by James Hunter
Not a question I could answer. And my grip on my identity was slipping by the second. No, my purpose. I clung to Persephone’s words even as I slammed the trident down, crafting a thin bridge using my last dose of Create Earth. I added a few struts on the sides to keep it stable. More junk trickled down the transparent stream. A rusty sword. A cracked earthen pot. A wristwatch. A pen. They were collecting against my bridge, piling up like cars stuck in a traffic jam on the 5.
As before, my army headed across the stone arch. Again, it was a sprint to make it to the other side before the tide of objects cracked apart my very temporary footpath.
The land separating the River Lethe and the last river was like time’s landfill. Piles of junk from the invisible river must’ve collected there. It was shit from every era—everything from Starbucks cups to flint and steel, from woven baskets that looked African to Marvel comic books. I even saw a couple versions of Cap’s cracked shield there. I got excited for a minute. Me with a vibranium shield? Awesome! I mean Hephaestus’ shield wasn’t bad, but it couldn’t hold a candle to Cap’s iconic weapon. Sadly, these were made of plastic.
Charon’s voice called from behind me. “Humans love tragedy. They also love their things. Some bring them to the Underworld, you know, but they cannot carry their precious objects into the land of the dead. So they discard them here. After bathing in the River Lethe, they forget their love for them, which itself is another form of tragedy, don’t you think.” Not a question.
“Another point for Charon Buzzkillington the third,” I grumbled.
I took to the air so I wouldn’t have to wade through the piles of precious objects. I saw a pair of socks that someone must’ve loved. Odd, but I had a girlfriend who had a special pair of socks she wore to bed in the wintertime.
As I neared the last river, the noxious stink of burning plastic assaulted my nose. This last river was a stream of liquid flame, and some of the lost treasures had slipped into it. Around them were a bunch of ghostly figures doing a lot of ... let’s go with things inside. Women with men, women with women, men with men. Looked like there might’ve been a centaur or two in the mix, which was its own kind of horror. Truthfully, I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing. Worse yet, I wasn’t quite sure how we were going to get across it. My trident was all out of Dry Foot and Create Earth.
On the other side, bathed in smoke and fire, sat a three-headed dog the size of a strip mall. And speaking of strip malls, he was sitting in the parking lot of a 7-Eleven, a convenience store I knew and loved.
In fact, that wasn’t just any 7-Eleven, that was my 7-Eleven. I’d gone there as a kid for Bubble Yum and Slurpees. What the shit?
I squinted, realizing the other buildings in the little strip mall looked familiar, too.
Well, screw me sideways. On the other side of the River Phlegethon was Rockford, Illinois. Growing up there, I could’ve told you it was Hell. It seemed the gods had taken me literally.
Hot, Hawt, Haute
STANDING ON THE BANKS of the river of fire, I wanted to ask Charon why my hometown was in the Underworld. I mean, sure, Rockford wasn’t exactly anyone’s idea of paradise, but literal Hell? That was a bit of a stretch.
A woman’s cry of ecstasy distracted me. Uh, what?
I glanced down into the churning waters just as a writhing, copulating trio of women screamed in an odd mixture of bliss and agony, then promptly burst into flames and turned to ash, carried away by an unfelt wind. As soon as they disappeared, another group of naked people emerged from the boiling flames, shamelessly getting their freak on.
Charon’s boat must’ve been full-on fireproof because he drifted among the flames without worry. “This is for those wretches overcome with lust,” he said, noting my gaze. “They burned with desire in life, and they will burn forever in death.”
“Damn,” I said, taken aback. This definitely seemed like overkill—I couldn’t help but wonder if Charon and company had ever heard the phrase, let the punishment fit the crime.
Phoebe harrumphed. Uh, I would say the gods have their own hang-ups over sex. This seems pretty fucking puritanical. You’ll fit right in down here, Jacob, with your Oedipal-sized issues.
Hey, I’m getting better! I protested.
Beneath my feet, a handful of Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files novels shifted in the pile of precious objects and toppled into the river. The pages burst into flames, which was a crime in its own right. Those books were freaking amazing.
My Amazons joined me on the shore, staring across the fiery expanse at the oversized hound waiting for us on the other side.
