Love or Fate

by Clea Hantman

  “You betcha,” the needle replied. “Now, if you can answer this question, you can go through this door. And yes, it’s the door that you’ve been looking for.”

  “Argh! More rhyming! Are you a Fury? Oh, this is so confusing!”

  “A Fury? Nonsense. It’s often boring down here in Tartarus, especially when you have to spend all your time in a bale of hay. We rhyme to pass the time. Besides, the Blessed Ones copied me—I rhymed first. I rhymed all the time till they started imitating me and then, well, now I just do it occasionally for fun.”

  “I see.” Apollo looked around impatiently. He didn’t know how much time the Muses had left—there was no way to tell time in a place like this. But he knew every second was valuable. “So you have a riddle for me? Thalia’s favorite food used to be blackberry and elderberry jam on toast. But since she moved to earth, it’s probably nacho-flavored corn chips. Her lucky number is nine; her favorite hobbies are star hopping and skateboarding. Are any of these the answers you’re looking for?”

  “I do indeed have a question for you, but no, it has nothing to do with anything like that. No, no. Your question is this: What pair runs over fields and woods all day, sits by your bed at night, and has two long tongues that simply hang out and about?”

  “I don’t see what this has to do with finding Thalia!” said Apollo, just a bit bothered. This needle was wasting valuable time.

  “I’ll ask you again. What pair runs over fields and woods all day, sits by your bed at night, and has two long tongues that simply hang out and about?”

  Apollo thought about it. “A pair of dogs is too easy,” he muttered to himself.

  He thought about the Muses and their pet, Pegasus. Pegasus ran over fields all day, but there was only one of him. No, that wasn’t it.

  The needle rocked back and forth expectantly. “I’m thinking,” said Apollo.

  He looked around, up and down. And then he spotted it. Yes, this pair did run all over fields. It did sit by his bed at night. It indeed did have two long tongues that hung about!

  “My shoes!” Apollo exclaimed. “My shoes, my shoes, my shoes, my shoes, my shoes…”

  Apollo stood up to his full height, filled with pride. And hope. “Now if you will, please let me through!”

  And the door opened, just like that.

  NINE

  “Why do we need to wash their clothes by hand?” Era moaned. “The Furies have powers. They could just blink this stuff clean.”

  We were in our small gray cube of a room, the floor deadly cold, the Venus flytraps snapping away, me in no shoes (they were somewhere back on the River of Moaning).

  “Why, isn’t it obvious?” replied Polly. “The Blessed Ones want us to suffer. They want us to smell their evil. They want us to see the stains from the elegant feast they had last night. They want us to know their dirt, feel their dirt, be their dirt. Oh, I can’t stand it!” and she threw up her hands. Tizzie’s velvet robe went flying and hit me on the head. “Sorry,” said Polly sheepishly.

  “It’s okay. We’ve all about lost it, and why not? This is ridiculous! Absurd! We are goddesses!” I yelled. The sound bounced back at me off the walls.

  “If you say that one more time, I am going to scream,” yelled Polly, pretty much already screaming. “Of course we are goddesses. Era and I already know that, and Era and I are the only ones who can hear you say it over and over. It doesn’t matter to anyone here.” Polly covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Zeus, we’re doomed. I can’t bear this life. I can’t.”

  My older sister was on an emotional Pegasus ride through the sky. Up, down, up, down.

  “You can’t bear this? What about me?” asked Era, slumped over an old tin wash basin, which was a major step backward from the washing machine we’d had in Athens, Georgia. “Look at what this cheap soap is doing to my hands! They are dried and cracked and itchy and freezing! I feel that my skin may never recover. And I need a bath; I need one baaaad. When will Daddy get here?”

  “Daddy,” I quietly said.

  “Daddy,” echoed Polly.

  But he didn’t appear.

  I went back to scrubbing silently, trying not to notice the sands of time draining on my wrist. It was just too depressing since there was nothing we could do about our situation. Our “room” was tightly locked. We had washed dozens of black gowns, black shawls, black stockings since we’d arrived, after a nap that seemed all too short. According to our hourglasses, our arrival had been almost twelve hours ago. And still no one had come to save us.

