The Petros Chronicles Boxset

by Diana Tyler

  Chloe couldn’t wait for her new memories to arrive. The smallest snippet of conversation, the quickest flash of shared laughter…they were worth more than gold to her. She’d lived most of her former life without her mother, and now Chloe would cherish every second she had with her, present and past.

  “I wish we could’ve gotten here sooner,” Chloe said, forcing herself to let her mother release the hug and step back.

  “We’re all fine, honey,” Damara said. “Thank Duna everyone is.”

  Chloe sighed, anxiety exiting her body as relief poured in. “Where’s Damian and Dad?”

  “In here,” her father called from the living room.

  “I’m going to head over to my parents’,” said Ethan. “I’ll come back a little later.” He kissed Chloe lightly on the temple and headed out the door.

  Chloe wondered whether she’d ever join Ethan at the Rosses’ house. So far, she’d only had perfunctory conversations with his parents, and each time she’d fought not to let her resentment show as memories of the other timeline overwhelmed her thoughts. Somehow, Ethan had managed not to mention, not even once, his father’s betrayal back at the Folóï Forest, and Chloe didn’t have the heart to bring it up.

  She couldn’t understand how Ethan could keep quiet about it. Didn’t he care that his father had sold out her and Damian to save his own skin?

  Chloe knew something of betrayal, and how toxic it could be if left to fester beneath the surface. After her return from hell, her first reaction to Damian had been one of unbridled anger for the pain her brother had caused her, emotionally more than physically. Ethan, however, had embraced his father when they reunited, as if Ethan had drunk from the Lethe and only the dark memories had been erased.

  As she heard Ethan drive away, Chloe felt the selfsame hurt she’d experienced upon seeing Damian again that day—the sting of betrayal, the severing of a relationship—but this time it was Ethan who was the source of the pain.

  Why hadn’t Ethan been upset with his father on her behalf? After all, Mr. Ross’s choice to leak their location to the councilman had almost gotten them killed, and it would have if Carya hadn’t arrived to direct them to the portal. If Ethan really loved her, surely that would bother him enough to warrant a conversation with his father. It didn’t matter that it had happened in a different time; Mr. Ross was still the same person. If he’d betrayed them then, what would stop him doing it again, in this timeline?

  “Chloe, is something bothering you?”

  Chloe looked at her mother, who was pouring milk in the kitchen. She shook her head. “No. No, I’m fine.” There were bigger problems in the world than her own distrust of Ethan’s dad, not to mention her sudden anger at Ethan. Not wanting to hear any breaking news on the eruption, she sat down at the breakfast table and smiled at the display of family photos arranged on the walls.

  “Mom, can I ask you something?”

  Damara closed the refrigerator, and carried over the cookies and two frosted milk-filled mugs. “I can always tell when something’s upsetting you.” She smiled and sat down, then passed her daughter the plate.

  Chloe took a cookie and pulled it apart, releasing the scrumptious steam and more faraway memories. She saw herself as a little girl sitting cross-legged on the island, watching her mom mix together eggs and melted butter. A feeling of déjà vu washed over her. It was during one of their baking sessions that she’d first mentioned Ethan to her mom. She took another whiff of the cookie, and with it came the vivid memory.

  “Mommy?” she had said to her mother.

  “Mhmm?”

  “When did you fall in love with Daddy?”

  “Oh, a long, long time ago when we were at university,” her mom had replied. “We were in a class on ancient literature and had studied together a few times. One day I just knew that I loved him as more than a friend, and one day he told me he felt the same way.”

  Now, Chloe remembered the curious look her mother had given her. It had made Chloe duck her head and busy herself with something else.

  “Do you love someone, baby girl?” Her mother had placed a warm hand on Chloe’s.

  The memory faded. Chloe couldn’t remember what her response had been.

  “Have Ethan and I ever been in a fight?” she asked her mother now.

  Damara rubbed her thumb on Chloe’s hand, her forehead wrinkles deepening with concern. “What makes you ask that?”

