Olympian Challenger

by Astrid Arditi

  “Your teeth?”

  “Your eye,” I reply, pushing the box into the first crone’s hands.

  She brings the box close to her ear and shakes it, like a kid trying to guess what’s inside her Christmas present before unwrapping it. Her smile blooms bigger, and scarier.

  “My lovely, you’ve returned at last.”

  Her sisters crowd her. “Let me see!”

  “Me first!”

  They scrabble for the box, sending it flying at Melody’s feet. The eyeball rolls out on the grass with a squishy sound. Melody sprints to the closest shrub to vomit.

  “Where is it?”

  “What have you done with it?”

  “Give it back!” they shriek, swarming us.

  There is no way in hell I’m touching this thing. Heath takes out his sword, as if considering skewering the eye with it. I gesture no. What good will the eye do as an offering if it is damaged?

  “It’s over here,” Bob Jr. says, pointing at it.

  Joan hisses. “They can’t see you, moron.”

  “Just a few steps ahead,” I direct them. “Stop!” I scream just before Graeae number one crushes the eye under her boot. “Right there.”

  She bends to retrieve it, exulting as she stuffs it into her right socket. She blinks a few times to adjust her vision. “At last, I see!”

  Her sisters, driven by jealousy, tackle her. “Give it to me!”

  “My turn now!”

  “The naiads asked us to retrieve their tears in exchange for the eye,” I yell, hoping to break their fight.

  But they don’t pay us any heed. They are too busy pulling the few hairs on each other’s skulls and clawing at each other.

  “We might as well help ourselves,” Amy whispers to me. “The road is clear.”

  I stare at the tussle on the grass. She’s right. It’s the perfect opportunity. Grabbing a dazed Gabriel by the hand, I run toward the cottage. All the challengers have come up with the same plan, so we squeeze between the doorframe three or four at a time. There is no magic inside. The thatched cottage is as small from within as it looks.

  Apart from a rickety table, three chairs and the cauldron in the chimney, three bedrolls lie on the dirt floor. The Graeae’s living conditions are squalid, but as they are witches who collect hair and teeth from their victims, they don’t deserve my compassion.

  Tear-shaped crystals shine from the chimney’s mantel.

  “They’ve embedded the tears inside the stone,” Heath says.

  He pulls out his sword and uses the tip to dislodge a crystal for himself. Once he’s pocketed it, he starts toward the exit. What a team player he is.

  Gabriel imitates Heath while Amy uses her dagger to get two crystals, one for her, and one for me. We wait a while to make sure every challenger has gotten their naiad tear, then head out.

  In the clearing, there is no trace of Heath, but the Graeae bar our escape. They’ve come to a truce while we were pillaging their cottage and they now stand side to side, arms locked together, with the one at the center sporting the eye.

  “What a pretty bunch of thieves,” she croaks. “You’ll make a great addition to our collection.”

  She passes her eye to her sister on her left side.

  “What lovely hair this one has.” She points to me.

  Amy and Gabriel press in to flank me. I can feel the hum of his powers awakening where we touch.

  His voice has a hypnotic quality as he begins to sweet-talk the old crones. “We are no thieves. We came with a gift of our own to trade for the naiads’ tears.”

  The sister to the right has the eye now. “This one has a perfect set of teeth. They would make a beautiful necklace.”

  Gabriel’s Adam’s apple bobs painfully—apparently they are immune to his charm. Amy’s eyes get a calculating gleam as she nears Clifford.

  “Can you conjure up flames?” she whispers.

  “Maybe a tiny ember.”

  She picks up a wooden stick and holds it before Clifford. “That’s all I need.”

  He forms a tight ball with his hands until they burn a faint red. When he opens his palms, a small spark is nestled there. He drops it onto Amy’s stick, who blows on it to fuel the flame.

  The sisters, still linked together, creep toward Gabriel and me. Amy kicks the ground and flies to the roof. I can’t fathom how she can stand to trample the human trophies, but I’m glad she can.

  “Let us go or I’ll burn your home to the ground.” She dips her makeshift torch toward the roof.

