by Diana Tyler
“Your mother is concerned about the three of us going back and meeting Orpheus,” Nicholas said, sitting down on the sofa next to Damian.
Sometimes Chloe had to pinch herself to make sure this was real life, that her parents really were alive and that the Fields of Asphodel were far behind them. It still seemed so strange, like a vivid, ongoing dream, to see her dad sitting here in their living room, just as he had for the ten years she’d known him before his death in the old timeline.
“Mom, it’ll be okay,” said Damian. “Dad’s going with us, so even if something bad does happen, and I really don’t think it will, he can heal us on the spot.”
Damara sighed and smoothed a hand over her hair. “I know. But this is dangerous, isn’t it? Tampering with the past could have repercussions in the future.” She gestured at her children. “You two know that better than anyone. And we’ve been blessed so far, in that it’s worked out in our favor.”
Chloe set Jacey on the sofa and stood up. Her mom’s concerns had drifted through her own mind over the last twenty-four hours as well, but she knew they had to take the risk. “Orpheus is our only shot at stopping Eione from taking the dýnami. And if we don’t go soon, there’ll be a lot of other lives on the line besides ours.”
Damara folded her lips and nodded, gathering her strength. “My big brave girl.” She smiled as a single tear slid halfway down her cheek before she swiftly brushed it away.
Nicholas leaned forward, took Damian’s hand and reached for Chloe’s. “Shall we?”
“No time like the present.” Chloe held her dad’s hand and touched the top of Damian’s shoulder. “You might feel a little woozy, Dad, but it’ll pass.”
Damara called for Jacey. The last thing they needed was a poodle going back with them and getting sedated by Orpheus’s lyre.
“You sure you’re ready?” Damian asked Nicholas.
“Born ready.” Nicholas winked, then closed his eyes, a signal for the twins to follow suit.
Chloe squeezed her father’s hand, savoring its warmth. The last time she’d touched him, he’d felt like ice. As a spirit, he’d had no heartbeat, only the cold shell of a body devoid of living blood.
She breathed in deeply, then envisioned Orpheus’s handsome face and golden lyre, and prayed they’d meet him someplace safe, somewhere far removed from the cave he’d shared with the serpent woman.
“I’m not woozy yet,” said Nicholas.
Chloe squeezed his hand. “Shhh!”
Still nothing. No flashes of light, no walls of darkness, no buzzing or roar of wind. It wasn’t working.
Chloe opened her eyes. “It’s been more than twenty-four hours,” she said. “It should work.”
“Are you positive twenty-four hours is the rule?” Nicholas asked.
Damian let go of his father’s hand and squeezed his eyes closed, the muscles in the back of his neck tensing as he concentrated. Five seconds later, he opened them again. “Mine’s not working either.” He chewed on his thumbnail and stared into the lusterless sky. “I guess we’re in the same boat as Hector now.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
OLYMPUS
Hector pulled away from the front door. He had been listening to his cousins and wondering if the plan he and Ares had devised would work. He looked down at his hands and shoes, just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. They weren’t; not a single part of him was visible.
“Unbelievable,” he whispered. He turned and skipped down the steps, laughing quietly. He hurried down the sidewalk toward home. His parents would never believe this. No one at school would believe this, not until he proved it. He couldn’t wait.
“I see you have proven my theory.”
Hector wheeled around to see Ares standing before him. Instead of armor, he was now dressed in dark wash jeans and a flannel, button-down shirt. The outfit, paired with his black, shoulder-length hair and ample beard, made Ares look less like a god and more like a lumberjack.
“You can see me?”
“See for yourself.”
Hector glanced down to see his invisibility had completely worn off. “What!” He ran his hands through his hair as he kicked through a pile of leaves. “I was just invisible.”
“For a while, yes. I only just saw you appear.” Ares looked up and down the empty street. “You’re lucky no one else saw you.”
Hector stuffed his hands in his pockets and started toward his house. “I’m done playing your games. You’re more like Hermes the god of trickery than the god of war.”
