by Diana Tyler
Moris stopped abruptly and pushed a finger to his ear.
“Moris?” Lydia called. “Moris, what is it?”
Moris’s eyes skimmed the ground. He was listening intently…to what?
Chloe looked past Moris to Damian. He was lying on his back, still and stiff as a board, but he was human again. After a few spasmodic twitches, he rotated his wrists and ankles, and nodded his head up and down as if to make sure he’d been properly put back together. Carefully, he rolled up, threw his hood over his head, and gazed off into the foliage beyond. Then he resumed eating berries as if nothing had happened.
Chloe put on her jacket and stepped out of the trees. “I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t be long,” Ethan said. “We shouldn’t be out in the open.”
“I won’t be.”
When she was halfway to her brother, Moris cleared his throat and lowered his finger from his ear. His face was flushed and glistening with sweat.
“Hi, Mr. Ross.” Chloe held out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve ever officially met.”
He took her hand reluctantly and held it as he spoke. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” he said, the color draining from his face.
“Are you okay?” Had the ibex debacle driven him nuts?
Moris gave a curt nod as he let go of her hand. “It was the councilman.” He twisted his thumb and forefinger into his ear canal and produced a gray earpiece. It reminded Chloe of a bloated tick.
A rush of heat surged through her body. “He’s been listening to you the entire time? Since the escape?”
Moris shook his head and found an iridescent beetle crawling across a rock to stare at through his bifocals.
Chloe stepped between him and the beetle and raised her voice. “Mr. Ross, please answer me. How long has he been listening?” On her periphery, she saw Damian jump to his feet. She cast a look back at Ethan. He jogged over, Lydia trailing behind him.
Moris reached into his pocket and pulled out a square device on which a neon light blinked green. He pushed a switch on its side, and the light went dark. “I had it off the entire time. Until just a few moments ago, when I turned human again.”
Ethan parted his lips, but he was too dumbfounded to speak.
His mother spoke for him. “Morris, why? After everything—”
“He says he’ll grant amnesty for us, Lydia,” said Moris, as he took his wife’s hand and kissed her temple. “For you, me and Ethan, if we go back now and tell them what we know about Chloe and Damian.” He adjusted his glasses and pushed the earpiece back into his ear.
Chloe could see that any shame Moris had felt was giving in to his primal sense of self-preservation. Humans were more animalistic than they cared to admit.
CHAPTER FIVE
PORTAL
He’s lying!” Ethan exclaimed. “He told me he was planning to kill you both as slowly as possible. What makes you think he’s changed his mind?” When his father didn’t answer, he kicked the dirt and held the crown of his head with both hands. “I can’t believe this,” he mumbled.
“Because I’ve helped him,” Moris finally replied as he fiddled with the end of his sleeve.
Ethan grabbed the sleeve and yanked it hard, revealing a black pea-sized microphone. “How could you, Dad?”
“They’ll be fine, son,” said Moris in a calm, parental tone. “The GPS has given them our location. We can get out of here, and so can Chloe and Damian.” He turned to Chloe. “What’s your…talent?”
“Time travel.”
“I rest my case,” said Moris.
Lydia tucked her hair behind her ears and drew her husband’s arm around her waist. “Moris is right. By law, the Fantásmata must show clemency toward convicted individuals who have cooperated with them. And, given that we haven’t even been tried, let alone convicted, we’re guaranteed that at least.”
“Did you not hear what I just said?” Ethan said. “The councilman said he was going to kill you when he tracked you down.” He nudged Chloe’s elbow. “Chloe, please back me up on this.”
“We’re turning ourselves in,” said Moris. “We’re not fugitives. By law, he’s prohibited from laying a hand on us, and, worst-case scenario, we’ll serve some time for aiding and abetting.”
Ethan’s arms collapsed to his sides. “I can’t believe this,” he said again. He shook his head and looked at Chloe, his face a giant question mark.
“I don’t think the councilman abides by the laws,” said Chloe.