As for Cerberus, he sat on his haunches, all three of his heads staring at us in return. Yep, that was definitely gonna be an issue. Assuming we found a way across the river of molten flame and debauchery, we’d then be stuck in combat against one of the toughest creatures in the Underworld. And if any of us died, we’d be thrown back to the Vale of Tears, without a body, only to have Charon take control of our afterlives. I think it was safe to assume no one wanted the ever-dour boatman in charge of their fate.
Hey, Jacob, Phoebe sent. Have you seen Asteria? I can’t find her.
I glanced around. Shit. The Beastiamancer was gone—no sign of her anywhere. And she was kinda hard to miss, what with being a blue shapeshifter. I drifted up above my ’Zons, scanning the landscape until I finally found her, loitering back at the nearly invisible River Lethe. She’d taken human form, and was reaching toward that water, one delicate hand outstretched. What in the hell is she thinking?
I shouted and bolted into action, barreling toward her like a runaway semi. If she touched those waters ... well, her memory would be gone at the very least, and that was assuming she didn’t just kick the bucket right on the spot. I slammed into her, wrapping my arms around her chest and taking her to the ground. We hit a pile of mint-condition Care Bears, which made the landing surprisingly soft. She bucked and fought, wrestling free, and gaining her feet. Her golden eyes looked haunted. Tortured. Despite being human, she had the bearing of a caged animal, backing into a corner, ready to attack at any moment.
“What are you doing?” I asked, fighting to keep the heat out of my words. She was struggling with some deep shit, I reminded myself.
“I can forget everything if I touch that water. And I so want to forget, Jacob. I am not like the others. This fighting. This killing. This bloodshed and loss. I’ve had my fill.”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure it will also kill you, Asteria.”
“Persephone swam across it and she wasn’t killed.” Sadness and desolation filled the Beastiamancer’s feathery voice.
“She’s a goddess.” I edged forward and took her hand in mine. “If you forgot everything, you’d also forget me. I’ve already lost Myrina. Losing you too—I couldn’t stomach that.” I paused, searching her face. “What’s going on, Asteria?”
“It’s you,” she said, not angry so much as weary. “I grew accustomed to Jacob Merely being funny, being nice, being wonderful. You weren’t cruel, nor mean, nor selfish. Yet now? With the godstone, you are sometimes not yourself. I hate it. It hurts me. And losing Myrina.” She sighed and tore her gaze away. “I know that as an Amazon, my life is destined to be constant war, but when I spend time as an animal, I don’t feel any of that. I only feel the joy of life. I want you to feel that with me, but I am beginning to believe it shall never be. But if I touch these waters, then the pain will go away. I’ll be back to what I was before.” She faltered. “What you need me to be.”
That made me sit back and really think. I remembered how Asteria had stared at me in the dining hall when we’d been working on our character sheets. I hadn’t had the Necklace of Asclepius, and the godstone had taken over. That had hurt the sensitive Asteria, and she clearly hadn’t been able to get over it. Couldn’t say that I blamed her. And, on top of that, we’d been fighting nonstop. Every eight hours at least for weeks on end. Then there was our foray into Nyx to win the Crystal Scythe. Even more fighting.
As humans, we’d gotten used to it.
But Asteria had been a whale, a hyena, a snake, a spider, and a myriad of other things. Unlike humans, they didn’t want warfare all the time.
I let out a breath. “I’m sorry, Asteria. And I don’t want you to forget who you are. I also don’t want you to lose yourself to become some kind of mechanical killing machine. I want you. The fun, quirky, silly goofball that enjoys diving into the ocean and munching on a strip of sweet grass.” I took her other hand in mine. “You can stop fighting right now, if that’s what it takes. I’ll send you back through the portal—I’d rather lose you as a warrior now then lose you as a friend forever.”
“No,” she shook her head, her lush blue lips a thin line across her face. “As much as I despise this war—this machine of death we have become—I could never abandon my sister. Not and live with myself after. I ... I will fight. I just grow so weary of it, Jacob. I long for the day when we can be more.” She let out a sigh, deep and long.