Ares grabbed Hector’s arm and pressed firmly into the pressure point of his elbow, causing Hector to wince with pain. “Don’t speak that name to me again if you wish to keep this arm intact.” Ares tightened his grip for a moment before shoving Hector forward.
“Easy,” Hector said, rubbing his elbow. “Why are you so cold? My arm feels like ice now.”
Ares quickly drew a dagger from his jacket pocket and dragged its blade across his palm, creating a gush of golden fluid that streaked down his hand and splattered onto the sidewalk. Speechless, Hector stared at the dots of fluid, glowing like gold coins on the concrete.
“Ichor,” said Ares, sheathing the knife. He dabbed the substance with his finger, then held it out for Hector to see. “Look, but if you value your life, do not touch.”
Hector took a step back. “No problem.”
Ares pulled back his finger then lifted his wounded palm. Hector’s jaw fell open as he watched the deep cut shorten and shrink as it sewed itself together, leaving not so much as a scar where the blade had sliced it.
“Whoa.” Hector’s own blood went cold as he realized this guy really was a god, or a “rebel spirit,” as the councilman called them.
“So you see I have not lost my sanity,” said Ares. “I am who I say I am.”
Hector nodded, still feeling the stabbing throb in his arm. “And why don’t you want anyone to know who I am?”
Ares walked ahead, waving for Hector to follow. “Because your doma is too powerful,” he whispered. He glanced left and right, making sure no one was around to hear.
“All domas are,” Hector said. “That’s kind of the way it goes.”
They walked in silence for several minutes until they reached the top of the hill. There, Ares stopped and pointed at the horizon, where Mount Aetna loomed in a shadowy haze. “If your world finds out what you can do, then you will join me there.”
“On Mount Aetna?”
Ares turned to him, his eyes smiling as if he’d just thought of a joke. “Below it. In the smoldering heart of Tartarus.”
“What are you talking about?”
Ares sighed and placed his hands on Hector’s shoulders. “Come. It isn’t safe to talk here.”
Before Hector could utter an objection, the air darkened and danced crazily around him, causing his ears to ring and his palms to sweat.
The street dropped from beneath their feet as they were ripped from it by a sudden gust of wind that was just as suddenly replaced by stillness as a thick white cloud surrounded them. It was moving slowly, propelled by a gentle breeze that blew softly at its edges. Hector didn’t dare move for fear of making the cloud break apart and send him spiraling to his death.
Ares snapped his fingers, and the cloud took a sharp right turn before thrusting upward, speeding vertically into the air. With both hands, he stabbed through the cloud and fanned his arms outward, carving an opening. “Here we are,” he said.
“And where is here, exactly?”
Casually, as if it were a taxicab, Ares stepped out of the cloud. “You should exit before the cloud absconds and drops you into the sea.”
Hector walked forward, his feet disappearing in the misty swirls of white, then carefully peered beyond, taking in the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. All around him were broad and billowing cloud banks stretching as far as his eyes could see. They felt like rock under his feet, although they shifted and changed their form like normal clouds. In t
heir midst, rising like a barren oak in a valley of snow, was a mountain, white like alabaster, and glistening like crystal against the cerulean sky.
Hector stepped onto the cloud next to Ares and breathed the thin, pure air into his lungs. He could almost taste the sweetness of the oxygen as it traveled smoothly down his throat. It was intoxicating, better than the beach air of Ourania on summer nights.
“What is that I’m smelling?” Hector took a giant whiff.
“The Muses are burning incense in the foothills below us.”
Hector swept his foot across the cloud and peered through the glass-like floor at an ocean of snowy hills beneath them. “I thought humans were the only ones who burned incense to the gods.”
Ares pulled back his shoulders and clapped his hands, then waited patiently as the previous panoply of armor manifested on his body. “The few humans who do not follow the All-Powerful pray and make offerings to Apollo.” He spat in disgust. “The Titans, and we Olympians, were wiped from history and so have not a single priest who honors us.” His countenance brightened as he breathed the air. “The Muses’ incense shall suffice. For now.”
