The beautiful woman in front of her? The undulating, slightly sickening feel of the snake, the mother of the beautiful woman in front of her? Focusing on the hope for some hot loving was so much nicer.

  Cressida grinned since Medusa couldn’t see her. That did sound wonderful, but Cressida usually didn’t let her mind wander to such things outside the privacy of her own home. She’d have been lying if she said she hadn’t ever fantasized about the women of myth. Medusa had even been one of her fantasies, snake-headed and all. Letting herself fall in love with characters was so much easier than interacting with real people. Cressida’s last date had been months in the past, and it hadn’t progressed past heavy petting. And that had been in the real world with plenty of time to spare, not in the Underworld while running from one impossible task to the other.

  Cressida’s inner voice reminded her of what Medusa would appreciate much more than hot loving. Perseus’s death would guarantee her further happiness once Cressida had gone.

  And it might make her more receptive to any hot-loving-adjacent ideas.

  Cressida frowned, telling herself that potential sex was secondary to Medusa’s happiness, thank you very much. She would not let herself turn into some sleaze who only did nice things in exchange for sex.

  Even if the sex would be very, very good.

  With a firm command to her inner sleaze to shut the hell up, she nodded to herself, letting her hand rest briefly on the harpe. She’d cut the arms off a Hecatonchires. She could lure a hero of legend to his doom. After all, she didn’t have to kill him, though she didn’t know what comfort that would be in the middle of the night when she was staring at the lonely walls in her apartment. She wondered if Medusa would sneak up on him to do the deed or if she’d call him out like a gunslinger in a western.

  Whatever she decided, Cressida didn’t have to stick around to watch. She’d get June, she’d help Medusa, and then she’d hightail it toward Cerberus’s cave. With any luck, Cerberus would be out chasing Nero and wouldn’t be waiting for her. She touched over her heart where the oil connected to her lifeline and hoped Nero was okay, hoped she might have felt it if something happened to him.

  When her eyelids began to droop, she went with it. The feeling of the snake was hypnotic, and she felt as if she needed a nap. Before she knew it, someone nudged her forehead, and she sat bolt upright, realizing she’d nodded off against Medusa’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered, wiping a bit of drool off her chin.

  “We’re here.”

  The streetcar sat where they’d first seen it, Charon’s booted feet propped up on the panel in front of him, but he peeked around his newspaper-book-magazine as the giant snake glided toward him.

  Cressida leaned close to Medusa. “Are you going to say anything?”

  “What would be the point? I’m not going to change the ferryman of the Underworld, and I don’t want to make an enemy of him. I want to save all my ire for…” She swallowed.

  “Hecate? Or did you mean Perseus?”

  “Hecate’s three lackeys for certain, maybe her.”

  “Medusa…” But what could she say? The goddess tried to trap Medusa in Tartarus, but Cressida couldn’t risk losing the chance to get June back. “Can you…”

  “Wait until after you’ve traded your aunt for the harpe?”

  Cressida breathed a nervous laugh. “Well, since you suggested it!”

  “I think that deal is probably off.”

  “What? Why?”

  When she didn’t answer, Cressida’s mind raced. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She supposed she could stand up to Hecate with Medusa, use the harpe and Cronos’s battle knowledge to fight to get June back, but against a goddess who could warp her surroundings at will? And who knew what else she could do? Probably anything she wanted!

  The snake slowed, halting as Medusa leaned far forward and whispered something. She slid down, and Cressida followed.

  “What’s the plan?” Cressida asked.

  “We can’t go riding Aix through town. Everyone would know we were coming.” She rolled her lips under and stared at nothing, or she might have been following the lines of buildings and flashing lights, trying to think of a plan of attack. After a moment, she turned and caught Cressida staring. “Don’t worry. I’m not suicidal.” She sighed hugely. “But maybe we should part company.”

  “You’re going to go up against Hecate alone?”

  Another sigh. “I’m going to go after one of our three friends first, find out what they know.” She stared at Cressida for nearly a minute, long enough for Cressida to fidget under her gaze. “Maybe you should go see Hecate by yourself. Plead your case. Hide the harpe somewhere so you can get it later.” She chuckled, though it sounded more hopeless than humorous. “You might find she doesn’t even ask you for it.”

  “You think this whole expedition was a trick to get rid of you? That she never wanted this sword in the first place?”

  “Sounds as plausible as anything I’ve thought of. You should go straight to her temple, perform a prayer ritual, something she probably hasn’t seen in a long time, and that might appease her enough to get your aunt back if your aunt is really there, if
that wasn’t another lie.” She winced.

  Cressida frowned. “But I saw her. We both did.”

  “Even if she isn’t there, Hecate can help you find her if your supplication is sincere.” She nodded. “And then…” She lifted her arm, halfheartedly gesturing in what could have been the direction of Cerberus’s cave.

  Deeply touched, Cressida shook her head rapidly. “No, I’m going to help you and your sisters. I’ve decided. I’m going to lure Perseus over.”

  She expected surprise, maybe gratitude, but Medusa gave her such a guilt-stricken look that Cressida had to lay a hand on her arm.

  “Don’t look like that,” Cressida said. “None of this Tartarus stuff is your fault. You’ve only tried to help me, and people keep getting in the way.”

  “Gods, Cressida!” Medusa walked a few feet away, rubbed her forehead, and walked back again. “How can you be so…” Her smile had a strained quality as she breathed hard. “Good?”

  “It’s the only way to help your sisters, right? How can I ignore that?”

  After another deep breath, Medusa shut her eyes tightly. “Go and plead your case to Hecate. Aix and I will be all right.”

  Cressida hesitated, looking toward the elevators that would take her to Hecate’s palace if she could remember the way. Medusa might be right. Hecate might take the harpe in exchange for June if Cressida didn’t have Medusa by her side, but she couldn’t help thinking of them as a team.

  “No,” Cressida said, “we stay together.”

  Medusa turned wide eyes on her. “Go, Cressida. I’m not telling you again.”

  “Or what? You’ll turn me to stone?”

  Medusa took a threatening step forward, and fear crept through Cressida’s entrails. This was a demigod standing in front of her, a creature of immense, terrible, ancient power. Who was she to defy that?

  A woman who’s been pushed around by mythological bullshit for too long, that’s who. Cressida lifted her chin. “If we stay together, we can get everything we want.”