Coils

by Barbara Ann Wright

  “Do the others know?” Cressida asked. “You said Pandora knew more than you.”

  “I think she does. I don’t think Arachne cares as long as she gets paid.”

  Cressida tilted her head back and forth. “Then maybe we can pay her to tell us what she knows. Or do you think Pandora will just offer up the information?”

  He shrugged. “For a favor? Maybe.”

  “Here we go,” Medusa said. “They’ll have you running all over the Underworld, Cressida.” Look who’s talking, she said to herself, but it wasn’t the same thing. She wasn’t after trinkets or trifles. She’d lied to save her family, the noblest cause there was.

  “I don’t think she wants anything,” Agamemnon said. “She’d be more interested in firsthand knowledge of what it’s like to be alive in the day and age you live in.”

  “Oh, that’s no trouble,” Cressida said. “As long as she doesn’t keep me talking forever, I don’t mind.”

  He shrugged again, and they kept walking. Medusa’s heart sank with every step. Agamemnon might be covering for Medea’s illusions, but Pandora might tell. What reason would she have for keeping it a secret, unless Medea had told her to? Maybe Medusa could pretend she’d been as caught up in the illusions as Cressida was.

  Another headache was piling on top of the first one; she hadn’t felt such dread since she’d been alive. Funny how she hadn’t missed it one little bit.

  Pandora lived in an enormous library as big as an apartment building. The books were gleaned from the consciousness of those populating the Underworld, so like everything else, they were spotty and uneven, the stories starting or stopping depending on what the people remembered or what filtered down from the minds of those in the living world. Bestsellers slumped down to the Underworld and overwhelmed many books at once, giving everyone only a few titles to read. Medusa remembered the bondage craze that had rocketed through a few years ago and given everyone who’d never considered it a few new ideas. Quite a few old flames had come calling at her doorstep, and she’d sent all of them packing. It didn’t matter if they had new ideas; they were old ideas to her. The past was dead and gone except for one specific point which she could never get over no matter how hard she tried.

  Pandora didn’t seem surprised to see them, but she never seemed surprised at anything. She welcomed them in and led them to the third story, to an oak-paneled parlor, the walls and floors gleaming with polish, slender wooden columns holding up a second story balcony covered with rows and rows of books, varying sizes and colors, paperbacks warring with hardcovers fighting with heavy reference tomes and atlases and dictionaries.

  “I knew you’d come here eventually,” Pandora said.

  “But not so soon, right?” Agamemnon plopped down in a leather loveseat and crossed his ankles on top of a mahogany coffee table.

  Pandora lifted his feet and put a coaster under them. “No, indeed. I expect you found a mount. Aix?”

  Agamemnon rummaged in a candy dish of sour balls and popped one in his mouth. “The giant snake is here?”

  Medusa ignored him. “Medea. Aegis. Talk.” Though the dread knotting her belly still worried what she’d say. Maybe if she started unraveling the lies, Medusa could leap over the table and throttle her.

  Pandora sat in a plush, wingback chair. “Formidable as you may be, there are always stronger opponents.”

  Medusa wondered if she was a bit of a mind reader but decided probably not. “Someone will punish you for speaking to us?”

  “Who?” Cressida asked.

  Pandora turned to her with a look that seemed slightly more excited than her usual. “I’ve got some questions for you.”

  Cressida glanced at Medusa, who gestured for her to continue. “And if I answer them, you’ll tell us what we want to know?”

  Pandora nodded. “At least then I’d be risking my safety for something I want.”

  Perfect. If Pandora could keep Cressida busy…

  “I’m just going to pop into the other room, Cressida, while you two talk,” Medusa said. Cressida nodded, and Medusa slipped out of the room. She didn’t think the others would hurt Cressida. They’d already had that chance, and Cressida had the harpe on her side if they tried now. She found an open window and the first shade she could grab. “Medea.”

  For a moment, there was nothing, and she wondered if Medea would refuse her call. The nearest shade to her factory would be hovering near her windows, smacking against them gently under the force of Medusa’s will. “Medea?” She put a little more command behind it until she could almost hear the noise as the shade knocked against Medea’s special effects department of a house.