“Look, Asteria,”—I pulled one hand away and traced it along the side of her face—“once we find Myrina’s spirit, we’ll resurrect her, and then we’ll face Hades. After that, we can rest and enjoy life. The road has been long and exhausting; you know that better than anyone. But we’re almost there. We just need to make it a little farther.”
She straightened. “Being human is so very complicated. Whales are so much happier. You have no idea how much joy there is in being a whale.”
I didn’t. But now I had the trident so I could summon one at some point and ask it. How very Aquaman of me.
“Still, I will do this, Jacob. I believe in you. And I believe in my sisters.” She seemed to brighten almost at once—her temper and moods could change like quicksilver, I knew—then stretched up on her tippy-toes and planted a kiss on my cheek. “If we are in the home stretch, then let us finish the race strong.” She dropped away, wrapped her hand around mine, then gave me a little pull as she set off toward the fiery Phlegethon.
Asteria finally found a smile, looking over at the 7-Eleven parking lot. “Look there, War God. There’s a puppy over there. He’s cute. Three times cute.”
That made me raise my eyebrows.
Phoebe noticed. Don’t get jealous, Jacob. You’re not going to be able to compete with Cerberus. Asteria isn’t so crazy about humans at this point.
Have you seen her like this before? I asked.
Never. But Asteria feels things deeply. Maybe she’s like our canary in the coal mine. Maybe this trip to the Underworld is simply too much for us.
That made me chuckle. Which part? The hairscape, the finger fields, or eyeball alley?
Phoebe grinned, though I could tell even she was fraying at the edges.
Asteria let go of my hand and transformed into a three-headed dog the size of a dump truck. She barked with one head, then another, then another. She’d added another shape to her collection.
Cerberus stood up and took notice. His big brown eyes were locked onto Asteria. And he began to drool a little. With all three heads drooling, that was a whole lotta spit pooling on the parking lot of my 7-Eleven. When I was in middle school, I’d walk over there with my buddies Eddie and Ben.
That gave me an idea. “Persephone, you said Cerberus can jump the rivers.”
“I did, and he can,” the spring goddess replied.
“Asteria, do you know how to flirt in, uh, dog language?” I asked.
Human! she responded. Of course, I do. And I can be in heat whenever I want. I do believe Cerberus fancies me.
Can you lure him over? I asked. Then maybe lead him on a chase? Sort of give him the run around, long enough for us to sneak by?
Asteria turned and let Cerberus take a look at her backside. She was big, of course, though nowhere near as big as Cerberus, but maybe her petite size added fuel to the dog’s libido. It was ironic—humans were being roasted in the Phlegethon for being too freaky, but Cerberus was just as pervy.
All the Amazons were privy to our conversation, so they stepped away, clearing a wide swatch, worried Cerberus would make the leap at any minute. Based on Cerberus’ gleaming eyes, hungry and eager, they had reason to be worried.
I rubbed my hands, a rough plan forming in my head. Okay, this could work. Probably. That, or we’d all die a horrific and painful death. Go big or go home. Quickly, I summoned Aella and Otrere, my Air and Water-Witches, along with Loxo to the edge of the fiery bank. While Asteria made puppy eyes at our boy Cerberus, I hashed out my plan, filling in the rest of my Amazons through the mental link. We’d only have a handful of seconds to pull this off, so the timing had to be absolutely perfect.
Loxo stormed forward with Snow Claw, the Vambraces of Boreas, and Myrina’s javelins, which she’d picked up. Loxo definitely thought like a thief. Good. We’d need Winter’s Tongue in a minute.
Persephone looked at me questioningly from the Helios Chariot.
No time to explain.
Aella raised her hands. She waited for my signal, as did my Water-Witch.
On the far side of the river, Cerberus had backed up. With a thunderous woof that shook the ground and nearly knocked me over, he broke into a lumbering run, then leapt over the Phlegethon. He came crashing down in the middle of us, landing like an asteroid, the garbage pile cratering beneath his enormous frame. But by that time, Asteria had streaked away, bounding across the piles of garbage. Cerberus yipped happily, completely ignoring our party, and chased after her.
Asteria was going to have to play hard to get for a minute.
“Now, Aella!” I shouted.