  “I’m sick of all this black! It’s making me even more depressed! I wish they could at least have some orange or pink in their lives!”

  And then it happened. POOF. The pair of stockings in my hands went from a dark and dreary black to pink and orange stripes.

  “Whoa.”

  My sisters and I looked at each other, then down at the socks. Powers? Powers!

  “That was my powers, right? These were black a moment ago, weren’t they?” Era nodded, while Polly just stared. “Powers! I have powers!”

  “Let me see that.” Polly snatched the stockings out of my hands. “There must be some mistake. How could you have powers?”

  “I dunno. Maybe they’ve recharged or something, like on those Duracell commercials back in Athens, remember? Like, maybe Hera took them away, but now that we’ve been here for a while, in the godly realm, we’re getting them back because, well, we’re goddesses.” This time Polly didn’t get mad; she just listened quietly. “You try. Wish for something!”

  “Oh. Oh, no. This is trouble, I know it!” erupted Polly.

  “Oh, c’mon, Pol,” I exclaimed, but Polly wasn’t budging. “Fine. Era, you try!”

  “Okay, I want…um, I want a candy bar!”

  “A candy bar?” But before I was even finished questioning her choice, a paper-wrapped bar appeared at her feet. Era squealed with delight. That is, until she looked at it closely.

  “It’s not candy! It’s one of those granola bar things!” she pouted.

  “Who cares! We have powers!” I cried.

  “Don’t get too excited,” said Polly. “I fear this is a trick. And besides, if we do truly have our powers back, they don’t seem particularly powerful.”

  “Maybe we’re just adjusting to them,” I reasoned.

  Just then Tizzie popped in. Literally. Popped. She didn’t bother to use the thick door, let alone knock. How rude.

  Era quickly slid her granola bar behind her.

  Get back to work, and Thalia, put away that smirk.

  I was not smirking. I was giving her a sideways glance filled with hatred.

  Next up I need you to lance Alek’s boil,

  then make a likeness of her from aluminum foil.

  “Nope, can’t do it,” I said matter-of-factly, going back to my cleaning. I had no patience for Tizzie right now. I wanted to think about our powers. How could we use them to get out? Did we all have them? Would they be stronger if we used them together?

  That wasn’t a question, but rather a demand,

  lest you forget who has the upper hand.

  I just stared down at my work, biting my tongue.

  I’m leaving now, but we can see all.

  Fight us and you’ll find yourself against a wall.

  And poof, she was just a cloud of smoke.

  “Arrgh!” I yelled. “Oh, I wish she were an eight-toed toad with giant lymph nodes, ohhh, à la mode!”

  And then out of the smoke cloud appeared an eight-toed toad, swollen to the gills with a single scoop of cherry almond fudge ice cream on its head.

  My sisters and I gasped.

  “Ribet. Cough, cough, ribet,” said the toad.

  “Did I just turn Tizzie into a toad?” I asked.

  “It couldn’t be, could it?” asked Polly.

  “Well, it looks like I did. No, I’m sure that I did. Our powers are back for real!”

  “Shhh,” said Polly. “Not so loud. And we’re not supposed to
use our powers, remember? It will get us into even more trouble.”

  “How can we be in even more trouble?” I asked. “Lancing Fury boils is about as bad as it gets. We’re here for an eternity unless we get out of here soon. Eternity—that’s forever. If we have a chance, we need to grab it by the horns and go!”

  “But Tizzie said they can see us in here. Surely Meg and Alek will be here shortly. Surely they will know. Oh, what will they do to us now?” Polly cried.

  “We can use our powers, and we will,” I demanded. “This is our ticket out of here.”

  “Maybe we should just use them to do the chores while we wait for Daddy to come get us,” suggested Era, looking at Polly, then back at me like she didn’t know who to agree with.

  “No! Daddy is not coming, Era. Hera has pulled the wool over his eyes; I’m sure of it. We can’t take a chance,” I argued. “This is our only hope. We have to act fast before those other two realize Tizzie is a toad!”