“That’s the understatement of the century,” Damian piped up as he stormed toward them. He stood in Moris’s face. “Have you lost your mind?” The vein in Damian’s forehead bulged as he fought to keep his temper in check. “You’re dealing with a maniac. You’re no use to the councilman now; you’re a threat. He’ll kill you both just to keep this whole thing a secret.”
Chloe’s spine turned to ice. She didn’t want to tell Damian like this, but it might be the only thing that could convince the Rosses to stay…
“That’s why he killed our parents,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Damian stepped back as his fury was transformed into grief.
Chloe went to him and hugged him hard, as if to absorb his pain. “I’m so sorry. The councilman told me—”
“I knew,” he whispered. “I knew.” And then he crumbled to the ground, buried his head in his hands and wept.
“Chloe, you both need to get out of here,” said Ethan.
I know, she mouthed to him. Then she knelt beside Damian and scratched his back, just as their mother used to. “Being in hell wasn’t completely terrible.”
Damian’s shoulder blades twitched. “Just leave me alone for a second, Chloe.” He pulled his knees to his chest and hid his face between them.
“I saw Dad.” Chloe took her hand off his back as she sat down. “In Hades.”
For a few seconds it appeared that Damian had stopped breathing. Chloe looked at him. Sitting there, arms wrapped firmly around his knees, forehead pressed atop them, he resembled his five-year-old-self pouting in time-out.
After a long while, he lifted his head and squinted into the still-rising sun. A lone tear slid into the corner of his mouth. “Mom and Dad are in hell?” His mouth fell open as if he’d just been punched in the gut.
“Yes. No. I mean they were,” Chloe stammered. “It’s a long story, but what’s important is that heaven isn’t a myth.” She placed a hand on Damian’s. “Death isn’t the end.”
Damian took a deep breath and laid his other hand on top of hers. His frown turned upwards into a hopeful, albeit weak, smile, the first he had directed at her in years. Then the smile evaporated. “I guess we’ll be reunited soon, then.”
“Not yet. I have a doma, too, and it might just save our lives.”
Chloe’s eyes met Ethan’s as she stood. His parents were nowhere in sight. “Where they’d go?” she asked, as her eyes frantically scanned the trees.
Ethan’s silence answered for him.
Damian got to his feet and stuffed the remaining berries into his hoodie pocket. “You’re staying, Ethan?”
Ethan didn’t answer. It seemed plain to Chloe that Ethan didn’t know what he was doing.
“You know your parents are about to commit suicide, right?” Damian pressed.
“I know.” Ethan cracked his knuckles as he knelt beside the river. “It’s like my dad’s been brainwashed.” He cupped a handful of water and took a drink. “And my mom’s too scared to leave him.”
“And you’re not too scared to leave them?” Chloe asked.
Ethan rose and stared blankly into the river, a pure, untouched oasis in a world teeming with corruption the vast majority of Petrodians knew nothing about. “My mom told me to stay behind. In case they’re wrong.” He turned away as he brought a fingertip to his eye.
“Ethan, no,” said Chloe, determination hardening her voice. “I’m not going to let this happen. I’m not going to stand idly by and watch your parents jus
t waltz right into his trap.” She went to the river and quickly splashed her face.
“And how do you intend to stop them?” Damian said flatly. “My power isn’t working right now. I’ve been trying for half an hour.” He kicked the ground and sent pebbles skidding into the water. “And even if it was, I think I’d have a hard time rescuing a traitor.”
“We won’t need your doma,” said Chloe. “I’ll use mine. I’ll go back in time, back to a few minutes ago when you all were animals. I’ll take away all his fancy spy gear and throw it in the river. Then I’ll whisk us away before they can go back to the council.” She took a breath. “Easy.”
Ethan raised an optimistic eyebrow.
Damian sighed and shook his head, but not even he could find a hole in her plan, nor a legitimate reason to protest. It was their best shot.
“Okay, if there are no objections, I’ll be going now,” said Chloe.