  “I was wondering when you were going to get out,” Medea’s voice finally said. “Faster than I expected!”

  “That’s what I keep hearing.”

  A pause. “Oh, so you’ve gone to my little helpers. Well, I didn’t know I had to tell them to hide just yet.”

  “What the hell are you playing at?”

  “Just a favor for someone with a bit more clout than you.”

  “You left me in Tartarus to die!”

  “Well, technically, you’re already dead. I never guessed the girl would have elected to stay with you. You really do have her twisted around your snaky little finger, don’t you?”

  “Leave her out of this. What do you want with the aegis?”

  “Me, darling? Nothing. But I knew you would have objected, so I neglected to mention it to you. Tell you what! Just for the pain and suffering I caused, you don’t owe me a favor anymore.”

  Anger burned through Medusa’s temples, and she didn’t even bother to keep it out of her voice. “Who wants the aegis?”

  “Now that would be telling. And don’t think you can wring it out of my little helpers because I never told them. It was your plan to impersonate my mother that gave me the idea for my own scheme! I do worry what Hecate would do if she knew we were throwing her name around so liberally.”

  “Is that a threat? Either I leave you alone or you run tattling to Mommy?”

  Medea chuckled. “Well, she would forgive her own daughter far faster than anyone else.”

  Shouting from the other room drew her attention. She let go of the shade and hurried back to see Cressida standing with her hand on the harpe, though Pandora had stepped in front of her, seemingly shielding her from everyone else.

  Agamemnon stood in the middle of the room, trying to shout down Arachne who crouched near the door, a web in hand, pointing at Cressida and demanding to know what she was doing there and who was double-crossing whom.

  Medusa let her power flow over her and shoved a vase off a small stand, sending it crashing to a corner.

  Arachne whirled and met Medusa’s gaze. She was a strong spirit, very aware, and Medusa couldn’t petrify her immediately. If they’d still been living, it wouldn’t even have been a contest. Medusa’s living gaze could turn Titans to stone.

  Now, Arachne shuddered, backing up a step and trying to blink. Medusa could feel Arachne’s skin and muscles hardening as Medusa’s power tried to take her over.

  “If I push, I’ll win,” Medusa said. “But I don’t want that, not yet.” The room had gone quiet—her real aim—and she bottled her power. “Now, let’s all just settle down, shall we?”

  Arachne took a deep breath and glowered, but she looped her web around her fist and shoved it into the pocket of her jacket. “How in the hell did you get back here so fast?”

  “Yes, yes. We’re back, and no one expected Cressida to get out alive, and yet there she is, and you’re very lucky she kept the harpe sheathed.” Medusa took a seat in an armchair, gesturing for everyone else to sit, but only Cressida and Pandora obeyed. Cressida sat as close to Medusa as she could, showing that they were still allies. Medusa almost snapped at her to move away, to not trust anyone.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Arachne said. “If you haven’t answered that question already?”

  “Well, Medea won’t give me any
answers, so unless you three happen to know who wants the aegis, you’re of no use to me.”

  “Someone’s looking to shake up the whole structure of the Underworld,” Pandora said.

  “Hecate?” Cressida asked. “She’s the one who wanted the aegis and the harpe in the first place. She’s known as a companion and friend to Persephone in the legends, but is she trying to take over? Or is someone trying to unseat Hades?” She paused as if trying to work things out in her head. “Where are the rest of the Olympians?”

  Arachne frowned at Agamemnon when Cressida mentioned Hecate, and Medusa thought, she knows. They all knew that Hecate hadn’t been in this from the beginning. Question was, did they know that she knew? Or did they think Medea had been fooling Medusa along with Cressida?

  When Arachne glanced at her, Medusa knew something had to have shown on her face, if Arachne’s look of satisfaction was any indication. So, now the little wretch thought she had something hanging over Medusa’s head. Well, they’d see about that.

  “No one’s seen the Olympians down here in ages,” Pandora said. “Persephone and Hades keep to their palace in a restricted part of Asphodel known as the Terrace.”