  It was a fair question. After all, a supposedly extinct volcano was currently decimating Eirene and the surrounding countryside. It didn’t seem like the most appropriate time to be reflecting on her love life. But then, neither did it seem like a day for baking. Chloe took a bite, savoring each chocolate chip as it melted on her tongue.

  “Because,” Chloe began, already stopping herself because of how dumb the words sounded in her head. She said them anyway. “I’m mad at him, and I don’t remember ever feeling this way towards him before.”

  In fact, Chloe could recall feeling this way toward only two people in her entire life: the councilman, when she’d learned he’d killed her parents; and Damian, when she found out he’d abandoned her. Before that, she’d grown adept at sheltering herself from people, burying herself in books and escaping to made-up worlds in her treehouse. But then, on her eighteenth birthday, she had been sucked into a world not even her vast imagination could’ve created, and she had realized she couldn’t stay sheltered forever.

  “The day you and your brother received your doma,” Damara said, carefully measuring her words, “you and Ethan broke up.”

  Chloe heard a car door slam behind her and jumped. She turned to see nothing but the faux fig tree in the corner of the kitchen. The memory was returning.

  “I think I need to lie down,” she said. She took a sip of milk and pushed her chair from the table. Damara’s lips parted to speak, but she held in the words and gave Chloe a sympathetic nod instead. “I’ll be in my room,” Chloe said. “Come wake me in an hour if I’m not up by then.”

  Chloe’s room was far different than the one she had had in her old life. Instead of beige, the walls were a soft sunshine yellow. On one of them were rows of large bulletin boards that were covered with dozens of certificates and ribbons, each one given for some academic achievement she couldn’t remember. There were more stuffed animals on the shelves, even a few best-loved ones smiling at her from the bed. Next to the window was a loveseat on which paperback books were scattered, and cushions indented from long hours spent reading. The room was warm and welcoming, as if the echoes of every bedtime story, laugh and morning prayer still floated through it.

  She lay on the bed and closed her eyes, bracing herself for another sudden memory from her past. But nothing came. No matter how hard she concentrated, she could remember nothing but the slamming car door. Maybe she’d imagined it. Maybe it had nothing to do with her and Ethan’s past and everything to do with paranoia, hurt, and frustration at still wrestling with this amnesia.

  “Just breathe,” she whispered. She reached for the gray floppy rabbit with the pink bowtie and curled him under her chin as she turned onto her side. Not a minute later she was on the verge of sleep, and the portal she’d waited for opened wide with cracking thunder.

  Chloe and Ethan were sitting in his truck at Lake Thyra, waiting for the storm to roll over the hills. The sky was like a bowl of split-pea soup, and seemed to drape too close to the earth. The windows were halfway down, and she breathed in the fishy odor of the lake mixed with the grassy redolence of rain. They were still and silent, the air muggy and tense between them.

  “What if I don’t get a doma?” Chloe said, absentmindedly twirling the ends of her hair.

  Ethan turned down the radio. Chloe hadn’t even realized it was on; her mind was too distracted by Damian and his newly discovered gift of invisibility. She’d never seen her brother so happy.

  “That just means you already have enough gifts,” Ethan said.

  Chloe knew that was her cue to take h
is hand, or laugh, or at least smile, but she sighed at the window instead. “Yeah, like being good at school is a superpower.”

  “You don’t have to have a doma to be gifted, Chloe.” She could see on her periphery that he was turning to her, willing her to look at him. “You’re extremely intelligent,” he said, “that’s a given. And hardworking, and kind, and funny—”

  “Please.” Chloe’s hands dropped from her hair onto her lap. “Please don’t patronize me, or pity me, or whatever it is you’re doing.”

  “I’m not doing either of those. I’m complimenting my girlfriend because I care about her.” Ethan reached for her left hand, but she covered it with her right before he could touch it. “Chloe, why are you being like this?”

  The gentleness in his voice compelled her to meet his eyes, but then she quickly looked away. “It isn’t fair.” She knew she sounded like a five-year-old, but she didn’t care, nor could she help it if she did. She was letting jealousy and self-pity have their way.