  Meanwhile the aforementioned toad, which had been eating the ice cream, was now hacking up milky balls of phlegm. If we didn’t leave soon, I could guarantee we’d have to clean them up.

  “No, we are not using magic—that is what got us into this mess,” said Polly frantically.

  “Are you insane? We can get out of here. Beam us home to Olympus!” I yelled, disregarding Polly’s protests.

  But nothing happened.

  “We wish to be home in Olympus, my sisters and I!”

  But still, nothing.

  “Era, help me! Wish it, wish to go home with me now!”

  “Yeah, okay, I wish to go home, too.”

  But nothing happened.

  “Okay, okay. What about the gates? We can figure something out from there. We wish to go to the gates!”

  Nothing. Our powers couldn’t be gone that easily, could they?

  “Well, fine. So it’s not that easy. We need to find another way to get out of here. We’ve got to try it. Are you with me, Era?”

  Era nibbled on the already jagged nails of her right hand. Her eyes were huge. “I don’t know. I don’t think I want to risk a scary, dirty escape. It sounds exhausting. You know, if I could just have a bath, I could think clearly afterward. Let’s blink a bathtub and some of that delicious lavender soap, the French kind.”

  And just like that, a tub appeared, with a cube of scented soap hanging in the air above it. Thank goddess, our powers were still with us. They just weren’t strong enough to get us home on their own.

  “Yay!” squealed Era. “I want to decide after my bath.”

  “There is no time. C’mon. Polly, please! We can’t waste another minute. It’s ridiculous that we’re even arguing about it.”

  “But your powers aren’t even working correctly,” said Polly. “They’re simply too weak.”

  “Too weak? Too weak?” I was frantic. I was desperate. I noticed that Era had already doffed her clothes and was climbing into the bath. I was losing control of the situation. “We’ll just have to walk out. I can do it; I can get us out of here!” I said.

  “Thalia, no!” yelled Polly. But it was too late. I was already making the decision that would get us out of this place and back where we belonged. I was commanding the heavy stone door to open wide. And this time it worked. The door opened just like I commanded.

  And then it promptly fell on Tizzie the sick toad, squishing her with one loud SMACK!

  TEN

  “What is the hottest chili known to god or man?” asked the Black Knight at the spike-covered turnstile. Apollo had made it through another hallway only to be confronted by a very tall suit of ebony armor.

  “So you’re a gatekeeper, too, huh?” asked Apollo.

  “Yes. Hector, the Trojan Prince, at your service. You must answer my riddle to move on.”

  “Greetings, Sir Hector, but please, what does the hottest chili have to do with finding Thalia?”

  “Don’t know who this Thalia is or why she is lost, but I know that my questions are often about heat. This is Hades, after all.”

  “But it’s not even hot down here. It’s actually ridiculously cold.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m boiling up!” said the knight indignantly.

  Apollo couldn’t help but shiver. He was freezing. Plus he had no idea what the hottest chili was.

  “Please, Sir Hector, can’t you ask me something about gods? Maybe a little trivia about mortals of the future? I also know a lot about the sun and battles near and far.”

  “Sorry. The question is, what is the hottest chili known to god or man?”

  “Um, okay, let’s see, um, well, I seem to recall something called a jalpeeny?”

  “Wrong! That’s a jalapeño, and it is far from the hottest chili. The answer is habañero. You lose.”

  “No!” yelled Apollo.

  “Yes. I’m afraid I must send you back to the gates, to contend with Cerberus.”

  “But wait,” said Apollo. “Isn’t there anything I can do? Can I give you something, anything?” But Apollo knew he had nothing of real value. Except…

  “I’ll give you Hades’ magic helmet!” he declared.

  “Oh,” exclaimed the knight. “Oh, that would be very fine. Yes, yes, I will take that.”

  “Great!” Apollo cried with relief. “Then please let me through.”

  “Oh, no, I will take the helmet, but only in exchange for another riddle. If you then answer it correctly, I shall let you through; otherwise, it’s back to the gates.”