  “What’s happening?” the two blind sisters query.

  “She will light up our roof,” the current possessor of the eye answers.

  “Blast her with your powers.”

  “There is no time.”

  Amy’s flame hovers just an inch over the roof.

  Gabriel glows. “We don’t want to ruin your home. Promise you’ll let us go unscathed and we promise never to return.”

  His powers still have no hold on the sisters, yet they consider the offer carefully.

  “They did return our eye.”

  “We don’t really need the tears.”

  “You have a bargain, boy.”

  “Thank you,” I say, leading Gabriel slowly to the edge of the clearing.

  The other contenders trail us. Amy grins in victory as she lifts her torch and flutters away. The Graeae mutter sullenly, but they watch us leave in peace.

  We’ve almost made it to safety when Jessica Grey, in her usual annoying way, turns to smirk at them. “They are as stupid as they are ugly.”

  The Graeae who sports the eye throws her hands in Jessica’s direction, propelling a gust of debris that hits her square in the chest. Some fragments ricochet against Clifford, whose only offense was standing next to the hateful girl.

  Surprise paints itself on both their faces as they are struck. Jessica’s expression contorts to agony, and she falls to the ground while Clifford whimpers in pain.

  My hands start to heat up as I bend over Jessica, but I’m too late. She exhales a death rattle, and her eyes turn glassy. Some human teeth cling to her dress while most have pierced the skin and embedded themselves into her heart.

  Greedy howls emanate from the crones as their thirst for blood is reawakened by the kill, and they dart toward us to finish what they’ve started at impossible speed. Amy drags me to my feet while Bob Jr. hauls Clifford into the cover of trees. We run without stopping for as long as we can, until an exhausted Melody trips over a branch and falls face first in the mud.

  As we help her up, we all take a moment to recuperate. We’ve lost the Graeae a while back already. Clifford shrieks hysterically as he tries to remove teeth from his arm. I come to his aid. My hands hover above the injured surface while I picture his body fighting the foreign objects so it can heal. The teeth tumble down to the ground and the skin stitches itself back up.

  I look up at the patch of sky that peeks out between the treetops. It is the golden color that precedes sundown.

  “We need to hurry.”

  “We have to go back,” Clifford says without thanking me.

  He rubs the patch of skin I healed as if worried the phantom teeth might come back.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Amy says.

  “I dropped my tear when the Graeae hit me.”

  “Does anyone have a spare tear,” Gabriel asks our group.

  As to be expected, he draws a negative answer. And no one will sacrifice his place in the competition—not even me.

  I look at Clifford. “We don’t have time to go back. I’m sorry.”

  “You owe me,” he snarls.

  “I just healed you!”

  “And she doesn’t owe you anything to start with,” Amy exclaims.

  “Fine! I’ll go alone!” Clifford snaps, traipsing across the fallen branches toward Graeae’s lair.

  “You’ll die,” I beg him.

  “As if you care,” he retorts without looking back.

 
I itch to follow him, but Gabriel places a hand on my shoulder to steer me away. “Let’s go, Hope. It’s his choice to make.”

  A terrible scream pierces the heavy silence as we near our departure point. Tears stream down my face as I drop the stupid crystal into Hephaestus’s open hand. Stephanie hasn’t made it back, and two of us died today—and for what?

  Chapter 33

  I can’t go to another party. I’ve seen too much death, and although Hades has shown me the afterworld isn’t as awful as I’d pictured it, something about today broke me. I’ve reached my limit with the selfish gods and their cruel tests—all of them, even Kieron, who’s guilty by association. Nothing justifies this pain and loss.

  “Are you sure you won’t come?” Amy asks me from the door.

  I cuddle my pillow tighter. “Not tonight.”

  I sigh in relief when the door shuts after her. I love Amy, but I need the space. I fear I’ve lost sight of what matters most. Between the adrenaline of the competition and Kieron, I powered through the last few days with little thought for the life I left behind. Guilt flushes me as I let myself think of my mother for the first time in days. She’s still sick, still unaware that her daughter has abandoned her.