  “Chloe, you know how it works. One child per Asher household receives a doma.” Ethan paused, letting the reminder register in her head. It didn’t help.

  “But why him?”

  Ethan leaned his head against the headrest as the first drops of rain burst onto the windshield. She was beyond listening to reason and she knew it. For years she’d tried to tame the envy she’d felt for Damian from an early age. His athleticism she’d matched with straight A’s. His good looks she’d matched with good character, but he had that as well, and his grades weren’t half bad either. There was nothing he didn’t excel at, and as of this morning he had a doma, too, the awesomeness of which was already circulating around Eirene.

  “Duna has his reasons,” Ethan said, watching the green sky roil as dark clouds bulldozed through it. “They may not always seem fair, but they’re what’s best. I know you know that.”

  “I just wanted to be someone special.” Chloe’s eyes blurred, her throat thick with tears. “I’ve been waiting all my life for my eighteenth birthday.” She blinked the tears free. “All for nothing.”

  Chloe opened the door and got out of the truck, slamming it shut behind her. She pointed across the lake, to the old giant olive tree where she and Ethan had had so many of their best conversations and sweet, silent moments. This place was sacred to them, and she was about to desecrate it.

  Ethan killed the ignition and jumped out of the truck, umbrella in hand. He popped it open and held it over their heads.

  “I remember clearly.” Chloe was pointing, her right arm drenched with rain. “You told me once that you were sure I’d be the one to receive a doma because I’m more mature than Damian.” She laughed and lowered her hand. “Obviously that’s not true. Look at me.” She knew she was behaving like a child, throwing a tantrum in the rain because she was jealous and disappointed.

  Ethan toed the wet grass with his sneaker. “It was dumb of me to say that.”

  “Because I’m the one too immature and inadequate to have a doma.” Chloe couldn’t distinguish between the tears and raindrops trickling down her cheeks. “It would’ve been a lot easier if we weren’t twins. If I hadn’t been born.”

  “Are you hearing yourself right now?” Ethan took her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Look at me. You are not inadequate. You are not immature.” His sternness abated as he searched her face, looking for a glimpse of agreement. “I love you, and that’s true whether you have a doma or not.”

  It was the first time Chloe had heard him say those words. They’d been together nearly two years. Why now? “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” she said. It wasn’t how she’d imagined this moment to go, not even close.

  “I do mean it.” Thunder rumbled around them as pellets of rain peppered the lake like gunfire. “I’ve wanted to say it for a long time.”

  Chloe could feel the air die in her lungs. He might as well have told her he hated her and never wanted to see her again. She stepped into the rain and held up a hand to keep him from following. “Then why didn’t you say it a long time ago?”

  Before he could answer, she took off up the hill, slipping and sliding on the mud-slick path. Seconds later, she was swept up into spinning blackness, the air around her buzzing and flashing with tiny bolts of light. She held onto the sound of Ethan’s voice calling after her for as long as she could.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered. But it was too late. The darkness was growing, and all she could hear was blood pounding nervously in her ears.

  CHAPTER SIX

  CONSEQUENCES

  Chloe bolted awake, the gray stuffed rabbit mangled beneath her shoulder. The dream—or rather, the memory—had been so real she wondered whether she’d subconsciously traveled back in time to observe it. But no matter how she’d seen it, the important thing was that she remembered now, and her memories were not just of her childish breakdown in front of Ethan, but the day her doma had first manifested and where it had taken her before she knew how to take herself places.

  “Eione,” she whispered, as another wave of déjà vu crashed against her brain.

  “Your memories are returning, I see. That is good news.”

  Months ago, Chloe would have screamed at the sound of a man’s voice in her room, but she’d learned to accept, if not expect, Hermes or Carya popping up out of the blue.

  “Do you ever knock?” Chloe asked, wiping the drool from her cheek as she sat up and leaned against the headboard.

  “What’s the purpose of knocking when I have no need for doors?” Hermes smiled and sat on the love seat. He picked up one of her books, a novel about Medusa’s shortlived love affair with Hephaestus, and chuckled to himself as he flipped through it.