In an eyeblink, she called up a hurricane wind and hurled it at the river. Charon and his ghastly boat were blown off the flames and clear into the parking lot of the 7-Eleven. That was only a lucky bonus, though. The fires died under the onslaught of my Air-Witch’s gale-force winds. That wouldn’t last long, of course, but it bought us just enough time to employ the next piece of the plan.
Now it was my turn. Slinging the Inferno Shield over my shoulder, I held the Crystal Scythe with my right hand and Poseidon’s Trident with my left. With a roar, I slammed the spear down, driving the prongs deep into the ground, as I called forth a tsunami of water—and not just any old water. Ice. A sheet of it, just wide enough to accommodate our party.
My ice bridge stretched across the twisting bodies of the River Orgy.
Otrere could summon water as well, so she let loose a flood of her own, thickening the sheen of ice covering my bridge. Unfortunately, it was already melting despite Aella’s winds. I stepped forward and sank the Crystal Scythe into the bridge, which stopped the ice from melting, at least for the moment. Hard to say how long it would last, though—definitely time to move our asses. Loxo broke into a madcap sprint, darting out to the center of the bridge. She slammed the Vambraces of Boreas together with a clang.
Snow and cold swept out from her hands, further reinforcing the tenuous sheet of ice. Then it was chaos as my Battle Wardens, Rune-Casters, and Beastiamancers hurried across the creaking, cracking ice bridge. On the other side, a chunk had almost melted away. Loxo snatched up Winter Tongue and hurled it into the flames, which froze immediately. The ice javelin reappeared in the quiver on her back.
About half my army had made it across, including one of the Death Harvesters. The other vehicle still needed to get across, though, and the ice was melting faster than a snow cone in the Sahara at high noon.
I lowered the trident and again used the Create Water function to add another layer of ice on the bridge. Otrere helped by adding what power she had left to the spell; all the while Aella kept up her gale-force blast, though she was clearly on her last legs. Sweat rolled down her face in sheets, her arms trembled, and her legs looked like they might well buckle at any moment.
The second Death Harvester and its trailer trundled over, safely reaching the other side, which was a damned miracle. Aella, Otrere, and I remained on the far side of the bridge. Both Elementalists ran out of Exousía at the same time. Al
most in unison, they slammed back their final recharge potions.
The minute Aella ran out of the juice, the fires of the Phlegethon roared as savagely as ever.
The three of us skittered across the ice, making for the asphalt of the parking lot, but after a handful of steps, it was clear we weren’t going to make it. The heat was stifling, almost unbearable. The whole structure shook as the fires hit the ice bridge and created a hissing, blinding steam. I had to risk flying. Catching hold of my Elementalists, one in each arm, I lifted them and streaked across to the far bank.
I cleared the edge of the river by a matter of inches, then spun, frantically worried that Asteria wouldn’t make it across in time—
A blue cheetah crashed into my Witches and me; the four of us went down in a tangle of limbs and fur. Asteria had eluded Cerberus by becoming the fastest animal on Earth. Naturally.
And somehow, almost impossibly, we’d all made it safely to the cracked and pitted asphalt of the 7-Eleven parking lot. Holy shit. We’d done it. We’d gotten across all five of the Underworld rivers. I let out a ragged breath as I pushed up onto my elbows, then slowly gained my feet. I brushed my palms off on the edges of my War Mammoth Cloak, then offered a hand, helping up each of the downed women in turn.
Shrieks erupted as I helped the last of the Amazons up, followed in short order by the frantic flapping of feathers and the crack of a whip. Uh, make that several whips. That all sounded really familiar. Dread grew in the pit of my stomach as my eyes locked onto Praxidike’s closest relatives beelining toward us on outstretched wings, cruising above the strip mall of Rockford-Hell. Perfect. The Erinyes had come to play.
They were quite the sight, their tawny wings spread wide, each slender and perfect, each armed with bronze-tipped scourges. Their faces were beautiful for a moment, eyes closed, no wrinkles, gorgeous. Then they opened their black eyes. In the span of a heartbeat, their mouths elongated, jaws unhinging like monstrous snakes, revealing row upon row of yellow, needle-like fangs. The gossamer black robes covering their torsos flailed and flapped around their lithe frames, showcasing patches of diseased flesh.