“Uh-huh.” Hector felt the hairs on his arms start to prickle. Suddenly, the air had a chilly bite to it, and the smell of incense was growing sour. “So you want me to help you get your followers back, right?”
Ares’ jaw clenched as he tapped the hilt of his sword. “I told you. My aim is to help you reach your destiny. What you’ve seen in the last two days—your victory in the footrace, and the acquisition of your cousins’ powers—is merely the tip of the iceberg.” He smiled as he lifted his gaze to the peak. “Or of Olympus, if it suits you.”
“Mount Olympus,” Hector whispered, the words like a weight on his tongue. “You’re all here now—Zeus, Hera, Athena?”
Ares gazed through the transparent floor to the snow-covered hills below. “They cannot yet ascend to Pantheon. We’re still too weak.”
“So make the Muses sacrifice some goats or something.” Hector looked around for the cloud that had brought them here, hoping in vain that he could hitch a ride back home.
“This is not a time for jokes.” Ares grabbed Hector by the throat and squeezed, smiling sadistically as he fought to free himself.
“Tell me what you want,” Hector grunted, his vision tunneling around Ares’ snarl. All the strength he’d felt the day before was gone.
“How many times must I tell you?” Ares threw Hector down, then cut through the clouds with his sword, slicing them into fast-spinning tendrils.
Hector took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. He had a feeling that if he lost his cool, Ares would turn his blade on him. “What if I don’t want my destiny to be helping you and your friends? I’m pretty sure that aiding and abetting the rebel spirits qualifies as treason.”
“If you don’t help us, the mortals will send us back to Tartarus,” Ares said, turning his sword so it glinted in the sun. “And I’ll see to it personally that you join us there.”
Hector’s heart thudded inside his chest. He was nearly ten thousand feet up on a secluded mountain with a psychopathic war god everyone thought was dead, or as close to dead as immortals could be. There was no getting out of this alive, not without doing what Ares demanded.
“You didn’t bring me here so we could talk freely,” said Hector. “You brought me here so I couldn’t run away.”
“What is the saying?” Ares rubbed his chin in contemplation. “Two birds, one stone?”
As if it had been awaiting its cue, a gigantic eagle, the same warm gold as the sun’s rays shining around it, cut across the sky. It swooped down, emitting a piercing, high-pitched cry as it circled over Hector.
“Zeus has sent his dearest companion to beseech you,” said Ares.
“You mean threaten me.”
The eagle flew down and hovered before Hector’s face, its long curved beak just inches from his eyes. Hector remembered the myth of Prometheus, how the man’s liver had been perpetually plucked out by a creature such as this, all because he’d gotten himself on the gods’ bad side.
“Go,” Ares said, lifting his hand toward the eagle. “Leave him to me and tell Zeus the same.”
The raptor beat its wings, then nosedived down through the ether, back to where its master was waiting.
“You could have flown away from here, just as the eagle did.” Ares smiled, taking pleasure in Hector’s confusion as he stared back at Ares blankly. “Despite your incredulity, it’s true. You could fly from here as easily as you broke through my shield and freed the spear from your chariot wheel.”
“Do you see wings on my back?”
Ares sneered and balled his large hands into fists. “I’m growing weary of your insolence,” he growled through barred teeth. “Do you truly not comprehend what your doma permits?”
Hector shrugged. “So far, it permits me to look like an idiot. I get powers for five seconds, then they go away.”
The shrill cry of the eagle rang through the clouds and resounded through the airy acropolis. Hector couldn’t deny that it was beautiful here, nor that he was curious to see Pantheon, the place where the most powerful rebel spirits had dwelled thousands of years before. Did the golden furniture of Zeus’ palace really walk around like robots? Were the gates really guarded by the Horae, goddesses who supposedly kept the seasons in order? No mortal had ever seen it because the summit was too high and the air too thin. A few archaeologists and a handful of idiots had attempted the climb, and most had died near the top. If Hector could fly, maybe he would be the first to succeed.