She closed her eyes and visualized the moment when Ethan had taken her jacket and made it into a pillow. She waited for the feeling of weightlessness to follow, for every sound and sensation but that one to be blocked from her awareness. But it didn’t come. She could still hear the birds, feel the breeze, and smell the sweetness of the junipers. Why wasn’t it working?
She heard Damian walking toward her.
He put his hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. “Chloe, tell me you can see her, too.”
Chloe opened her eyes and saw Carya standing within arm’s reach, encased inside a thick, winter-white haze. The messenger lifted her arms and punched her white fists through the canopy around her, producing a loud whooshing sound as the radiant wisps drifted and fell to the ground, covering it with ethereal frost.
A familiar chiming noise tinged in Chloe’s ear. She’d seen Carya perform this exact ritual before. She was making it possible for Chloe to communicate with the ancient Petrodians. Had she come to call Chloe back there, back to Iris?
“Ow!” Damian pressed his hands to his ears. “What was that for?”
“Carya just made you bilingual,” Chloe answered. “You understand Próta now.”
Damian rubbed his ear with his finger. “A few days ago I would’ve called you crazy if you’d said something like that.”
Ethan stepped closer to the strange girl and circled her, his mouth agape. His face blanched as if he were seeing a ghost. And, Chloe supposed, effectively he was. “Is that…are you…”
“It’s Carya,” said Chloe. “Don’t ask her any questions. She won’t answer you.”
Carya giggled, and as she did, shimmering specks of snow-white dust were ejected from the haze and danced around Chloe’s face.
“The domas which you seek to use are bound by timeless laws,
Ordained to prevent exploits of power and quests of unjust cause.
Every limit is different, each encoded by Duna’s hand,
For he knows well each Asher’s heart, how they quake and shift like sand.
Damian, lest you hide forever, your doma is not without end,
It is yours to control three hours each day, then shall blow away like the wind.
Chloe, lest compassion lead you to try and erase every tear,
You may use your gift twice in twenty-four hours, and then it will disappear.
To the past you may travel freely and to your former time return,
But the future lies only with Duna, for it is only his concern.
For this world is not perfect, and never shall be; you cannot make it so,
But there is a battle you are all meant to fight, a far-off place you must go.
An ephemeral portal is the river now; it waits for you to dive in,
In a tunnel of fire you will emerge, then your journey will begin.”
“This is the part where she leaves,” Chloe said out of the corner of her mouth.
“I know,” said Damian. “She appeared in my room once, the day I got my power. She isn’t the most accessible person ever.”
With an elegant wave of her hand, Carya beckoned them to follow her. Her long white robes trailed behind her as she floated soundlessly to the river’s edge, then stood completely still, the breathtaking picture of a patron goddess keeping watch over some hallowed glen.
“Does she want us to follow her into the river?” Ethan asked. “And then pop out the other side in a fiery tunnel?”
“That was my interpretation,” said Damian, cramming his fists into his hoodie pocket.
Ethan flicked his helmet and then spun it backwards in his hands. “I think I’d rather take my chances with the councilman.”
“Duna wouldn’t lead us somewhere if he didn’t have a plan for us,” said Chloe.
Carya smiled at this and gestured at the river. Tiny crystals fell like water droplets from her fingers and infused the waves with an otherworldly shade of turquoise.
“We don’t have to be scared,” Chloe said.
Damian folded his arms. “And what if his plan involves us being asphyxiated?” he asked.
Ethan laughed.
At least they still had a sense of humor. Chloe had a hunch they’d need it.
“Carya has done nothing except help us, or try to warn us,” said Chloe. “The last thing Orpheus told me was that I couldn’t lose faith. I promised him I wouldn’t.” She walked to Carya’s side and inhaled the sweet aroma of lavender, lemon, and the hint of thyme emanating from the translucent cloud around her. “Stay here if you want. But I’m going.”
And with that, Chloe dove headfirst into the river.