  She still needs me.

  What kind of daughter dreams of sneaking out with a boy instead of caring for her mother? What I’m feeling for Kieron is more than friendship… I am falling for him, harder than I ever thought possible. What kind of selfish monster does that make me?

  A soft rasp against my window startles me. When I look up from the pillow where I’ve buried my face, Kieron crouches on the windowsill, the fading sun forming a fiery halo around him. My heart flutters in welcome but I squash its hopes instantly. I nod sadly, praying he will catch my silent cue and leave. My guilt increases, lodging itself in my throat like an iron fist as my entire being begs me to let him in. I shouldn’t want him.

  Kieron gives me a quizzical look before vanishing. I hiccup in pain as I realize I’ve sent him away. And then he rematerializes in a dark corner of my bedroom.

  “Hope, what’s wrong?” He creeps slowly toward me as if I’m a wild animal he fears scaring away.

  I leave the warm haven of my bed to face him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  He’s so tall the bedroom seems to have shrunk since he stepped in. I’ve never had a man in my room, and even though this place is temporary, devoid of my personal belongings, his presence feels too intimate, highly inappropriate but thrilling.

  He tilts his face down to look at me. “I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable, but I worried when you didn’t show up at the party. You seemed distraught this afternoon.”

  I look away before his gaze can pull me in. “I wish I’d never come here. All this pain, these deaths, all for nothing.”

  “It’s up to you to make them count. If a worthy hero wins—” I gasp as Kieron’s thumb lifts my chin so I’m forced to look at him. “If you win, then there’s hope for the future.”

  “I’m not as worthy as you think,” I whisper, drinking in his full mouth, the sharp edges of his jaw, the long lashes that fringe his mesmerizing eyes.

  The sky has darkened outside, swathing us in half-light. I should step away from him, but in the twilight that precedes total obscurity, the pull between us intensifies and I can’t avoid the truth any longer. Kieron is the pale sun my world revolves around.

  I lift up to my tiptoes and kiss him swiftly. If I were worthy, if I weren’t selfish, I wouldn’t want him. I stumble as I realize what I’ve done. Kieron blinks in surprise, but his dazed look shifts to hunger. His left arm locks around my waist and secures me close to him. His lips crash against mine and I don’t care if I’m selfish any longer.

  I need his cool lips on mine like water to survive. Yet unlike water, instead of parching my thirst, his kiss ignites it further. I crave more. I weave my fingers in his silken hair as he deepens the kiss, taking my breath away then breathing for me again like that night under the water.

  Lost in his embrace, I can feel his limitless powers calling to me. He is right, they are dark, but more like the cool shade of an oak tree on a sunny day, welcoming, and most welcome. My own healing light seeks his powers, reaching out to them like the golden light of the sun filtering through the dense cover of leaves.

  When Kieron finally pulls away from me, the look of wonder in his eyes must reflect my own. He trails his hand in my hair with a gentleness that tears me apart and patches me up all at once. Never before have I felt so whole, so completed.

  “You’re perfect,” he whispers.

  I giggle. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before. “Me? Perfect? Let me remind you that you’re a god—perfection incarnate.”

  The set of his mouth hardens. “There is nothing perfect about the gods. You should know that by now.” His left arm slides off my waist and he retreats a few steps. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry.”

  Worry pulverizes my state of pure happiness. “I kissed you first. I wanted this too. I want you,” I ramble as I watch him creep away from me. What just happened here?

  “You shouldn’t want me,” he answers, his voice flat.

  “Is it about you being bad? I don’t care what you say. I know you.”

  “You don’t know me. Not really.”

  “Then show me!” My voice breaks. “Let me in.”

  “We’re too close to the end of the competition, Hope. You need to focus. This is bigger than you and me.”

  “I don’t understand. You kissed me too.”

  “I apologize for that. I was weak, but if I have to be strong for the two of us, so be it. The only thing that matters is that you win. The future of the world hangs on it.”