  Apollo’s heart sank. “This one isn’t about peppers, is it?”

  “No, this one is about the Great War.”

  “The Great War?”

  “The Trojan War. Do you accept my offering—will you release the helmet? Or shall I send you to the three-headed dog?”

  “I have no choice,” Apollo said, hanging his head low. It didn’t seem quite fair, but who was he to argue? Anyway, he didn’t have time.

  The helmet popped away into thin air and then appeared in the knight’s hands as Apollo slowly came back into sight. He was worse for the wear, too, for his football uniform was filthy, covered in dirt, goop, and grime.

  “Okay, well, go ahead, then—what is the next question?”

  “There is a king in Cyprus who did not himself go into battle—”

  “Why, that is Cinyras, king of Paphos. I’m correct; let me through!” Apollo said with glee.

  “Wait, I am not finished. He made a promise to Agamemnon—”

  “Oh, I know this. To send fifty ships for the war effort! Let me through!”

  “Not yet. Here is the riddle. Did King Cinyras fulfill his promise to Agamemnon?”

  “Well, this is tricky, isn’t it?”

  “Did he fulfill his promise or not? Simply answer the question.”

  “Well…yes. Yes, he did send fifty ships. But the thing was, he sent only one real one and forty-nine toy clay ones with forty-nine tiny clay soldiers inside.”

  “Why, that is…correct! Congratulations! He did indeed keep his promise. Of course, the ships soon disintegrated in the sea.” Satisfied, the knight lifted the helmet and placed it on his head. He began to fade away, laughing to himself. “Go on,” he said. The spike-covered turnstile beckoned behind his now invisible body. Apollo chose to jump it rather than risk injury by pushing through.

  He ran down this latest corridor at lightning speed, hoping no one would see him now that he was visible. Faster and faster he ran, past a minute rhinoceros with a golden horn, past three five-legged mohawked monkeys who were whooping far too loudly, past a witch in a flowered bonnet and a thick-necked giant. All these creatures appeared to be going through their dark dead days without so much as a worry or a care.

  Abruptly the long hallway poured into a seemingly empty and dark cave that echoed Apollo’s every step, where the wind whipped so fast that it moaned angrily. The place was dismal. And disturbing. But this was the right way. He could just feel it deep down in the base of his spine. He had to keep
going.

  “Pretty, squawk, yummy, squawk.”

  This new noise was even more unsettling. It burned Apollo’s ears. Every hair on his body stood on end.

  And then he saw them. And froze.

  Up along the high ceiling of the cave, hanging on every possible corner and ledge, were the most sinister creatures he could remember seeing, with huge, monstrous wings and eerily human faces. He’d heard of these creatures; there was no mistaking them. They were Harpies. And they were all looking down at him with hunger in their eyes.

  Up until now, Apollo’s journey through Tartarus had been upsetting and stressful, even occasionally amusing, but certainly not scary in a deadly kind of way. Now, however, Apollo feared for his life.

  “Pretty, squawk, yummy, squawk.”

  Apollo concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, not too slow, but not so fast that he’d rile the creatures up. They weren’t attacking yet, but he felt their descent was imminent.

  He wished they knew his real identity. Most creatures of Hades, no matter how horrid, were supposed to make exceptions for gods. But in his football uniform he hardly looked the part.

  “Pretty, squawk, yummy, squawk.”

  One, two, then a third let go of their ledges and drifted back and forth above him. He was sweating despite the arctic chill. They were taunting him, flying dangerously close.

  “No, no. I can’t fall victim to these…beasts. Thalia, I must find Thalia,” he said to himself.

  “No, squawk, Thalia, squawk.”

  “What? Did you just say Thalia’s name?” Apollo ventured to ask the creature nearest him, who looked at him with bloodthirsty eyes.

  “What, squawk, Thalia, squawk,” it replied.

  “Are you copying me?”

  “You, squawk, copy, squawk.”

  Apollo thought hard. There was something here that he needed to figure out. But it was difficult to concentrate because more and more of the creatures were now swooping down from their perches, circling his head. Every once in a while one would graze his hair.