  Chloe walked over to the loveseat, only realizing as she sat down beside him that she was still holding the rabbit. “I don’t think that book’s a comedy.”

  “What is comical is the author’s extravagant use of her artistic license.” He stopped on a page and read aloud: “‘But their love was never meant to last, for Apollo’s snare was set well before Hephaestus had made his escape from Tartarus. Hephaestus, unable to resist the gleam of a rose-quartz cave, strode into it with blind hope blooming in his chest. Here, or so he fancied, was where he would build a fortress for himself and his love. He was not halfway inside when he stepped into a cleft and found himself in his infernal cell once more.’”

  “Is that not how Hephaestus got caught?” Chloe asked, her bafflement over the time-travel paradox momentarily suspended by curiosity about an ancient tragedy. She appreciated the fact that whenever she craved an escape from her problems, she could rely on the drama of the past to provide it.

  Hermes closed the book and set it aside. “A few moments ago you spoke the name ‘Eione.’ What do you remember about her?”

  Chloe drummed her fingers along the armrest. “Answer my question first.”

  “I am answering it.” The wings on Hermes’ sandals fluttered as he uncrossed his legs. He took her stuffed rabbit and stroked its long, raggedy ears.

  Chloe couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Hermes, clad in his dog-skin cap and golden shoes, sitting on a loveseat with a girl’s stuffed bunny on his lap. “Is it true that the hare is your favorite animal?”

  “Once upon a time, I suppose it was.” Hermes scratched his chin. “It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten the reason why. Their swiftness perhaps.”

  “Or perhaps it’s because hares were sacred to Aphrodite,” said Chloe, “and you two were sort of a thing, right?”

  “A thing?” Hermes looked insulted. “We were lovers, if that’s what you mean by so crude a word as thing. And perhaps you’re right, but I didn’t come here to speculate on the origins of the immortals’ favored animals.”

  Chloe sighed. She closed her eyes and saw Eione’s face, white as bone, flickering in the shadows of her memory. “She was eavesdropping on Ethan and me at the beach in Ourania. She…”

  Chloe swallowed hard as the images became clear
er: jet-black hair, waving behind Eione like a banner flying in the wind; her dress dyed the same blue shade as the sea, clinging tightly to her porcelain skin; the tall sea stack she was perched upon, concealing her so high above the shore; the small black chip arcing over the water, before it slipped soundlessly into the waves; and finally, the woman diving off the rock’s shadowed side and disappearing as the orange sun dipped beneath the horizon.

  “She went after the chip when Ethan threw it.” Chloe opened her eyes, hoping to see a look of confusion on Hermes’ face, as if her memory was a delusion, an ephemeral remnant of a meaningless dream. But his expression was solemn, understanding.

  He nodded. “Eione is a sea nymph. Her father Nereus is an ocean god, one of the dozens of immortals Apollo imprisoned.”

  Chloe leaned back and twisted open the blinds, as if letting the sunlight filter in would make everything clear. But there was no sunlight, only a lifeless canvas of ash-filled sky. “I’m so confused. How come I could see her? I must have dreamed it…”

  “I wish it were not so, but it was a memory. Although prophecy might be a more accurate word.” Hermes handed the rabbit back to her and she squeezed it gratefully. “Eione is alive and well, and has used the seal for her own purposes. And it is very powerful.” Hermes fingered the end of his wand, as if taking the pulse of its own eternal power. “Hence the reason why it bears the Próta name dýnami. The blood of one of your ancestors is responsible for its creation.”

  The bedroom door cracked open as someone knocked on it lightly.

  “Chloe?” Damian stepped inside and nodded at Hermes. “I wish I could say I was happy to see you, Hermes, but I have a feeling you haven’t brought good news.”

  Hermes rubbed the side of his cap, his red hair curling beneath it. “An astute assumption, I’m afraid.”

  “We already know about the volcano,” said Damian. “Any other imminent natural disasters we should be aware of?”

  “Natural, no,” said Hermes. “Supernatural, perhaps.”