  “I bet they’re easy to pick out of a crowd,” Cressida said.

  Pandora shrugged. “They can appear however they want, but you’re right. It’s hard for them to hide their godhood.”

  “But what—” Cressida’s words cut off as the building shook, booming and creaking. Plaster rained down over their heads, and Agamemnon was thrown to the floor. Near the wall Arachne clung to a bookshelf.

  “What the hell?” Cressida yelled as she grabbed on to Medusa. Pandora ran for a window, throwing the heavy curtain to the side just in time for a Molotov cocktail to break through the glass and burst into flames upon the carpet.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cressida leapt for the door, but Medusa was faster. Her wings popped out in a flash, and she latched on to Cressida and sprang upward, one downbeat carrying them across the room. Pandora screeched, beating at the flames while the others told her to leave it. Agamemnon tried to pull her out the door, and Arachne was already through it.

  More explosions rocked the building, and Medusa ran to another window in the hallway, but instead of pulling the curtain wide, she peeked out and cursed. “It’s Adonis and Narcissus’s gang.”

  Well, Cressida had known that particular sleeping dog wouldn’t stay down. “What do they want?”

  “If I had to guess, they think we’re aligned with this crew, possibly with Medea, and they’re declaring war.”

  “Tell them it was Hecate!” Cressida said. “Then they’ll go away!”

  “Don’t count on it.” Arachne threw the window open, and when a flaming bottle arced toward her, she lassoed it and sent it down at the thrower, sending several people diving for cover.

  The building shook again, and Arachne looked straight down. “Holy shit! That’s not all Molotovs, Snakes.”

  Cressida leaned over her shoulder and gawped. A monster banged on the bottom of the building, its tentacle legs knocking loose chunks of brick while its six serpentine heads gnawed at the woodwork and the façade.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Medusa cried. “How in Tartarus did they convince Scylla to work for them?”

  Even through the fear, Cressida managed awe and disbelief, fascination and a strange sort of joy. Some stories painted Scylla as a born monster, a child of the Titans like Aix, but others said she was once a beautiful nymph, either cursed by a jealous goddess or poisoned by the sorceress Circe to turn into a monster. It was an early tale versus a later one again, and no matter which was true, she was still tearing pieces out of the building in the here and now.

  Adonis swaggered into the street, several others guarding him with shields. Arachne attempted to whisk one away, but her webs slid off the shields as if they were greased. Adonis had changed from a white sweater to a black one, probably his action sweater, and she wondered how many he had.

  He lifted a bullhorn to his mouth. “You can surrender now or when the building collapses. Your choice.”

  “Go to hell!” Arachne called before anyone else had the chance. She pulled her head inside. “We need a plan.”

  “Are you going to ditch us at the first opportunity?” Cressida asked. “Because that’s been your plan so far.”

  “We don’t have time to argue. We—”

  With Agamemnon on her heels, Pandora ran from her library shrieking like a banshee. She shoved Arachne and Cressida out of the way and leaned far out the window. “You burned my books, you bastard!”

  Everyone seemed taken aback by her ferocity, her blazing eyes and flushed cheeks. Power crackled around her, so much that her hair stood out from her body. She ran from the window and hurried to the stairs. After another glance at one another, everyone followed. Cressida wondered how many of them wanted to back her up in whatever she was doing and how many just wanted to see what she was going to do.

  Pandora took the stairs in leaping bounds. With Scylla’s banging and crashing, it was amazing she didn’t trip. Cressida had to catch herself on the bannister several times as her feet slid out from under her. From the skidding and swearing around her, the others were struggling, too. She caught Agamemnon’s elbow, and he had Medusa’s, and then the three of them had to catch one another again. The only one who didn’t need their help was Arachne, who stuck to every surface. Any minute, Cressida expected to see her rappelling down the middle of the stairwell.

  Pandora burst through the front door, still screeching. The tentacles of Scylla flared around the street, but Pandora paid them no mind. Cressida ran out behind her and had to stop and gawk at the bulk of the monster. It lowered its six heads and stared at Pandora, several of them moving as if to devour her.