“Your doma allows you to steal others’ gifts, be they domas or mere human talents,” said Ares, returning his sword to its scabbard. “Pair your desire for it with close proximity, and the power becomes yours. Granted, its duration is shortlived, but not insignificant. It doesn’t require much time to do great things.”
Hector laughed as he recalled how easy it had been and how great it had felt to beat Gino, and then to punch through Ares’ shield and pull his massive spear from the tire. To become invisible, he’d only had to close his eyes and wish it.
“How’d you know I have this doma?” Hector asked.
“A sea nymph by the name of Eione has been watching your family for centuries. She had a special feeling about you, Hector.”
Hector put his hands in his pockets to warm them. The wind was making his eyes water, and the tips of his toes felt numb. “So if I help you, I live. Is that right?”
Ares’ heavy brow became furrowed. “If you fulfill your destiny, you live.”
“What about my family?”
The hard lines in Ares’ forehead faded as he walked closer to Hector and put a hand on his shoulder. “I swear by my father, Zeus, and his father, the mighty Cronus, that no harm shall befall your kindred. On the contrary, for them you will win unsurpassed riches, honor…respect.” He searched Hector’s face, as if anticipating some sign of satisfaction. “You desire these things, do you not?”
The sun slipped behind the mountain, leaving the air even colder and the clouds like fog around Hector’s feet. The sweet smell of incense was gone, but the eagle’s keening intensified, echoing like a banshee in the night. Hector was as far away from Tartarus as he could possibly be, but he could still sense its terror. He pulled his hands from his pockets and blew on them, just to make sure his breath was still warm.
“Okay,” Hector said. “What do I have to do?”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LEFT
Where in the world is that kid?” said Chloe, shivering as she linked her arm with Ethan’s. They’d spent the last two hours searching Eirene for Hector. His parents had no idea where he was, and he wasn’t answering anyone’s texts or calls. They had gone with Hector’s parents to the school library, the track, the coffee shop downtown that stayed open until ten, and now Lake Thyra, in case any suspicious activity was happening there at the old portal, but there was no sign of him.
“Maybe h
e’s in Folóï Forest,” Philip said now. “He goes there sometimes to blow off steam.”
Charissa yawned, then leaned her head on Philip’s shoulder. Chloe thought she couldn’t have looked less concerned for the wellbeing of her son. “Call the police, Philip. They’ll find him for us and we can get some sleep.”
“Has Hector run off like this before?” Chloe asked. “I think I’d be worried sick if my son went missing.”
“Not if you had Hector for a son,” said Charissa. “Sometimes he acts out like this when he’s had a hard couple of days.”
Philip took his car keys from his pocket and handed them to his wife. “Go ahead and warm up the car. We’re right behind you.”
Charissa hiked up the hill, her breath hanging like puffs of steam in the air.
Maybe she was right not to worry, Chloe thought. After all, Charissa knew her son better than anyone apart from Philip. But Chloe still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more going on here.
“I know this probably makes us look like bad parents,” said Philip.
Ethan shook his head. “No, I get it. Hector’s a man now. He needs to learn to deal with his problems like a man, and not run and hide every time things don’t go his way.” He stopped himself and glanced away. “Sorry. It’s not my place to—”
“You’re absolutely right,” Philip said. “Charissa and I were just discussing that last night.” He paused as a cold breeze blew over the lake, whistling through the horsetail around them. “He doesn’t have a doma, and he’s upset about it. He’ll get over it eventually.”
“We don’t have domas, either, Damian or me,” Chloe said, “and I’d be willing to bet every other Asher is powerless, too. We need to tell Hector that.” She felt her arm slip involuntarily from Ethan’s.
Philip sighed. “Nicholas told me that was your theory…”
“But?”
“But I disproved it earlier.” He took off his jacket and handed it to Ethan. “Hold this for me. I’ll show you.” He bent down, planting his fingertips on the ground, lifted his hips and bolted, running faster than a racing car down the length of the lake. Chloe followed him as far as she could with her flashlight, but after a few short seconds, he was out of view.