CHAPTER SIX
ESCAPE
Ethan’s heartbeat accelerated as he scanned the river in disbelief. Chloe had just returned from hell. How could she so readily dive into some mysterious portal she knew nothing about except that it led to a “tunnel of fire”? She was either an adrenaline junkie who’d lost her mind, or she really did have faith in this new god called Duna. He knew which it was, and only wished he could be so confident.
The glowing girl named Carya bowed her head, then vanished with a brilliant flash of light, leaving Ethan and Damian alone with only two options before them: take their chances in the river, or be captured at any moment by the councilman’s guards and hope that by some miracle they would be pardoned.
It wasn’t a difficult choice to make, yet one thing held Ethan back. “What about my parents?” he asked softly, half hoping Carya would return and tell him they’d be all right, or explain how he might save them.
At least we could have waited one day for Chloe’s doma to come back. As he thought the words, he knew they were nonsense. In twenty-four hours, they’d all be locked away in a cell, waiting to hear by which sadistic method of execution they’d die, if they weren’t dead already. They didn’t have one day. His parents had made their decision, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
“I’m really sorry, Ethan,” said Damian. He sounded sincere.
Ethan gave him a nod. “Thanks. I know you know how it feels to have your parents taken from you.”
The words felt odd as soon as he said them. Damian’s parents had been murdered, whereas his own parents had left him of their own accord. But deep down he knew they were all still victims, innocent prey being lured into a snare. Even after all that his father had witnessed, the councilman’s influence through the years had been so powerful, so all-consuming, that it had warped Moris’s judgment. It was manipulating him still, forcing him to do his bidding, even when that bidding meant delivering himself, and his wife, up for death.
“It’s the worst feeling in the world,” Damian said.
Ethan watched a gray heron circle above the river and land on the opposite side. He remembered that in the ancient myths, the heron symbolized the eternal struggle between good and evil, a struggle that, they were taught in school, had been won long ago. And now Ethan knew which side had been the victor.
“And I’m sorry for what I said about your dad,” Damian continued. “I shouldn’t have called him a traitor.”<
br />
“It’s okay. I’d probably do the same if the tables were turned.”
Damian zipped up his hoodie to his chin and watched the heron wade into the turquoise water. He sighed. “I left my sister at the Lake Thyra portal. I don’t intend to abandon her again.” He clapped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “You’ve been a better brother to her than I have.”
Ethan jumped as a dart pierced the side of Damian’s neck, knocking him out instantly. Ethan turned to see no fewer than thirty guards, all in tactical gear like his, form a perimeter at the edge of the trees. They raised their weapons and aimed at Ethan; another dart struck him in the chest, penetrating only his aluminum chest plate.
Before they could fire another, he dropped his helmet, bent down and yanked the dart from Damian’s neck, then pushed him into the river as bullets started to fly. Ethan dove in and dragged Damian under. He heard yelling, splashing, and a barrage of gunfire. The water churned with the desperate strokes and kicks of Ethan’s limbs.
And then the cacophony was replaced by perfect silence as a flicker of orange, no larger than his hand, appeared in the murky depths below.
“Ethan!”
It was Chloe’s voice, but Ethan’s eyes were too busy adjusting to the light to see her. How long had he been swimming? It felt like hours. He tilted his head to either side, letting the river water stream out of his ears.
“Did Damian make it?” he asked.
“He’s right here beside you,” said Chloe. She was breathless, panicky. She placed her hand on Ethan’s arm. “What’s wrong with him?”
Ethan’s vision slowly returned. The first thing he saw was a blazing wall of fire not ten yards away, the heat of which quickly replaced his shivers with beads of sweat.
“He got shot with a tranq. It’ll wear off, but we’ve got to get him out of here.”
Ethan looked around. All he could see was black, billowing smoke overhead and a narrow pathway bisecting the fiery walls. It seemed impossible that the flames weren’t devouring the path and everything in it.
Chloe helped Ethan to his feet. He started to pant as sweat trickled down his back beneath the thick foam padding of his suit. He had no doubt he’d self-combust if he stayed inside it much longer.