  “You keep saying that, but it’s ridiculous. The world won’t fall apart if I fail.” But my world will fall apart if my mother isn’t healed. This may make me selfish, but that’s the only thing I care about. Anger, at myself as well as Kieron, wins over sadness. “You’re a coward. If you don’t want me, you can just say so. No need to invoke the greater good to make you feel better,” I spit.

  Kieron has retreated to the darkest corner of my bedroom. Shadows slither from every angle of the room to wrap themselves around him in an icy shawl. I shiver in my nightgown.

  “You may hate me right now, but don’t let it distract you. I know you see the truth about the nature of gods now. You need to win so my father and his sort can be stopped later.”

  “Is that the only reason why you befriended me? Because of your grudge against your parents? Grow up, Kieron! Your father isn’t the devil incarnate.”

  “He’s worse than that. And you’re the only one who can stop him.”

  “So all this… Us. It’s a sham.” My heart squeezes in my chest. I thought I was in love for the first time, but it was all a lie. “You’ve been manipulating me to get back at your dad.”

  Kieron’s impassive expression flickers with something that resembles regret, but his silence is damning. Apparently I don’t even deserve an apology. The shadows around him expand until he disappears completely, replaced by a dark entity that hisses at me.

  I fall to my knees as the thing that took hold of Kieron vanishes from my bedroom, the drop in temperature the only proof of his betrayal.

  For our seventh quest, I meet Amy and Gabriel, along with the other challengers, in Erebus. But we’re not honoring Hades, although he looks smug with everyone cowering in his dominion. Instead, our garments have turned the golden shade favored by Apollo, patron of the Arts, because the hero, Orpheus, was a musician. The gilded god pouts now that he has no challenger left in the competition.

  Hades’s pet, Cerberus—a monstrous dog with snakes hissing on his back instead of hair and the tail of a dragon—has been let out for the special occasion. I’m grateful for the heavy chain that keeps it from lunging at us but wish Stephanie were here to dispel his awful breath with her gentle wind.

  All the heroes and divinities have gathered on the o
ther side of the Styx’s bank, save for Kieron. I’m grateful for it. My shattered heart wouldn’t survive facing him so soon.

  Hades has taken his rightful place at the center of the onyx monument where the dead receive their final judgment. Persephone sits to his right, opposite old Minos. Her striking resemblance to her son is a punch to my gut.

  Kieron’s eyes are identical to his father’s, but the rest of him belongs to his mother. From her snow-white hair all the way to her hips, to the full mouth and chiseled features, she’s a painful reminder of what I’ve lost.

  Persephone contemplates the wilting lily in her hands. Under her careful gaze, the petals retrieve their smooth aspect and vitality. I remember she’s the Goddess of Spring. What a tragic destiny to be doomed to exist underground when all she craves for is nature unbound.

  Her blue eyes are watery as she finally looks up. She looks so sad.

  Hades hands her a cup. “Have some more Nectar, my love.”

  Her rigid stance relaxes under the effects of the gods’ wine.

  She gazes into nothingness as she sighs dreamily. “Spring will soon come.”

  Hades broods at her side like a dejected child. Spring means liberation for Persephone—for six months she is released from Erebus to meet her mother, Demeter, who resides on Mount Olympus.

  Soon the competition will come to an end, and if I survive, I’ll be free to leave and return to my mother—my own spring—a new beginning and a lifetime away from the gods. Away from Kieron. Before yesterday, the thought of saying goodbye would have devastated me, but now my release can’t come fast enough.

  Heracles paces from the Olympian gods’ thrones toward us, crossing a shaky bridge over the Styx with an air of regret on his usually smiling face.

  “Orpheus once begged the gods to bring his lover back to life. They agreed on one condition, that he wouldn’t look at her until they left the underworld. Today you are presented with the same opportunity.” He gulps before he starts again. “Your loved ones have been brought here so you can free them. To start this race, you’ll all be dispatched somewhere in Erebus. The ones you need to save will be tied to a rope. Find the rope, without looking at them, and lead them back across the Styx, where the gods will be waiting. Only then will you have achieved your mission. You’ll all get fifteen minutes to make it back.”