  Cressida scampered to the side of the street, Medusa with her, and Agamemnon and Arachne following hard. Agamemnon had his sword out, and Arachne readied her webs, probably to streak off through the city like Spiderman, but none of them did more than gawk.

  Pandora held her hands a foot apart and grabbed empty air as if holding the edges of a book. She drew her hands apart slowly, and bright, blinding light shone between them. Cressida had to look away, everyone did, even Scylla, but as Pandora drew her hands farther apart, Cressida glimpsed something within the light. Dense blackness waited there, with tiny pinpoints of light, as if Pandora held the night sky between her hands.

  A rushing sound like whitewater filled the street, and fabric began to flap around bodies while awnings lifted off the front of storefronts. Random bits of trash shuddered and rolled, smaller items skipping toward the hole and disappearing through it. Everyone was shouting, trying to be heard over the rush that was quickly edging toward a keen. Cressida’s hair whipped around her face, and on the other side of the street, a small satyr slid sideways, hooves grating on the pavement.

  “Grab hold of something!” Medusa shouted.

  Cressida grabbed a streetlight, the others hanging on with her, but the pressure kept building. Cressida’s feet began to lift from the pavement. Even Scylla lurched toward the hole, heading for that awful widening gap that seemed to lead into the heart of space itself.

  The streetlamp groaned, but Cressida wrapped her legs around it. Medusa shouted something, her tone angry, and a length of web slipped around Cressida from behind. Arachne passed more strands around, and Cressida twirled them around her arms, trying to pass them to everyone else, though that bound all their fates to the streetlamp; at least it was stuck to the pavement.

  Someone from Adonis’s gang screamed as he toppled into the hole, but everyone else seemed to have secured themselves. Bystanders who had nothing to do with the confrontation were rolling down the sidewalk, and one tumbled by, getting sucked into space without even a scream. A green-skinned little man came close enough to grab, and Cressida held on to him. He clung to her backpack, and though pain wrenched through her shoulders, she hoped he was strong enough to hold on.

/>   Scylla tried to scurry backward, massive tentacles backpedaling, but her heads were pulled taut toward the nothingness. She flailed, but nothing was strong enough to hold her, and the hole was now a yawning chasm, air shrieking toward it. Scylla flew upward with a roar, and then collapsed in on herself and disappeared into darkness. Cressida hoped that might be an end of it, but Pandora’s face was still a mask of anger; she might not stop until she’d doomed them all.

  “We have to do something,” Cressida tried to say, but the words got lost. They couldn’t throw anything. Adonis had tied himself and his gang to a storefront pillar, so he wouldn’t pull loose until the rest of them did.

  Arachne had coated herself in webs, and as Cressida watched, she dropped to the ground and clung to the pavement, though the ends of the webs streamed toward the hole, threatening to pull her loose. She left the ends of several strands stuck to the streetlamp, and like everyone else, Cressida grabbed on to one, ready to try to reel her in if she looked doomed. With painful slowness, Arachne crept toward Pandora in a belly crawl, sticking to the sidewalk. Her ponytails stood straight out from her head. When she reached Pandora’s ankles, she yanked, pulling Pandora’s legs out from under her.

  Cressida thought Pandora might be thrown through her own tear in reality, but the pressure dropped as her hands fell. When Cressida’s feet hit the ground, she struggled out of the web. Agamemnon cut it with his sword, letting everyone out quickly. As soon as she was free, Cressida ran for Pandora and piled on top of her just as the hole into space closed with a little pop of displaced air.

  Cressida tried to remember any wrestling moves she’d heard of, any way to pin someone, but Pandora struggled like mad, and all Cressida could do was keep her hands covered while Arachne held her legs. The air huffed out of them as someone fell on top of Cressida, making the backpack grind into her ribs. They were all trying to grab Pandora, including the green-skinned man Cressida had saved. As she took another look at his mottled skin, she knew he must be a naiad, a water sprite, but she didn’t have time to ask.